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threadbaresweater · 1 year

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Different Paths

You're happily married to a wonderful man, but someone from your past pops up during a routine stop at the grocery store. and you reminisce a little about what might have been. The details: 1.5k words; moderate angst. Reader is in her 40's. Kishibe is canon age (50). Reader is married and has children, I PROMISE THIS ISN'T A CHEATING FIC.

It had been a long week, one that you were ready and eager to put behind you. After sending off the last email and locking up your office for the weekend, you stopped off at the grocery store to grab a few things. You’d been making a list throughout the day, and you wanted to make it quick because the sky looked like rain. Sure enough– just as you parked your car– a light drizzle misted the windshield. Of course, you muttered to yourself as you hurried inside to grab a cart, fumbling for the list you’d been sure you’d tucked into your purse.

You pushed the cart slowly, head buried in the abyss that was your old, reliable purse that had certainly seen better days. Car keys, wallet, cell phone, bottle of ibuprofen, old receipts…but no list. You stuck your lip out in defeat and headed into the produce section, trying to remember what all you had written down. There wasn’t much you needed, just a few things, and you were confident that you remembered most of them anyway.

As you were turning toward the vegetable bay, your phone chimed.

Hubs: Don’t forget wine. Remember, kids are at my mom’s tonight ;)

You grinned, feeling your face heat up a little as if surrounding customers could see his message. You clutched your phone to your chest before typing back.

Thank you. I actually had forgotten. Long week

Hubs: I know, babe

Grab some popcorn too

Maybe we’ll watch a movie if you're not too tired ;)

You: Got it

Love you

I’ll be home soon

Hubs: <3 Love you too

You grabbed a pre-packaged salad mix and headed toward the wine/spirits aisle, your head buzzing at the prospect of a night alone with your husband. You loved your children– of course you did– but rare was the night that the stars aligned and your in-laws or your own parents agreed to keep them overnight. Intimacy was rare these days, as your kids were busy with one activity after another, leaving you to play chauffeur, and you and your husband tended to work opposite hours. Your marriage was a strong one for sure, but the nights alone always did wonders for your relationship and your sex life. You just wished you hadn’t had to work all day.

A bottle or two of wine would definitely help with unwinding though. It had been a while since you’d shopped here for anything other than food, though, and it seemed the store had expanded its wine selection. The aisle felt endless, all the bottles appearing the same.

“Thought you didn’t drink anymore,” a gruff voice came from your right. You narrowed your eyes and turned to find a rough looking man in an oversized trench coat. A large scar across his left cheek gave the appearance of an extended, sinister smile. You shivered involuntarily and pulled your cardigan around you as if it would somehow protect you from him.

"Do I know you?"

He huffed a short, derisive laugh that ended in a raspy cough. "Something like that."

You clasped your purse and turned away from him, then busied yourself with picking out wine. Your mind reeling, it was impossible to focus on the labels, and you gritted your teeth in frustration.

"Not even gonna try to guess?"

You sighed and turned to him with a roll of your eyes, then glanced at his face again. Deep brown eyes, turned down at the corners, a network of fine lines and deep wrinkles visible in skin, discolored with age. Dirty blonde hair that might have carried a tinge of gray if you looked closely enough, and darker hair underneath that gave you a little clue as to what he might have looked like in the past. Two silver earrings in one ear, one in the other. A five o’ clock shadow two days in the making at least.

Something in those eyes gave you pause. He grinned when he saw the realization dawn on you, then reached to pull a bottle of whisky off the shelf. “Kishibe?”

He nodded, not meeting your incredulous gaze. “Bingo. Thanks for the confidence boost, by the way. Didn’t think I looked that bad.”

Your laughter was nervous, embarrassed. You cocked your head to the side and pushed your tongue against the inside of your cheek, flooded with memories of your past. At one time, you’d been Kishibe’s partner in more ways than one. Work and play, the two of you had been the hottest not-couple in the business. But you’d stepped away from devil hunting when you met your now husband and never looked back. You chose a life of stability and predictability over the danger of public safety and got hired for a nice, cushy office job. You got married, bought a house, had two kids. You had a husband that loved you who was waiting for you to come home and have dinner with him. You hadn’t thought about Kishibe in at least a decade, and now you were standing next to him in the wine aisle at your local supermarket, at a loss for words.

“Still hunting, I take it?” you managed, fingertip trailing across the bottles of merlot and zinfandel, the letters on the labels blurring together.

“Never stopped. Not even after my best partner quit the biz.”

You couldn’t look at him, but you felt his gaze on you, the way he sized you up even now, twenty plus years after you’d left. “You always were a stubborn one,” you managed.

“Heard you got married.” He stepped a little closer to you, abandoning his cart in the middle of the aisle. A quick peek told you everything you needed to know about his life– three bottles of liquor, a loaf of bread, and a roll of sausage were all he’d picked up. You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt and think that maybe he’d just started shopping, but you knew better.

You nodded. “I did. Had two kids, too. Girls.” Why were you telling him this?

"Heard that, too. At least he's not an impotent bastard."

That earned him an incredulous laugh from you. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know, Kishibe.” You turned to face him now, your face hot, your grip on the handle of your own shopping cart trembling slightly. You hoped he didn’t notice. “Thought maybe you’d have gotten your shit together by now.”

“I’ve always had my shit together,” he said. “You’re the one who couldn’t figure out what you wanted.”

He had you there, and you knew it. You blew out a breath and grabbed the first bottle of wine you could see. This was neither the time nor the place to prove yourself to your old partner-turned-lover, and he knew it as well as you. “Good night, Kishibe. Go get some rest. You look like hell.”

It was a weak comeback, but you really had nothing else to say to him. Your husband was waiting at home to have dinner and “adult” time with you, your feet were killing you, and you had a feeling it was pouring down rain based on the appearance of the sky when you came inside. You just wanted to go home.

“You look good,” he called after you’d stepped a few feet away. Without turning back, you knew he was checking you out. You recalled the way those eyes used to rake over your body, undressing you with a look. The way his lashes would fan against his cheek when you kissed his throat, the way his broad fingers used to– “What do the kids say these days? Milf?”

You laughed again, quickening your pace. “Good night, Kishibe!”

Making a beeline for the cash register, you realized too late that you’d forgotten over half the things you’d meant to buy, but no way were you turning back to risk seeing him again. You cashed out as quickly as possible and ran through the pouring rain to get to your car, your heart hammering away in your chest.

“You alright, babe? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Your husband took the shopping bag from your hand as you shrugged off your coat and kicked off your shoes. He leaned in to give you a quick peck on your lips, a broad hand cupping your chin.

“Huh? Yeah. Just ran into an old coworker.”

“Oh? It wasn’t–”

“Not him.” Not Denji. He was the only one you’d ever talked about. Your husband knew that your devil hunting days still left you haunted. The years of therapy and medication spoke loud and clear.

Your sweet, unassuming husband pulled you into his arms and kissed you a little more firmly; you melted into him, threading a hand through his hair and holding him close. “Tell me about it later?” he asked, his lips feathering across your jaw.

“Later,” you said. “Promise.”

Back at his own home, Kishibe cracked open a new bottle of bourbon and raised a toast to an empty room– to you and your happiness. It sure as hell looked good on you.

#kishibe x reader #kishibe x you #csm fanfic #chainsaw man x reader

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 1 year

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What are your opinions on corporal punishment?

TW: Child Abuse

This has been in my ask box for a while, and honestly every time I looked at it, I giggled because if this wasn't a writing prompts blog this would be one hell of an ask to receive.

(And truthfully I wasn't sure how to respond.)

After a quick google session I've come to realise corporal punishment revolves heavily around the harming of kids and... yeah. It's not great.

My opinion on it is that, as a way of writing to express past traumas, it works. Like, if that's your outlet, or even if you're just exploring new emotional ideas to better your fictional writing then go for it - it certainly acts as an interesting function for some scenarios. (not that you need my permission, but you get my point)

Personally, corporal punishment shouldn't be used in schools or at home in a real setting. Not in 2023. Violence against children is a no go. Period. It's why I avoid anything to do with minor whump because 1) It makes me uncomfortable and 2) It's triggering for others. (and 3) I have a type: assholes in a trench coat)

I don't have much more to say on this, other than... I don't really like it, but everyone's each to their own, y'know.

#not sure if this is the right response #or even the response you were looking for #sorry I truly wasnt sure what to say to this #tw: child abuse #tw: abuse #tw: corporal punishment

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twoeyedshockwave-lol · 9 months

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Chapter 3

The noise of fire crackling softly lingered through the kitchen. Mr felicity and Mrs felicity washed various vegetables up and cut them into bits.

Then two small children ran through the kitchen playing with action figures. "Hey! You two slow down! You'll get hurt!" Mrs. Felicity warned the children. They both stopped in their tracks and speed-walked through the house. "RAHH, IM A BIG MEAN BEASTYY!" The little boy yelled with all his might while putting up his arms and making his hands resemble claws. He wore a striped shirt and khaki shorts, his hair was a mess and he had freckles all over his small face. "You don't have to be a mean beasty!" The girl said while holding an action figure with a cowboy hat and a long trench coat. "Hm...okay." The boy agreed and shook the hand of the action figure.

"WAIT NO! I WANT TO BE A ME-" The boys yelling was then stopped by loud knocking on the door. The two children looked at the door. "Oh, it's probably our neighbor again!" The girl cheered. She then ran down the hallway to the door, adjusting her skirt, and pulled down her shirt. She then reached for the doorknob and swung it open. "Hi Sop-" She then cut her sentence off. Instead of being greeted by her neighbor, she was greeted by a tall figure. She looks up to see a person with a cowboy hat and a white face and a long black trench coat that fell to his shins.

The person then looks down to reveal his robotic eyes and sunken face. "Uh..." the person hesitated, "Hi....are your parents home?" He asked the little girl who was in awe by how he looked. She stood there with her eyes wide open and her mouth wide open. "Are you...okay?" He hesitated while looking back at the girl, "What's wrong Erica" the little boy asked while running down the hallway. He then stopped behind Erica to take a look at who was at the door. "Is that..." the little boy trembled at the sight of the tall person, he took big steps back and was visibly fearful while Erica was ecstatic.

