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luvinus · 2 years

Note

Hereby I specify: your own

Random Personal Headcanons on the SB Animatronics

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Genre: Fluff, Comedy

Warnings: Pure crack/silliness

Waiter's Note:

"Alrighty! Here are some of my favorite ones! They’re all pretty lighthearted ones, but I can’t help but imagine them this way. Thank you for requesting!"

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Glamrock Chica

She loves making Kandi bracelets, and nobody can convince me otherwise.

Also makes loom bracelets.

She likes giving them out to her bandmates and the children. In addition, she had one of the employees give one of them to the Daycare Attendant. No animatronic left behind!

Once, Chica showed up with so many bracelets that you could barely see her arms. Everyone was so confused as to how she even found the time to make all of them.

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Glamrock Freddy

Alright, hear me out:

He keeps cute, brightly colored band-aids in his chest compartment.

Monty laughs at him, Roxy finds it kind of amusing, Chica thinks it’s adorable. Even so, Freddy continues to rock on with his Hello Kitty band-aids. He was programmed to be good with kids, so of course he has some emergency supplies if one of them gets a small scratch in his room or something.

A little girl once discovered his little stash and proceeded to absolutely cover him in cute little stickers and band-aids. Monty never lets him forget that day.

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Montgomery Gator

I couldn’t find the video, but you know the one where the dude recording tells the other dude to close the door to his room, so he does. But then it’s just like a small corner of the door because the rest of it was broken off?

Yeah, Monty did that once to his own door when having one of his tantrums.

Freddy and Chica were pretty concerned, while Roxy was laughing so hard her voice box was glitching a bit. Monty himself was a mixture of angry, amused, and a tad bit embarrassed.

His room had to be blocked off from the public to prevent kids from going in there. No idea where he ended up staying for the duration of that though. (ﾟｰﾟ;)

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Roxanne Wolf

She has inspirational sticky notes all over her room; on her vanity, her door, the walls, her charging station, even a couple on the window.

Sometimes they fall off so she just writes more of them.

So now, there’s probably like over 500 fallen sticky notes hidden in her room. Don’t be surprised if you just spot them in the crevice between the couch or vanity and the wall one day.

In my mind, Roxy also went to Freddy and Chica for quotes and reassuring statements to put on the sticky notes since they were the kindest people she knew of.

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Sun

Oh my god he has BINS and BOXES of glitter and stickers.

He’s always putting sparkly, yellow star stickers on the foreheads and cheeks of good children. I want a sticker.

Similar to Chica, he like making things with his hands. Sun makes those 3D snowflakes and butterflies with glitter glue for the kids and they LOVE IT.

He’s also super happy every time he receives bracelets from Chica. He’ll attempt to make her some bracelets too, but they come out a little wonky. He’s trying his best though!! He just needs a bit of practice. :]

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Moon

He sleep talks. A lot.

And it’s absolutely hilarious.

One day during naptime, Moon fell asleep along with the children. But children are children, and most of them were actually awake, just being very quiet as not to disturb Moon’s sleep. He began sleep talking, throwing out the most hilarious insults the kids have ever heard.

No one knew who he was insulting, but the kids were practically dying of laughter. When the kids were gone, and Sun let Moon out in their room, Moon just stood there like “...I have a very bad feeling that I did something I shouldn’t have done,” and then proceeded to try and remember just what the heck happened. Eventually, he figured it out and has never spoken about it to this day.

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#fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf x reader #fnaf sundrop #fnaf moondrop #glamrock freddy #glamrock freddy x reader #monty gator #montgomery gator #monty x reader #glamrock roxanne #roxy x reader #fnaf glamrock #glamrock chica #glamrock chica x reader #glamrock monty #glamrock animatronics #sundrop x reader #moondrop x reader

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kythed · 3 years

Text

circus mirrors & stereo hearts

sugawara koushi x reader

this one goes out to my new friend, @twat-101 :) it’s a bit long, but I hope you still like it ! sending lotsa love your way <3

synopsis: (y/n) is struggling with her mental health so her best friend suga-san invites her over to study. general chaos and dumbassery ensues.

warnings: some swearing, mentions of mental health struggles, suga’s tone deaf singing.

word count: 4,226

Koushi always kept his windows open. Always.

In the winter, this transformed his room into a tiny Antarctica, replete with stray snowflakes, but in the summer, it meant cool tradewinds cutting through the typically stifling heat, creating a little pocket of the ideal climate. You often found yourself there in these warmer months, perched on the corner of his bed, contently listening to him blithely gossip about his teammates or playing a giggly game of Connect Four rife with not so subtle cheating.

Today, a sunny August Saturday, was no different. Koushi sat cross legged on the carpet. Sprawled out across his pale blue comforter, which smelled of fresh linen and that familiar Old Spice he’d been wearing since the eighth grade, you listened to him recite a chapter from your history book, something about post World War II foreign policy. Struggling to remain attentive, however, you found yourself spiraling into those cheerless resignations of hopelessness that had been far too frequent for you lately.

“--which resulted in Europe’s economic recovery chiefly in terms of raw materials, food, and fuel. The Soviet Union soon attempted to replicate a similar plan but ultimately-- hey, (Y/N)?”

You blinked hard and sunk back into reality, turning onto your cheek to look Koushi in his big brown eyes full of rather matronly concern. “Hmm?”

“Do you know what we’re learning about right now?” he asked, sounding both amused and disapproving. A strand of grey fell in front of his face and he quickly blew it away, smiling slightly. “Because it seems like you’ve been zoning out for the last ten or so minutes. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but Mr. Shishido specifically said this chapter was going to be on the test.”

“Uh… something about muzzer Roosia?” you joked with an exaggerated accent.

Koushi rolled his eyes and flicked your forehead. You yelped and glared at him reproachfully. “We were talking about the Marshall Plan. The United States’ recovery aid program for Western Europe after wartime devastation.”

“Right, right, I knew that,” you protested as Koushi tugged on your forearms and you toppled off the bed, nearly landing right on top of him. With a soft laugh, he extracted his limbs from yours and plopped his head into your lap like he used to when you were kids, resting beneath the boughs of that little oak tree in his backyard, listening to a choir of cicadas croon under a late afternoon sun. The ghost of a grin flitted over your face as you looked back on those halcyon days of your childhood. Usually Koushi’s mom would come out onto the porch with a couple of already-melting lemon popsicles in hand, and the two of you would scramble out of each other’s embrace and tear towards her, breathlessly racing for a priceless reward of sweet smiles and sticky hands.

What you wouldn’t give to go back to that time of gleeful oblivion, before your world became characterized by that all too persistent self-consciousness and excruciating anxiety. What you wouldn’t give to once again feel worthy of Koushi’s innocent adoration…

“--(Y/N)!”

For the second time today, you shook yourself awake. Koushi gazed up at you, brows furrowed. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was asking if you needed to take a little study break. Obviously, you do. I swear, your attention span gets shorter every day.” He pointed somewhere behind you. “Mind grabbing my phone? It’s on the bed.”

You leaned over as far as you could without disturbing Koushi’s position, head still nestled in your lap, and swept your hand over the covers before it bumped into his phone, which you promptly snatched and dropped onto his stomach. He gave a soft “oomph” at the impact before pulling up his Spotify and selecting a playlist, the cover of which was a selfie of the two of you at last year’s spring carnival. A blurred sakura tree provided the perfect backdrop for your smiling faces pressed cheek-to-cheek to fit in the frame. Sugar dusted the corners of Koushi’s mouth, the last trace of the powdered donut you’d shared right before.

“What’s that? I don’t think I’ve listened to that one before.” You reached for the phone, but Koushi held it out just out of reach as music began to play, batting your hand away. “I look awful in that picture; you could’ve chosen something a little more flattering.”

“Oh, shush. You looked pretty that day, wearing that blue sundress with the little flowers on the hem… blue really suits you, you know.” Koushi smiled fondly at his screen, and you blushed despite yourself. “It’s a compilation of all our songs. I listened to this a lot last summer when you were in France with your family for a month. Whenever I missed you. You were off climbing the Eiffel Tower or making croissants and I was lounging around here, bored out of my mind and wishing you were home so we could be bored together.”

“You sappy bastard,” you said, though you really felt quite touched. “I didn’t even realize we had a song.”

“Not just a song,” he corrected. “Songs. Plural. Most of the songs we’ve ever listened to together, I reckon. Anything that reminds me of you, I put on here.”

“Why in the world would you do that?” you asked, aghast at his effort.

Koushi laughed at your surprise. “You’re my best friend, (Y/N). And believe or not, you mean a lot to me. I just like remembering the stuff we’ve done together.”

You nodded slowly, letting your fingers rest on his forehead and gently play with his grey locks. His eyes closed as you settled into a brief, comfortable almost-silence, tainted only by the soft, muffled melody trickling from tiny phone speakers. You cocked your head. “What song is this?”

“You don’t remember?” Koushi asked, sounding almost offended. He turned the volume up a few notches and held the phone closer to your ear.

Let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

You got the healing that I want

Just like they say it in the song

Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on

“I don’t know if--” you cut off as it dawned on you. “Wait… no way. This isn’t…?”

“It is.” Koushi laughed as your face flushed a vivid crimson. “Uchimura’s party.”

Though embarrassed, you grinned, remembering that night. “The song that played at her twelfth birthday while we were in the closet during seven minutes in heaven.”

“We were way too young for that dumb game,” Koushi said with a smile, shaking his head. “God, I was so nervous. That was my first kiss, you know.”

