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kitashousewife · 1 year

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FUZZY BRAIN

an: im distracting myself but i haven't stopped thinking about this idea. so thought i would give it a spin. super super loosely based on my interpretation of fuzzybrain by dayglow!

pairings: timeskip!kuroo x fem!reader

warnings: slight angst, stress mentions, eating and drinking mentions, kuroo needs a nap :/

"how's your day going?"

"no, i don't need a receipt."

a very confused barista stares back at kuroo, who blinks back at her.

"wait, sorry," he grimaces and shakes his head. "my day is alright, how is yours?"

she responds, but he isn't really paying attention. lately, he hasn't been able to focus on much of anything. he grabs his coffee and heads back to the office, forgetting the embarrassing conversation before sitting down.

spring had finally arrived in japan, bringing an onslaught of responsibilities along with it. like the blossoms floating in the wind, different tasks and deadlines seemed to float their way onto kuroo's plate. his planner is full, daily agendas scribbled into whatever room remains. nothing seems to slow down. each item he crosses off is replaced with a new one in a matter of minutes.

he's scatterbrained.

"remember, we have that marketing meeting at five kuroo-san," one of his colleagues pats him on the back while sneaking behind his desk.

"oh, that's right," kuroo mumbles, flipping through the pages of his planner, finally reaching today's date. staring back at him, among the six other important things due today, is the meeting. highlighted, circled, and underlined. "see ya then."

he leans back and groans.

at this point, the due dates and deadlines aren't bothering him. he's almost numb, but comfortably so. he's found comfort in the hustle of it all, avoiding having nothing to do. his mind craves being busy.

his body disagrees.

kuroo's aching fingers rub at his eyes, preparing himself to stare at his computer monitor for the next few hours. dark circles have formed underneath his eyes, unmoving. his head throbs, but when is it not lately?

"kuroo-san, ushijima wakatoshi's manager called just now and wants to speak with you," one of the department's secretaries taps her palm on his desk, causing the mound of papers to slide slightly. his typing continues, and kuroo doesn't even notice.

"kuroo-san?"

his head shoots up. "sorry, did you say something?"

she gives him a sad smile.

"no, it's nothing. i'll tell them to call back."

as she clicks back to her desk, kuroo's brows furrow, before he cringes. just like this morning.

he's not sure how he got to this point. kuroo's always prided himself on his quick wit and problem-solving skills, as well as his hard work. he wouldn't have been able to imagine himself like this. overworked, exhausted, brain full of fuzz, and eyes bloodshot.

he doesn't recognize himself sometimes.

the day trudges on, the phone ringing constantly along with a steady flow of messages in his inbox. he crosses things off on his list, finally reaching the end. he smiles, with relief or pride he isn't quite sure. soon enough, it's time for his meeting, which means it's almost time to go home.

kuroo stumbles out of the door of his building, quickly brought to reality by the honk of a taxi and the shuffle of other commuters. he sighs, beginning the walk home.

it's times like these when he's thankful to live so close to work. all he wants is to get home, shower, and sleep. he smiles again, so close to being in the comfort of his own space, when his stomach growls.

then he frowns.

kuroo groans for what must be the tenth time today when he realizes that despite all of his meticulous planning and record keeping, he's forgotten to get groceries this week. at this point, he's past all of his regular takeout places. closing his eyes with sigh, he crosses the street to enter the small neighborhood market.

his fingers rub against his tight neck, sliding around to loosen his tie before grabbing a basket. he wracks his brain, attempting to come up with any dinner ideas for the evening. nearly walking into the door, kuroo tries to remember what's in his fridge at the moment.

"welcome in!"

"you too," he half waves at the cashier, their own waving hand slowly falling in confusion. kuroo remembers the chicken in his fridge, and finally begins to form a menu. he grabs a few veggies, an extra bag of rice, and heads into the last isle. his hand grabs a bottle of oil, and he stops.

his brows pinch together, staring down the bottle in his hand. why did i grab this?

he shakes his head. his mind races, trying to remember any sort of thoughts he had before grabbing this. he blinks, running recipes through his mind before letting out an irritating huff.

"what is this even for?"

"frying things, usually,"

"what?"

you blink up at him, grabbing ingredients of your own for your basket. his eyes widen.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry. i don't-" he cuts himself off. "i'm so tired."

confused at his sudden raw honesty with a stranger, he scratches the back of his head.

"don't worry about it," you reach for a bottle of your own. "i've been there."

his fingers tap the side of his basket.

"how did you cope?"

you smile at him.

"it's okay to take a break. i mean i don't know what you do for work," you gesture towards his tie. he looks down at it and chuckles. "but everyone deserves to rest."

he nods. he could cry, honestly. this is the first real, non-work-related conversation he's had in weeks.

"making something good?"

he laughs. "i can't remember."

your wrist spins your basket at your side. you do feel for this stranger. the second you walked into the aisle, you noticed how tired he looked. the vacant stare and slow blinks said it all.

"you need to eat."

he snorts. "i don't think i have the energy to cook anything. i'm trying to talk myself out of swapping all of this for a frozen pizza,"

you smile, holding up your basket, displaying just that.

"nothing wrong with that!"

every second kuroo spends talking to you in this too-crowded aisle is melting the stress from his shoulders. he's tired, so tired but he doesn't want this to end.

"i want to see you," he slides the basket further up his arm, patting his pockets with his palms. "again i mean. i want to see you again. can i?"

you look up at the handsome stranger again, smiling when you notice a grin of his own.

"s-sure. need a pen?"

"if you've got one. i don't think i'd be able to remember a phone number tonight."

you dig in your purse for a pen, flipping an old receipt over to scribble your name and number down for him. after you hand it to him, he repeats your name.

"i'm kuroo, kuroo tetsuro. sorry for not introducing myself earlier," he mumbles, suddenly feeling a little shy. his vulnerability catching up to him at last.

"well kuroo, i hope you remember to call." you place the frozen pizza in his basket and walk towards the check stands. "cause i would love to see you."

kuroo smiles wide, the words he was going to say dying on the tip of his tongue.

while he enjoys his frozen pizza that night, still in his work clothes on the couch, he calls you.

he decides before the sun even sets that he's calling out tomorrow. he's going to sleep in, as long as his body allows. and he's going to see you. but this time he will give you his full attention.

kuroo's not a believer in fate, but you just might make him one.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq x reader fluff #kuroo tetsuro #tetsuro kuroo

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cliffbar-booth · 1 year

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FANTASIES (rewritten)

ight. i restalked my own page and HOLY shit it was so bad. i've improved as a writer and i felt the need to rewrite everything. that's all!!!

it's a little snub idfk the word count is 462

ermmmm tags @makeyoumine69 (that's kinda it 💀)

fic inspired by: WEST COAST - LANA DEL REY

summary: you happen to zone out while in Patrick's office. you were listening to his rambles, not paying attention. your daydreams however, aren't of day to day things. (or maybe they are wink wink nudge nudge)

As I sat in Patrick's office, on the plush but stiff bone colored sofa, him at his desk, scribbling who knows what on papers, he spoke to me. About... well, I don't know. It was scatterbrained yet slow at the same time, very subtly shifting topics like he was trying not to get distracted. After a while of listening, my eyes panned down unconsciously, unfocused. My thoughts wandered from things like what'd I'd get for dinner, to whether I had time to watch a movie tonight.

I noticed he had bruise to the right of his thyroid cartilage, or the area around his adam's apple. i grew curious as to how he'd gotten it. was he hit by another? was his intercourse a little physical than normal? that irked me. i began to fantasize, thinking of different ways he'd gotten it. i'd been thinking so hard about this that instead of random women, it shifted to him fucking me. i imagined his hands all over my chest, his large, rough, but not calloused hands gripping my tits almost angrily, his teeth pressing into my neck, leaving marks as his cock slipped in and out of my pussy, over and over and over again. i didn't pay attention to anything other than my fantasy.

i'd also imagined another scenario, where we were in his office. maybe the chick he might've fucked was in the office before me, and that the bruise was recent. i played it out in my head. his palm over my lips, my eyebrows furrowed, my skirt still on, but my shirt partially unbuttoned, slipping down as his other hand was under my bra, massaging my tits like before. i was cockwarming him, but every now and then, he'd shift himself or move his hand from my breast and move me, causing me to moan into his hand. if he wasn't touching me, his hand that wasn't covering anything would go to work on either my pussy, or just his work in general. you could never predict him.

my pussy fluttered from under my white panties and dark grey skirt.