"EEK, I KNOW RIGHT? IT'S THE FRIENDLY SHADOW!" Erica squealed while grabbing Shadows' hand and dragging him inside. The little boy screamed and ran down the hall. Shadow was surprised by the girl not being frightened of him. He wasn't that surprised by the little boy's reaction, though. "Oh! Sorry, I think you should let your parents know first before dragging me in here." Shadow said with a slightly happy tone. The girl then looked at him with a confused look while attempting to pull him in even more. "Why not? The handymen always barge in. Isn't it better that you're invited than to barge in?" The girl said while smiling at him, then the boy and Mr felicity came rushing in while the boy wept in his arms. "Dad look! It's the friendly shadow!" Erica cheered. Mr felicities face then was washed with fear, Making his skin turn pale. He shuttered but remained calm while holding his crying son. "Who's at the door?" Mrs. Felicity asks while walking out of the kitchen, she then stops in her tracks to stare at Shadow and Erica. Mr and Mrs felicity then looked at each other in fear for a brief second.

Mrs felicity them looks back at Erica, "Erica, darling, leave him alone. He has business to attend to with us." Mrs felicity calmly advised Erica while signaling her to let go of Shadow. "Aww..." Erica pouted and hugged Shadow one last time before running to her mom, shadow and Mr felicity stood still glaring at each other. "We're gonna be in the backyard... I have to get something from the shed..." Mrs. Felicity whispered to her husband while walking away with the two kids, "Maria." Mr. Felicity said with his back turned, she stopped and turned around to him. "Light the candles when you're in the shed." He said with his head turned to the side looking back at her. She looks back at him with a serious face and nodded. Maria and her children open the back door to the backyard. It was now just Shadow and Mr felicity in the house.

( @somebodytolove31 , @call-me-casual @kitkat-katty @shiningshard @all autodale fans)

#autodale #friendly shadow #dead sound #fanfic writer #fanfic #alternate universe

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jerseyluck · 4 months

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Batman (2016) Vol.3 Annual #1 Readthrough

Tis be the season, and in the spirit of that we are going to look into some holiday comics. And we are going to start with Batman Annual #1, a Christmas anthology.

The book opens with the most famous tale of the book: Tom King and David Finch’s Eisner winning Good Boy.

The story opens with an example of the damage that the Joker does on a daily basis. In this case, Joker left a bunch of dogs behind to go feral, and only one has survived: a hound in an Ace mask.

We then cut to best butler, Alfred Pennyworth, going to the dog pound to adopt the surviving dog. The book then cuts to an amusing scene where Bruce is ambushed by the aggressive dog and is mildly annoyed. Bruce doesn’t seem to think that the dog can recover from the trauma that Joker put him under.

But Alfred isn’t one to give up! Before the Christmas season, the butler spends time trying to train the dog. And slowly but surely the dog starts to behave and is willing to trust.

In a heartwarming moment, Ace comes towards Batman after a rough night out. By Christmas, it has gotten to the point where Bruce is giving the dog a bat mask. And in a hilarious moment, Bruce asks Alfred what his Christmas present is not realizing Ace is the present.

This is easily one of the best stories Tom King ever wrote and is the best story in the annual. David Finch does some decent art that makes the story work. However, there is some better art in this annual.

And one of the stories with better art is Silent Night by Scott Snyder and Ray Fawkes with art by Delcan Shalvey.

The story opens with an exploration of how Batman is able to respond to crimes so fast. Bats has tapped into Gotham’s 911 call centers, with a computer listening to key words. If there are enough context clues, Batman gets an alert to go to the call.

We cut to Gotham’s Time Square analogue where a group of people dressed in trench coats arrive. This being Gotham, citizens call it in, and Batman shows up thinking that this might be a terrorist attack.

But as a pleasant surprise, the group happens to be street performers to some fancy acrobatics. In a true Christmas miracle, Bruce actually gets a moment of peace because there isn’t any trouble in Gotham that requires Batman.

Next is The (Not So) Silent Night of Harley Quinn by Batman legends Paul Dini and Neal Adams. And it is just a riff on the classic tale where Batman carols with the police and no crime happens because of his influence on Gotham.

In this version, Batman captures Harley after she tries to sneak in Gordan’s holiday party. Bats drives Harley out of Gotham while Harley does some singing in the Batmobile. As this is happening, we get to see hijinks where things almost happen but through acts of little madness, everything turns out all right. My personal least favorite story from the bunch.

Next is Stag by Steve Orlando and Riley Rossmo. And this story is actually a lead into the pair’s then upcoming Batman/Spirit mini. Before we go any farther this has my artwork in the annual.

The story opens with Bruce, Commissioner Gordon, and new character Barry O’Neil opening a winter wonderland for Gotham. But then we get a Steve Orlando classic of using an obscure character, Mister Blizzard shows up to cause trouble because … he wants a new ice age?

Anyway, we get a good moment of Bruce leaving to get into his Batman gear. And very quickly, Batman takes Mister Blizzard. We then get a discussion from O’Neil, regretting that his attempt to bring joy to Gotham’s children went that badly.

The story ends with Bruce lamenting to Duke Thomas that O’Neil has been a charitable icon to Gotham since he was child. As Bruce wonders what Gotham would be without O’Neil, the old man is assassinated by a mysterious figure.

The annual ends with The Insecurity Diversion by Scott Bryan Williams and art by Bilquis Evely.

This story opens with Gotham under attack chemical anxiety-causing gas (ala Scarecrow’s fear toxin). We also got a new villainess, Haunter, at Arkham’s holiday party. And because this is a short story, both factors lead to Haunter escaping the asylum.

The book explains that Haunter has the power to kill people from their DNA, and she is pals with the Scarecrow. The fear-loving crook did Haunter a solid and let her escape.

However, Batman comes to stop the pair of villains. He exposes the villains to a nerve-toxin to capture the pair. And that is the end of this forgettable story.

Overall, this annual is a fun read. While there are some stories that are better than others, there isn’t a bad one in the bunch. Art throughout the book was spectacular.

7.5/10

#dc comics #batman #commissioner gordon #alfred pennyworth #harley quinn #scarecrow #tom king #david finch #ace the bathound #christmas #christmas comic #anthology #read through

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foggysirens · 1 year

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I posted 3,690 times in 2022

That's 3,690 more posts than 2021!

307 posts created (8%)

3,383 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@surfing-on-a-soundwave

@rocktheholygrail

@skywalker-swift

@sadiebwrites

@transmascskywalker

I tagged 2,247 of my posts in 2022

Only 39% of my posts had no tags

#star wars - 1,369 posts

#art - 727 posts

#luke skywalker - 588 posts

#edits - 498 posts

#q - 390 posts

#din djarin - 382 posts

#dinluke - 265 posts

#mj.chatter - 261 posts

#the mandalorian - 229 posts

#obi wan kenobi - 181 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i was always taught that it’s better to buy one good thing that might cost you a bit more than something you’ll end up having to buy six of

My Top Posts in 2022:

obi-wan hiding leia under his coat in kenobi just makes me think that luke and leia would have definitely tried to pull off the ‘two kids in a trench coat’ thing if they had been allowed to stay together as kids

400 notes - Posted June 9, 2022

okay i just woke up but im still reeling from kenobi and all i can think about is bail organa and owen lars.

both of them having agreed to raise these children that mean so much to the galaxy. for bail, raising the daughter of one of his closest friends. owen, the son the brother he hardly knew, but knew was dangerous. both of them raising these children with such a fierce protectiveness.

owen, how when we see him with luke, the second that he’s not where he was supposed to be, owen is off shouting his name. how owen goes and tells obi wan to leave luke alone, leave him out of the jedi business because he’s seen what it can bring, can see luke is already too much like anakin. how then he literally stares down revas lightsaber, not speaking a word of his nephew. like not for a second there i thought owen would break.

bail, so overwhelmingly proud of leia already, of her free spirit. of how she can already stand up to those who treat others (and her) poorly. how he never tells her to change, only pinky swear to apologize after. how we won’t take no as an answer when it comes to getting her back. how in perfect contrast to owen who wants to keep obi from luke as much as possible, bail wastes no time travelling all the way to tatooine to make him help save her.

seeing them be character foils for each other while at the same time we get to see how similar luke and leia are and how they both handle raising them differently but with the same dedication and love is fucking beautiful.

633 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

watching din djarin constantly getting thrown around like a rag doll is so funny cause like yeah- he’s our main man, our badass bounty hunter with some of the best fighting prowess you’ll see, but he’s also the human embodiment of the question mark and does not think things through half the time- the man is smart but he’s absolutely winging it and putting himself in situations where, yeah, he’s gonna get sent flying across the room and i love that for him

665 notes - Posted August 16, 2022

i love to think that sometimes luke will just casually drop the wildest, most unhinged pieces of lore about his upbringing on tatooine around the others and they'll all just look at him in slight fear like,

'oh yeah! that reminds me of when the kids from my school would all go jump into the womp-rat pit!'

and everyone is just like 'the fucking what pit?'

'the womp-rat pit! all the kids would go out to this outcrop in the dunes where there's this pit full of angry womp-rats and try to push each other in!'

or he'd go off about how pod-racing is fun, but pod-racing at night was even better cause it makes it harder to actually pilot- and oh that one time he even flipped but it was okay cause landing in the sand is mostly soft- and din would just be looking at him like 'how are you still living?'

764 notes - Posted June 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

i think what made the last episode of kenobi, and the kenobi show as a whole, so special is because it really just reminded us that the heart of star wars is love.

we see it full force with beru and owen. both willing to do anything to protect luke. put their lives on the line for him. we see it in beru immediately jumping into action. we see it in owen's claiming of luke as his own. his son. their son. in the looks on their faces when they see luke again, the utter fear that he may be gone. because while obi-wan could most likely feel him in the force, for one gut wrenching moment owen and beru thought their boy was gone.

we see it in breha and bail. their odd, funny little girl finally home and you can just feel their joy. their pride when leia is unapologetically herself. and how when obi-wan talks to leia about her birth parents, she instead looks to them. those who have raised her with a fierce love and kindness. how when she looks to them, they look back with so much love.

we see it in obi-wan and anakin. obi-wan apologizing to anakin, and we have to wonder how long those words have been building inside him? and then the tragic acceptance that there is no longer that person there to love. that his ten years of grief, maybe longer, was over something that was not his fault, that he could have never succeeded in preventing. but at the same time, we know that obi-wan still holds his love for anakin. it's just that darth vader isn't him.

and don't even get me started on obi-wan and his love for luke and leia. how leia was the one to pull him from his isolation. become the man he was again. how watching over luke is his motivation to stay that way. how thinking about them literally is what gives him the strength to pull himself up from the ground. honestly obi-wan and the twins deserve their own post.

star wars has always been a story about love. it can, after all, ignite the stars. and the kenobi finale has captured that fully, making it feel like the most truly star wars show in ages.