“It was mine too,” you admitted. You remembered sitting on the carpeted floor of Uchimura’s rather cramped closet, knees touching, just barely able to see the outline of Koushi’s face illuminated by the smallest sliver of light shining through a crack in the door. He’d leaned forward, taking your hand in his own small clammy one. “It was really just a peck, though. It might not have counted.”

“It counted,” said Koushi firmly. “Whenever I get asked about my first kiss, I say it was ours. I say it was the best one I’ve ever had, too.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “Now, I know that’s a lie. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.”

“Neither did I,” agreed Koushi. He caught your eye, crinkling his nose cutely. “That’s what made it so sweet. It was innocent. I tasted your bubblegum chapstick on my lips afterwards.”

“Bubblegum chapstick, huh?” You rolled your eyes and poked him softly in the ribs. “I couldn’t look you straight in the eyes for like three weeks after that.”

“I remember. You kept running away whenever I tried to talk to you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not sure we would’ve even stayed friends if Ms. Miyato hadn’t partnered us up for the volcano project at the end of that month.” You recalled those afternoons spent in Koushi’s kitchen, newspapers covering every visible surface and a huge, paper-mache volcano resting on the dining table, splattered with orange and yellow paint and smelling strongly of Elmer’s glue and vinegar. Oftentimes, work sessions would dissolve into paint fights, staining your school uniforms with small, colorful hand prints.

“Nah,” said Koushi confidently. “I wouldn’t have let you go that easily.”

“Maybe you should’ve,” you said under your breath.

Koushi stared at you for a second, sighing. Then he reached up to grasp your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and softly stroking his thumb across your palm. “You know, it was Uchimura’s eighteenth last weekend. You didn’t come.”

“Yeah. I had to study.” That was a lie. You just hadn’t thought anyone really wanted you there. Uchimura had been a friend of yours for years, but she had plenty of other friends to celebrate with. Probably didn’t even notice you weren’t there…

“She asked me where you were,” Koushi continued. “I said I didn’t know because you didn’t answer my texts that night.”

“Sorry,” you said quietly, avoiding eye contact. “Studying.”

“On a Friday night?” You didn’t answer, and Koushi squeezed your hand. “I had to choose Daichi for my charades partner… do you have any idea how shit he is at charades? He flopped on the ground and started convulsing, so I guessed ‘epilepsy.’ Guess what the word really was.”

“What?”

“Orgasm. The word was orgasm. You’d think he could just execute a simple pelvic thrust and make a face, but no, he had to go ahead and act like my great uncle Kaito when he had that heart attack at his ninety-fifth birthday last year.”

You cracked a small smile, imagining Daichi violently wiggling on the floor like a fish out of water. “Sounds like I missed out, then.”

“You really did,” said Koushi, eyes twinkling. He suddenly got solemn. “I missed you. Would’ve been a million times more fun with you there.”

“I doubt it.” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, smile fading. “I can be a real killjoy sometimes.”

“Not to me,” said Koushi. “Whenever you walk into the room, suddenly that’s the only room I wanna be in.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you swallowed thickly. “Koushi… why are you telling me this?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said simply. He took your hand again, the one that had been playing with his hair, and held it to his chest. You felt his heart beat erratically beneath your palm. “You’ve been avoiding all our friends in general.”

“That’s not true,” you protested, though your heart sank. He had noticed. You wished you didn’t have to drag him into all your problems. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Busy with what, (Y/N)? Homework? Our physics teacher came and talked to me at my locker after school, asking if you’ve been struggling with any personal issues, because apparently you haven’t been turning in your assignments.” Koushi glanced up at you. “It seems like you’ve just been locked away in your room whenever you’re not in class. Not doing work, not going out. Remember a couple weeks ago, when I asked if you wanted to go see that movie with me at the drive-in? You said you had a family dinner in town, but later I passed by on my bike and your bedroom light was on. And today, it took four separate phone calls before you finally picked up and I managed to invite you over… I’ve been worried.”

“Maybe I’m just changing,” you protested weakly. “That’s a thing that happens. People change.”

“I agree, you have been changing. Just not for the better.” Koushi squeezed your hand again, his skin warm on your own. “I haven’t seen you smile, really smile, for ages. You’re always faking these days. What’s going on?”

“I…” you trailed off, trying to think of some excuse. The last thing you wanted was for Koushi to see what was really going on inside your head.

“The truth, (Y/N).”

You relented, shoulders sagging. “Just been tired, I guess.”

“Tired of what?”

“Tired of…” Your eyes grew moist despite your best efforts and you fought to keep from choking on the sob rising up your throat.

“Tired of…?” he pressed on, eyebrow raised.

Your next words tumbled out in a rush. “Just tired of being me, okay? It’s like… it’s just like, whenever I look in the mirror… I don’t like what I see. I don’t like myself, so I don’t want to be me anymore. I’m so tired of it. And I feel like everyone else is, too. Everyone is tired of my shit, so I thought I’d just do you all a favor and disappear.”

Your words stunned Koushi into silence. He remained resting in your lap for a few long seconds before he felt something hot and wet roll down his cheek. A tear. But not his own.

He looked up just in time for another one of your tears to land on his face, right underneath his eye. Quickly, he sat up and tenderly cupped your face in his hands, gently brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “Oh, (Y/N)... c’mere. That’s such bullshit.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you hiccupped as he pulled you into his lap by your waist-- facing him-- and gingerly tucked your head into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this. It’s gross, I know.”

“It’s not gross,” said Koushi, fiercely hugging you to his chest. “It’s much better than watching you try to pretend like you’re fine. I don’t care if your snot gets on my shirt-- that’s a small price to pay. So long as I can be there for you right now.”

You cried harder, immense guilt racking your body at his inexplicable kindness. “I’ve been treating you terribly these past few months, but you’re still so good to me. Goddamnit, Koushi. I don’t deserve you.”

Koushi pulled you back by the shoulders, narrowed eyes searching your face, though tears continued to stream down your cheeks. “(Y/N). You don’t have to earn my love.”

“I-- love?” you asked, eyes wide. You snatched a tissue from Koushi’s bedside table and blew your nose loudly.

“Yeah,” he said firmly, without missing a beat. “I said it. I love you. And don’t ask if I mean in a friend way or a girlfriend way, because the answer is neither. I love you like you’re the person I wanna spend the rest of my life with. I don’t care if that means as, like, your husband or just as your best friend. Whatever I can get, I’m happy with, because I love you like you’re a part of me. Unconditionally. I thought you knew that.”

“Please, don’t say that,” you sobbed, covering your face with your hands. “I’m not good enough for you. I’m really not.”

Koushi pulled your hands away so he could look you in the eye. “What don't you understand about the term ‘unconditional love’? It’s unconditional. There is literally nothing you nor anyone else can say or do to change that. Unconditional love is not a feeling, it’s a choice, and I’ve made that choice. I’ve had nearly two decades to think about it, so now I’m telling you I will love you no matter what. I always have, alright? This isn’t exactly how I wanted to say it, but it’s true.”

You stared at him, disbelieving. You hadn’t known he’d felt this way. Of course, you two had been partners-in-crime your entire lives, and you couldn’t count the number of times he’d materialized at your side as soon as you were in the slightest bit of trouble. Whenever you were a dollar short at the canteen, he’d stuff a five in your hand and push you towards the front of the line. That time you went camping with his family and you forgot your sleeping bag, he’d given you his and spent the night shivering. He always carried an extra pen for you because yours often inexplicably ran out of ink in the middle of a test. He’d been there for every crush, boyfriend, and breakup, cheering you on and drying your tears when the time came. He’d been there when your pet dog died and you planned a funeral in your backyard, complete with a little cardboard headstone, holding an umbrella above your head when it began to rain but you weren’t done mourning. He’d just always been there when you needed him.

You’d tried to be there for him, too, because, as you had begun to realize, his pain was your pain and vice versa. That time when you were six and he’d lost his favorite stuffed animal (a giraffe) it had felt like you’d lost yours too. That day in junior high when he fell out of the oak tree trying to retrieve a stray frisbee and broke his arm, you swore you felt the same pain in yours. Last year when he got dumped outside the gym on Valentine’s Day and you found him sitting in a corner, trying to hide the fact he’d obviously been crying-- you’d stayed late to crack stupid jokes and eat the chocolate he meant to give to his girlfriend, because he deserved a girl who would eat the damn chocolate. Not stomp on his heart and leave it to bleed. I love you like you’re a part of me. You understood.

“It’s okay to not be okay sometimes, but it’s not okay to bundle it all up and bury it deep inside when you have someone right next to you wanting to help you bear that burden.” Koushi’s voice shook just slightly. “It just… it hurts to see you like this, okay? (Y/N), if you love me back, then let me help you. Let me be there for you. Please.”

You were silent for a moment, staring into his pleading eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes.

Then you took a deep breath and started laughing through the tears. You were sure you looked insane, puffy eyes, red nose, and mascara running down your cheeks, but it didn’t matter. “I do. I love you, too. I love you. I didn’t know I loved you before, but now I do, because if you were torn away from me that heartbreak would probably kill me. No, it would definitely kill me. And it would hurt like a motherfucker while it did.”

Koushi let out the breath he’d been holding then, after a brief pause, began to laugh with you as you laced your arms around the back of your neck. “Oh, yeah? Well, losing you would probably hurt like a father-fucker to me.”

“Is that worse than a motherfucker?” you asked, giggling at the ridiculousness of it all. Here you were, bawling on the floor of your best friend’s room while you confessed your love to one another and cussed each other out at the same time.

