#I joke Not children do believe this actually happened but teacher kindly explains that’s not the case thank god

[hanakihan]

On side note

Salieri still as a Avenger class servant, but his mechanics and overall vibe is similar to Seele and Veliona

Watch poor musician being for some reason summoned in Avenger class and having no idea the fuck is happening only to have a really angry and protective being floating around you who wears your face but has insane bloodlust.

Antonio Salieri and Gray Man being semi separate beings who are bound to be one in soul, and they’re weird unstable hybrid of ruler and avenger in one class

[another-snape-story]

First Days as Hogwarts Professor

Chapter X

Your first days as Hogwarts Professor were tense. New job required bringing all your professional and communicative skills into use. Quite a big contrast to the hasteless rhythm of empty castle you got used to. You had no time for leisure, even short walks outside were beyond the permissible – lesson plans and first assignments needed to be checked fully booked your schedule. You even had to take your notes for meals to spare yourself some precious minutes.

Taking place beside your offish colleague at the teacher’s table in the Great Hall became your habit, and soon you started considering that chair yours. His company was just what you needed – he never spoke much – actually, he never spoke at all unless you addressed him, what you really appreciated since your thoughts were now lost in working routine, so your conversations often had to be reduced to simple exchange of polite greetings.

Snape on the other hand was secretly dying to know how you were doing, but seeing how busy you were he didn’t dare disturbing you with silly questions. As much as he was pissed with Potter and all the bitter memories of the past which surfaced in his mind with boy’s arrival, he itched to have at least the briefest contact with you during the day. As much as Potter got on his nerves, you – to his utter disbelief – had right the opposite effect.

During meals Snape found himself focused more on you sitting beside him, than on his plate, unconsciously trying to prolong awareness of your presence. The tail of his eye stroked your silhouette every time you came to sight, whether he wanted it or not, and – consternated – he realized that all the shit he has been through in his miserable life still wasn’t enough to destroy him completely, no – fate decided to play another joke on him to see if he could bear more pain and emotional turmoil.

Less than a week passed since the start of the term, but Snape knew he would find you in the staff room at this hour – for some reason you preferred working there, rather than in your office. Little did he know you stayed here just to have another chance to see him.

Absorbed into studying something, you were sitting on the armchair with a pile of notes on your lap, a book on the armrest and two more on the side table, paying no attention to what was happening around. Snape carefully closed the door not to interrupt you and quietly sat on the other armchair watching you from afar. Withdrawn in your thoughts you gave him a rare opportunity to admire your real self, which he couldn’t miss. The way you slightly slouched over your papers as your hand scribbled down some lines, the way you frowned studiously flipping through pages, the way your lips moved from time to time as your eyes ran across the text made him lose the track of time.

Yawning, you tilted your head and rubbed your neck to chase fatigue away, as suddenly you noticed you were not alone and startled.

“Merlin! You scared me to death!” you laughed a little embarrassed. “How did it happen that I missed you? Long sitting here?”

“Not really,” Snape lied. With a straight face he rose to his feet and took a random book from the shelf, pretending it was the only thing that mattered to him at the moment. After looking through its contents, he put it back and took another one.

“Is everything fine?” you dared asking although his look suggested to better not bothering him.

“As fine as it can be after these two dunderheads –” Snape’s face twitched in disgust, “– Longbottom and Finnigan – melted a cauldron in my class,” he snapped annoyed.

“You said Longbottom?” you rolled your eyes displeased, sharing your colleague’s indignation. “This ‘dunderhead’ as you called him fainted (!) in my class! And all we were doing – just making a cut on frog’s carcass! I guess he’d have a heart attack once we get to a real dissection…” you put all your notes aside, weakly sinking back in the armchair. “But it’s nothing in comparison to your destroyed cauldron,” you giggled. “The boy’s a disaster!”

“Oh you find it funny?” Snape frowned. He walked up to you and sagged on the sofa, which stood beside. “There’s more to come. Wanna know the whole story?”

“You bet!” you leaned toward him, your eyes shining with curiosity.

“Well, the cauldron wasn’t empty…”

“No way!”