2,098 notes - Posted June 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#okay but my top posts are truly all fucking bangers i still stand by every one of them #but looking at my top tags all im seeing is a callout for being mentally ill #my 2022 tumblr year in review

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sacrilegious-skeletal-scribe · 2 years

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How To Remove Unknown Growths From The Soft Meat Of Your Trembling Forearms

(And Other Helpful Tips!)

1. Identify the Material Feeding Itself Off You!

Are the growths spiked? Are they soft, ribbed browns, gathered in clustered around the bend of ligaments, studding your skin with the same ridges fungi bestows to the rotting memory of a tree? Is it one smooth pike, borne from a cluster of veins and overlaying the throb of your pulse? A harsh yellow or a soft orange, the aftermath of a burn scar masked with the first highlighter you used in a plastic-wrapped classroom? Is it killing you? Is it replacing that which it eats with something identical, every molecule different, the framed picture indecipherable from the host, the copy, the base, the supplanted?

2. Puzzle Out It’s Intentions With Your Heaving Corpse!

What does this parasite want from you? Are you merely a convenient host? Or does this grasping flesh eater have larger plans for this lumbering thing you call yourself? Do you have the courage to ask? Or is it not the fear of the question, but the answer? Do you fear what the void-walkers might be able to tell you? Do you fear the circumstances of your sprinting death, or is it only the knowing? Do you fear the person you would become, if given the knowledge of what lies beyond the silenced horizon? Should you?

3. Determine the Fastest Method To Remove Such Vile Things! (Discover if You Have the Strength To Carry It Out)

Are there thorns lining the curling spines that have claimed residence alongside your guilt? Do wicked hooks curve inward and upwards and anyway but forward, snarling and snapping at the approach of latex-dipped fingers? Are your plaguing growths but children, but beatific impairments, easily removed with tweezers and a bit of fucking spine? Or have they bonded to the twinges of your pain receptors, become more a part of your body than you ever were? Are they the intruder, the parasite worth removing, a pest, a danger, when measured on a scale opposite your lashing consciousness? Have these blue-eyed tentacles proven themselves more useful to your future daisy bed than you did?

4. Fight Your Self-Doubt for the Right To Remain Behind Your Bleeding Eyes! (Force May be Required)

Do you deserve this flickering pulse? Is it a matter of that which you have earned, or simply what has been given to you? Have you followed that trail of blood to the hill of slithering potential, or will you die as you lived, face down in a trench of created stagnation? Is this cross to bear one dependent on your strength? Or was it simply built by the weight of your failures? Do the ever watching eyes littering your knuckles see past the ruse of your daily interactions? Do those gnawing jaws know the pockmarks of your future better than you ever will? Will you stake claim over the that has been body attached to you since you’ve had a memory to disgrace? Or will you cower in the shadows of a beast far greater than you, eyes averted from the spotlights you’ve bent around you?

5. Blood Will Stain Your Hands Whether You Like It or Not! (The State of Your Existence Afterwards Is in Your Sopping Fingerprints. Move Quickly To Avoid Permanent Damage!)

What stunning amounts of blood the human body can lose before it shuts down permanently! Will you move fast enough to prevent this gentle hammock becoming your deathbed? Those needles seem quite displeased with your disposal of them! Shouldn’t you move faster than that? Do you truly want this survival more than those bristling spines? Because it seems you’re going to have to prove it! Will a trash bin be enough to house those iridescent scales in the phase between their coexistence with you and the burn barrel that has never sat so distant from your back window? Are you certain? Will your echoing footsteps be the last your neighbors hear of you? Will it be last anyone hears of you, the meaty thwap of broken soles throwing themselves against a fire escape’s rusting steps, as blood rivulets pool into the curl of your palms, tears of desperation coating your face?

6. The Body Remains, and the Growths Do Not! Now There is Something Missing from Your Sloppy Pulse! (How Does One Truly Define a Parasite, Anyway?)

Congratulations! If you correctly followed the diagrams provided above, your shaking perforative veins should be completely free of foreign lives! Of course, if the motions were present, but the will was not, the outcome of your frantic removal is anything’s game. Did you successfully provide your body a return to rule under a single-willed organism? Or have you merely opened a yawning collection of pustules, shimmery and waiting for a host with a propensity for puss-thickened juices? Has your body become a graveyard for past travesty, or merely meal for eager-eyed vultures? Are those carrions merely mocking the mistakes of their bolder fellows, or considering following their career path? Does your battered body have the strength to offer hospitality to another grinning infection? Do you?

7. Sob on Your Knees to Whatever God Is Listening, if You’re Into That Kind of Thing!

Are you still the outcome of your lifetime? Has this experience warped you into something indistinguishable from your past trajectory? Are you irrevocably identical to the person you would’ve been without the sensation of skin mingling with teeth not your own, yet attached to your nervous system, muddying the bank of your memories? Has this metaphysical incident flung you so far past the person you were supposed to be you’ve circled the globe and landed about were you were before, thanks, leaving your coworkers unaware as your traitor heart pounds at your throat? You have (theoretically) survived this ordeal, but were you even meant to? Is this a misstep of fate, an uneven valley cut into the surface of a record, a radio station overtaken mid-song with static that merely lucked into its position? Have you carried your heart further than it was design to carry you? Are you ready to find out?

8. Frostbitten Results Await You! (May Require Additional Thawing)

Will you remain the owner of your leaking flesh sack? Were you ever in the first place? Have the questions we’ve asked so far scraped at the superficial skin covering your existential terror? Is your sense of self dissolving in the septic-acid we’ve applied to it within this series of open-ended queries? Take the survey below to find out the answers! Cheat sheet included below your score. On sale, never a better deal than 7.99! Do you fear the thing silently living in your spasming veins? Good! We would suggest keeping that up; but as always, our musings and advice are only suggestions. (Internalize at your own risk.)

Fruitful Hunting.

#unreality #body horror #writers on tumblr #horror story #writblr #short horror #spilled ink #existential horror #turns out you can just say words and god can't stop you #every time i hit this point in the publication process i forget how to tag #it's a chronic failure #i come away feeling sort of comfortable in the way i do this #and it back to square zero the second i hit 'add tags'#but i am rather fond of this #god body horror is the fucking best #i've always loved this blog post/medical advice type existential confrontation #'will you fight? or will you perish like a dog?'#that kind of shit #it's delightful

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kelyon · 11 months

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TMI Tuesday!

Good morning Tumblr!

Story time!

I've got a wedding coming up this weekend and my sister-in-law and her boyfriend are going to be staying with us in our underground hovel of a two-bedroom apartment. Knowing this, I planned in advance to extend my federal holiday break with another vacation day, so I could have a four-day weekend full of cleaning. As I write this on Monday night, approximately 20 minutes of cleaning has been done over the past three days. And I've got plans that will eat up a good chunk of my day off tomorrow, so let's double down on the time wasting by opening up my inbox!

The final chapter of Dark Mistress has been posted. Curses were broken, true loves were kissed, a happy ending was had by all (of the main characters.) I've got a brief little epilogue jumping into the future, gonna post that next Friday, June 9th. And then that will be a wrap on Dark Mistress.

I don't currently have plans for more of this story. There is a part of me that wants to remix the whole last third into its own novel-length fic. (I've been mentally titling the story of Belle and Bae, Help! My Step-Mother is the Dark One, but the real remix title would be Dark Mother.) I don't really want to do it, because it wouldn't be a Rumbelle story. And motherhood is such a huge and loaded topic, I don't know what I could say about it as any kind of thesis for the story. And I really don't know much about infant care, or even living with a child full time.

Most importantly, I think a lot of those subjects (Bae getting along with his step-mother, a cursed character feeling like she isn't good enough to have children) will be addressed in my next major fic, Golden Love, coming January 2024.

In the mean time, I'm planning a Summer of WIPs, where I either finish or at least update some of the fics that haven't seen the light of day in a few months. Or years. More details to come once Dark Mistress is finally in the rear view mirror.

So.... yeah. Feel free to bug me about all of that. Last week was a surprisingly sparse Tuesday for questions. This has offered more evidence that all my lovely anons are really just 1-3 raccoons in a trench coat and they were all sick last week with raccoon flu. I hope you're feeling better, my precious anonymous raccoons.

I hope everyone who reads this has a wonderful day.

Dark Mistress is here

My inbox is here

#tmi tuesday #dark mistress

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kaijurakunsobs · 3 years

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Karl coming back to you and the baby after a successful REVOLUTION!! Cause he deserves happiness (and maybe ethans there because I want rosemary and lil maginito baby to be friends

I like how you think anon

this one is gonna be fun and LONG

Let's start by pretending Ethan wasn't just a human chia pet, but the mold made him mutate like the Lords, he has no powers but his body is just...sturdier

that being said...

after Miranda's announcement of finding the perfect vessel and presenting Rose to the Lords, you could tell Heisenberg was extremely close to start his rebellion in that moment, what stopped him? that your child is waiting for the return of their parents and you still have no way out of everything goes wrong

it feels grotesque to receive a piece of such an innocent baby in a flask

through the creep vine you both learn about Ethan being in the Village, the father of the stolen child, you can see the expression in Karl's face shift into one of hope, he knows something you don't

when Winters is brought to the church you both play your role of sadistic monsters, giving a "show" for Donna and Moreau, but you have made sure there are useful things "left behind" by previous participants of your little game

with bated breaths, you follow his progress, feeling more and more hope with each Lord he takes down

Heisenberg cheers loudly when Dimitrescu goes down, lifting you off the ground and howling harder when only Moreau remains

He knows that, Ethan won't take it well when he arrives at the factory, so you offer to be the one to welcome him, reminding Karl to keep his cool and be straight with his answers and go to the point

NO THREATENING THE GUESS WITH THROWING HIM TO THE STURM

Ethan is, indeed, shaken up when he comes into the factory and the first thing he sees is you, he saw you at the church, why are you waiting for him?

"I must say, under other circumstances, it would have been...nice to meet you, but there's no time to lose, come with me, please"

he's hesitant, which is understandable, but he follows, a hand always hovering over his gun and eyes following your every move

when you reach Karl's center of command, you are careful with asking to sit and please listen to what you two have to say

"That boulder punching guy and his people are here, right Ethan?" Karl has his back to the other man "You see...me and Y/N...we need your help"

"My help!? after everything, each and everyone single one of you psychos put through?!"