“For sure. It’s a million times worse than a motherfucker. It’s like, if something hurting like a motherfucker is the equivalent of getting shot by a Nerf gun, something hurting like a fatherfucker probably feels like getting run over by a tank.” Koushi intertwined his fingers with yours yet again and smiled.

“You’re a dumbass,” you said, but you laughed anyways as Koushi looked proud of himself.

“I know,” he said softly, affectionately. “But I’m your dumbass.”

You sighed and shook your head. “I’d love you to be. But you could still do so much better than me--”

“Will you stop saying that, already?” Koushi took your face in his hand, stroking his thumb right beneath your eye. “You’re the most radiant person I’ve ever met. Notice how I didn’t say ‘beautiful’ because the word beautiful doesn’t even begin to cover it. Although you are that, too.”

“Oh, goodness. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again-- you’re so sappy.”

Koushi rolled his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, I am. You like it though.”

“You caught me,” you said as he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You leaned into it, savoring the warmth of his lips on your skin. “I do.”

“But really, (Y/N),” he said seriously. “It astounds me that you don’t realize that.”

“Don’t realize what?”

“That you’re cool! You’re so cool and fun and awesome. And a zillion other adjectives I could sit here and list out for hours. You’re the only person who can make me laugh when I cry, and you make the best hot chocolate I’ve ever tasted, and you’re a literal god at Mario Kart, and you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever had the privilege to look into.” You flushed as Koushi thought for a moment, chewing on his lip before his eyes widened. “It’s kinda like a circus mirror, I think.”

“What?” You furrowed your brow.

“The way you see yourself is like someone looking into one of those circus mirrors. It makes you look too tall, or really squished, or just bent out of shape in general. And if that was the only mirror you’d ever looked into, you’d probably think that ugly, distorted reflection is how you actually look in real life. You can’t see yourself for how amazing you really are-- but everyone else can.”

“Well, aren’t you just full of relevant analogies today?” you teased. A circus mirror. Now that was something new. You had to give Koushi credit for the comparison-- it actually did kind of make sense.

“What can I say?” he said, puffing out his chest. “I’m a poet.”

“So I guess that would make you my real mirror then?” you offered shyly. Koushi looked confused for a second. “If the way I see myself is supposedly ‘distorted,’ then you can reflect to me how I supposedly really am.”

“Oh, yes!” he said happily. “I’m the mirror. I like that. Quit talking like you don’t believe me, though. You’re incredible. A little thick-skulled sometimes, yes, but incredible nonetheless.”

“It’s going to be hard for me,” you said quietly, gently running a hand through his hair. “Really hard. I haven’t liked myself for a long time.”

“I know. I know. But someday, you’ll be able to understand what a beautiful human being you are. I’m sure of it. I need you to promise you won’t give up until that happens.”

He held out his pinky for a pinky swear, something you two did frequently as children. You smiled and laced your pinky with his. “Alright. I promise.”

“Good.” Koushi stood up, brushed the wrinkles from his pants, and offered you his hand. You took it and he pulled you up. “Listen. Do you remember this song?”

His little playlist had been playing this entire time. You hadn’t noticed. You strained to catch the lyrics. “Turn it up a little, I can’t quite hear.”

...a stereo

It beats for you, so listen close

Hear my thoughts in every note

“Koushi.” A slow smile spread across your face. “Tell me this isn’t Stereo Hearts.”

“Oh, this is Stereo Hearts alright!” he responded gleefully. He took your hand and spun you around like a ballroom dancer, catching you before you tripped over his bedside table. “You remember when we--”

“When we performed it at the junior high talent show and got booed off the stage?” You giggled, remembering that awful night that was somehow hilarious in retrospect. “I still have nightmares about that.”

Koushi continued to swing you around in some sort of clumsy dance, pulling you this way and that while you laughed wildly. “It’s ‘cause you were such a shit singer.”

You gasped in mock offense. “No way! You’re a much worse singer than I am. At least I can carry a tune.”

Koushi just rolled his eyes and grabbed a hairbrush from his shelf, using it like a microphone. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and began to serenade you in his terrible, tone-deaf manner.

Make me your radio

Turn me up when you feel low

This melody was meant for you

Just sing along to my stereo

“God, you really do suck at this,” you said, but he just smiled and kept singing. You had to admit, it was sweet. As silly as the memory associated with the song was, it remained a nostalgic favorite even now. You had to join in a few times, just for memory’s sake.

I only pray you never leave me behind

Because good music can be so hard to find

Koushi sat down next to you and wound one arm around your waist, leaning close.

I take your hand and pull it closer to mine

Thought love was dead, but now you're changing my mind

You turned and leaned in too, nearly touching noses.

“Hey,” he said in an almost whisper. “(Y/N) (L/N), I love you.”

“Hey,” you whispered back, gaze flitting down to his lips and back up again. “I love you, too, you sappy bastard.”

...so sing along to my stereo

“I know.” He closed the remaining inch of distance. Your hand tangled itself in his hair while his tugged your body a little closer.

The kiss was almost as good as the one in Uchimura’s closet all those years ago. Almost.

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #anime #sugawara #sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Three | sans. (Part 1 of 3)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

meet me by the train station.

the place's bustlin' and tori's here with me, just in case you're worried 'bout meeting a stranger all alone.

That's surprisingly thoughtful.

And I'm guessing Tori means Toriel?

The goat lady who looked after Frisk?

yup.

she's gotta go deal with some legal stuff 'bout us living on the surface, so she can't stay for long.

but she'll still be here by the time you get there.

Hmm…

Now that just makes me more suspicious of you.

Tell me why it's important that only you specifically want to talk to me about this?

Doesn't Toriel know about what happened down there, too?

yeah, but…

i need to talk to you about somethin' else.

stuff that'll probably be a lil' difficult for me to explain, but that you should still know, being frisk's parent and all.

Now I'm curious.

I'm stuck in some traffic, but I should be there soon.

Would it still be okay with Toriel if I get there in the next ten to fifteen minutes?

textin' while drivin'?

My aunt chose to drive me here.

'Cuz she also said she doesn't trust the whole situation much.

heh.

alright.

tori says it's fine. she doesn't need to leave in the next hour so…

see ya soon, (l/n).

See you soon, mister Serif.

"How's he gonna know who you are if only you have a picture of him?" you aunt asks, eyes locked on the road. Her bright red nails, just as flashy as the rest of her outfit, glisten under the sun, fantasy jewellery and wrist watch doing the same. Her tanned skin almost glows with health in comparison to yours, yet to be healed from the past two months of tension and wait. There's also her signature and almost hair salon professional level of cleanliness when it came to grooming her hair, making her overall, outer appearance far more different and striking when compared to you.

"(Mom/Dad)'s all over the news now!" Frisk says, answering her question before you can even word your thoughts out in mind, too busy noticing how much you've let yourself go in so short of a time.

You plug your phone to the car charger and meet with the side view of your aunt's face. "Like Frisk said. The guy I'm meeting says my face's been thrown out on the news a lot lately, so he already knows what I look like." You pull down the mirror and take a quick look at yourself, eye bags and stress acne now partially covered with a cheap, (s/t) foundation and expression made to look less tired thanks to a full eight hours of sleep. Still, you're far from looking anywhere near to the days before Frisk's disappearance or all the pictures displayed on the news, these from a similar time. All the stress and constant sorrow was still present on most of your features, from something as subtle as the loss of brightness in your eyes to something as noticeable as the drag in your walk and the small slump in your posture.

"Do I look okay, auntie?" you ask, taking advantage of a stop sign.

Brenda spares a quick but meaningful glance at you and a small smile manages to show on her face. She stays quiet even as her eyes go back to facing the road. At a second stop, this one caused by a red light, she looks at you again, saying, "Why are you so concerned about that, dear? I get wanting to look well and dignified for meeting new people, but this is the third time you've asked me today." She giggles when Frisk does, both apparently sharing the same thought. "You look fine, by the way. Though a bit of rest could do you good." The light changes and she carries on driving, slowing down and turning on the signal when she sees the train station to her left. "How many hours do you work, by the way? If you're still working overtime, you should stop that now. Not only for my dear grandchild's sake, but for you to get your long overdue beauty sleep."

"...Sixty hours a week?" you mutter, already anticipating a dramatic reaction from her. Even Frisk seems to notice your answer's not favourable enough to her, so they brace themselves by grabbing on to their seatbelt and pretending they're not paying attention to the conversation anymore.

Staying true to herself, Brenda almost slams the brakes just as she's halfway into parallel parking and snaps her gaze over to you, eyes wide and mouth agape. "What?!"

"Sixty a week," you repeat, louder now. "I had to get my mind off Frisk going missing somehow, so I... took that chance to save up some more by working overtime."

"That's fifteen hours too much, dear." She frowns. "That's either twelve hours a day for five days a week, or working non-stop every day for at least eight to nine hours! No wonder you look so stressed. What about your friends? Your family? Your coworkers?" She seems to notice why you've lowered your voice and does that herself, reminded over Frisk's presence at the back seats. "Oh, honey…" She sighs. "Did you really just work, eat, and sleep those two months they were gone?"

"...Maybe," you reply, looking away from her. "I just didn't know what else to do, and having free time for myself made me feel more guilty about it. The only time I sat down was to watch some TV for when I couldn't sleep at night."

Your aunt finishes parking and lets out another sigh. A gentler look crosses her eyes and she gives in, letting her body relax. "Do you have enough to get by? Please, be honest with me so I can help you out. Alright?"

You smile back at her and nod. "I have enough now. I'm pretty sure I can get by with a regular schedule again."

"With weekends off?"

"With weekends off."