"and i just never understood why Evelyn was so strict with me.. she just- Y/N?"

i blinked as i heard a loud snapping in front of my face. his hand was in front of my face. i jumped a little.

"Y/N, get back on planet fucking earth please, it'd make my day." he growled, annoyed.

"i'm sorry- i uhm-" what in fuck's name would i say to cover up what i was doing?

"you were zoning out, i know. kinda obvious."

okay then, well at least he didn't know what i was thinking about.

"pretty weird shit though, you were biting your lip and everything."

i'm so fucked.

#american psycho #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman #patrick bateman smut #smut fanfiction

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vulture-writes-stuff · 1 year

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I really love Jacq. He's relatable because he's scatterbrained and talks a lot. Anyways compulsively wrote this thing after getting a cute idea enjoy

Also this is going to be multiple parts. Just because this is like 3k words and nowhere near done.

Jacq X Male Reader

Being a teacher doesn't give Jacq much free time. And yet, he still finds all the time in the world to visit that handsome shopkeep who runs a bookstore in Artazon.

Reader is not the SV protagonist. He's a pretty normal dude all things considered - his only explicitly mentioned Pokemon is a dusk form Lycanroc.

Authors note: I've taken to using ____ as a replacement for y/n because I just don't like using that. If you're using an extension to swap words out, add four underscores and your name/OCs name to get desired results. I'm not entirely sure how pokedollar to irl currency works so I'm using google's Yen to USD converter. Also just using the yen symbol for convenience's sake.

Jacq was absolutely hopeless.

Sure, the Academy had the largest library in the region. And sure, he was already a relatively accomplished Pokemon researcher who created the Pokedex app.

But when his newest student Juliana had told him about a bookstore in Artazon, he couldn't help himself. The pursuit of knowledge led him to many things, even if it meant a slightly unconventional trip during a time when he didn't have class.

It wasn't too hard to find the place he was looking for. A sign above the door read "Pagebound" in neat lettering, with an opened book etched directly beneath it. From looking through the window, he could see the shop was quite cozy. Bookshelves were arranged in an orderly fashion, and there was even a little reading nook with bean bag chairs.

A bell chimed a merry note as he pushed the door open, taking a better look around. There wasn't anyone in the shop, not even behind the counter - he presumed the folks who worked here were tidying up or preoccupied with something else. The shop was open, perhaps it just wasn't too busy.

Jacq skimmed his eyes over the titles he could see. A collection of books he had heard of, but many he hadn't. Original works from Pokemon researchers that had been published and publicized, but perhaps weren't very popular. They could give some unique insight to Pokemon biology.

He could certainly see why Juliana had mentioned this place. It had a certain atmosphere about it that was irresistible, so pleasantly relaxing he wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.

Jacq heard footsteps approaching, and wondered if any employees had finally spotted him. Instead, he was greeted by an extremely unique sight. An orange-furred Lycanroc with lime green eyes and a shock of white, spiky fur arched in a crescent over it's head. It stared at him without so much as a peep, tail swishing back and forth languidly.

A dusk form Lycanroc. It took a moment for the realization to set in, and he nearly dropped the book he had plucked off the shelf. These were the rarest form of Lycanroc, only evolved at sunset - they were also said to be the strongest. Jacq had never seen one in person before. He'd seen various studies in reports and pictures of them sent to him through the Pokedex app, but those were nothing compared to the real thing.

"Hello there!" He greeted with an excited whisper, patting his jacket on search of his notepad. "What are you doing here, huh? You must have a trainer nearby, you're far from your usual reported habitats..."

The Pokemon continued to stare him down, completely unphased by his talking. Jacq wasn't even sure why he was talking to a Lycanroc, it couldn't respond to him.

"Look at you, aren't you just gorgeous?" Jacq was frantically scribbling down notes, along with a crude sketch of the Lycanroc itself. It was absolutely fascinating to see one so close, and get a proper look at it. The unique blend of features from midday and midnight Lycanroc made for a very interesting specimen. He wondered briefly what its mane felt like - would it be like the rocky, jagged mane of a midnight form, or the softer, more sleek mane of a midday form?

He reached forward without thinking, but stopped himself in his tracks. He would rather keep all of his limbs. Lycanroc had a reputation for being aggressive towards those they didn't trust, and sticking his hand right near its mouth full of very sharp teeth was a gateway to disaster.

"Oh, a customer." Jacq jumped as someone spoke, briefly wondering if the Lycanroc had, in fact, responded to him. His eyes darted around for a moment, before finally landing on the actual origin of the voice.

And there he stood, perhaps the most handsome man Jacq had ever seen. He had a casual sort of smile on his face, hands stuffed into his pockets as he approached. The Lycanroc wagged its tail happily, turning to approach the stranger.

"Sorry if she caught you off guard. She's mastered her mean look, but she wouldn't hurt a cutiefly." He gave the Lycanroc an affectionate pat on the head. Jacq was speechless, still crouched down awkwardly with his pen held loosely in hand. A glimpse at the other's nametag told him their name was ____ - it looked like they were the only employee.

"...Ah! N-No, no, not at all, actually!" He spluttered, nervously fumbling with his coat as he got up. "I've just never seen a Dusk Lycanroc in person, is all, I got distracted taking a closer look at her- er, I was just, ah, making notes for my own research!"

____ watched with vague amusement as Jacq explained what he'd been doing, evidently not too bothered by how close he'd gotten to his Pokemon.

"Don't stress, really. You aren't one of my regulars, so you've never seen her out and about. Most people are as surprised as you are." ____ shrugged with a cute laugh, one that made Jacq's heart skip a beat. "So you're a researcher?"

"No! W-Well, I was, It's not my main focus anymore. I used to do that for a living, but, uh, I- I teach at the Academy in Mesagoza. Biology, to be specific. I still, uh, indulge in some exploration from time to time though!" Jacq stumbled over his words, trying to stuff his notepad out into his pocket. He, of course, missed, dropping it on the floor. "I developed the Pokedex app, so I mostly get my information through others nowadays - but, uh, one of my students recommended this place to me, so I thought I'd take a look!"

He didn't mean to talk so much, but he did that when he was nervous. The Lycanroc ambled forwards, gently picking up his notepad and offering it back to him. Jacq took it back with slightly trembling hands, successfully putting it back where it belonged this time.

"Biology, eh?" ____'s eyes glittered. He flicked a hand casually towards the shelves to his left, to a variety of thick, dusty old books. "I have a good collection of self-published works by lesser-known researchers. I'm sure I'd you wanted to learn something new, one of those would help. Though I'm sure the Academy's library will already have something better."

"Oh! That'll, uh, that'll be perfect! I'll take a look, thanks in advance." Jacq adjusted his glasses a little, consciously aware of them sliding off his nose. ____ nodded, before strolling off.

"I'll be in the back, shout if you need a hand!" He called, a door clicking shut behind him. The Lycanroc padded casually alongside Jacq as he perused the shelves - a few of the titles he recognized from his own studies, but a large variety were brand new to him. The one that caught his eye was one he'd never seen, entitled 'A Study on the Noble Phenomenon.' He recalled Raifort mentioning the concept of Noble Pokemon once - in ancient Sinnoh, inhabitants revered exceptionally large and powerful Pokemon as guardian deities.

Jacq took the book off the shelf, taking a moment to skim through the pages. The book itself seemed to dive into why these Pokemon became as strong as they were - the primary theory seemed to be that they were descended from Pokemon with significant power, belonging to one of the first Pokemon trainers in history.

It was fascinating to look into - it described Pokemon that no longer existed, and drew links between those ancient Pokemon and modern Pokemon. He sat down in the little reading nook ____ had presumably set up himself, sinking comfortably into one of the assorted bean bag chairs. He didn't have long to stay, but it wasn't like he couldn't get comfy while he was here.

Lycanroc situated herself on a particular cushion in the corner, one that was distinctly more worn than the rest. It was far too small for her, her legs hanging off of it at awkward angles, but she looked very cozy. Who was he to judge?

He certainly hadn't realized how long he'd been there until his rotom phone beeped - a reminder that he had a class starting soon! He'd gotten lost in his own thoughts for too long! Jacq hurriedly got to his feet, quietly thanking the fact that ____ had returned to his spot behind the counter.

"How much for this?" He asked, setting the book down. It thumped loudly on the wooden counter, which woke Lycanroc up. Oops. ____ took a look at the book, glancing briefly at the spine.

"¥1800." He came up with that price fairly quickly. It was a remarkably good price for a book this size, especially considering it didn't seem all too common. ____ chuckled softly, perhaps noticing his expression. "I offer a unique discount to cute biology teachers. Consider yourself lucky."