“Yep,” Snape sighed.  “Cure for boils. The damn simplest potion,” he emphasized each word, “but the idiot managed to screw it up!”

“He spilled it, right?” you assumed impatiently, craving for more details.

“What would you expect? Of course he spilled it!” he complained.

You covered your mouth with both hands. You sympathized with the man and would’ve killed the boy if it happened in your class, but now you felt like bursting into laughter. You’d give anything to see Professor Snape dealing with the chaos which followed this little accident and just couldn’t help.

“It was everywhere!” Snape continued. “The floor, a few desks, even children’s shoes! But…” Snape’s eyes flashed, and a vicious grin appeared on his face. “Longbottom almost turned into a boil himself. It will serve him right!”

“Don’t you feel sorry for the boy?” you sniggered.

“Should I?” Snape’s brow sprang in distinctive manner of his.

You got up to your feet and flopped on the sofa beside your colleague.

“You’re a bad person, Professor Snape!” you declared teasingly.

He answered you with a bitter smile and got serious at once. “Yes…” he whispered. “You have no idea how bad actually.” His head landed on the backrest as he closed his eyes. Your cheerful state of mind disappeared at once. You watched him, pondering what a broken soul must be there behind this impassive face. The one who pleads bad, can’t be bad for real.

“Do you want to talk?” you asked quietly.

“No.”

“Okay…” you followed suit and rested your head beside his, keeping a decent distance.

It was late after curfew. Nothing disturbed the silence but ticking of the old pendulum clock standing in the corner. Its smooth copper bob reflected moonlight each time it swung up to the pale spot on the wall as a reminder that the time still went on. Wishing it would stop, you closed your eyes – the moment was way too pacifying to let it go. Being in the same room with this man – no matter how bad he considered himself – was a pleasure. You didn’t even need words – just sitting next to him turned out to be enough.

For a split second Snape alarmed that you might leave, offended by his harsh tone or his unwillingness to talk, and turned his head to make sure you were still there. And you were. He smiled relieved. He couldn’t get why you put up with him. Realizing how cold and detached he behaved most of the time, he didn’t believe someone would tolerate such attitude. But you did. This made him feel even worse – guilt washed over his heart, tormenting his mind. Guilt. Snape learned to live with it through the years. He was painfully sick with himself.

“How long have you been tenuring this position?” your hushed voice broke the silence while your body remained motionless.

“Ten years,” he answered quietly, his glance wandering the curves of your profile.

Head sloped to Snape’s side, your eyes met his.

“Ten years?! And how do you manage to endure all this?” your hand waved a circle around the room, meaning the whole school in general. “It’s already killing me, I swear! You assured me I’d bore myself to death? So when is it going to happen?”

Snape smirked sympathetically. “You’ll get used to it.”

“You were right about me,” you admitted with a sigh.

“Dare to explain?”

“The day when I arrived here. You said teaching wasn’t my vocation. You were right, Professor. You were right at every point concerning me so far…”

Your confession made him speechless for a moment. Suddenly you appeared so weak, so exposed before him. You were tired. He knew, if he let you continue, you might regret it the next day and decided to prevent you from making mistakes.

“Then I won’t be wrong, saying you need some rest,” Snape smiled kindly, his quiet voice caressing your ears.

“I do,” you agreed. “I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll walk you down.” With these words Snape rose to his feet; his tall dark figure approached the side table where you left your notes and picked them up. The man opened the door, holding it for you, and you followed him.

On the way to the dungeons you asked yourself, why a man like him would spend ten years of his life in a place like this? It certainly couldn’t be his choice. But what kept him here? You’ll have enough time to find out.