Her smile grows and she unlocks the car, allowing you to step out. "Be careful out there, alright? Just make sure to call me and I'll head back here straight away if anything strange comes up."

"Thank you, auntie. So I'll pick up Frisk at five?"

"Oh, there's no rush. You can always stay the night, anyway!"

After a nod, you get down from the car, open the back door, and climb onto the empty seat left next to Frisk.

"See you later, dear."

You kiss their cheek and look at the phone resting in their hands. There were plenty of questions you wanted to ask them, such as who was Alphys and how she'd gained enough knowledge to develop something with that level of technology, and why it still worked up here despite being programmed to function at the Underground. You remind yourself of the people waiting for you at the train station and wrestle those curiosities down, setting all questions aside for later. "Be good, okay?"

They nod, sign a "Love you!" with their hand, and hold you back to give you a yellow sticky note, folded in two. "Give this to him. And don't forget he can be unexpected sometimes!"

You sign an "I love you, too" back to them, take the note, and step out of the car, waving at them and your aunt before closing the door and pocketing the note away. It stays unread, and while you'd like to know what's written on it as well as the reasons for Frisk warning you about meeting with that monster in particular, they'd specified it was for more sillier reasons, like that of meeting up with a stand up comedian, or more frankly put: a clown or a court jester.

Now alone, you take out your phone and check the messages, a new one from 'Mister Serif' showing up.

hey, uh…

tori hadda go.

an emergency happened, so now she's gotta rush off to the department to see what's up with some documents she turned in.

i know this seems sus as hell, so just wait for me at a more open area, alright?

stick to anybody you're comfortable with and we'll meet there.

I'm honestly touched at how much you're worried about this.

Though all that just makes me think I'm being catfished even more now.

Are you for real, mister Serif?

Can someone be as observant and thoughtful as you appear to be?

see for yourself.

>> Attachment - 1 image

You can't avoid being taken aback when the monster sends you a picture of himself. It's a definite recent one, given he's sitting by a bench close to the train tracks. He holds up a shaka sign with one hand and a coffee cup on the other. A grin decorates his face and the bright lighting shows the picture was taken just now, sun rays piercing through the windows.

I'm somewhat convinced.

need more proof?

Who are you, my Cinder match?

if u wanna.

Oh God.

You're killing me.

inna good way?

Perhaps.

You stop yourself when you realize you're on the verge of flirting with someone you haven't even met in person yet, let alone introduce yourself properly to. The picture he'd sent doesn't help either, as you can only begin to question yourself and your morals over having found him attractive for a split second. While it could have just as easily been the surprise of him sending a picture out of nowhere, it could've also been how laid-back he seemed in that picture, striking a shaka sign that made him look just like a surfer dude and a coffee cup to contrast with that vibe, adding a spark of the typical college student you saw at campus, his hoodie and sneakers only adding to that feeling.

It's then that you realize something's off.

If he was holding a cup with one hand and a sign in the other…

Then who took the picture?

Though you're pretty sure you're overthinking the situation now, you're still better safe than sorry and take advantage of your recent fooling around with him to pass that worry off as a joke.

Wait a minute, mister Serif.

yeah?

If you're holding a cup with one hand and striking a pose with the other, then who took the picture?

Or did you use your magic for that?

a random dude who looked trustworthy enough took it for me.

he's one of those guys who're totally ok with us living here at the surface, so he just snapped the picture for me and even asked if it was for a date i was gonna meet and all.

no magic needed.

And I'm the President of the United States.

But, seriously now…

Are you for real?

yeah.

>> Attachment - 1 image

The picture displays him with a bearded, brown skinned man clad in a suit and holding a suitcase, looking ready for work. Still, his smile shows little to no seriousness and instead displays youth and content over having his picture taken with a potential friend. His height surpasses the monster's by half a foot, though when you compare it to the rest of the people in the background, it's clear Serif is simply shorter compared to the average human. You try not to let your eyes linger too much on the monster when you're done looking at the man, not wanting to fall into the trap of your mind having found him attractive earlier ago. Still, you can't help yourself and take a more thorough look at him again, seeing him now with his eye sockets closed, almost mimicking a pair of eyelids squinting in joy. His arm's hung over the man's shoulders, and vice-versa.

i made a new pal.

"meet up already!" - his words, not mine.

Trying to be smooth, huh?

maybe.

is it working?

Somewhat.

But...

Strange Cinder date vibes aside,

I'm almost there.

aight.

can't wait to meet ya, bud.

You slip the phone back in your pocket and go up the stairs of the train station, stopping when you make it to the line of benches close to the tracks. True to his word, the skeleton sits on one of them and the man who'd taken a picture with him is now waving at him, seemingly saying his goodbyes and headed off to work. You approach the station one careful step after the other, pace slowing down more and more as you feel a sudden awkwardness slip on your shoulders.

Your texts sent off vibes you didn't want present now that you were about to meet him in person. You were still worried about what happened with Frisk a few days ago, and how their happiness pretty much froze when being asked if the monsters had treated them well during their time at the Underground. The one you were about to meet could very well be one of those who'd hurt them, so you brace yourself and try not to be swayed by the softer atmosphere present during your texting with him. You acknowledge the man who'd taken his picture with a wave and a smile back at him. Then, you continue walking and finally approach the bench.

"It's nice to meet you, mister Serif." You acknowledge him with a wave, unsure of how friendly you can be with him.

"Likewise, pal." He holds a hand out to you, bringing forth the warning Frisk had given to you about him.

Out of all the things Frisk had warned you about, it was to be careful around the skeleton, but primarily due to how he seemed to be the type to joke around and prank people often. One thing in particular you were warned about was in shaking hands with him, so right as he offers his hand out to you and just as you're about to reach out, you miss his hand, take a step closer, and pull him along for a hug instead. You then unfold the sticky note and press it against his back with enough pressure for him to feel it and let go when you're done.

"Frisk warned me about you, and even though they haven't told me anything I should be worrying about yet, I do know I should be careful for other reasons. And they told me to give that note to you, by the way."

You sit down and watch as the monster attempts to get the sticky note unstuck, his short height proving to be a disadvantage, as it also comes with shorter arms. He goes as far as to use his magic to get it out, leaving you to bite back a smile and wonder if you've been too rude with him just now. Still, you wait and keep your eyes on the train tracks while he reads the note you've left for him.

"Not gonna say anything about it?" you ask, surprised to hear nothing from him even as he slips the note in his pocket.

"Patience, pal," he replies, words followed with a chuckle and continued with a wink. "Just take it as some friendly payback on my part -- Now we're even." He sits back down and meets with your eyes, his expression changing from humoured to stern at the drop of a hat. "So, what you're sayin' here is the kid hasn't said much about me yet?"

"No," you reply, hesitating. You fight between keeping a smile and a frown. "They've been awfully quiet after I asked them if there were any people down there who treated them badly." You catch yourself becoming emotional, so you breathe and blink a few times to fight that back. "It... It feels like they shut themselves away from me, and now I'm not too sure about how to approach the situation anymore." You stop to catch your breath again, feeling yourself grow anxious already. "They can talk non-stop when it's about all the good things Toriel, Alphys, Papyrus, and… And even what you did for them, but whenever I ask if there was anything that made them feel unsafe, they… They bottle up and run off to do whatever chore there's left to do around the house."

A gust of wind helps freshen up your burning face, product of a train stopping nearby. You wait for him to speak up, body tensed all the while.

"Y'know, I…" The monster sighs, faces down, and rubs the back of his neck, looking lost in thought. "I think I can answer that for ya, but it's gonna be a bit of a long story." He glances at his phone for a moment, seemingly to check the time, and later adds, "Wanna head out somewhere to eat? We can talk about it there over food and drinks. Better than talkin' on an empty stomach, don't you think?"

Despite how somber the mood's become, that trademark grin of his you've already grown used to seems to stand out a lot more now, bringing forth a genuine, welcoming expression in addition to the offer he'd made to you. "Sure," you reply, smile returning. "And... Sorry for dumping all that on you all of a sudden."

You both stand up and make your way out of the station, walking side by side as you continue with the conversation.

"It's cool, pal," he says. "I'd be a lot more worried if you didn't worry about it."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

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

This turned out to be a whopping 7k+ word long chapter, so it's been divide into 3 parts (between 2k to 3k words each, which is the usual length of each update).

So... Long story short: there'll be a double update next week in order to post Parts 2 and 3!

Expect the same thing for whenever a chapter exceeds that limit. :-)

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For the prompt fill, number 3 for Indruck seems pretty fitting!

Here you go! Prompt 3 was “sweet” , Indrid’s design is based on a barracuda and I went with SFW on this one.

“Duck, can you do me a favor when you lock up?” Leo dumps orange taffy into a glass jar.

“Sure, what d’you need?”

“Got some locks for the garbage cans; put ‘em on after you set the alarm out back. Somethin’s been getting into our trash every damn night for the last week. It makes a god-awful mess and I’m worried we’re gonna get a fine for littering.”

Duck nods, turns his attention back to the flock of tourists approaching the window. The afternoon is swallowed up in a pit of sugar-sticky air and blasts of welcome cold from the freezer. There are worse places for a summer job than Tarkesian’s Sweets--he’s right by the water, can watch the wildlife on his lunch break, and Leo is low-maintenance boss--but after eight hours on his feet getting splashed with soda or burned on the popcorn machine, he’s ready to head home. The trash locks have other ideas.

It takes ten minutes of cursing and fumbling to get the first bin secured. He doesn’t even know how the damn things are getting overturned; they seem too heavy for a raccoon or seagull to knock to the ground.