Jacq felt his face burn, stuttering incoherently for a moment. Had he heard them correctly, or was this some lucid daydream? Was the Lycanroc secretly a Hypno in disguise? He dug his wallet out of his pocket, handing over the money with a hastily mumbled 'thank you.'

"Thanks for shopping with Pagebound, we hope to see you again." ____ grinned like a Nickit, watching Jacq leave in a hurry. "...Ahh, Lycanroc. Do you think we'll see him again?"

The Wolf Pokemon snorted, rolling her eyes in a human-like gesture before standing. She turned around multiple times on her cushion, softening it to her liking, before plopping back down.

"Well, I sure hope so." ____ gazed at the door where Jacq had been a few moments earlier, chin propped upon his hand. Things got lonely around here... It would be delightful to see Jacq again.

Jacq already wasn't fond of taking the stairs up to the Academy, but it was made significantly more unpleasant because he had to sprint up the stairs. He was completely out of breath by the time he got to his classroom, the bell chiming merrily to announce the start of class the moment he closed the door behind him.

"Ha... Good timing by me!" He joked breathlessly, earning a few chuckles from his students. Jacq dropped the book on his desk, leaning on it for a moment to catch his breath. Thankfully, it didn't take too long to regain his composure - he would've gotten an earful from Director Clavell if he had spent his entire class doing nothing. "So, I presume we all remember our last lesson about regional forms."

...His encounter with Lycanroc earlier had given him an idea.

"While some Pokemon change depending on the region they make their habitat, some have a variety of forms that aren't exclusive to one location. Let's use Meowstic as an example - while both variations evolve from the same Pokemon, Espurr, they look completely different and even learn different moves depending on their gender." Jacq gestured as he spoke, fixing his glasses out of habit. "Another excellent example of this phenomenon is Lycanroc. Can someone tell me how many forms Lycanroc has?"

Predictably, Juliana's hand shot up without a moment of hesitation. She was rather soft-spoken, but she still had a habit of being the first to answer any of his inquiries. And, most of the time, she was correct.

"There's three," She answered when he looked at her. "Midday form, Midnight form, and Dusk form."

"Correct! Not many people know that Lycanroc has a third form!" Jacq set his hands on his hips. "The form a Rockruff will take depends on the time of day it evolves. Not only will its appearance differ, its disposition will change too! Each form has its own strengths and weaknesses, but the Dusk form is widely regarded as the strongest form - however, it's also the rarest. Only certain Rockruff can evolve into it, and they'll only evolve during the sunset. Interesting, huh?"

Jacq spent the rest of his class explaining form differences, explaining changes that only effected appearance versus changes that effected a Pokemon's capabilities. He found himself trailing off a bit each time he thought about that Dusk Lycanroc, mind wandering back to ____. Sure, he could get as many books as he liked here at the library...

And yet, he still found he wanted to go back.

He waved his students out as the bell rang, distinctly aware of Juliana's knowing smirk but choosing to pretend he didn't notice. The moment the door shut behind the last student, he slumped over his desk, head in his hands. All it had taken was one interaction with ____ to make him feel like a hopelessly enamored schoolboy.

He briefly checked the time on his rotom phone, consciously aware of the fact that he had several more classes to teach today. Perhaps he could stop by again another day, there was a variety of other books he wanted to take a look at... And, perhaps he could get to know ____ better.

Jacq sighed, taking his glasses off to clean them. He was absolutely hopeless.

A few days had passed, and Jacq couldn't get ____ off his mind. He'd already finished the book he'd bought from them, but he found himself going back through it over and over. It was an interesting read, but that certainly wasn't the only reason he continually returned to it.

He finally surrendered. When his classes were done for the day, he was out as quickly as his students were, rushing through the halls as fast as he could reasonably go without knocking anyone over.

Going down the stairs at high speeds was much easier than going up - albeit, carried a greater risk of falling over. The moment he arrived in Mesagoza's plaza, he pulled out his phone to call a flying taxi. Artazon wasn't too far away and he could've walked, but he just knew he would get distracted watching wild Pokemon or get tangled up in a battle and forget where he was going in the first place.

Walking into Pagebound again was oddly relaxing, the atmosphere of the cozy store weighing pleasantly over him like a thick blanket. He spotted ____ working out of the corner of his eye, organizing books on the shelves.

"Welcome, feel free to take a look around and ask me if you need help." He said, not turning just yet. Jacq perused through the books once more, though his attention never lingered on one for long. He continually returned his gaze to ____, mind ablaze with thoughts. How should he approach? Small talk, just saying hello, asking for help? Overthinking was a pain.

He wasn't aware of the fact that ____ had noticed him already, stealing brief glances whenever he happened to look down. Lycanroc watched the pair as they gazed longingly at the other, eventually tiring of their shenanigans. She padded through the neat aisles towards Jacq, giving his coat a sharp tug with her teeth right as ____ looked at him.

Jacq startled, briefly looking around to see what had tugged his coat... And spotted ____ staring. The two made lingering eye contact, standing awkwardly on the spot, before they both quickly turned away to pretend they hadn't just stared at eachother. Lycanroc almost snickered as she plodded off again.

After a few more minutes of meaningless browsing, Jacq approached ____. He might as well try, even if he made an absolute fool of himself. Jacq gave himself an internal pep talk - walk up and ask him if he'd like to have a coffee sometime! Easy peasy! He took the time to fix his hair a little, even if his attempts were fruitless, finally clearing his throat to get the other's attention.

"So, ah, ____-" Jacq's voice caught in his throat when ____ looked at him. The shopkeep was still a little flustered, visibly blushing. Jacq felt his brain completely empty, his comprehension of speech dissolving into a mushy pile of words. He fumbled with his glasses for a moment, trying to remember what he was going to say... Before grasping at straws. "Err, well- I was, uh, wondering if you'd- w-want to... to... Come by the academy?! I, uh, I think Lycanroc is fascinating and- a-and I'd like to show her to my students! We did a lesson on a-alternate forms, and I think- w-well, seeing an example in person would help! Especially since she's so docile and-"

Jacq paused when he saw the way ____ was looking at him. He looked equal parts bewildered and amused, fidgeting with the pen he had tucked behind his ear.

"I'd love to. I-If the director is okay with it, anyways. Lycanroc is really good with kids, I'm sure she'd love them." ____ smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair out of his face. "I don't want to get you in trouble, so..."

"Right, right! I-I can ask, definitely! I'm sure he'll allow it- I mean, he's- well, he's strict, but he'd never deny a good learning opportunity!" Jacq was giddy with glee. He'd forgotten what he was originally going to ask at this point. "I'll, ah, come back tomorrow and let you know! Same time!!"

"Great. I look forward to it, then." He giggled, giving Lycanroc a loving pat on the head when she approached him. Jacq grinned brightly, making a mental note to visit Director Clavell as soon as possible, and bustled out the door.

Jacq was certain he could've sprinted all the way back to the academy with the adrenaline that courses through him - he had done it! He may have forgotten what he was originally going to ask, but he'd asked something nonetheless.

He'd probably spent more on the taxi just this month than he had spent... Ever. At least it was a good mode of transportation. Instead of returning to his classroom or the staff room, he made his way up towards Director Clavell's office. The two had worked together for a long time before coming to the school, he was almost certain he could convince him to allow a guest speaker.

"Director Clavell?" He asked as he opened the door, checking inside to see if he was even there. Clavell sat behind his desk, occupied with whatever paperwork he needed to do. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

"Not at all. What can I aid you with?" Clavell placed his pen back in the inkwell, folding his hands nearly in front of him.

"Good- er, I have a request. See, I've met this fellow who owns a very peaceful Dusk Lycanroc-" Jacq saw Clavell lean forward a little, obviously intrigued. "I was wondering, could I, uh, invite him to speak for my class? I-I just think seeing such a rare Pokemon could be a great learning experience, but I wanted to- to ask you first, you know?"

The director considered this for a long moment, casually rubbing his chin. Jacq was worried for a moment that he might decline, preparing to offer his best justification-

"I don't see why not." Clavell finally decided, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Provided the Lycanroc remains in its PokeBall in the hallways." Jacq nodded, fumbling excitedly with his Rotom phone. He couldn't exactly call ____, but it was exciting news nonetheless.

"Of course! Thank you, director, you won't regret this!" Jacq brushed his coat off, turning around and leaving the director to his work. The rest of his day was spent eagerly awaiting the next day, the hours dragging by so slowly he feared he'd lose his mind.