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[skelebae21]

Baisemain [G!Papyrus x Reader] By nixdex on DeviantArt

Baisemain - A kiss on the hand Ever since you had met the tall skeleton monster, you had been absolutely charmed. W.D. Papyrus was the definition of a gentleman. Everything he did screamed elegant, from the way he walked to the way he talked. He treated everyone with utter respect and kindness. Even if he happened to find himself in a sticky situation, he kept his cool. Like the day you had met him. You had been making your way home from a late night shift, calmly walking down the streets in the middle of the night, enjoying the cool but pleasant air. Not cold enough to freeze in your thin jacket and scarf, but still enough for your breath to fog when you breathe out. And of course, your night was ruined when a man quickly took a grip of your messenger bag, trying to rip it from you. But jokes on him, since you were always prepared. Never let your guard down in a big city, especially during night when you're alone. Number one rule of survival. While you were having a tug of war with the mugger -him being armed with a knife, yet only being bark and no bite-, your knight on a white horse arrived. Papyrus had calmly strolled up to the two of you, tapping the man's shoulder to get his attention. Your mugger had quickly let go of your bag, making you stumble back and land on your butt, like the graceful princess you were. At first you had been startled by the tall monster, he was a skeleton after all. But as soon as he opened up his mouth to speak, you had calmed down. “I believe it is not very polite to try and steal a young woman's bag without her approval,” the skeleton’s voice was so smooth that for a moment you forgot you were being mugged. Was it even possible to have such a smooth voice? If he had been your teacher in college, you might have paid a bit more attention in class. Completely missing the exchange of words between the two men -as you were too busy staring at the skeleton-, you were quite surprised when the mugger started to cry while your saviour gently patted him on the back. Your mugger, who introduced himself as Mark, had apologized to you through his tears, his voice breaking so much it was painful to witness. He explained how he lost his job and his wife took away his children, kicking him on the streets, and he was desperate for money. Feeling sorry for the man, you had quickly fished out a 20 (dollar/euro/etc.) and handed it to him, which only made him cry more. After the gentle skeleton also had provided him with some extra cash, you had given him directions to a homeless centre, one that you at times visited to do some volunteering in the kitchen. As soon as the man began walking in the direction you pointed out, you turned to the monster before you, smiling kindly at him. “Thank you so much for your help, how can I repay you, Mr....?” “W.D. Papyrus,” the man introduced himself, holding out his hand for you to take, which you did. “And there is no need for repayment, it was the right thing to do after all.” You almost missed what he said, seeing as you were very busy admiring how smooth his bones were. Which sounds creepy yes, but they were very smooth. Did he use lotion? You were even more surprised when he lifted your hand up, him also leaning forward to gently press his teeth against your knuckles. After a long conversation with you shuttering about needing to repay him for his kindness, you were able to convince him to join you in a café the very next day. Whether it was him accepting defeat or him taking pity in your flustered state, you would never know. And that was how you got to know the gentleman named, W.D. Papyrus. And it was only downhill from there. You found yourself enchanted with everything he did. His relaxed features when he was enjoying a book in your company, the way he held his cup of tea, how he lectured his brother in the most caring and calm way possible -which you found fascinating, since when you lectured your siblings, it usually ended up in a hair tugging war-, and oh dear god did you love the way he said your name. He had the most interesting accent, one that you couldn't pinpoint even if you wanted. You once asked him about it, and he said it was from a language among skeletal monsters, one that he rarely used nowadays. You often found yourself staring at his face. You tried convincing yourself it wasn't creepy, but deep down you knew you should be ashamed for not being able to rip your eyes away from him. Sans caught you once, and you had never seen anyone look as smug as he did in that exact moment. Your eyes would trail along the two cracks on his face, one above his right eye, and the other one under his left one. The thought of them being in pain was scary, since you really didn't want anything to be able to harm such a pure person. Sometimes you tried to imagine where he might have gotten them, but then quickly remembered Sans also had them, which either meant it was a family trait or both had done something idiotic to cause so similar injuries. But then again you couldn't imagine Papyrus doing anything stupid, so it must have been Sans’ fault in that case. “Papyrus,” you called out his name to get his attention, which you did “can I ask you something?” The tall skeleton looked at you for a moment before he placed a bookmark in his book and