But Karl is not listening, he starts to tell his story...your story, how Miranda took you both and used you like she's trying to use Rose, but you two were defective, useless, he wants revenge and is willing to do anything to get it

There's desperation in his voice but Winters seems unmoved by it, later you will admit that what you did was manipulative but as long as it works

Both men see you leave and come back with your child in arms, the kid is a bit older than Rose, the gray hair and factions that resemble yours is all that Ethan needs to know, Heisenberg as a child

they are vastly different but, he's like Ethan, he just wants to put his family in a safe place, so he accepts with the promise of "I'll kill you the moment you try to betray me"

Involving and convincing Chris is a lot harder, the man is already pissed at Ethan and now he's besties with 2 of Miranda's underlings? but time is running out and hes desperate for help, and maybe, it could actually work

Chris gives Heisenberg coordinates of where there's gonna be someone waiting for you and the kid, and that you have to be quick in reaching the point or they will leave with out you

of course, you panic! Karl is staying behind and you have to go? you want to kick Chris in the face and make him change his mind, he already has the soldats, why does he need Karl too?!

it's he who has to almost drag you away towards where the Duke is, he knows he has a better chance of getting you there, Miranda won't spare a glance at the merchant

a hefty payment and promises of coming back to you later, you are delivered safely to the team, Karl's trench coat draped over your shoulders and a sack filled with some of your most precious items. feeling like that's the last time you will see him again.

from the helicopter's window, you see with horror how the factory gets destroyed, gasping when Karl's mechanical form appears from the rubble and his army moving to where Miranda must be

the wait is grueling, painful, the sounds of gunfire and explosions make you jump, your crying child screams for their father, but this time, hes not there to calm the not cries and make them laugh

it's past dawn when the bigger explosion shakes the helicopter and when you cry the hardest, believing hes dead, that he die protecting you both.

the entire ride back to the BSAA is spent in silence, your child cried themselves to sleep and you are...just there...heartbroken, unable to shed another tear

a group of paramedics comes to you when you arrive at the new area, asking you questions and trying to check you for any wounds, but you don't answer or hear or care

from far away you see him, limping and using Ethan as a crutch, and then you are running, harder than you have ever done in your life, a strong hold in your baby

Karl looks up to see you and he can't help but smile and cry, open arms waiting for you and catching you, not carrying for his wounds, hes just there and his family is safe...and the 3 of you are free

neither of you put up a fight when the BSAA informs you that you will be under surveillance or that wherever you go you are expected to stay close to their offices, you laugh wholeheartedly when Karl asks "But we can go anywhere...you won't keep us locked away?"

Mia is the one who insists that both families must be close to each other, and you accept

it feels like a dream when Karl comes back and bitches about something that happened in the new lab, he may not be allowed to use corpses but hes allowed to tinker around with his creations and help to contain all bioweapons

you see your child grow and little Rose comes often to play, both children laugh and run around, not knowing what life they could have had

they whisper secrets and share what they have, Mia lights up whenever your kid gives her drawings, Karl melts down a bit when Rosemary calls him "uncle Heis"

and you see him change, he no longer frowns or gets irritated, he giggles or tells jokes, you have caught him develop a true fascination in watching videos and play video games

for once in so long...everything is finally fine

#karl heisenberg #resident evil village #karl heisenberg x reader #re8 #mia winters #ethan winters #x reader #answer stuff #rosemary winters #baby stuff

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carnelianns · 4 years

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(Ikesen and Ikevamp) Sorry if this has been asked before. But how about an MC who went back to her own time only to find out she was pregnant. How would the boys reaxt if she comes back somehow a few years later but with a young child she says is theirs.

im sorry for keeping u waiting this long anon huhu,, i only did the vamps but, if my askbox allows, i’ll come back to do the sen boys too ! i didn’t have a specific gender for their children so jus imagine the lil rascal any way u want

Napoleon Bonaparte

When you come back through that door with a fascinated child holding your hand, it’s him you meet first again, and the tears are already glossing his eyes over before you can say anything.

He literally has no words when you smile gently, saying it’s his. Napoleon swallows the bump in his throat before making his way to the both of you, holding the two of you in his arms for only god knows how long.

“I.. can’t wait to live my life with you both, nununche,” he mumbles into your hair, ears slightly tinged, only causing you to laugh at his adorable antics.

As a father, he isn’t very strict, and he isn’t all that good in child-rearing, either. But he tries — you have to keep reminding yourself of this when you catch them in a compromising position, usually when you see your child holding a foil with a goofy smile.

“Nunuche.. I can explain,” Napoleon says calmly when you first find the two of them — well, three; it seems Jean was in on this little practice, though he quickly bolted when he saw you — parading around the training room with the foils.

“Mamma, papa said he was the King! He teached me how to be King!” Your child exclaims, flailing the weapon around excitedly as your gaze only darkens.

“Well, you see, I meant emperor, but—” his words die down when he sees your unimpressed face practically dripping with the murderous intent he’s so used to fighting against on the battle field

Slowly kneeling down to meet your child’s eyes, you see him whispering something incoherent before the little one nods seriously, slowly putting down the foil.

Then, as if counting down ‘3, 2, 1′, Napoleon immediately hoists your child up in his arms, running out of the room as both his laughter and your child’s squeals echo throughout the halls.

“Napoleone di Buonaparte, get your ass back here right now!” You scream, running after them.

“3, 2, 1 — Vive L’Empereur!” The two of them scream back, before bursting into laughter. They’re always in sync. It’s exasperating.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

“That child is.. mine?” He asks, slightly jaw-slacked, pointing at the child that undeniably looks like him, if the identical beauty mark or violet eyes are anything to go by.

“Do you.. not want—”

“I never said that,” he instantly cuts you off, going over to kneel at the confused child. With a slight smile, in an attempt to hold his tears back, he manages, “So.. how was spending time with that clumsy mother of yours?”

Mozart doesn’t really know how to spend time with his child, though he’s clearly not opposed to carrying the little rascal around on his shoulders, or dragging the child clinging onto his leg around when stubbornness bites.

You often don’t know what he’s thinking whenever he spends time with your child, or the whole situation, but rest assured, he wouldn’t change it for the world, despite how he may look.

A clear example of this is when you once walked into the piano room only to see your little darling on top of the grand white piano itself, snoozing on top of a small comforter whilst your lover plays the soft tunes you’ve grown to love.

Shock holds you captive as you stare at the lovely sight, before finally trailing off, “Mozart..”

Without so much as glancing at you, he replies, voice hushed in a soft tone you don’t hear so often. The blissful smile on his face speaks thousands of words.

“I thought you were the only one foolish enough to let your guard down in front of me… It seems I was wrong.”

Leonardo da Vinci

He had an inkling the moment he saw the child sporting caramel eyes so similar to his own, tawny gaze regarding the large mansion with wonder.

And when you did reveal that the child is actually his, he only pulled you close to his chest, hoisting the little one up with his other arm.

“Papa has a lot of time to make up to you, doesn’t he?”

Leonardo is good with children, if it isn’t obvious. Not in your conventional dad way wherein he brings the child to school — in fact, he probably fell asleep in the hallway just when the two were about to leave — but he's awfully good at keeping his child entertained.

Running around the mansions, creating new inventions, learning a new language — sometimes, you have to remind yourself that this child’s father is literally Leonardo da Vinci.

A position you often see them in, however, is snoozing on the floor, probably near the library, your child a small ball curled into Leonardo’s arms and head in the crook of his neck.

“Again? Really?” You can only huff, though that doesn’t stop the small smile from spreading on your face as you brush the locks of hair out of your lover’s face.

“Cara mia,” he rasps out, cracking a bleary eye open and gripping your wrist softly. Then, he smiles, all sorts of soft and lovely and.. unguarded.

“You two.. are the best things that have happened to me.”

Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur tries swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees you standing in front of that damned door, though to no avail as a tear slips.

He starts full-on crying when you say that you’re back for good and that the child is his, and he’ll have to be comforted by yours and your child’s tiny arms before he even plans to stop.

“Ah, crying like that on our first meeting… Don’t you think your fath — I’m a bit embarrassing?” He asks, sniffling as he musters a smile.

Your child giggles, blue eyes crinkling. “No! Mommy told me a whooooole lot about you, daddy!”

He has to stop himself from sobbing again.

Arthur wastes no time in making up for what he’s missed, and every single day is one you’d find the two of them either in town or messing about at home.

If not, then they’re probably just chilling in the comforts of his room, doing god knows what. The day you peek in to see what exactly they were up to was a blessed day.

Maneuvering yourself in a way that lets you see through the tiny crack of the open door, your jaw drops at the adorable sight of your child in a tiny deerstalker and trench coat far too big for his form, Arthur nodding with a serious look on his face.

“So, Watson, do you think crepes make mummy happier?” Your child asks, holding his magnifying glass up — one you’re sure is from Leonardo — like a mic in front of Arthur’s face.

He strokes his chin for a moment, before answering, “Seeing her reaction when we gave her the ones we bought yesterday, I deduce they do, Sherlock.”

“Good dedoo – deduck – deduction, Watson! I thought so too.”

Your heart literally melts. The two are far too cute for you, you having to calm yourself before walking in with the widest smile on your face. Dorks.

Vincent van Gogh

When you meet those familiar, cerulean eyes from your place in front of the door, they’re already glossy in seconds, a flurry of emotions clear on Vincent’s face, though his smile says it all.

“Is it too much to say I’ve been waiting for you this whole time?”

Vincent would be practically wallowing in regret that he wasn’t able to be a part of his child’s life for the first few years, leading him to do any and everything that will cause his child to smile. In simpler terms, he’s basically wrapped around the little one’s finger.

He’s so adorable and happy that he’s blessed with your lovely child, and there’s an immediate smile on his face when he so much as thinks about the little blondie.

He literally makes the other residents question whether or not they want a child too.

Their bonding time is painting and, more often than not, it ends up with all three of you cramped in the shower, scrubbing furiously at the sticky paint on their skin.

“I’m sorry for having you do this all the time,” Vincent’s soft voice only makes you sigh in relaxation as he massages your shoulders from behind you, causing your fingers to halt in their journey of rubbing some blue paint off your child.

“It’ll take more than that if you wanna make it up to me,” you hum, leaning back into his chest and looking up into his bright eyes.

Your lips were just about to meet, when —

“Mam, I’m not clean yet!”

You groan, Vincent only laughing as you meet the crossed arms of your child pouting child.