When his classes were over the next day, he rushed out again, following the same path he'd taken the day before.

The bookshop was empty again, though Jacq saw Lycanroc's mane poking out from behind the front countertop. He approached warily, concerned about startling her - but she seemed to notice him before he got close, slinking around the corner and padding up to greet him.

Lycanroc was far more welcoming than she'd been before, thick tail wagging as she rubbed affectionately against his leg. He cautiously gave her a pat on the head, a touch which she seemed overjoyed to receive.

"Seems like she's warmed up to you." ____'s voice came from behind, and Jacq nearly jumped out of his labcoat. "Sorry, guess I startled you again. Did you hear from the director?"

"I-I did! He said you're free to come by anytime, as long as Lycanroc stays in her ball in the hallways - er, I'm guessing because we're not technically supposed to have them out indoors." Jacq continued to pet Lycanroc, running his hands along her mane. It was an odd mix of smooth and coarse, a texture he certainly hadn't anticipated.

"Great. I'd be happy to come by tomorrow, if that works for you." ____ offered, clearly amused by Lycanroc's desire for many pets.

"Yes, that would be perfect." Jacq stood up, brushing orange fur off of his shirt. "I can contact you before my classes start for the day!"

"You'll need my contact info first, though." The other mused, strolling off for a moment to pluck a book off the shelves. He grabbed a bookmark from the countertop and scribbled something onto it, tucking it between the pages before he offered it to Jacq. "My number, and a book on the house."

"Oh, you don't need to-"

"Ah ah. I don't want to hear that, mister. Consider it a gift." ____ interrupted Jacq before he could protest, pushing the book into his hands. "I look forward to your message."

"Y-Yeah… I should, uh, probably go get things ready-" Jacq pointed to the door. Lycanroc distinctly pouted.

"Don't let me keep you." ____ winked, before returning to what he'd been doing before. Jacq jogged out the door, rounding the corner before he simply slumped against the wall with the book clutched to his chest.

Oh, Jacq was absolutely hopeless.

I love this man and his dumb glasses

#fanfic #x reader #writers on tumblr #pokemon x reader #x male reader #pokemon jacq x reader #mr jacq x reader #pokemon scarlet and violet #scarlet and violet #no spoilers #pokemon x male reader #part one

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jong5eob · 10 months

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study buddies

han hyeongjun x reader college au

summary: Hyeongjun always seems to be prepared for class, having read all the papers and always ready to join the class in a debate. But for some reason he never brings a pen to class and he always ends up asking you for one, and you’re starting to get suspicious. (1.7k)

Of all the college courses that you expected to kick your ass, astronomy was not high on the list. You learned the planets when you were a kid, you kind of knew what asteroids and black holes were, and you…sort of understood how they worked. But midterms were approaching fast, and you were scared for your C grade.

Your only hope was Hyeongjun, who sat directly in front of you. He had a habit of forgetting his pencil, one that had gotten worse as the semester continued, and he often overheard your quiet cursing when you’d check your grades. You worked out a deal where he would help you with homework and studying, and you would lend him pencils (and occasionally highlighters) in exchange. Your grades never got anywhere within range of his, but you weren’t flunking so you weren’t complaining.

Your studying had started in the library on campus, but over time you would go to his dorm more and more often. He had good snacks, and his roommate was usually out, so it was an ideal environment for learning.

On this particular day, however, you were really scatterbrained. You almost left your key in your dorm, but luckily, your roommate was home and opened the door for you to grab it. By the time you realized you left all your pencils at your dorm, the two of you were already completely surrounded by study materials.

“Does Jooyeon have pencils I can borrow?” you ask, double checking your backpack to see if your pencil case is hiding.

“What’s wrong with yours?” Hyeongjun doesn’t look up until he’s already spoken and sees your backpack empty without your pencil case. “Ah. Uh.” He looks to the right, and you follow his gaze, looking at Jooyeon’s side of the room. It isn’t horrible, thanks to Hyeongjun convincing him to clean for the two of them every so often, but it’s pretty clear there isn't a lot of studying going on.

Hyeongjun silently gets up as you count the hoodies piled on Jooyeon’s desk (at least six), and he quickly opens and shuts a drawer, producing a single #2 pencil. He hands it to you, still not saying anything.

You try not to think too much of it, but it gnaws at the back of your mind while he tries to explain the concept of dark matter to you. You’re really trying to pay attention, truly, but you end up unable to focus on anything except when did Hyeongjun start buying pencils?

You’re pulled out of your daydream when Hyeongjun waves his hand in front of your face. “Did you catch that?”

“Catch what?” You blink twice, looking back at him instead of the almost-blank sheet of notebook paper you’ve been resting your pencil on.

“Singularity, it’s the middle of a black hole.” He pauses. “…How long have you not been paying attention?” He glances at your notebook but doesn’t say anything about the lack of notes.

“I must’ve zoned out for a second, I’m sorry.”

“No worries, I can explain it again.” He has a soft smile on his face as he explains the concepts of how black holes are formed and what they even are again. After a few minutes of utter confusion, something clicks, and the concepts start to make perfect sense. You scribble notes down as fast as you can, worried that the clarity isn’t going to last, but you manage to fill page after page with notes.

“Holy shit,” you say after a while, rubbing the wrist of your writing hand. “I feel like I just retook every class we’ve had this semester.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, no, I actually understood everything. Thank you.” Hyeongjun smiles at this.

“I’m glad. Do you think you’re ready for the midterm?”

You rest back on the palms of your hands. “Right now, yes. I’m just nervous that I won't remember anything in two days.”

“Of course you will, you’re smart.” You smile at him.

“Thanks, but my grades would disagree.”

“Grades don’t measure how smart you are, though.” He gets up, walking back over to his desk and opening a drawer, pulling out some snacks. “Are you hungry?” You nod, reaching out for one of the bags which you quickly open and start eating.

The two of you relax like this for a little while, refueling with all of your study materials surrounding you and just chatting. You find out that he plays guitar, he likes listening to jazz music and that he’s interested in fashion. After about half an hour of talking, the door to his dorm swings open and (presumably) his roommate comes in.

“I’m home!” he calls out, immediately becoming the loudest sound you’ve heard that day. He looks over at you and Hyeongjun, still sitting on the ground. “Oh? Is this your girlfriend?”

Hyeongjun doesn’t say anything, but the look he gives you tells you all that you need to know. “Ah, I have to go home, I forgot my roommate wanted to make dinner with me tonight.” You’re lying through your teeth and you hope Hyeongjun can tell.

“Ah, okay. Thank you for studying with me.” He helps you gather your things Jooyeon lays on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Bye, Hyeongjun’s girlfriend!” he calls on your way out. Hyeongjun closes the door quickly, and you can faintly hear his roommate yelling out in pain immediately after. “What was that for?”

You walk back to your dorm, fairly confident in yourself for your test.

You and Hyeongjun don’t talk much the next day, your only class together is Astronomy so you don’t get much of a chance to interact outside of the lecture hall. He does text you a few times, making sure that you remember the different types of stars and what a quasar is, but for the most part, you focus on your other class and reading back over your notes.

On the day of the midterm, you enter the lecture hall and glance around for Hyeongjun. You don’t see him, so you take a seat. Your professor has a rule where there needs to be a minimum of three seats and one row between the closest person to you, so you don’t get your usual spot, instead sitting closer to the middle. There aren’t too many people in this course, so it’s not too difficult to find a seat.

You’re pulling out your pencil case when someone walks past you, whispering “You’ve got this!” You glance up as they pass to see Hyeongjun smiling softly at you while flashing a thumbs up. You smile back at him, watching him find a seat, and you’re surprised to feel butterflies in your stomach. You hadn’t really considered that you might be into him, but you put the thought out of your mind for the moment. The exam is beginning, and all of your anxiety comes rushing back as you open the packet.

You glance over the first page, and some of your anxiety dissipates as you see several rows of multiple choice questions. You find yourself somehow breezing through them, and at the end, there are five fill-in-the-blank questions. You check over your answers again before you turn the test into the professor sitting at the front of the classroom, and you’re on your way out of the back door when someone grabs your wrist.

You quickly turn around to find Hyeongjun smiling at you. “Sorry,” he whispers, “I didn’t want to yell. Uh…would you want to get a coffee?”

“Of course.” You smile back at him. He lets go of your wrist, and the two of you walk to a little cafe just off campus. You end up spending a few hours there, eating pastries and drinking your coffee, and by the time you realize how late it’s gotten, there’s a notification waiting for you on your phone. Your midterm was already graded.