A tiny splash behind him, probably a fish jumping.

Then a crooked, shiny pole slowly enters his periphery. In dim yellow of the streetlight, he can tell the end of it is curved. It pokes inelegantly at the wall, then the locked can, then the wall once again, and then Duck’s leg.

The hook pulls back, pauses, then pokes him again.

“The fuck?” He grabs it when it goes for another jab, pulls up only for his arms to be wrenched towards the water. Not to be outdone, he tugs harder. His opponent retaliates with enough force that he almost tumbles off the pier. He growls, braces his foot on the railing, and hauls the hook and its owner up onto worn wood with him.

It’s a guy about his age, angular face framed by a mess of silver hair and pierced ears. Figures it’s some sort of artsy punk swimming around poking people in the leg. That explains why he’s shirtless too.

It does not, however, explain why he has a tail.

“Rude.” The guy sits up on his hands, silver and black tail flicking droplets of saltwater everywhere, “I don’t go around stopping you from eating.”

“Look man, I just wanted you to stop jabbin me and knockin the trash over.” Maybe if he doesn’t mention the tail it will go away.

“How else am I supposed to get at those odd, pulpy tubs full of ‘cookies and cream’ or ‘bubblegum’?”

“The fuck--wait, you were tryin’ to get the ice cream containers out of the trash?”

“Yes? I also want more of the caramel apples” he pronounces the last word “applees” causing Duck to giggle in spite of himself.

“Look, I have to piece words together from the signs on your store. And you obviously know what I meant or you would not be laughing, so do you have any in the cans or not?”

“Nope” Duck gets his laughter under control, “sold out of caramel apples today.”

“Drat” the visitor starts scooting across the pier towards the unlocked trashcan, “I’ll see what else I can find.”

“Wait don’t fuckin knock that over, Leo’ll be pissed at me if he comes back to a mess, and I don’t feel like pickin up trash because you want a snack!”

“But I’m starving!” The merman, because at this point there’s no way he can deny that’s what’s been rooting through the garbage, whacks at Duck with his tail.

“I know for a damn fact there’s food down there.” He points at the bay.

“Only if you can catch it, and only if it is not in another mer’s territory. Which much of this area is; I am new here, young, and thus have no claim to any patch of sea.”

“You ain’t got any family?” Something pings in his chest. It’s the part of his heart that made him pick out the runt of litter when his mom let him get a cat on his thirteenth birthday, that means he always splits his lunch with Juno because she’s running track and needs it more than he does, that makes him tear up when he thinks about everything a sapling has to survive to become a tree.

“Merfolk leave home at sixteen.” The merman shrugs.

Duck sighs, grabbing his keys, “If I bring you somethin to eat, will you leave the trash alone?”

“Yes.”

He shuts off the alarm, grabs a cone and fills it with bright blue ice cream. The merman is back in the water when he returns, arms resting on the pier.

“Oooh, my favorite!” He takes the ice cream, biting huge chunks out of it as Duck re-arms the door.

Crunch

“...The container is edible!!”

He sits next to the merman’s arms, “Guess you wouldn’t have had an ice cream cone before, huh.”

“No, but it is lovely. I wish humans threw these away more often.” He polishes off the treat, licks his fingers clean with moans Duck hears in his dreams later, and smiles, “thank you for the meal. Goodnight.”

There’s a final flash of silvery tail, and then Duck’s alone in the breezy night air.

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

“That’s a sandwich, correct?”

“AHfuck” Duck knocks over his water bottle in surprise. He’s eating behind the candy store like usual and not expecting an aquatic dining companion.

“Apologies. I have seen you eating here before and thought you may like some company.” He sets a sea urchin on the ground and proceeds to bang on it with a rock.

“Found some lunch?”

“I followed some otters; I was mainly trying to draw them, but they led me to a kelp bed no one else was in.”

“...Wait how do you draw underwater?”

“Let me finish cracking this open and I will show you.”

Duck spends the rest of his lunch break on his belly, the merman showing him a sketchbook and enchanted pen that conjures whatever colors the illustrator envisions. The mer is genuinely excited to talk to him. He assumes the nuzzling is due to him smelling like cotton candy; he doesn’t mind, the mer’s skin is cool and he makes cute little noises whenever he touches Duck.

Before the stands, Duck asks, “You got a name?”

“Indrid.”

“Duck.”

Indrid’s eyes flick to the nearby estuary.

“Yeah, like the bird. It’s a nickname.”

“I like it.” Indrid smiles, dives, and flaps his tail once in farewell.

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

“Cutting school again?” Indrid’s voice bubbles up by his feet.

“Yep.” Duck watches the spring clouds roll by from his favorite spot on the beach. It’s secluded and far from town, meaning no one will give him shit for skipping class and nobody will see Indrid.

He worked at Leo’s until this past summer, only quitting at the start of his senior year of high school when Indrid pointed out that much of Kepler was surrounded by water and that, if Duck wanted to see him, he did not have to keep working at the candy store in order to do so.

“Not that I mind the free food.” Indrid winks.

“Just gonna bring you bulk ice cream from Safeway; no way am I missin out on that chirpin you do when you eat it.”

Duck slides the grocery bag towards the surf, “not like KCC is gonna rescind my offer. Ain’t a fuckin Ivy League or some shit.”

“And you will be happy there?”

“Yeah. They got a decent work-study program with the park, so I can still get a job as a ranger if I want to.”

“Oh. Good.”

Indrid sounds sad, and Duck sits up on his elbows. His friend’s torso is fully on land, his tail fidgeting in the foam.

“What’s up?

“I...Barclay told me his human is going to a school further inland, and I know there are many places you could got to learn. You...you did not choose to stay in Kepler because you feel the need to look after me, did you?”

“Course not.” Duck is sitting up now, aching to stroke Indrid’s hair, “I mean, I’m glad we’re still gonna be able to see each other, and I really hopin I can get a room near the beach so it’s easy to come talk. But this is the right choice for me; if I really want to, I can transfer to a different school in a few years, and I can learn a lot here without takin on a shit-ton of debt. Besides, ain’t like I think you’re helpless; I love bringin you stuff and rubbin your fin when it’s sore, but that’s because you’re my friend. Don’t think you’re helpless. I never have.”

“Not even when I was stealing trash?”

“Thought you were a fuckin nuisance, not helpless.” He playfully nudges his shoulder with his toes.

Indrid turns his head and nips his calf, “How’s that for a nuisance?”

“Not much, felt kinda nice. Uh, I mean, uh, fuck, so, where’d that worry about my stayin come from?”

The mer crawls and wiggles until they’re shoulder to shoulder, “I think my future sight is finally developing; my fathers arrived around the time he turned eighteen, so it makes sense mine would arrive at a similar point. The trouble is, I am having a hard time telling the futures from my own imaginings and worries.”

“That fuckin sucks.”

“I’ll manage. All seers struggle at the beginning. I just wish I was quicker at learning whether certain timelines are really more likely or if they are just ones that I want to be likely.”

“Like what?”

Indrid glances at him, opens his mouth, then shuts it and faces the sea.

Duck smirks, “‘Drid, there somethin you wanna ask me?”

“No. Yes. Maybe? I, I just don’t want to pressure youOOOHhhh that’s not fair” he flops on his back with a groan as Duck scritches his upper tail, “you know I’ll do anything when you touch me like this.”

“Damn right I do. And what I want is for you to tell me the truth.”

Indrid whines, covers his face with his hands.

“Do it or I’ll stop.”

“Rude” Indrid lowers his hands enough that his red eyes peer over the top, “is that any way to treat a mer who wants to kiss you?”

Duck gives his answer by pouncing on his friend, pinning narrow shoulders into the sand as he devours his mouth in kisses.

“You like that treatment better?”

“Goodness, yes.” Indrid pulls him back down, slipping his tongue between his lips and nibbling his neck when he finally stops to breathe. Then his hand flails sideways, grabbing the plastic bag and chucking it further up the beach.

“The, the tide is coming in and I, ah, foresee us working up quite the appetite.” He tugs Duck’s collar down with his teeth, nuzzling and licking across his skin with little hums of pleasure, “so I want to save those for afterwards. Who knows” he grins, “maybe we’ll need energy for round two as well.”

Duck cups his cheek, inhales the scent of the sea and the sight of his future, “I like the way you think, sweet thing.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay fills

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bathhunter186 · 3 years

Text

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How To Install Pokemon Insurgence On Mac 2019

Delta Pokémon are alternate versions of existing Pokémon that have been genetically altered to have different typing, abilities and learnsets. As a result of their mutation, Delta Pokémon are not able to breed. Check the wiki page to know the Delta Pokémon currently included in Pokémon Insurgence.

Will the game include Fakemon?

How To Install Pokemon Insurgence On Mac Big Sur

At this point, we are undecided if there will be Fakemon. If there are, they will likely be postgame.

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ginger-bread-official · 4 years

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Moony and Thumper Hijinx

Ficlet of a budding friendship between Tonks and Lupin in Harry’s 3rd year. Tonks trains near hogsmead and has found a companion in Remus Lupin.

Tonks had no official reason to keep her security credentials to the castle. She had finished her dueling training and passed her exam with Moody, but she still wanted to have the freedom to go up to the castle when she pleased to visit her favorite werewolf. It had become apparent that Remus and her had become friends through all of the dueling lessons and afternoon tea that had transpired in the past few months. They would walk the grounds together, plot pranks on the twins, share old stories; she recently started confiding in him about her dating life. He of course was one voice in a choir telling her to get back on the horse and start dating after Tulip’s betrayal, but he was the only voice that listened when she spoke back. He laughed at her date’s blunders and only gently teased her about hers. It had come to her attention during her visits that the students weren’t the only ones noticing the charming werewolf. Aurora Sinestra was commonly found nearby with her deep chocolate eyes focusing more often on the DADA Professor.