resting the literature on his lap. The two of you were seated in one of the sofas in his and Sans' huge Victorian house. You often found yourself reading with Papyrus, just enjoying the other’s presence and a good story. Other times you would enjoy a coffee or tea together, or even take a walk. You were a calm pair, both finding more enjoyment in a quiet afternoon over a bar trip with a bunch of friends. “Of course.” Papyrus answered as he had his attention turned to you. Nervously you placed your own book on the coffee table, shifting around as you gathered courage to ask what had been nagging in your mind for a long time now. “Do...” you started before rethinking your words “Do they hurt? The cracks, I mean.” you toyed with your fingernails out of nervous habit, hoping you didn't ask a sensitive or too personal question. Hearing a small chuckle next to you made you relax ever so slightly, knowing he hadn't taken any offence in your curiosity. “They do not hurt, there is no need to worry over them.” Papyrus assured, and as you looked back up at him, you could see he actually found your worry amusing. Once again nervous, you swallowed thickly before speaking once again. “May I touch them?” you could see Papyrus’ eyes widen slightly, making you regret your question. You were just about to stand up to make a run for the front door to escape the awkwardness, when you felt a gentle touch on your hands. Glancing down, you saw a skeletal hand with a hole in the middle of the 'palm' carefully gripping your hands which were resting on your lap, lifting them up to his face. He placed your palms against his cheekbones, giving you a small nod to tell you it was alright. With his phalanges still holding their contact with your skin, you moved your hands to trace alone the cracks, finding them very interesting. Your eyes were glued onto the dark lines, as if your stare alone could fix them. “They are not an injury, no need for worry, my dear.” Papyrus spoke, as if reading your mind. “So it's a family trait then, not Sans accidentally making something explode in both of your faces.” you answered, seeing Papyrus chuckle at your joke you gave a mental pat on your shoulder. “Indeed. Our father also had cracks on his face, just like Sans and myself.” your (e/c) eyes moved from his face to his hands, which were still placed over yours. Carefully turning your hand around in his, so you could gently take hold of his phalanges you studied the hole in the middle of the metacarpal as well as part of his carpals bones. You wondered how it was possible for his fingers to stay in their rightful places, even when the bones aren't intact, his phalanges and metacarpals simply float in their spots. “And these?” you spoke quietly, as if a loud voice would ruin the moment. “Also family trait.” your eyes darted to his, asking the unspoken question “And no, they do not hurt either.” he reassured with a gentle smile on his face. He and Sans were capable of quite a lot of expressions, keeping in mind that they were only bones. Could bone even flex? It shouldn't, right? “Then how...?” with your fingers you gently brushed against the empty space in his palm. “Magic.” he chuckled, watching you with adoration as you studied his hands. With gentle movements Papyrus took hold of your hand again, bringing it to his teeth in the same manner as on the day the two of you met. But instead of pulling away after one skeletal kiss on your knuckles he moved on to press his teeth against your wrist, and then slowly making his way up along your arm. As your brain crashed from overheating, you could do nothing but watch the act with a beet red face. Papyrus didn't seem to mind at all as he continued to slowly get closer to your neck. With each new kiss the hair on your neck stood on it's ends, until finally, Papyrus reached your neck and pulled away, only enough to look at your face. “May I kiss you, (_Name_)?” his voice was still so quiet and smooth, if only the slightest bit rough. Not trusting your own voice, you nodded rapidly, your face heating up even more. With another gentle chuckle Papyrus leaned closer to your face, his eyes closing as he did so, and placed his teeth against your lips. You didn't even know if it counted as a kiss, as he didn't have any lips, but it still made your heart beat dangerously fast and butterflies flutter in your stomach, but you ignored it as you closed your own eyes and pressed slightly closer to him. A bright light and the sound of a shutter startled you enough to make you jump and pull away, breath uneven and face red as a tomato. Both you and Papyrus turned your heads to look at the source. Standing nonchalantly in the room with you was Sans, a cigarette in between his teeth and your beloved polaroid camera in hand, a new picture being spit out from the camera. He took it out from the machine and waved it a couple of times before looking at it. “I should get into the photography business.” Sans spoke, placing the picture on the coffee table before leaving, your camera still in his hands. Taking a peak at the picture you covered your face with your hands, muttering how embarrassed you felt over the whole situation. Papyrus on the other hand took the picture and studied it closely, a fond smile on his face. His other hand reached for one of yours, clasping them together and once more bringing your hand to his teeth for a Baisemain.