“Oh, holy shit.” You stare at the notification, scared to open it and find that you didn’t understand quite as much as you thought you did.

“Did yours get graded, too?” Hyeongjun asks.

“Yeah…” you trail off. “What did you get?”

“You check first.” He locks his phone, placing it screen-down on the table.

You take a deep breath and tap on the notification. It takes a second to load and your anxiety is at its peak just before it finally shows you. Somehow, some way, you got an A-, which is your highest grade in that class so far. It skyrockets your course grade from its comfortable C to a mid B. You drop your phone on the table, mouth slightly hanging open.

You blink, looking back at Hyeongjun. “What did you get?” you ask again.

He holds his phone up, showing an A+, which isn’t unexpected. “I had a really good study buddy,” he tells you. “What did you get?” You show him your phone, with both the grade of your midterm and your overall grade up, and a wide grin spreads on his face.

“I knew you could do it!” He exclaims, before covering his mouth with his hand. The cafe is mostly empty by now, and even the employees don’t give him a look. You smile back at him, overly proud of yourself, as well as grateful for all of Hyeongjun’s support and study help.

“Would you, uh, want to keep studying together?” you ask, a little worried of what he might say.

“Of course, I have fun studying with you.” His phone buzzes like twenty times, threatening to shake it off of the table. He glances down at the notification and his face falls slightly. “I’m sorry, I have to go, Jooyeon lost his key, and if the RA finds out, he’s going to have to pay a fee. Are you free to study on Monday?”

“Yeah, sounds perfect. Good luck with Jooyeon.”

“Then it’s a date.” He doesn’t look you in the eyes as he says this, and he only waves goodbye to you as he leaves the cafe.

You sit for a second before cleaning off the table and leaving yourself. The butterflies are back, less subtle than before. This time, you don’t try to find a distraction from them.

#it's been a minute since i've posted a fic on here bear with me #my writing #xdinary heroes #xdinary heroes scenario #junhan scenario #junhan x reader #xdinary heroes x reader #hmm idk what to tag with!!#feedback is always appreciated <3

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sherifftillman · 2 years

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Sending a second one because I can. Baking with our sweet baby bsbl!Ralph would be lovely <3

Pairing: Busy Streets and Busy Lives!Ralph (Timewasters) x Reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: Happy first day of ficmas, gang! <3 This current chapter of BSBL is pretty angsty and is therefore eating me from the inside out, so here's a wee bit of canon divergence/an insight into the future/the real fluffy shit I've been wanting to write all along lol.

As you turn the key in your lock, you squeeze your eyes shut. You’ve never been a religious person, by any means, but as you push the door open you pray to whatever’s out there that you’ll be walking into a perfectly normal scene.

But of course, you’re not. When has anything in recent months been normal?

Ralph has a baking tutorial playing on the TV as he’s sitting on the floor in front of the sofa, surrounded by several cookbooks, his phone that’s also open on a recipe and multiple crumpled-up pieces of paper on the floor. “Alright there, babe?” you ask with laughter in your voice, putting the groceries you’d just bought down by the doormat as you walk over to him.

With a sharp gasp of surprise, Ralph’s head turns quickly to see you, but his face softens into a smile of pure adoration at the sight of you. “Good afternoon, my love!” he beams. You’ll never tire of how your heart skips a beat at those words. “I’ve got myself into a little bit of a quandary here, I-I’m all sixes and sevens,” he shakes his head.

Despite having never heard those phrases used by literally anyone ever, you take it from context clues that he’s in a predicament that’s got him all scatterbrained. “What’s the matter?” you ask, perching yourself on the arm of the sofa.

As your leg dangles over the side closest to him, he leans over until his head rests just below your knee. “I’ve been scouring the internal net -” His refusal to learn real names of things never stops being endearing - “in search of the ultimate recipe for these gingerbread biscuits I promised to bring.”

You stroke his hair gently, “You know they’re literally just expecting a bunch from the supermarket, right? You don’t need to -”

“I volunteered for a reason!” Ralph frowns. “You remember the utter fiasco that was the last dinner party we threw.”

“The only issue we had that night was that you were putting too much pressure on yourself,” you move your hand down to run the backs of your fingers up and down his jawline.

“And all of the miniature quiches flying across the kitchen floor! Everyone had been talking about how those were their favourite and I ruined it all,” he sighs.

“Yeah, but you didn’t,” you remind him. “We just went across the road, picked some ready-made ones up, shoved them in the oven for a bit and everyone still loved them.”

“But I worked so hard on them,” he falters, but his posture soon returns to him as he sits upright and starts shuffling things around, picking up his notebook. “Which is why I simply must learn from my mistakes! No more shop-bought contributions from Ralph Penbury, absolutely not!”

Oh, Christ. There’s no stopping the Ralph train at this point. All you can do is try and slow it to safety. “So, what’s with all the market research then?”

“Well, I thought perhaps if I seek out multiple sources for their recipes, and simply try to judge what they all use versus what makes them unique and then I can decide on the perfect recipe!” he explains as he quickly scribbles down something the video mentions.

“And how’s that going for you?” you ask, amused.

He looks up at you sadly. “I’m frightfully exhausted. I don’t know whether to add chocolate in there, or lemon - I mean, this recipe calls for bourbon, which sounds just as delightful, too! But surely I can’t add them al-”

“No, you’re definitely right there, you definitely shouldn’t add all the things,” you hurriedly interject, your damage control instinct kicking in. “You know, my nan used to make her own gingerbread biscuits that absolutely slapped. That’s a good thing,” you quickly add, to answer Ralph’s look of confusion. “C’mon, I think I put it in with one of her old books.” You tap his shoulder and get up, prompting him to follow you.

As you take one of the rarely-used books out from the nook you keep them in, Ralph giggles as he teases, “Was that a cloud of dust I saw over that cookbook, darling?”

Raising your eyebrows at him, you cross your arms over your chest. “You talking shit about my cooking skills?”

His eyes widen as his expression falls and he shakes his head quickly. “Not at all, my love!”

You pinch his cheek and grin, “Good boy,” at him before turning back to the book. “I just don’t get to use this much because these recipes take so much ti- ack!” You squawk as you’re interrupted mid-speaking by Ralph planting a very wet kiss on your cheek. You cringe, “Oh my god, why was that so wet?!”

“Would you rather my lips were dry, darling?” Ralph asks sarcastically. You respond by cradling his jaw to push his face close enough to yours to rub your cheek against his.

“I’ve corrupted you,” you shake a finger at him once you've dried your cheek against him. “You're turning into me. Think I preferred you when you were all shy and that,” you tease before thumbing through the pages. “Aha! Alright, can you just fetch the flour out of that cupboard for me, and I’ll get the - Oh, Ralph,” you collapse into giggles as he ends up tipping out some of the flour from the open bag into his hair.

He sputters, “Buh- Puh- Why would you leave it open like that?!”

“I can’t exactly shut a bag like that, can I?” you retort. “Sounds like you need more experience in the kitchen,” you poke his side teasingly, but he doesn’t move. You glance over at him, and thankfully you don’t see his usual pitying, hangdog look he has when he fears he’s upset you. Instead, he looks as though he’s fighting a smile as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

Before you can anticipate what that means, he launches himself at you, rubbing his hair against your face. You both cackle with laughter as you try to hold him at arm’s length. “Down, boy!”

Ralph suddenly stands upright to pout his lower lip out at you. “That’s the second time you’ve spoken to me like I’m a dog.”

“You’re not exactly helping matters, puppy-eyes,” you tease, scooping some flour off of his shoulder and tapping it onto the tip of his nose, which he scrunches at you. You mimic him and you both smile at each other. He’s so adorable, you could kiss him here and now. But then you’ll keep kissing him, and you’ll never get these damn gingerbread people made in time.

“Very well,” Ralph furrows his brow and straightens his face. “What’s next?”

“At ease, Private Penbury,” you grin, “let me handle the rest of this before you end up accidentally making my whole kitchen a mixing bowl. Just go get the new stuff out those shopping bags I put down, please.”

“Oh, yes, I had a question,” Ralph pipes up as you’re counting off the ingredients you take out.

“Shoot.”

“Well, some of these videos and the recipes I found on my telephone, they mentioned an ingredient I’ve never heard of. Um, what are mo-lasses?” He very deliberately separates the first syllable, for some reason.

Still focusing on your task, you simply reply with, “Treacle.”

“Yes, lovebug?” he asks sweetly.

