[Illustrated GIF of a girl in a wheelchair giving the middle finger, while inside an elevator, as the doors slowly close in front of her. The girl has a half up-half down ponytail hair style, with a sweater and choker necklace. She is smirking with her eyes closed while holding up the middle finger.]
To all those who don’t let disabled people enter elevators first… kindly stop doing that. Thanks!
The op of this post said i could write something based on their headcanon so here it is.
ETA: now jaradel and I are co-writing this verse, over at AO3!
How he can wear flannel in this weather is anyone’s guess.
But Bitty doesn’t mind the way he sweats as he moves carts of ripe tomatoes and bulbous squashes from truck to table. A bead glistens at his forehead, slides down the slope of his nose to linger on the tip of his chin. His arms stretch taut, muscles bunched, around the crates as he hefts them. The mop of dark hair above his eyebrows is damp, misshapen from the press of his baseball cap, discarded at the side of the register. As Bitty watches, a tuft of bangs becomes unmoored from where he’s combed it aside and flops down almost to his eyes. He doesn’t move to dislodge it. Bitty itches to cross the aisle and slide in behind the Zimmermann Farms table, lift one hand and brush it out of the way without a single word.
He bites his lip and looks down at his own table. Really, he should be rearranging the scones or sorting the loaves or something, but every single week, as this “Mr. Zimmermann” (Bitty has no idea of his first name) unloads his wares, Bitty’s reduced to a staring, flushing mess. Nobody ought to look like that. Nobody especially ought to look like that when they’re toting vegetables. It almost makes Bitty want to eat a healthy diet. Or grow green beans. Or something, some excuse to have a conversation with this square-jawed, droopy-eyed farmer who, when he smiles at a customer, makes Bitty’s toes curl up in his sandals. Maybe he should pick up some rhubarb for a pie.
Yes, rhubarb… and it’s a little early in the season for pumpkins, but when fall rolls around maybe he’ll have pumpkins and … and oh dear Bitty is staring isn’t he.
Death travels into a new world, another timeline as black wisp of smoke enveloped, forming the reaper with a familiar, permanent smile. The atmosphere gave him an odd, somewhat familiar sense of vibration, which spiked curiosity and interest to the deity himself. Normally, he wouldn’t want to intervene, most likely blending into the surroundings of nearby darkness, checking if he must perform his job to reap the sufferings…ah, he still recalls the faces of terror as he struck them down with his scythe…again and again. If not, then he would disappear into thin air…without a trace.
…Sounds like he could take a quick break…
Anyone could easily tell by the ghostly aura around the reaper, and for the fact that he’s floating near the tree-lines as it slowly wilts, couple of leaves falling. He silently starts to move away from the plant life and onward to the path of where the town of Snowdin is located. What can he say…curiosity kills the cat.
There is so much going on
-what is that caption, LOL in the face of adversity, LOL? Really? You’re gonna go with LOL? Alright then
-ryAN YOUR FACE. HE LOOKS LIKE A DEMONIC PUPPET CREEPILY WATCHING YOU FROM ON THE SHELF WAITING TO EAT YOUR SOUL
-Jon appears normal, but his eyes look like he’s got a dirty idea for what he’d do with Spencer’s mouth
-brenDON IS FUCKING LOOKING RIGHT AT THE CAMERA. THIS IS A CANDID SHOT WHERE HES STARING RIGHT AT THE CAMERA. That’s nOt hoW it woRKS. Plus he looks like he’s dying inside and just wants to blast himself into the sun
-and Spencer just looks adorable af. As always. Look at that sunshine.