“Oh Thumper give it a rest.” Lupin rolled his eyes hearing Tonks’ theory for the hundredth time, “Aurora is not interested in me.” They were in the library searching for reference material that the professor needed for a lesson.

“She most definitely is.” Tonks whispered back. “Every time I’m up here she’s prowling around the corner,” She scratched the air playfully “waiting to pounce on you.” Remus shook his head amused at the young auror. “I’m only sorry I’ve gotten in the way. I don’t mean to be a cock block.”

“I suspect you’re projecting your own frustrations on to me.”

“Don’t try and turn this around to me Moony.” She shut down his deflection. “She’s clearly into you, and you’re blind old wolf to not see it.”

“SHHHH.” The harsh hush of Madam Pince came from around the corner. Tonks winced at the sound. She definitely didn’t miss that old bat looming around every bookcase. The old crone retreated after shooting the pair a dirty look.

“Your going to get yourself a detention Miss Tonks.” Lupin said with a playful smirk. Tonks stuck her tongue out at him, “Mature.” He chortled as he handed her another book to hold.

“When did I become your pack mule?” She added the book to the growing stack.

“When you decided to hang around during my free period.”

“I thought free period meant free time.” She whined. “Like free time to pull one over on Sprout, or free to go flying for a bit.”

“This is when I plan my lessons. Would you rather I don’t teach my students.” He asked still looking through ‘The Defensive Field Guide.’

“I’m sure they’d appreciate a day off. You’re working them pretty hard.”

“They need to catch up if they want to pass their O.W.Ls and N.E.W.Ts.” he closed the book and replaced it gesturing to her to follow him with the books. “I’ve only got 3 students that made it to N.E.W.Ts level from my predecessors. I can’t let them down like that.” He pulled out another Defensive book. Tonks smiled as his focus zeroed in on the book in his hand.

“Whats your goal?”

“My what?” He didn’t look up from the book.

“Your goal? How many students are you trying to get to N.E.W.Ts?” He didn’t look at her, but she noticed his eyes stopped scanning the page. “5? 10? Half?”

“All of them.” He stated

“Come on Professor, it's just you and me, who’s making the cut?” She leant in, “Dish.” She demanded. He finally broke his focus from the book meeting her eyes with a smirk.

“All of them.” He persisted

“Remus—”

“No,” he cut her off, “if I pick and choose the talented ones then I’m failing those who really need my help. So—” he leant in, “All of them, Nymphadora.” She reacted immediately taking the top book off the pile next to her and swinging it at the werewolf head. “Ouch!” He yelped when the book made contact.

“Don’t call me Nymphadora.” She scolded. He was still smiling though undercutting her stern tone. Madam Pince skulked around the corner probably hearing the commotion.

“I think we better head out.” Remus whispered, “Wouldn’t want you to get sent to the Headmasters office.” He was really enjoying toying with her. They checked out the books he picked and headed back to his office. The students they passed waved and greeted Lupin pleasantly. She remarked how he should run for governor of Hogwarts, earning a sly smile from him. She let him read through his books and prepare for his lessons in peace with the promise of shenanigans later. She read her study materials on the couch with the sounds of smooth jazz playing from his record player. A couple students stopped by for some academic help and she perked her head up to watch him interact with the students. She admired how passionate he was about helping these kids, she only wished she had a DADA professor who helped her. She had to work her ass off to make it to N.E.W.Ts and to get an acceptable grade for the Auror program.

She stood after a while.

“Tea?” She asked. Remus raised his hand in acknowledgement, which she took as a yes. She brought his cup to him, looking over his shoulder at his lesson plans. “Is this for your 4th years?” She asked,

“3rd.” He corrected her.

“Ahh. Harry’s year.” He nodded. “What does he call you during class?” Her signature inquisitive nature taking over.

“What?” He asked, remaining focused on his work.

“What does he call you? Remus? Moony? Dad? Pappa Professor?” She huffed in amusement. She saw a small smile play at his lips.

“He calls me Professor.” He answered simply

“But, but he’s your son.” She argued; Remus shrugged,

“He doesn’t call Sirius or I Dad.” Tonks thought on this a moment.

“He definitely has.” She remarked, “He did when we were kids sometimes.”

“Well growing up it would slip out, but Sirius and I never told him to call us dad.” He thought through when Harry would call them Dad, and how they would gently remind him that they were uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony. Tonks’ brow was stitched. She was compiling all the memories of Harry as a boy, and she found that Lupin was right he called them Padfoot and Moony almost exclusively.

“Why is that?” She didn’t consider that this might be a sensitive issue. “You guys raised him.” His body tensed and his voice was strained when he answered,

“You’re forgetting, his real dad was our best friend.” She knew she went too far, hit a nerve. A beat of silence fell allowing Tonks to feel properly ashamed.

“Well, whether he calls you dad or not, you’ve done a great job raising him.” His body relaxed and she could have sworn she saw him looking at her from the side of his eye. The tension dispersed; she squeezed his shoulder leaving him to his planning again.

The pair worked the afternoon in amicable silence. Remus worked out his lesson plans while Tonks studied. She didn’t want to think too hard on it, but she had been spending a lot of time with Remus recently. He distracted her, and she was finding she really liked his company. They were unlikely friends, but friends none the less. She had worked her way through most of her potions workbook by mid afternoon. She was working through a particularly annoying antidote when her book was snatched form her view.

“Okay who are we targeting today?” Remus’ boyish smile lifted her out of her study stupor.

“Well we got Snape two weeks in a row. I think we should lay off for a bit.” She reasoned.

“I guess,” he agreed, “Sprout?”

“Oh I could never,” Tonks sounded almost offended at his suggestion, “She’s too trusting and sweet, it's like pranking a kitten.” He chuckled at her reasoning,

“Ok then. How about Minerva?” Her eyes lit up at the suggestion,

“My Everest.” Tonks agreed. “How do we get her?” She asked the spark returning to her eyes. “Sirius told me about the laser charm to lure Mrs. Norris away. Could we use that?” He chuckled

“It only works on her when she’s a cat.” He explained. Tonks pouted.

“Well then what were you thinking?”

“What if we stash her pillow with cat nip?” Lupin proposed.

“No go. Charlie and I tried something similar our 6th year. She can smell it as a human and then you just get in trouble.” She explained

“Well what if we Charm her quills?”

“To do what?”

“Sign her name as Purrrfessor McGonagall.” Remus smiled at he sudden explosion of laughter.

“Thats brilliant.” She beamed at the professor, “We could also make it so when she writes her first name it changes to ‘meow-va’.”

“Purrrfect.” Remus responded, “I can lure her out of her office with a phony excuse about a student and you sneak in and charm the quills. The only trouble is she adds security charms to her door when she’s not in her office.”

“Way ahead of you. Charlie and I found a way to sneak in her office from the roof.” She stood and put on her gloves adding a sticking charm as she did. “Give me 10 minutes to make it to her office then floo her.” She instructed as she opened his office window and began to lift herself out by the ramparts.

“Tonks wait.” He reached out for her, “We can borrow a broom so you don’t fall off the side of the castle.”

“Your next class starts soon, there’s no time.” She reasoned, “Plus its more fun this way.” She winked as she pulled herself up onto the turret of his tower office. He leant out watching her scale the out side of the castle with her sticky gloves.

“You’re absolutely insane!” He yelled up to her.

“Ten minutes Professor.” Was all she yelled back, and then she was out of sight. Remus chuckled to himself waving is wand at his wrist watch to set a timer.

#nymphadora tonks #tonks #tonks and lupin #Remus Lupin #Remus John Lupin #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #andromeda tonks #prisoner of azkaban #Harry Potter #Nymphadora Lupin #professor lupin #hogwarts #REMUS AND NYMPHADORA #Nymphadora #Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks

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bubmyg · 5 years

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i know u don't write angst but could u write a fluffy thing about having had some type of argument with joon and you end up going to his studio or wherever he is to make up with him and the two of you are just really sorry about the whole thing (and dorks) and he's been worried about it all day so he's just really glad you came kind of thing

genre/warnings: idolverse (loosely), fluff

word count: 1,102

a/n: combined w this request: “okay, but namjoons desk picture inspired me. would you want to write something about finding a picture of yourself on his desk that you didnt know was there and so he gets all soft and shy and cute abt it??🥺🥰“

The frozen anticipation of wrapping your fingers around the door handle faltered the second you pushed down on the knob, limbs numb and moving on their own accord as you pressed your shoulder into the frosted glass and stepped five steps inside. As quickly as the fire fizzled in the depth of your stomach, it reignited upon finding the depths of the studio empty aside from a handful of figurines and Namjoon’s idle computer monitors staring back at you.

Crooked fingertips ran across the couch cushions, trailing upward to accommodate for a tiny neck pillow he’d snatched from Yoongi’s studio and back down to the wooden armrest. You followed a path to the shelving unit pressed against the wall, shelves uneven in the geometric suggestion of a modern piece of art.

Your curled fist nudged his mouse when you reached his desk, changing the light bathing over your snooping figure when the monitor jumped back to life to display his previous work. It was a mirage of windows, some you understood, some you had a vague understanding of, some not at all, open in organized chaos that made the headache between your eyebrows throb a little bit more.

You slumped backward into his chair instead, shoving the mouse a safe distance aside as you curled a knee to your chest. The leather creaked as you pulled yourself closer, the seat rotating on it’s own accord.