You half-laugh, “No, I mea- oh my god,” you simper as you turn to see him right next to you, having returned from bringing you the rest of what you need, looking at you with wide, loving eyes. “I didn’t mean like the pet name, I mean it’s literally treacle. Americans call it molasses. That’s why we tell you that the first thing you read isn’t always the most helpful to you.” You pull out the tin of treacle you’d just bought from Ralph’s pile and display it as though you were advertising it. “Do me a favour and measure each of these out based on what’s written down?” you ask, and he nods, complying immediately. You kiss his cheek with a, “Thanks, babe,” and gently stroke the shell of his ear as it turns what’s now your favourite shade of pink.

Once he’s measured the ingredients out, opting for the bourbon he’d sought out earlier as his own special added ingredient to your family’s recipe, and you’ve mixed them together - a system which Ralph certainly agrees is best once he’s gotten over the initial shock that came with hearing an electrical hand mixer for the first time - Ralph bounces his knees up and down, clapping enthusiastically, “What’s next?”

You shrug, “We put this in the fridge and leave it for a couple of hours.”

Ralph stops and frowns. “Well, that’s anticlimactic.”

You giggle, “Well, if we shower and get dressed while it’s chilling, that’ll waste an hour. Then once we’ve rolled it all out and shaped it, while it’s cooking, we can make our finishing touches to ourselves, too. Then it’ll be time to take the cookies out, let them cool down and then take them over to Grace’s!”

“Do we not get to decorate them?” Ralph frowns.

“Oh yeah, but we all like doing that together, usually. Grace has all kinds of icing stuff, it’s great fun.”

Ralph starts counting the times up in his head. “Something doesn’t add up here, if it takes two hours to chill, but only one to get ready, what will we possibly be doing for a whole other - oh,” Ralph’s ears blush again as he meets your suggestive gaze. “C-can I at least wash the rest of this flour off of me before… You know…?”

You can’t help but laugh a little, but you manage to keep it under your breath, just shy of his range of hearing. “Of course. Want a hand with that?”

His eyes narrow, “Why would I want assistance wi- ohhh.” This time, your laugh is more audible, but it’s not unkind and Ralph can clearly tell as he smiles bashfully at you. “I most certainly do!”

#ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters x you #ralph timewasters fanfic #ralph timewasters imagine #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x reader #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury fanfic #ralph penbury imagine #ralph timewasters fluff #ralph penbury fluff #bsbl #ficmas #*myfics

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gnomeniche · 2 years

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OCs: The House at the Hellmouth

sorry i haven’t posted in a hot second i was thinking too hard abt oc-ifying my deemis humanization designs bc i love drawing their faces and shapes and i wanna keep them. so here’s The House At The Hellmouth, or hellmouth for short. it’s a low-stakes urban fantasy about these guys and their sometimes-magical issues.

for various reasons, three dudes who barely know each other have ended up living together in an extremely haunted house whose basement contains The Hellmouth™, a portal to a dangerous part of the magical world that must be watched over lest shit leak into the mundane world. most of the story is about them learning to live with each other and themselves as they slowly get more embroiled in the mysteries of the house and each other’s backstories.

it’s still very obviously inspired by deemis but hopefully it will grow into its own thing as i develop it. i put it in a more grounded genre even tho i love the weirdness and abstraction of deemis for that reason. it does use several ideas from my normal au but not as many as you’d expect? it’s way way more fantasy.

also i unbritished them. first of all to distance it more and second because it’s easier to write urban fantasy in a place you’re familiar with. the hellmouth is in Kansas because why wouldn’t it be.

so given that + the magic portal world in this universe + the focus on Home, they’ve got an Oz Motif going on. which is appropriate given that deemis is very Alice-like. kids’ isekais from diff countries.

anyway here’s the guys. average monster of the week party.

orange: Clove Spindlebinder. the not-so-brainless “scarecrow”. scatterbrained but talented and creative. an embarrassment to his powerful wizard parents. sent to the hellmouth house from the magic world to toughen him up. would really prefer to do sewing magic but his enchanted thread has many useful applications in dealing with creatures. his parents are Rosemary Spindlebinder and Thyme Wyrdrender, two powerful members of the wizard council who are extremely divorced. the only thing they agree on is that they are disappointed in him. rosemary has custody, so he only counts as part of her family.

dark blue: Lucas Taylor. the not-so-spineless “lion”. quiet and awkward but resourceful and stubborn in the face of weird shit. literally just some guy aggressively concealing his ability to see magical stuff because he doesn’t want to be called a freak. answered clove’s Help Wanted ad intended only for magical people. stays even after he sees the hellmouth bc he doesn’t have to pay rent as long as he helps with the horrors. has a bad relationship with his family and especially his twin brother, Linden, who tried to distance himself from him as much as possible when they were kids.

teal: Ambrose Sherman. the not-so-heartless “tin man”. persnickety and mischievous but extremely lonely and motivated above all by care for his loved ones. an unaging undead who took the fall for his resurrector’s crimes to protect him. condemned by the wizard council to guard the hellmouth as punishment and has been here for a few decades. cannot go far from the house. his resurrector is Peregrine, who is maybe some kind of lich who dabbles in forbidden magic? idk but he’s bad news. unfortunately ambrose is very in love with him.

also the house itself is a character. it has something of a personality (not necessarily malevolent, sometimes friendly, often capricious) and its internal dimensions shift. sometimes it simply grows new rooms. the mystery behind the house and why the hellmouth even exists is Part Of This Story but damn if i know how i’m gonna have that shake out yet. i do have ideas for arcs but i don’t wanna write it all out here so that’s all for now.

here’s some bonus scribbles. i’m still figuring them and their designs out so this is all subject to change.

#hellmouth ocs #hathm clove #hathm lucas #hathm ambrose #original character #oc #artists on tumblr #mine #doodle #am.txt #am.png

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dira333 · 3 months

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I was going through your soulmate prompts (I’m a sucker for soulmate AUs) and I got this idea (with Shinsou ofc):

For the prompt of whatever you write on your body appears on your soulmate’s body, what if it was with someone in the Class C course?? Maybe a scatterbrained engineer who can never find their notepad so they are always scribbling ideas and equations on themselves??

Sorry if this is stupid haha, but I felt the need to just spill the idea. Do with it what you wish :))

I really really liked this idea!

I am sorry it took me so long to get to it, I hope you like what came out of it

I wanted to point out that in this scenario, Shinsou would probably be a bit overwhelmed by it. Just because a person is supposed to belong to him, doesn't have to mean they also like him, right?

Anyways:

Your name on my skin - Shinsou x Reader

I hope you like it

#mha x reader #shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #mha

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hopskip-andajump · 2 months

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dont actually answer to this but you should totally post that epic hamood wing gif you made so i can reblog it 40 million times!

-NOT fakepoultrymannual

URGH FINE but I'm answering this lmao

Have the current wip

#art #my art #scatterbrain scribbles #:3 #the crechur speaks 🤯#doatk #animation #art wip #current wip #wip #doatk hamood habibi #animation wip #animated gif

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drachenmagier · 2 years

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So. About the unicorn piece you created- you drew your idea lines on white paper, and then did the art piece on black, it looks like. Is that correct? Did you use a light box so you had the idea rough under the actual paper you were working on, or..?

Colour paper does not allow copying via light table, it's simply too thick and normally too dark. :)

I scribbled the initial idea on a white scrap paper as a reminder. I'm rather scatterbrained, I often forget my own ideas, so that's the easiest to remember them: scribble them on a paper, tape the idea-scribble to the window at my work desk.

Later I redrew it all on dark grey paper with white colour pencils. While working on black is fun, I rarely use purely black paper and instead colour the paper black with ink.

#drachenmagier #anon ask

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animaticaskblog · 29 days

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ooh. a “i was designed to be something im not” case. i wonder if thats something weve seen before…(COUGH COUGH mephone COUGH COUGH bot COUGH COUGH COUGH)

but listen doodle. so what if you were born in a tube and maybe some animatics werent? that just makes you different! and different is merely a synonym for cool >B]! not only that, but it gives you something you have in common with lineart! maybe you guys will end up bonding over having a similar backstory, who knows?

and…do you really still group yourself/connect yourself with animatic? just because your a visual clone of him doesn’t mean you are him, and it doesnt mean youre worth the same or have the same amount of dignity either! (sorry animatic if youre seeing this i love you but like also its true.) hell, we even gave you a whole name to separate you from her! doodle! thats you! thats who you are! thats YOUR identity, no one elses! not animatics, not sketches, not scribbles, not linearts. YOURS. and thats what sets you apart from everybody here, doodle. youre unique. in a lot of ways, actually. so dont worry about having to be animatic…because you dont have to be animatic. you arent animatic. not anymore. youre doodle.

also, you mentioned something about a creator. what information do we have on this creator? perhaps we can reunite you two…and even if not, theres a piece in you, doodle. theyre a piece in you. and not only are they a piece in you, they left a mark.

and that mark…is not a mark that can be seen. but one that can be felt. the mark…is love. /ref

-magician/chip anon

i guess the visual part is fine but…i dont know. i just feel…more upset about the fact im animatic. i hate him. if people like looking him, great. but i dont want to. my creator was nice. he was a little bit scatterbrained, but nice. calming presence. i guess i am myself…youre right on that.

thanks a lot.

but if you say the thing about love again im gonna hit you with a car.