“Don’t give your mammie too much of a hard time, okay?” He never forgets to take care of you above all, of course.

Theodorus van Gogh

When he first sees you after years with a child, his child, grasping your hand, Theo has to literally disappear to cool his head off because he’s angry.

Not at you, no, never, but at himself. That he wasn’t there for his child, for you, and god, even if he were, would he have been a good father?

“Hon — Schatje,” he starts, running his fingers through his already messy hair and staring at you with eyes that practically bleed insecurity, his voice breaking. “How am I supposed to take care of a child when I couldn’t even take care of you?”

After many reassuring words and gentle touches, Theo’s finally okay, holding up and scrutinising your child much like how he does a painting. He’s, well, awkward.

Theo is surprisingly very gentle with your child because he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

He’s also very grounded and doesn’t fall for cute little tricks that much either, so out of the residents, he’d be one of the better fathers.

“Nee.” “Papje, pleaaase?” “No. Non. Nee.”

Your lover’s fixed refusal causes you to peek your head into a lovely picture. Theo was holding a chocolate bar high above his head, steely gaze fixed on your young child with his puppy dog eyes in full view.

“Je mama said no chocolate, right?” Your heart warms when you realise he remembered your scoldings, though you can’t help but to feel bad for your whining baby.

“Theo,” you say, both their heads turning towards you. “How about you give the little baby some chocolate and we all enjoy some pancakes, yeah?”

The way both their eyes shine almost identically is adorable.

Dazai Osamu

When you showed up again with the child in hand, one he knows is his, his first thought, first wish, is that for that tiny thing to not be his. Because no one knows how harsh this world is more than the man who wished to end it all, so much more than once.

But Dazai makes up his mind when he sees you and your — his child staring up at him with those eyes that look so much like your own. He makes up his mind, despite his own continuous suffering, that he’ll never let this child go through what he had to.

“Was I staring too much?” He smiles, slightly sad and, well, empty. “I suppose it’s because the little one looks far too much like you.” Bright. Too bright for me.

As a father, he’s surprisingly really good with children? He quite enjoys seeing your child smile more than anything, and one way he knows how to do so is by perching the little one on his shoulders, running around the mansion as his hands intertwine with small, tiny fingers.

You don’t know whether to yell at him and his close-eyed grin, or simply laugh at the resonating giggles of your child. Probably both as you chase the two down the halls.

Dazai often zones out whenever he’s playing with your child, a look you can only describe as pure bliss on those handsome features of his. As you stare up at him, confusion clear on your features, you ask, “Hey, Dazai, why do you.. Zone out so much? Whenever you’re with, you know,” you motion to the snoozing one in between the both of you.

“Why do I zone out, you ask?” He gives you a smile, a real one this time, and gently pokes at the little ones cheeks. “I think.. I’ve found a wonderful reason to live, is all.”

Isaac Newton

“That’s… mine??” “That?” “... It?” “It?” “The.. child?”

Isaac is very flustered, for lack of better terms. He can barely manage the children he and Napoleon go see intermittently, but his own child? Lord, help him.

He gets awfully flushed whenever he’s carrying his child around the mansion because even then, he isn’t spared by Arthur and Dazai’s teasing remarks — in fact, it only seems to have gotten worse.

Isaac is surprisingly good at getting your rascal child to sleep with his bedtime stories, which are usually all his unsaid rambles.

“And did daddy get that bruise on his forehead because he slipped while chasing Uncle Dazai and Uncle Arthur?”

Your child nods, bright eyes sparkling and toothy grin showing. “Daddy also said, ‘Get back here, you devilish imbeciles!’”

Your accusatory gaze turns towards Isaac, who averts his eyes, holding an ice pack to his bruising forehead.

“I-In my defense, they were—”

“One more time, Isaac, and I’m changing this baby’s legal godfathers to the two imbeciles you love so much.”

Gaping, his eyes widen to the size of saucers, “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

He is now a grumbling mess when the two are around his child, but the lack of chasing them around with a stick in hand can be counted as an upgrade.

Jean d’Arc

When you walk through that door once more, nervously telling your lover that this child is his, you’re afraid of his reaction — after all, Jean is, despite his vampiric aging, barely an adult himself.

His jaw drops and he can’t stop staring at you nor the child with his inky locks, and you have to help him sit and calm down.

“Papa?” Your child asks, staring up at the still slightly panicked Jean as you hold your breath.

He stares for a moment, mouth wide, before finally, finally smiling, albeit a little awkward and rough around the edges. “Yes, little one?”

He’s extremely unaccustomed to this whole parent thing and can barely do anything without asking you first, so he feels bad quite often for having to lean on you so much.

Although he barely knows how to handle a sobbing child, nor can he entertain the child very well, you find that the both of them are quite content in each other’s presence as is.

Jean, well, looks ethereal as the sun shines through the windows in his room, a gentle smile gracing his face as he stares at his sleeping child.

He utters your name, causing you to look up, only to find him tracing circles around your child’s soft skin.

“Is this.. how it’s like to be happy?”

William Shakespeare

When Shakespeare wakes up to the news that you are, in fact, back at the mansion with a little surprise, he’s already there in no time.

He didn’t expect the little surprise to be a little child that’s practically an identical copy of him. But he’s always been more of a shoot first, ask questions later type of guy, so he immediately whisks you off to his manor, much to the exasperation of the residents who were surprisingly enjoying their time with the little Shakespeare lookalike.

Except he doesn’t really need to ask questions, because he’s already figured everything out through your soft, slightly nervous gaze, and your lovely little mannerisms.

“Alas, it seems the Heavens were kind enough to grant my wish,” he says as he stares at your child, only smiling to meet your confused gaze. “For I only wished you weren’t too lonely without my presence.”

William is always with his child, whatever the circumstances. Though he quite enjoys showing off his child, he’s also keen on spending his every waking second with the little tyke because he knows how it feels like to grow up lonely, and he wouldn't bestow that upon his own little one.

“Darling, it appears I has’t gotten myself into a slight predicament.”

If you could, you would have snapped a picture of your smiling lover practically itching to get up, yet unable to do so due to the sleeping child in his lap.

“And how did you get yourself into this predicament, my love?” You tease, your own smile on your face. He has a habit of reading his writings aloud, and it seems the little one fell asleep to William’s gentle voice.

“My works seem to be but a mere bedtime story to this little one,” he motions to the child, his smile softening. “I wonder why it does not dishearten me.”

Comte de Saint-Germain

“I was hoping you’d be back, ma chérie.” His perfunctory smile betrays the inner flurry of emotions inside him as he glances towards the child. “With a lovely little thing in hand.”

“Your lovely little thing,” you say gently, and the surprise outlining his normally composed face is something you’d forever save in your mind.

Comte is wrapped around the little one’s finger, his rotten spoiling being the effect of not being in your child’s life for a good while, and, of course, his indispensable regret for having you come back to him.

Many times have you asked Sebastian the whereabouts of your lover and your child, only for him to give you the look, responding that they were out yet again, and are probably not coming back without a few shopping bags in hand.

Then, to finally put a stop to it all, you decided to conduct a harmless experiment.

Placing a few coins on one side of his desk, a toy in the middle, and a beloved fruit on the side. After explaining to him that it’s to see what your child’s fate would be — picking between fortune, fun, and, well, snacks, you think — he simply leans back, interest shining in those eyes of his.

Unsurprisingly for you, your child pushes all these away in a second, opting to hug the wide-eyed man on the soft armchair behind the desk.

“And what.. does this mean, ma chérie?” He asks, honest-to-god confused as his hands slowly wrap around your child’s form.

You smile softly, “Isn’t it obvious, silly? The little rascal loves you more than anything.”

His eyes are suspiciously glossy before he laughs it off, preparing for yet another shopping spree — you regret everything.

Sebastian

He only gives you a knowing smile when you pass through the door with a young child gripping your hand.

“So.. this is the little one, is it?” He asks, tone soft as he walks towards you, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and meeting eyes with his child. “I’m a strict father, mind you.”

“Sebastian!” “I was joking. Slightly.”

Despite being a father, Sebastian is as strict and precise as ever around the mansion, rarely having to leave either his work or his family unattended due to his impeccable time management skills.

And if he struggles with both, well, he just has to merge them into one task, doesn’t he? Many are the times wherein the residents catch Sebastian working, his little runt on his tail or on his hip.

“They’re at it again, you know,” Mozart says in passing, only causing you to groan.

“Sebastian! How many times have I told you not in the kitchen?” You exclaim, walking into the kitchen to find your lover and your child tackling yet another chore together.

It seemed to be baking this time, if the flour on both of their faces says anything.

“Mama!” Your child exclaims with powdered hands as Sebastian says blankly, “We’re doing chores.”

You merely roll your eyes, sighing as you walk out the room. Your apology comes later when a sloppy cupcake makes its way into your view.

Your eyes move up to your proud looking child, hair obviously patted down in an attempt to look presentable while your lover sports a tiny grin on his own face.

“We made this for you, mom! Papa said he wanted to make you reaaaally happy.”

Sebastian’s head instantly snaps down, eyes narrowing, “Hey.”

You can only laugh at your two babies, taking a bite of the surprisingly good and sweeter than an average cupcake.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #napoleon bonaparte #wolfgang amadeus mozart #mozart #leonardo da vinci #arthur conan doyle #vincent van gogh #theodorus van gogh #theo #dazai osamu #isaac newton #jean d'arc #william shakespeare #shakespeare #comte de saint germain #comte #sebastian #headcanons

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alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer · 3 years

Text

if this was a dream pt. 3

i want to apologize in advance because this is literally like 4 chapters in a trench coat... i'm serious chapter 1 was just over 1000 words and this is over 4000, I have no idea what happened. the reason I didn't break it up is because it is very alastair-centric. I promise next chapter we will get back to thomas and see how he's doing with the actual amnesia part of it all.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Fanfiction Masterlist | AO3

Alastair pulled his coat tightly around himself, trying to keep his breathing steady. The walk from the Institute to Cornwall Gardens was long, but it would give him far more time to clear his head than borrowing a carriage or hailing a hansom cab. He fell into the rhythm of his footsteps; this was familiar to him. He had spent more hours than he could count just walking and walking, trying to run from this life the universe had given him.

Now, though, even his walking was infected by Thomas.

Sometimes, I simply needed to get away from all of the hovering. There was this bit of forest near our house in Idris… it was nice, peaceful. The perfect escape, somewhere to wander until I was too spent to continue. Drove my parents a bit mad, but it was what I needed.