Your cheek squished to your knee, eyes scanning the littered contents on the surface of his desk. A few notepads. A container of neon sticky notes. Figurines big enough to fit underneath the tilt of his monitor. A dented stress ball made of knit. His keyboard back lit by the working status of his computer.

A framed picture of the members. A framed picture of his dog. A framed piece of artwork.

A framed picture of the two of you, Namjoon’s long jacket half draped around your shoulders as he leaned into you, latter hand drawn up in a peace sign across his scrunched eye, dimple on display as his lips slotted into a crooked, emoticon type expression that only traveled into your giggles that peered up at him. You hadn’t remembered the cause of the laughter, only the joyous sound itself as it traveled between the two of you and through Jimin that balanced the phone between his thumbs.

There was a similar frame flattened in front of it, the black velvet back facing you as the clamps sat lopsided. You were careful in reaching for the object, nudging your fingertip underneath the loose back to pop off the cardboard and peel the image from inside.

It was a picture of you, gloss still fresh and shining at you in a slight gleam that had smudged the glass still secured in the frame. You hadn’t seen the image before, a candid with the sky way too blue in the background, your laugh way too timely and your hair perfectly unruly.

The picturesque white clouds blurred on the accord of the sniffles that jumped to your nose and you were too busy brushing your fingers over the general area of those spots to hear the door close, only startling when a cupped hand slid across your shoulder.

“Jeongguk printed that out for me,” Namjoon told you, crouching next to where you sat. Your loose grip allowed him to slide it into his palm, holding the now smudged photo on the edges, “Needed a new one for my desk...”

You sniffled and he sat the photo down in response, meeting your gaze when you turned your head with a sad smile lining the wobble of your lips. “My hair is stuck in my mouth,” You mumbled, gaze jumping to the pendent on the necklace that swung at his chest.

Namjoon’s hand cupped your cheek, thumb brush underneath your eye until you glanced up at him. “Had to print out a new picture because I missed you,” He said finally, thumb trailing down to press into the swell of your bottom lip.

“I saw you last night.”

“Yes, but...” He trailed off and you knew what he meant, as did the kink in your back from curling up on the couch until he slipped out of the apartment at an ungodly hour of the morning.

He shifted, hand falling to your thigh and your fingertips pressed to the top of his hand, slipping between the spaces. “I missed you, too,” You said finally, fingertips crooking, “...and I’m sorry.”

There seemed to be a visible deflate in his stature, a relax in the tautness of his being, even his smile as it loosened enough to feature a ghost of his dimple. “I’m really sorry, too,” Namjoon squeezed your thigh and you squeezed his hand, “I’m really glad you came. I thought I was going to have to get Jeongguk wallpaper one whole side of the studio in pictures of you.”

You giggled and it was healing to each of your hearts, not quite there but enough for you to lean into his touch, for the tears to well and dry immediately after, for his lips to meet yours in a sweet, chaste peck over the arm of his chair.

He stood and you frightened slightly until he moved closer to you, coaxing you up with a tug on your arm. You kept even eyes focused on his, following his movements by standing next to him. “We’ll talk about it more later?”

“Of course,” Namjoon agreed into your hairline, arm threading around your waist to press you against his chest, “At home. Is that okay?”

He plopped into his chair and you followed suit, curling a knee to your chest against as his lips stayed cemented to your temple. “Yes,” His arm tightened on your hip when you leaned for the edge of his desk, gathering the frame and picture in patient fingers, “We need to fix this first, anyway.”

“Can you help me fix some of that too?—” His chin settled on your shoulder and he gestured for the dimmed mess of programs open on his computer. “My thoughts have been a little...scattered. All day. As you can see...”

“You have to help me finish the laundry at home.”

“...and can we order pizza?”

“Of course.”

“And then we’ll talk.”

“...what about a few more kisses first?”

Namjoon pecked your cheek until you turned and then he pecked your mouth, pinching your hip, “Yes. Kisses. And then talking.”

“Yes...” You nodded, fingers busying back with tucking the photo into the frame as his lips trailed down your throat, “Then talking.”

#kim namjoon #bts #bts reactions #bts scenarios #namjoon scenario #kim namjoon scenario #bts imagines #namjoon imagine #kim namjoon imagine #bts fluff #namjoon fluff #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #:-)

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beaugarland · 4 years

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Fly screen a great solution

Capturing flies If you discover that flies congregate on your windowsills, put a glass of water consisting of a couple of declines of dishwashing soap on them. The flies will be brought in to the water and afterwards obtain stuck. It doesn't quit the flies being available in, but it's a good way to see to it you do not have dead ones lying all over the window frameworks. Sticky tape is additionally excellent for catching flying bugs although it can be unsightly. Hanging it right beside windows and doors will certainly make certain that the flies do not obtain very much. Install an air door Air doors are set up above entrances and work by pressing a drape of air out of the area. Flies will not be able to enter, and what's even more, it's fantastic cooling on a hot day. They can be rather costly however and also are better for organisation premises. Fly screens Handmade flyscreens are highly reliable at keeping flies outside, and also they're attractive also. You can likewise obtain screens for your home windows so every entry is shielded. Chain screens carry out the exact same function as well as are extensively utilized by butchers and various other company facilities. Prevention Keep in mind, you may in fact be welcoming flies right into your home without becoming aware! Make sure that you tidy up all pet mess from your outdoors areas, empty your containers consistently and do not leave food existing around on counters or surface areas. Do not have standing water near your entrances, such as a water butt. Every one of these things are terrific attractors of flies as well as various other parasites. Make sure to turn off unnecessary lights as light attracts flying insects. If you keep a tidy residence with nothing for parasites to prey on, you must discover that you have less of an issue! Tips to keep pests away Bugs like huge leafy plants so if your yard has plenty of those you could take into consideration cutting down on them. Do not utilize outside lights also near to your residence. As bugs as well as insects are drawn in to light, keeping a great quantity of darkness between your internal lights as well as outside lights will certainly minimize the number of them that 'transfer' themselves from the outside to the within! Keep the similarity ants out by guaranteeing you load any kind of small cracks and openings on the outside of your residence or structure. You might use concrete or broadening foam - whatever you choose will certainly do the job without spoiling the appearance of your building. Remove any kind of and all weeds from the around the base of your home or building. These will bring in pests that will, at some point end up inside. With no weeds to sanctuary in, they are more probable to keep away, finding different secludeds and houses. Fly screens will shut out most of bugs as well as insects yet there will constantly be some that survive or an event you forget to close a display. What can you do when those bugs are in as well as bothersome you? There are several remedies to this. There are, certainly, a vast array of fly, insect as well as insect killers in spray form on the marketplace but over the course of a summer season this might show an extremely expensive means of taking care of insects. They additionally smell dreadful and can be hazardous to animals and little kids, so other choices deserve considering. One very easy choice is to melt fragrant candle lights in your rooms - specifically citronella candle lights. Pests dislike these as well as will prevent them whatsoever costs. They are full safe to use around children and pets as well, so are a good choice. With no weeds to sanctuary in, they are more most likely to stay away, discovering alternative retreats as well as residences. There are, of training course, a wide variety of fly, bug and also bug awesomes in spray kind on the market but over the program of a summer this can show an extremely expensive way of dealing with insects. Bugs hate these and will certainly prevent them at all prices.

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emotionalsupportinchworm · 4 years

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Well, submissions at @one-time-i-dreamt are closed (I hope she's doing okay), so I'm doing it myself.

Warnings include animal testing, animal abuse, animal mutilation, body horror, dismemberment, and just. Blatant and horrific disregard and violation of scientific ethics.

Chobani Greek Yogurt was made using woolly mammoth DNA. This was one of those public secrets, where everyone knew, but everyone still treated it as a secret.

In some office somewhere, local unnamed rich person/genetic engineer/"oatmeal enthusiast" was holding a meeting/giving a presentation about some exciting new developments in her work.

I was among the guests/investors/board members.

She was telling us the story of how one morning at breakfast, her husband (with whom she was madly in love, and wouldn'tlet us forget it) opened up a cup of chobani yogurt, and saw that there was a piece if hair inside.

Imagine her excitement! A piece of woolly mammoth hair! Some careless employee must have unknowingly carried it from the labs to the yogurt packing area! Or something!

So, she carefully lifted it out of the yogurt, using the sticky surface of a band-aid. And there it was, in the middle if the meeting table. Sitting on a little decorative plate. A tiny curl of woolly mammoth hair.

There was some fuss at one point when someone tried to pick it up to get a better look, and for a moment we thought it had been lost.

Veronica moved on, to tell us about how much she loved oatmeal. She really loved oatmeal. To a degree that did not seem entirely safe for work.

But, she believed that by using this small sample of woolly mammoth DNA, she could create the best oatmeal in the world.

So, she took us to her. Oatmeal. Breeding tanks?

They were more like terrariums, about a foot wide and deep, two feet tall, mounted to the wall a few feet up off the floor. They felt like a museum or zoo/aquarium exhibit.

The first few were relatively normal, as much as an oatmeal breeding tank can be.

What she was calling "oatmeal" was more like grits or bear mush. She made it clear what she loved most was a really liquid oatmeal, with the grains of porridge basically floating in a pool of honey and melted butter. That's basically what was in the first few tanks.

The first tank that seemed odd had a few big chunks of oatmeal that seemed like they had conglomerated around some central mass. Some sort of oatmeal bone. They looked alive.

Veronica complained that those specimens weren't very good, as the oatmeal was "rock hard".