…i think i’ll head back in a bit.

#animatic battle #object shows #animatic animatic battle #animatic ab #ab animatic #doodle animatic

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pangzi · 2 years

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“Tianzhen?” Pangzi calls out as he arrives home.

No answer.

He throws his keys in the bowl near the door and toes off his shoes to replace them with his slippers. Then he calls out again.

The lights are on everywhere, yet Wu Xie is nowhere to be found. Typical. He switches off the lights as he makes his way through wushanju.

“Tianzhen, are you home?”

Still, no answer. Maybe he went out and forgot to tell Pangzi. That happens often enough. Sometimes Pangzi wonders if he should start calling him scatterbrain, but madaha doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as Tianzhen.

He calls out one last time. Immediately after, someone pads down the hallway heavily, walking straight into Pangzi’s side.

Some kind of liquid spills on Pangzi’s feet as arms wrap around him.

“Pangzi,” Wu Xie slurs as he presses his face into Pangzi’s arm, “Pangzi, you’re finally home. I missed you.”

Beer. Wu Xie spilled beer on him. Looking at the state of him, the beer he’s currently holding definitely isn’t his first of the night.

Pangzi wrenches his arms out of Wu Xie’s hold, spilling more beer in the process. He wraps an arm around Wu Xie’s waist before he carefully takes the bottle out of Wu Xie’s hands with the other one and places it on the nearest surface.

“I was only gone for a few hours, Tianzhen, did you really miss me this much?”

Wu Xie presses himself closer to him. He presses his face into Pangzi’s chest, squeezing him as tight as he can get. Then he nods.

“I had nobody to drink with,” Wu Xie murmurs. Then he holds up the hand he was holding the beer with earlier, slightly confused when he finds it empty. He pulls up his other hand, finding it empty too. He frowns at Pangzi before shrugging and wrapping his arms around Pangzi again.

He pats Pangzi’s chest to get his attention as he says, “Pangzi, Wang Pangzi. My best friend. My best friend, Wang Pangzi.” He presses his face against Pangzi’s chest and takes a deep breath. When he looks up again, his eyes are wet. “Do you know you’re the only one who has never left my side?”

“Tianzhen,” Pangzi tries to stop him. He can already feel his throat go tight as he swallows his tears away.

Wu Xie just shakes his head and continues, “You always support everything I do. You never gave up on me, never left, even when…”

He doesn’t have to say it, Pangzi knows exactly what Wu Xie means. They never talked about it, but he knows Wu Xie is sorry for the things he said and that he didn’t mean it.

“You are the most important person in my life,” Wu Xie confesses, “you can’t ever leave me.”

He won’t. There’s no way he will ever leave Wu Xie’s side, the only thing strong enough to tear Pangzi away from him is death. As long as Wu Xie will have him, he will accompany him.

“I won’t, ever,” Pangzi promises , like he promised him a decade ago.

“Prove it,” Wu Xie says, as if Pangzi hasn’t proven it over and over again. “Marry me.”

Oh, we’re here again. Pangzi chuckles warmly as he recalls a similar moment ten years ago. A drunk Wu Xie confessing his love to him, proposing to him on the spot.

“I already have, Tianzhen.”

He pushes Wu Xie’s fringe out of his eyes, uncovering a confused gaze.

Wu Xie whines as Pangzi lets go of him for a moment to reach for his wallet. He pulls out a crumpled, dirtied napkin with some words scribbled onto it.

“Look.”

He shows Wu Xie the words on the napkin. He shows him the promises he made a decade ago, to stay by his side, to love him like a husband loves his wife, to take care of him and support him. Most importantly, the promise to legally marry Wu Xie as soon as it is possible for them, with at the bottom both their signatures.

Wu Xie takes the napkin out of Pangzi’s hands carefully as he reads it over and over again. He sniffs loudly as a few tears roll down his cheek.

Of course he doesn’t remember. Back then Wu Xie was just as drunk as he is today. That explains why Wu Xie always brushed it aside when Pangzi brought it up. But that’s all right, when they make it official some day, Wu Xie will remember.

“Did I do as I promised back then?” Pangzi asks carefully.

Wu Xie nods as he wipes away his tears and puts the napkin aside carefully. He hugs Pangzi tightly again as he keeps nodding.

When he pulls away, he smiles at Pangzi and decides, “We should renew our vows.”

Pangzi chuckles warmly as he nods. “You’re right, Tianzhen, we should.”

The way Wu Xie smiles at him then and there brings him back to the old days. To when he still really was just a naive boy.

Pangzi can’t help himself, he brushes the hair that had already fallen back into Wu Xie’s eyes aside once again and presses a kiss to his forehead.

When he looks down at Wu Xie again, he falls in love with him all over again. He’s staring up at him, cheeks warm and eyes bright and warm.

The stars in Wu Xie’s eyes put even the most beautiful night sky to shame. Pangzi praises himself lucky every single day that he gets to stare into them every single day.

“Sit down, Tianzhen, I’ll go get us a proper piece of paper and a pen,” he whispers.

Neither of them moves. Pangzi traces his thumb over Wu Xie’s face, over his cheekbones, down to the curve of his bottom lip. He resists the urge to kiss him again, even though it’s difficult when Wu Xie tilts his face further up, mouth slightly falling open.

“Let’s get married again, Tianzhen.”

Pangzi helps him to the couch, ignoring his pout as he leaves him there to grab a sheet of paper and a pen.

The paper gets snatched out of his hands as soon as it’s within Wu Xie’s reach, who sloppily tears it in half and hands one half of the paper to Pangzi.

“Write one for me, I write yours,” Wu Xie says and eagerly starts scribbling onto his paper. His handwriting is even more illegible than usual and the lines are wonky, but Pangzi doesn’t doubt his words are genuine and straight from the heart, even in this state.

As his chest fills with warmth, Pangzi starts writing on his own piece of paper. His wishes are simple but all he ever wants from this. To be by Wu Xie’s side, to take care of him for the rest of their lives.

When he looks up, he finds Wu Xie asleep on the paper, his pen still trailing over the paper in memory of the words he was writing.

Pangzi writes his name on his own paper and gently takes Wu Xie’s from where it’s trapped under his cheek and threatening to be drooled on. He writes his name on that one too and then pulls out his seal. He presses a stamp on both papers without even reading what Wu Xie wrote. Whatever he wants, Pangzi will give it to him.

When Pangzi wakes up the next morning, Wu Xie is already out and about. The bed Pangzi tucked him into last night long cold already.

The two sheets of paper and the napkin are still on the coffee table. The only thing different from last night is that there are now two red stamps decorating each of them. One reading Wang, the other Wu.

A little something @englishbunnyrocks made me write ♥

#pangxie #wu xie #wang pangzi #the lost tomb #mirf.writes #i might post it to ao3 tomorrow #but i'm leaving it here for now #i hope it makes sense it's late

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theabyssgazesalsointoyou · 1 year

Note

21. "Sometimes, being a complete nerd comes in handy."

I can see Jake being a loveable dork now (or whoever!)

Here are 3 things about Jake Dillinger:

He's a hopeless romantic. He denies it, of course, but in what world is someone who calls his boyfriend 'darling' and 'sweetheart' and gets him flowers unprompted not a hopeless romantic?

He's a genius. Everyone knows that he's a straight As student, the president of the model UN and more, but it doesn't end there: notably, he speaks a frankly ridiculous number of languages.

But he's a bit scatterbrained when it comes to the smallest things. For instance: he has a habit of scribbling whatever's on his mind on random pieces of paper and leaving them strewn around.

To be more specific- these are 3 of the many, many things about Jake Dillinger that stand out to Rich Goranski as he sits cross-legged on his bed, trying to make sense of Jake's biology notes.