Alastair told him about the woods around Cirenworth, how it was his escape, too. He’d memorized nearly every corner of that forest over the years. It was somewhere where he could pretend to be someone, anyone else. He could be no one, even. He’d left most of the details out, as he often did when discussing his childhood. He trusted Thomas completely, but there were some things he preferred to leave in the past.

Now, his sleepless body ached against the increasing pace of his footsteps, pushing forward as if moving quickly enough could outrun the tears burning behind his eyes. He did not know if he could do this again. If Thomas never regained his memories, could Alastair convince him to forgive him again? Their original circumstances were quite peculiar. Could Alastair survive trying to gain his forgiveness again?

He’d do anything for Thomas, he knew. He loved him, even if he’d never said it out loud. And as he said it now, even in the safety of his own mind, it felt far different than it ever did with Charles on the receiving end. With Charles, love felt strangling. It was shackles to his ankles and wrists, tying him to his misery. Looking back, it was not love at all. With Thomas, he felt free. Thomas made the impossible feel possible.

It isn’t possible. It won’t ever be.

He heard his own words repeated back to him. He knew where this was headed from the start. This is how it all works out for Alastair Carstairs. He knew this time would be no different, even if he hoped it would.

He loathed this feeling inside of him. He’d been doing well. He’d been happy. Now all he could think of were his own self-doubts, his own self-hatred, his age-old desire to run away to the farthest stretches of the Earth in the middle of the night, never to return.

A better partner, a better person would not be so consumed in these thoughts as he was. A better partner would not be the recipient of such hatred from the man he loved at all, memories or not. A better partner would know what to do, how to ease the pain and anxiety that flooded Thomas’ eyes rather than exacerbate them. He was not better, however. He could never be what Thomas deserved. He knew it from the start, but it felt different, being thrown in his face now.

Perhaps it would be better this way, he thought, for it to end like this. It was going to end eventually, as all things do. Perhaps this way would hurt Thomas less, even if Alastair would always wonder what could have happened if he’d tried a little harder, if he’d been a little less horrible, if he’d been a little bit stronger, a bit braver.

He was being ridiculous, he knew. Thomas merely needed time. He’d just woken up from his injury, six months displaced, no less. He was grieving his sister again, even more than before. Alastair wanted to ease Thomas’ pain, but he could not, and thus, Thomas needed time and space and he would give it to him.

Before he realized it, he had returned to his home. He could not remember most of the walk, his feet guiding him through the city he now knew a bit too well as his mind wandered to a place he couldn’t quite reach with his consciousness.

He slowly unlocked the door and sighed as he hung his coat. Cordelia started quickly down the stairs but froze as her expression fell when she saw the look on his face.

Realizing what she must be thinking, Alastair quickly shook his head. “He’s alright. He woke up. He simply… appears to be missing about the past six months of memory.”

Cordelia frowned, her face softening as she continued down the stairs and embraced her brother. “Oh, dâdash. Are you alright?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Thomas is alive and awake. He just hates me.”

She sighed. “He doesn’t hate you. I don’t think he ever truly did.”

He shook his head. “He thinks he does. Or he wants to. What’s it matter?”

“Take a seat, dâdash. We just made tea, I’ll bring some out.” Before he could protest, she left for the kitchen.

He settled into one of the armchairs. When Cordelia returned, she took the one beside his and began to pour tea for each of them. “You two will work your way through this, you know. Whatever happens.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you joking? I don’t think I’ve ever met two people better matched. It’s as if you share the same soul or something.”

He gritted his teeth. “Most would say we’re opposites.”

“You act like opposites. Believe it or not, though, behaving grumpy or cheerful are not personality traits. In all the ways that matter, you’re two halves of one whole. It makes me utterly green with envy sometimes, seeing the two of you together, the way that you understand each other so completely.

“I love James, of course, with my whole being. But if I’m being honest, for a long time I thought that the reason I liked him was because he reminded me of Father, all introverted and bookish and such. Now, I’m merely trying to decipher what was real and what was not, what parts of me are genuine and which ones are simply who I thought I needed to be to please him. James, too, is finding himself again after all that happened with Grace. Sometimes, it feels as though we’re two clueless children stumbling around with no sense of self, for some reason placed in this big house with adult responsibilities. It’s an utter mess sometimes, though every moment is worth it.

“Yet you… somehow, despite everything, despite all of the odds stacked against you, despite so much pain and fear, you found yourself and your soulmate all in one person. It’s what you deserve, dâdash, what you both deserve. You will find a way.”

He did not quite believe her, but he would not argue.

“Are you going to be alright?” she asked, cocking her head.

He nodded and then paused for a moment. “I don’t know how I’ll explain this to Mâmân.” Despite all the trouble it’s caused, she still did not know the truth about his time in school.

“I could, if you’d like?” Cordelia offered.

He sighed. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to keep the entire matter out of his own hands. He shook his head. “It’s time I did, I think.”

She gave him a bit of a frown but nodded. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m tired of lying. I spent enough time keeping secrets when Father was alive.” He stood from the chair.

“I’m here if you need me.”

He started up the staircase, mustering up a more positive expression as to not worry his mother too much before he could get the words out. He found her in her bedroom, resting in an armchair a few feet away from Rostam’s bassinet. He approached his baby brother first, giving him a small smile though he was fast asleep. It could have been his mind playing tricks on him, but he was certain Rostam was bigger than he’d been just a few days ago.

“He just fell asleep,” his mother said softly. He turned to her. Her eyes looked tired, though no more tired than they had a few days earlier, and certainly no more tired than his own. “Come, azizam, what are you doing home? Did something happen?”

Alastair shook his head. “Thomas is awake; he’s alright.”

“Why aren’t you with him?” she asked after a small stretch of silence.

“He… He has amnesia. He doesn’t remember anything past last summer. It’s best if I keep my distance for a bit.”

His mother gave him a small smile. “It’ll be okay, Alastair joon. He’ll understand given a bit of time.”

Alastair didn’t look at her. “Maybe. I don’t know. He… he’s quite angry with me. The original circumstances under which he forgave me were fairly bizarre to begin with.”

“Forgive you for what, dear? What could possibly be so terrible that he would not forgive you?”

He sighed. He knew he could not avoid this conversation any longer. “I… It was something that happened at school.” He paused for a moment. “I know you think that I got on well with everyone at the Academy, but… That isn’t the truth. When I first arrived, all of the other boys could tell that I was an easy target. I was smaller than them, and… there were rumors. After a while, I just couldn’t bear it any longer. I… I was always quite good with words, as you know. I learned that using them to cut down others would get me a good laugh, and as long as the other boys were laughing they weren’t…” He trailed off. How was he meant to tell his mother this? “It took the attention off of me.”

“By the time James and Thomas and their friends arrived the next year, I was so angry, at everyone and everything… I was so jealous of them. They had…” Picture perfect families, he wanted to say, though he could not. “They had these perfect lives, or at least they appeared that way to me. They never had to worry about attracting the wrong attention on the street or being humiliated because their families couldn’t afford to hire private tutors. They never had to worry about anything but growing up.”

“Alastair…” his mother started. “I know we never discussed things of this nature. It’s alright that you were angry. They benefited from society in ways that rejected you merely by circumstances of birth. But that wasn’t their fault.”

“I know. I know that now, now that I’m older. I know that my anger was misplaced. But when I was in school, society was too big. I only saw what was in front of me. I thought that if I must be cruel to someone, it should be to them. I said terrible, dreadful things about them and their families, things that should never be repeated. They did nothing to deserve the way I treated them. Thomas was kind to me, one of the only people who was ever kind to me in my two years there, and yet I still slandered his family. Last summer, he learned of the things I had said when he was not listening. That is what he remembers now.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Alastair would not look his mother in the eyes. “I always knew that you had a hard time at school, Alastair,” she said finally. “Your lies were never too convincing. I could see how you’d changed. I… I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”

He knew it, too. He knew how his parents had spoken about him in those years, lamenting about what a miserable and difficult teenager he’d grown into when he and his sister were not in the room. He also knew how his father only ever seemed to care about Alastair’s destructive behavior when his mother began to pester him about his drinking.

“It’s not your fault.”

“The world was cruel to you, and I could not protect you from it, but I should have tried. You were a child, my child, I am your mother, and I was meant to protect you, but I did not. Not just from the world, but from… your father, I know. Be kind to yourself, azizam. Regardless of what cruel things you did while trying to balance the weight of the world on small shoulders, it seems to me that those you hurt have forgiven you. You simply have not forgiven yourself.”

“Perhaps they shouldn’t have. Perhaps I never deserved their forgiveness in the first place.”

Sona sighed. “Forgiveness is not deserved, Alastair. We forgive for our own wellbeing, so that we can let go and move on. If you will not fight for Thomas on your own behalf, fight on his. He deserves to forgive you, to heal from these wounds of the past. He deserves to be loved by you.”

Alastair didn’t respond.

“It pains me to see you like this. You deserve to forgive, too. You deserve to forgive yourself and all who have caused you pain. You deserve to be free of it. As long as you keep such a tight grip on it all, you will only continue to destroy yourself, and as long as you continue to destroy yourself, you will hurt those who love you as well. Please-” she cut herself off, her voice breaking. Her voice trembled as she began again, and he realized for a striking moment that he had never seen her this vulnerable before. He’d witnessed her pain after Elias’ death, and he’d caught glimpses of her sorrow before it, but she’d always kept her truest self tightly locked. “Please, my love, promise me that you’ll try. You can start with me.”

He looked up at her abruptly, startled. He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could find the words, she’d stood and crossed the few feet between them.

She took his hands in hers. Seeing the pain in her eyes, he wanted desperately to look away but he could not. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me for all of the ways that I’ve failed you. You were too young for the burdens I placed upon you. I never should have allowed you to take on that responsibility. Please, forgive me for all of the times I overlooked your pain because I was distracted by my own. I am so sorry, Alastair, for each and every time I hurt you and dismissed you. I did the best with what I had, but if I could go back in time and teach myself to be a little stronger, a little braver, to be a better mother than I was, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I can’t. All I can do is promise to try to be a better mother, not just to your brother, but to you as well. If it’s not too late.” Careful tears streamed down her cheeks, rare as they were.

He shook his head, feeling his own tears spill. He fell into her embrace, holding her tightly, as he had not done since he was a small child. “I forgive you,” he said softly, and he meant it.

They stood for a long while, holding each other, taking comfort in each other and the silence. Until Rostam began to cry. They pulled away from each other awkwardly.