The next tank had a goat in it. It was small, and taller than it was long. It fit nicely in the tank, standing there, peacefully, in the oatmeal sludge that had settled at the bottom of the tank. It had a single, straight bone protruding from its shoulder.

The tank after that was similar, but instead of seeming peaceful, almost unaware, the goat there was awake and alert, five-headed, and speaking.

The lower two heads seemed timid. I don't remember what they said, but I know that they were saying something. Perhaps they were muttering too quietly to be heard over the others.

The head on the upper right hand side seemed happy. It was excitedly belting out old-timey love songs and show tunes, seemingly unaware of anything else.

The upper head in the center was furious and terrified. I don't remember what it looked like specifically, but I remember getting the strong sense that it had been tortured, stripped of everything but the brutal fact that it was still alive.

All it did was scream, and yell, and shout at its sibling head, "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOU IN THE MORNING!"

The head on the upper left was barely there at all. A dying tongue, withered and swollen, poking out from above an exposed, disproportionately large vertebra.

All that was left from where it had been removed, cut from its body.

I imagine that it was that procedure, the removal if a sibling head, that had made the center head so afraid, so angry.

I put it together that that was what the bone sticking out of the first goat's shoulder was, the neck of a second head.

I did not look in any more tanks.

I wished that there was something I could do to stop veronica from continuing whatever horrible oatmeal-woolly mammoth hybrid program she was running.

But there wasn't.

I left as quickly as I could.

BONUS!

The next night, I was standing in the kitchen, comparing my dream of Veronica's oatmeal goat with my brother's dream.

I had not yet woken up at this point.

It was like we had planned and arranged to have the same dream, and were comparing experiences.

I asked him something like "could you do anything to stop it?"

He answered something like "no, there were armed guards, but why would I want to? The goats seemed happy and cozy, even though they were a little far away."

For just a flash, I saw him squinting through a pair of binoculars at a beautiful hilly field, fenced off, with goats grazing happily in the distance.

"Why," he asked me, "was your dream bad?"

I could barely speak to say "yes, it was horrible".

I put my hands on his shoulders and looked over him for dramatic effect, and as I managed to gasp the words "oh my god" to emphasize how horrible it was, the lighting changed, making the whole scene seem like an old photograph, and the shadows over my brother's face looked like running ink.

Then I woke up, feeling a slight weight on my chest that dissipated quickly.

I was relieved to look out my window and see that the sun was already rising, and I would not have any reason to try to get back to sleep.

#one time i dreamt #dream #horror #more like goatmeal #am i right

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brittabottt · 5 years

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Okay! It is here! It is not great, but it is here. Please feel free to send any commentary or hopes for this fic that you have. The next segment will have more of a focus on Raven and Murphy. (I’m saving my beloved Octavia for last...)

The overhead lights flickered a little differently by 2am. Fluorescent bulbs didn’t seem to be so sickly when they dimmed. Instead, the light was more a soft hum, a subtle glow. Not many of the students knew this, of course, because the library legally closed at 1am. But, as Clarke had found out her sophomore year, if you were close with the librarian (thanks to your mom being one of the university’s doctors) they’d let you stay past closing.

She longed for the quiet of the university’s library. When the marble floors didn’t echo with student’s footsteps, pacing with nerves, rushing to find an open space to study away from distractions, trying to locate the ideal book to assist in yet another term paper. When the wood arches, with their elaborate designs, emphasizing the historic nature of the library, where the only company she had. That, and her easel and paints, set up in one of the individual study rooms with large windows, offering a perfect shot of the moon.

Clarke had her painting space set up just so by 2:15, the little radio she had brought sat in the open doorway of the study room, playing an oldies CD her mom had always had on. One paintbrush tucked in her hair, holding the blonde strands back in a slight bun, and another tipped in indigo and angled just so towards her canvas, she was ready to paint the night sky.

“Hey princess, you mind turning that down. Some of us are actually trying to study.”

Clarke dropped the brush, the angled tip coated in indigo splashed on her book bag underneath her, thankfully saving the floors beneath. She swiverled on her heel. No one was here at this hour. No one.

And yet, there stood Bellamy Blake, his hair more tousled than usual, as if he’d spent the last several hours running his fingers through it in an anxious tick as he poured over page and page of greek mythology. She’d known him in passing mostly. Or, more accurately, from competition, mostly. They’d had nearly every core requirement classes together, naturally becoming enemies and competitors for the top marks on day one. In freshman literature, they’d been paired up together to complete a book report for their mid term. It had required the reading of three of the assigned novels and a presentation comparing and contrasting the novels and highlighting the key themes. The themes were subjective and Clarke and Bellamy had spent the majority of the given time arguing said theme.

“You’re not looking at the works critically, Bellamy,” Clarke had scoffed one too many times in a library study room much like the one they were currently standing in. “Take the time period into context to understand the heart of the story.”

“Heart of the story?” Bellamy had replied, one too many times. “Clarke I don’t think you could find a pulse in these novels if it was right in front of your face. Which it is, by the way.” He’d have hopped off the edge of the desk at this point. Bellamy seemed to always find new places and ways to sit, making Clarke annoyed, sitting cross legged in her own seat. Like a normal person.

“I don’t need to critically analyze the books,” Bellamy said in air quotes. “That’s been done. And will be done, mind you, by every other overachieving type A in that class. What we need to do is look at the characters. Look into the emotions. Why should we care about these stories? What is the heart of that?”

Their arguments would continue for hours, finally ending with Bellamy rolling his eyes and leaving the study room to head to dinner before the dining hall closed and with Clarke rewriting their entire group analysis. In the end, they’d each present a different angle, Clarke looking at the thought behind the story, and Bellamy digging into the depth of the characters of the story. Their English professor, blind to the competition brewing between the two, was amazed by their “work ethic” and placed both of them. From that day on, Bellamy and Clarke, despite following two very different tracks at university, competed in every possible way.

And apparently, late hours at the library had been added to that list.

“What are you doing here, Bellamy?” Clarke retorted, trying to regain her standing after splashing her bookbag purple.

Bellamy leaned against the door frame, stack of books tucked under his arm.

“Same as you, working.” He lifted a book from the stack, showing her an old copy of The Iliad with sticky notes popping out.

Clarke rolled her eyes. Any chance he could get, he’d use that book as a reference point in their coursework. Their sophomore year, during a biology lab, he swore he could find a way to link the two, much to Clarke’s frustration. That was also the year he, obviously, declared his minor in Classics with a focus on Ancient Greece, and the first year his sister, Octavia Blake, attended the university, with a similar love for mythology. However, Clarke could tolerate the other Blake more, as Octavia also had a passion for the more left-brained subjects, specifically Ecology.

“Well maybe you should work,” Clarke said, moving towards Bellamy in a hopes to get him to leave her in peace and quiet she so desperately wanted, “during regular library hours.” Stopping just a mere few inches from him, she caught a whiff of the smell she’d also remembered so much from their first few years of course work together. Something pine and cedar, stimulating and calming, all at once. Bellamy seemed to always remind her of summer days spent in the woods back home so much that despite his presence annoying her to her core, she’d also constantly felt safe around him. Kind of like at home.

“What, so you can have your royal chambers to yourself?” Bellamy took a step forward, closing the gap between the two and evidently causing Clarke to take a step back into the study room. “No way princess. You’re not the only one on a first name basis with the librarian. Kane keeps the lights on after hours for me too.” He had a smirk tugging his lips so bright that Clarke stared a moment longer before rolling her eyes and turning on her heel back towards her canvas. “Fine,” she said finally. “But pick any other study room besides this one. I’ll pretend you’re not here and you leave me alone.” She picked up the paintbrush from the ground, dipping it in the water cup placed at the edge of the desk and removed the brush from her hair. The blonde locks fell along her back as Clarke swiped the other brush through the indigo paint, determined to finally start her art.

“Fine,” Bellamy replied, expecting to turn and exit the study room, having his fun tormenting the uptight artist. But for some reason, he couldn’t gather himself to leave just yet. His eyes lingered a moment longer on the golden hair trailing down her back, the softness of skin of her shoulders. The way her entire being seemed to lighten as she painted, so different from the rigid and routined pre-med student she usually was, gunning for the top grades in university. This Clarke was different.

“Today, Bellamy,” Clarke said, not tearing her eyes away from the canvas or pausing her hand making delicate and precise strokes, crafting the background of a night sky. “Leave, today please.” She clarified when she still hadn’t heard his footsteps and the closing of the study room.

Thankful that Clarke hadn’t turned around as she spoke, as his cheeks were now slightly rosy, he rolled his eyes and regained his composure. “As Her Majesty requests,” Bellamy sneered, giving a mock bow as he finally turned and exited the study room.

When the footsteps had safely echoed down the marble floors, and another study room door opened and slammed shut, Clarke allowed herself to stop. She sighed, placing the paintbrush on the edge of the easel and turned towards the door. Taking a few steps towards the frame, she pressed on the wood, leaning her head out of the door way and down in the direction of the other study room being used. Bellamy was infuriating as hell, and yet, there was also something so comforting about him. A little part of her that only seemed to light up around her mom came out when she was near him. But, like everytime those thoughts gathered, she pushed them away before they could even reach her consciousness. Bellamy Blake, at the end of the day, was all heart and no head. And if Clarke was going to achieve top marks in her pre-med program and make it into the top medical school, while also pursuing her art, she had no time for matters of the heart, simply the head.

#Bellamy blake #Clarke griffin #bellamy x clarke #Clarke x Bellamy #bellarke #bellarke au #bellarke fic #the 100 #the 100 au #college au #the 100 au: college

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