As much as Rich hates to admit it, he's lagging behind in class. Not because he relied on his squip for schoolwork, no. He never needed much help with that. It is, however, incredibly disorientating to have something that took up a significant portion of his mind suddenly removed. He always feels hazy, a consequence of the deafening silence of his brain and lack of electric currents puppeteering his body. With freedom comes responsibility. Or something like that.

Bur there's an even bigger problem, and it's that he's become prone to visits to the nurse. The fire left him with damaged lungs and panic attacks to go hand-in-hand with. That's what happened during biology the previous day, and Rich is determined not to fail biology, out of all things, so he swallowed his pride and asked Jake if he could see his notes. ("Yes, Jake, I'm fine. No, seriously, don't worry. I said don't worry! And you didn't answer my question, can I see your notes or no?")

So here he is, carefully flipping through pages of organ systems and enzymes and cell cycles, making sure the writing doesn't get smudged. Jake reluctantly left him alone to study in peace but not without making him a cup of chamomile tea. Between the fragrance filling the room and the little doodles Jake made on the corner of page 92, the Calvin cycle is the last thing on Rich's mind.

Jake's personality bleeds through his handwriting. Orderly and angular, all caps but in somewhat small print, somehow appearing tidy even when obviously rushed, like the sloppy slant of the string of letters has a purpose to it. It switches between actual annotations related to the class (aquatic CAM plants: limited carbon in water), idle commentary (tired. maybe i should skip chess) and tiny drawings (that one's probably a bird. Emphasis on probably.)

Some of the comments are in different languages. Mostly Spanish- while Spanish isn't Rich's strong suit, he can make out one or two snarky jabs at the teacher's teaching method and more detailed rants about extracurriculars. It's a simple cryptogram, then, though Rich isn't sure how effective it's supposed to be- Spanish is a widely spoken language.

Others are in French. He skims over those. All he knows in French is Je ne parle pas français and Je suis désolé, basically. Then, to his surprise, his eyes land on a more familiar language.

Rich's first reaction is to laugh. Latin. It's so cliché of Jake to speak Latin, the picture-perfect image of a rich boy from a stupidly prestigious background. Of course, Jake would hate to hear that, and Rich's laughter dies down, a twinge of guilt filling his lungs along with the scent of chamomile. Besides, it's not fair of him to laugh when he too knows the language.

Oh, god. And there it is, the wave of embarrassment flooding over him, because why does Richard Goranski know Latin? That's on his nerdy middle-school self.

Well, nerdy is a misleading adjective. That evokes the image of a studious child with an unusual interest in the classics. Sure, Rich liked classics enough (and still does), but the reason he taught himself Latin was simply because it seemed cool. The ominous demon-summoning chanting in movies and shit was infinitely appealing during his edgy phase.

Cringing slightly, Rich shakes himself from the memories and focuses on the words again, not willing to dwell any longer on middle school himself. He squints at the letters- oh, wow, his Latin's really rusty- and when the strokes of ink finally rearrange themselves into readable text, his heart twists and turns, too.

Poetry. It's poetry.

Lyrics leap from the paper and sink into his skin, invisible tattoos that he will cherish forever. 'My love's and 'you complete me's and 'I love you's, promises of love for forever and long-winded proclamations of Rich's beauty that has his skin burning. He's almost tempted to look away but his eyes are already on the next line, and the next, and the next.

It's cheesy, excessively romantic, amateur and incomplete. The handwriting falters with uncertainty, ink from the ballpoint pen clotting unevenly on cheap paper and drying at the end of each stroke, and verses are cut off by diagrams of plant cells and monotonous descriptions. But to Rich it could be the most flawless masterpiece worthy of being framed in gold and preserved for millennia to come.

Rich's heart is still beating in his ears as he traces his fingertips along each letter, wanting to soak it in but afraid to taint it. Ink and tea churns in his chest and heart-shaped leaves dance in his vision. He's only vaguely aware of the grin on his face, giddy with the discovery of this hidden side of Jake, seen only through flowery Latin on the margins of a biology textbook.

Sometimes, being a complete nerd comes in handy.

#orca answers #leave it to me to turn everything into richjake #idk what you learn in high school bio in the states. don't @ me. we cover this in high school here.#plus i didn't proofread or edit at all so if you see mistakes shh #but this was really fun!! thanks for the ask #bmc #be more chill #richjake #rich goranski #jake dillinger #the abyss writes back to you

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projectileprotection · 5 months

Text

your favourite book is still checked out, despite several weeks going by since you last asked, and it really is starting to piss you off. not the library, no; whichever scatterbrain plucked it from the shelves in the first place, tossed it to the side for later, and banished it from their mind. seriously, just check out the book and read it. what's the point in hoarding? who is that supposed to help?

rage simmers in your gut and your fingers dance flightily across dusty spines. a relaxing sit down and a good read. that's all you want. is that so much to- hm. well, that's odd.

the book your hand stops on is old, like all the others, but there's something else, too. for just a moment, and only that, you could've sworn it was... humming. that electric sort of hum off old electronics, the faint fuzz of tv static. a sliver of sunlight peeks through the shelves and this book glimmers.

stranger still, when you give in to curiosity and heave it off the shelf—god, is it heavy—and crack it open, there's... well, nothing. just blank, yellowed pages. not even an author name, publisher, any sign at all that someone once owned it.

baffled by your discovery, you make your way to the service desk and lug it onto the top with a huff. greely raises a brow and slides it over to the other side with ease.

after a series of beeps (which you assume aren't good, because greely is looking increasingly confused) and the furious flipping of pages, they slide it back over to you.

"so, i'm not sure where you got this, because i've never seen it before," they begin, typing in something on the computer, "and there's no borrowing card either."

greely turns the spine to you and taps it. "i'd, like, look it up in our registry, but whatever language this is isn't loaded into the database. so..." they shrug. seems like they're out of ideas. not really expecting an answer, you ask if it's alright for you to take it with you anyways.

"hey, it's not mine, so you're free to do whatever." turning back to the computer, they tack on, "except maybe don't burn it. that'd be lame."

the offer hangs in the air, stuffy with the smell of parchment and sandalwood and rainwater. you look down at this bizarre, seemingly ancient book, its text lost to time and history shrouded in mystery, and your fingers fizzle with energy. in a daze you haul the book into your arms, yelp appreciatively through the doorway, and the bell twinkles at your leave.

---

too bitter. you should've brewed a lighter pot.

your coffee cup thuds weakly against the table. it's well into the afternoon, and the forgotten tome takes up almost half of your workspace, resting open on the first page. you realised too late that the damp smell from earlier was from the book. your nose wrinkles at the smell, and you dip your head into the nearly empty coffee pot for some relief.

surprisingly, you managed to find a key for the strange language on the spine in the small spur of research you did. it was scribbled in the front cover of a sci-fi book sat very far back in your bookshelf, filled with your brothers' favourite old space novels. probably a fanmade notebook, then. you wonder when you'll see your brother again.

sighing both in disappointment and fatigue, you lift your head from the smoky depths and move to close the tome. might be useful for something later, so maybe you'll leave it in your study.

and when you spot the ink blotting on the page, you nearly defile it by knocking over the coffee pot.

rushing for a towel and soaking up what little liquid splashed out, you watch, awestruck, as glowing blue galactic swoops into being before you:

bonn needs more hay, ask for village help

harvest carrot crop two cycles time

maybe make more pie, but if nobody has it but me it's just a full pie i have to eat by myself and i don't want to eat a whole pie

you glance frantically from the text to your messily written translator. immediately you feel confused. this seems like something one might write on a sticky note, or a bullet journal. why might this set of notes be relayed to you? what significance did it hold? and, more importantly, how?

lost for what to do next, and worried the text might fade and your chance at understanding be lost forever, you make a split-second decison, and grab your fountain pen.

"can anyone see this?"

a few seconds pass. soon, minutes. the ink dries just as the sun dips below the treeline. the smell of pine and dew glides along the chilly night breeze and through the dining room window. your head slumps against your open palm, eyes drifting shut. then:

hello?

hello everyone! this minecraft-universe blog follows the history of illusor, and the lives of the creatures in it. its story will be gradually unveiled through "the book"; a.k.a., whenever an ask gets sent in poking and prodding for info, someone might respond! characters will be revealed over time, and are accompanied with a succinct character sheet.

i'm working on said sheets as we speak, although with this week i might take a bit (happy holidays to everyone!). but i promise i'm getting there. excited to share this with everyone! <3

(asks will open once character sheets are prepared!!)

#pinned post #minecraft #minecraft lore #minecraft oc #minecraft original story #ask blog #so many minecraft sillies in my brain :) very happy to share on here #hope y'all liked the intro btw!!

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