“I should… get some rest,” Alastair said, trying to pull himself together. He realized suddenly that he had no idea what time it was or when he’d last slept or eaten.

Sona nodded. “Of course. I love you, Alastair. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become. I’m sorry that you and Thomas are struggling right now, but I know that you two are strong and resilient. With a bit of time and healing, this will pass.”

He nodded, unable to respond without breaking down again.

He returned to his bedroom to the sound of his mother soothing his newborn brother. Shutting his door behind him, he felt the exhaustion of the past several days settled deep into his bones. With heavy movements, he changed into clean clothes, leaving the old ones in a heap on the floor. Typically, he would be horrified at the thought of anything in his room so out of place, but he could not find the energy within himself to care.

He collapsed into his bed, drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep, repeating his mothers words back to himself in his mind. If only forgiving himself would come as easily as forgiving her.

* * *

The next two days passed as a blur. He’d slept heavily the first night. Cordelia had reportedly attempted to wake him for dinner, but settled on bringing a bit of food to his bedroom instead.

The next day passed a bit more normally, though Alastair still felt quite scattered. He’d appeared well-enough put together, however, for Cordelia to feel comfortable going home, so he supposed that was a good sign. Kamala had come for a visit, too, though he wasn’t much in the mood for talking, and they wound up just giving Rostam a bath and discussing Kamala’s latest read.

The day after that had slowly begun to feel more normal, more balanced. Until Gideon Lightwood arrived at his door.

Alastair stared at him for a moment before regaining his composure. He began to call him Mr. Lightwood before stopping himself. It still felt a bit odd to call him by his given name. “Gideon, hello. What are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Everything’s fine. Thomas is doing well; he’s feeling much better, though no significant improvements to his memory.”

Alastair nodded. “That’s good. That he’s feeling better, I mean.”

“I came here to check on you, actually.”

“Oh.” He paused. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to. Well, we all did, Sophie, Eugenia, and I, but I was the most persuasive.” He smiled as he spoke, as if smug at the accomplishment of being delegated the one to come visit him.

“Right, er, come in,” he gestured for Gideon to enter and take a seat in the sitting room. “You’re in luck; my mother just made tea if you’d like some.”

He nodded. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”

Alastair returned a few moments later and began pouring tea. “It was very kind of you to come, but I’m truly alright. Just worried about Thomas is all.”

Gideon nodded. “Of course. As I said, he’s doing well, or as well as can be expected under the circumstances. I know it is difficult for him, feeling so disconnected. Regardless of the brave face he puts on. It’s frustrating for him, as if we’ve all got some sort of inside joke that he isn’t in on.”

He could imagine it: the quick glances, the brief answers to Thomas’ many questions. He was certain it was driving him mad. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Gideon gave him a small smile. “Because he’s feeling better, his friends are coming by today to attempt to fill him in on the time that he’s missing. I’m certain there will be gaps, though. Perhaps afterwards he will be more open to speaking with you.”

Alastair didn’t know how to tell him that he wasn’t so sure Thomas’ friends would be singing his praises.

“You should stop by the Institute tomorrow if you’re free,” Gideon offered.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“It’s up to Thomas, of course, if he would like to see you, but if nothing else I know that Sophie and Eugenia would love for you to come by.”

Alastair didn’t respond for a long moment. He’d spent these past couple of days mainly sleeping and caring for his brother, but also ruminating over his conversation with his mother. He began to make a mental list, both of the things he felt he had not forgiven himself for and the things he had not forgiven others for. Before he knew it, the list was distressingly lengthy. He had no idea where to even begin. Perhaps if he could put this one mistake behind him, whatever that meant, the rest would seem less overwhelming.

He knew that he would never forgive himself for how he hurt Thomas’ family as long as the terrible things he’d done went unspoken. Perhaps that was why he never brought it up. “Did Thomas ever tell you why he was angry with me?”

Gideon narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Something that happened back at school, wasn’t it?”

Alastair nodded. He memorized the way Gideon looked at him now, prepared to only be looked upon with hatred in a few moments. He exhaled and looked down, too cowardly to watch the expression change. “I said things… horrible things about your family. About your wife and about Thomas and about Henry Fairchild, but mainly about you, the Consul, and Matthew. There were rumours going around that he was your child, and I repeated them to him. I repeated them after, too. I have reasons for the way I behaved at school, but I have no reasons for that. I was simply angry. Matthew and I were both terrible to each other, and I was so angry for so many reasons. I did not think of the consequences of my words. I am so, so sorry. I am so sorry for the role I played in causing your family such pain.”

“It’s okay,” Gideon replied gently. Alastair looked up in surprise to see not a hint of the hatred he was expecting. Seeing the confused look on his face, he continued. “Obviously, I’m not happy that you said cruel things about my loved ones, but it was a long time ago, and I would be a hypocrite to not recognize a man who regrets his mistakes and has learned from them. You make my son happy, Alastair. That more than makes up for anything you might’ve said when you were younger, in my eyes.” He flashed him a smile and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Here I was, worried that you’d killed someone or something.”

“Well, I’ve also done that, but it’s not what Thomas is angry about.”

Gideon stared at him, clearly unsure over whether or not he was serious.

“Joking,” he said quickly. “...kind of.”

He looked back at him hesitantly. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

“Ha, no. Not today.” His guilt surrounding the deaths of Clive Cartwright and his father would need to be addressed another time.

“Right,” Gideon responded. “Thank you for telling me this, Alastair. I appreciate your honesty. I only have one question, why did you not say anything about this before? It was clearly bothering you. Did you fear we would reject you?”

“I…” That seemed like the logical answer, wasn’t it? Yet he knew it was not the correct one. “I think that perhaps it was the opposite. I was just so ashamed… and I knew that as long as I held on to that, I would never allow myself to truly get too close. I know how horrible that sounds, and I know it hurt Thomas, too, but for some reason that,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, “was scarier than anything else. I’m sorry, I know that doesn’t make sense-”

“It does. I understand, Alastair, even if I don’t like that you felt you had to do that. I know the past couple of months have been complicated for you, though in many ways less complicated than the years before. It will always be your choice, but know that there will always be a place for you in my life, whether you and Thomas are together or not. But I will not ever blame you for anything you feel you are not able to do.”

Alastair nodded, feeling a soreness at the back of this throat that indicated impending tears.

“You should stop by tomorrow and visit us. It’s up to you, but I think that it would be helpful for you to speak with Sophie, too. I will not repeat anything to her, lest you decide not to. I do think it would be somewhat of a relief, though. We thought that the reason you were so distant was because you disliked us.”

“What?” He silently cursed the pain in his voice.

“Joking,” Gideon teased with a chuckle. “Kind of.”

Alastair exhaled, feeling a bit of the tension release, and gave him half of an eye roll.

“Please, tell me honestly, Alastair, are you doing alright?”

He nodded in response, finally feeling it to be true.

“I shall take my leave then. The tea was truly lovely, by the way. You must pass my thanks unto your mother.”

“I will.”

“See you tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Alastair responded before he could stop himself. He stood to see him out, but was surprised when Gideon met him with a hug goodbye.

“Thank you for chatting with me.”

“Thank you for… checking in.”

Gideon smiled at him and donned his coat and hat. Alastair watched him as he departed, feeling more at peace now than he had in quite a while.

thanks so much for reading! taglist (reply, ask, or message to be added/removed): @stxr-thxif @satanisanauthor @zosiaenrique @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @kamalajcshi @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid

#if this was a dream fic #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #tlh #the last hours #fanfiction #fanfic #chain of iron spoilers #chain of iron #coi spoilers #coi

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fusrodie · 3 years

Note

request: Karl teaching Moreau how to work a TV, please?

this incorporates some of my headcanons for both of them, and I apologize in advance, anon, the hand slipped and went places I didn't expect. still, I hope you like it! thank you very much for the request! <3

SFW, angsty with some brotherly love. mentions traumatic past. around 1.1K words.

There was much about Salvatore Moreau that reminded him of the sea. The smell was a dead giveaway, sure, webbed hands and feet too outlandish to ignore. His skin had faded into a grayish blue long ago, tattoos eclipsed amidst boils and scales. He sure looked the part, even before the bald spot and crooked teeth, before the weight of his brain pushed him down and his knees bent to support it.

There was something about the melancholy in his eyes, the way he would spend hours staring out into the water, feet paddling absentmindedly as he sat at the edge of the pier. He searched the horizon for something, a monster not unlike himself lurking in the waters, a siren singing from atop a rock. Heisenberg had asked him once, before his mind slowly began to descend into numbness and devotion, about the things he had seen and the creatures he had met.

Salvatore was much different then, head full of hair the color of night, mismatched eyes that spoke of a soul deep with dreams. One for the sea and another to keep him grounded, he would say, water to never lose his sea legs, earth to remind him of what he had left behind. He was quite the storyteller, as were most fishermen; gigantic fish and mirages of riches and solid land in the vastness of the ocean. Treasures buried never to be found again, temples swallowed whole by the waves, tales and peoples lost forever. Most of all he spoke of his love, of golden mane and fiery eyes, of freckles spread over their shoulders like a delicate necklace. The voice of an angel and wits of a demon, elegant fingers that used to run through his hair as they eased him into sleep, a lullaby he had long forgotten filling the room where they once declared their love forevermore.

And then he had forgotten, because he had lost it all. Ship, sea, riches. Crew mates, friends, family. Lover, love, self. He had drowned in the deepest, darkest of waters, only to be brought back to life a shell of man. He had lost it all and he had grabbed onto what he could find, a family that didn’t love him, a love that didn’t suit him, a ship that was bound to sink. Hopelessness, devotion, mother. Lab, experiment, parasite. Sickness, blood, monstrosity.

His notions twisted, his stories silenced. Whiling away the hours in search of nothing, perhaps the yearning for the smell of the shore, the freedom of the seas. Fashioning his golden riches out of the only things he had left. Death, bones, loneliness.

Heisenberg would never admit it, would never allow himself to say that he missed young, bright Moreau, the sailor of tantalizing smiles and dazzling stories. He was no longer that person, he would never again be that person. Moronic freak, that was all he was now, and it was better this way. Hating him made it easier, hating them all made it easier. Try as he might, hurt as it would, he could not pull Salvatore out from the depths of Charybdis’ mouth. Mourning the loss of his brother would mean letting himself sink alongside him. Moronic freak, his brother had died long ago.

His flashes of consciousness always tugged at his heartstrings. He would begin his spiels about being a good son to Miranda, only to hang onto a word for a little longer than necessary, dwell in it as if it had brought back memories that were taken from him. Heisenberg would hope then, hope that he would break out of the shell and into the world, finally raise his head above the water and take a deep breath. But he never would, because she had changed them, had changed him, turned him into a fraction of the man he once was. He missed the brother who was his counterweight and foil, the heart to contrast his rationality, the romantic against his cynicism.

He could never bring him back, though he wished to try and bring him some solace, a nostalgic piece of his old self. Moreau hadn’t been expecting his visit, much less the old box that he had brought along. His life as a fisherman had never afforded him any luxuries, his shack always lit by candlelight, his clothes always second-hand. He stared confused at the television as Heisenberg put it down, completely silent as Karl pulled cables and wiggled the antenna into place. A box that tells stories, he explained at last, that lets you peek out into the world even though they were confined to that miserable little village.

A screen, dials, buttons, Heisenberg pointed, encouraging Moreau to experiment of his own accord. The static had startled him, hands quickly covering his ears as the ungodly noise echoed through the room. Turn this to make it quieter, and that to find a new story to see. Like turning the pages of a book? Like turning the pages of a book, one that never ended, that changed its plot from one day to the other. Through it all he was attentive, devoting his full attention to learning all there was to learn, hoping to dive head first into that well of wonders.

Salvatore’s eyes widened at the sight of people behind the screen, fingers reaching to touch and rescue the characters trapped behind the glass. Not trapped, Heisenberg explained. Not real, but real enough to make us believe. They sat together through the first film, some old comedy that had long lost its luster, cartoonish characters hitting each other on the head and slipping on banana peels. He had never heard Moreau laugh so openly, so gleefully, hands slapping against his knees and tears coming out of his eyes. Heisenberg watched his brother lose himself in the film, for once forgetting all about the pain he had been through, their monster of an adopted mother, the atrocities she had them commit. For once he saw his young friend again, a moment he wished to keep forever in his heart.

He had made to rise and leave when a lone tear threatened to spill out unbidden, a sign that he had already let himself wallow too much. Salvatore awkwardly looped his arms around him before he could make it past the door, damp face against his trench coat as he giggled and thanked him. Heisenberg said nothing, refusing to acknowledge such affection; not unlike he did in the olden days, knuckles rubbing against the top of Moreau’s head in mock annoyance like they were children again.

The film was over when he left the reservoir, Salvatore’s laughter giving way to dramatic silence, grief and rage like a rock at the bottom of Heisenberg’s stomach.

#resident evil village #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #i cry for sal #virgil writes

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krat395 · 2 years

Text

W.D. Gaster, the Best “Uncle” Ever Part 1 (Chapter 1)

The Gaster saga continues! :D Picking up where “Tickles of Justice” left off, Gaster and the kids (Frisk, Chara, Asriel, and MK) finally go to Gaster’s house, which is at least 250 yards west of Asgore’s house, in the woods, the same woods where Gaster had an epic showdown against Toriel, Asgore, Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, and Alphys (the Main Six as Frisk likes to call them) in “W.D. Gaster, the Ultimate Tickle Master.” In this particular story (Part 1 of what I believe will be a three-part story altogether), Gaster and the kids prepare to have some fun together in the secret basement of Gaster’s home in this special room that he spent months building and fixing up. A kid-friendly room, of course, and one that Gaster claims will blow the kids’ minds! Well, let’s hope he’s right about that when the time comes! Yeah, spoiler alert, they don’t go to the room in this first chapter. But some other (hopefully) fun, interesting, and not to mention IMPORTANT things happen though. Just trust me on this one, folks. ;) And BIG personal headcanons in this story too! Lots of them, which might explain why it took me so long to write this story! :B

******************************************

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

******************************************

W.D. GASTER, THE BEST “UNCLE” EVER PART 1

Chapter 1: Best “Towel” Ever!

It is a late Saturday morning and Dr. W.D. Gaster has just teleported himself and four adorable children (Frisk, Chara, Asriel, and MK) out of Asgore's house and into his own house with a simple snap of his fingers. Gaster and the kids did consider a peaceful walk through the forest to get to Gaster’s house but due to various events that prevented them from leaving Asgore’s house earlier than they wanted to, they decided to save some time by teleporting instead. How convenient! :) Anyways, now that Gaster has the kids all to himself, he is now freely able to get ready to spend time with the four of them underground today (not deep underground like the Ruins, Snowdin, Waterfall, Hotland, and New Home) in this special room in his secret basement. But before he and the kids go down there though, they would first like to take some showers and get all cleaned up. The sooner, the better and fortunately for them, Gaster has five bathrooms in his house just like Asgore does, which means that they will all be able to shower at the same time and therefore get to Gaster's basement as quickly as possible; provided that Asriel can get his fur dry in a timely manner. Even with the assistance of his fire magic, Asriel's fur takes a very long time to get fully dry. But luckily for Asriel, Gaster knows a way to help him get his fur dry fast. If the freaky-looking but friendly skeleton himself ever gets his butt downstairs, that is. (Jeez, Gaster, how long does it take you, a skeleton, to shower and put on a clean pair of black dress pants, clean black socks, clean black dress shoes, a clean white turtleneck sweater, and a clean black trench coat? XD)

Sometime later… on the main floor of Gaster’s house after the kids all took showers…

Frisk, Chara, and MK: Ah, much better! *said 3 of the 4 children at the same time as they walked into Gaster's living room with clean clothes on (same outfits as before; a blue shirt with 2 pink stripes, blue jeans, and blue flip flops for Frisk; a green shirt with a single yellow stripe, brown pants, and brown flip flops for Chara; and a brown and yellow striped shirt and brown pants for MK; just fresh, clean pairs of each piece of clothing)

Asriel: Heh, must be nice. *said Asriel with a slightly irritated tone in his voice while standing in the living room with just a pair of black athletic shorts on*

Frisk: Aww, Azzy, are you grumpy because your fur isn't dry yet?

Asriel: Oh, yeah! Mm-hmm! *answered Asriel, tapping his right foot against the floor with a grumpy expression*

MK: Jeez, Az! How long does it take for your fur to dry after a shower?

Asriel: Too… long. …And if your next question is, “Can’t you speed up the process with your fire magic?” the answer is no, not really. …Trust me, I’ve tried. *stated Asriel, still being a grumpy goat but this time, with his arms crossed*

Frisk: Awww! Don’t be such a grumpy goat, Azzy. Here, Chara and I will dry your fur for you.

Asriel: You will? And just how are you going to do that? *asked Asriel confusedly, right as Frisk and Chara got all up in his business with mischievous smiles on their faces*

Frisk: Heeheeheehee. Hold out your arms and we’ll show you.

Asriel: Heh, o-ok then.

Moments later, Asriel did as Frisk asked him to do but what followed however was something that Asriel didn't expect. Instead of trying to dry their brother's fur, Chara wiggled her fingers in the hollows of his exposed armpits from behind; and at the same time, Frisk scribbled her fingers all over his fluffy belly in front of him. They were tickling him and before Asriel knew it, he was laughing hard; real hard!

Asriel: PFFFFFFFFFFF… HAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! FRIHIHIHIHIHIHISK; HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA; FRISK, WHAHAHHAHHAHAHAAT THE HEHEHEHEHHEHECK?!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! YOU THINK THAHAHAHAAT TICKLING MEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE IS GOHOHOHOHOHOING TO DRY MY FUHUHUHUUHUHUR?!!! *asked Asriel confusedly through his precious laughter, instinctively quivering his stomach and wiggling as if he were hula-hooping* HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!

Chara: Heeheeheehee. No; of course not, silly. *Chara answered for Frisk* This is just for fun! *she teased, exactly one second before doing something that made Asriel bleat* Pbffffffffffffffffffff!!

Asriel: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! *Asriel bleated loudly and adorably the moment he felt Chara BLOW A RASPBERRY on his right armpit* HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! CHAHAHHAHARA, NOHOHOHHOHO, HAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, NOT THAHAHAHAT, HAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, AND NOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!!! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! BAAAAAAAAH!!! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! *he bleated 3 times during 3 rapid fire raspberries from Chara* HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

30 seconds later…

Asriel: HAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!! OK, YOU GUHUHUHUHUYS, BAAAAAAAAAAAAAH, HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I DOHOHOHOHON'T THINK, BAAAAAAAAAAAAH, MY, BAAAAAAAAAAAAH, FUHUHUHUHUR IS ANY DRIER!!! BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!

Frisk: Heeheeheeheeheeheehee. You're right. It isn't. *agreed Frisk, moments before she and Chara stopped tickling Asriel* Heeheeheeheehee. Ok, Azzy, for real this time. Ready?

Asriel: Heeheeheeheehee!! Yeah, heeheeheeheheeheeheeheehee, I guess so!! *replied Asriel while giggling due to phantom tickles* Heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee~!!

Frisk: Heeheeheehee. Ok; Chara, on my command! 1… 2… 3!

On the count of three, Frisk and Chara both did something very unusual, something humans that possess a Patience, Bravery, Integrity, Perseverance, Kindness, Justice, or Determination soul can do once they learn how. On the count of three, THEY CREATED FIRE IN THE PALMS OF THEIR HANDS! :O RED FIRE to be exact (red fire due to their Determination souls); and with their fire, they attempted to dry Asriel's fur, hovering their hands over his wet spots without burning him or his fur a single time. But creating fire isn’t the only magical ability they’re capable of though. They have other unique magical abilities as well and it’s all thanks to the destruction of the Barrier seven months ago. Long ago, powerful wizards used up practically all of their magic to seal the monsters underground but now that the Barrier’s been destroyed, the magic that was once contained within it has spread across the land to various humans within at least a 25-mile radius of Mt Ebott, granting them abilities beyond their comprehension.

Asriel: F-Frisk, what are you doing? I told you that heat from my fire magic doesn't help all that much.

Frisk: Yeah, we know, Azzy.

Chara: But heat from ours might though. We can at least give it a try.

Asriel: Oh, well alright then. J-just don't burn me, you guys.

Frisk: Heeheeheehee. We won't. You're far too cute to set on fire. *said Frisk with a cute little smile, causing Asriel to blush* Heeheeheehee.

Frisk and Chara's red fire felt warm to the touch, much like Toriel, Asgore, and Asriel's fire often does and as the two girls themselves worked together to dry Asriel's fur, they, along with Asriel, discovered that fire magic heat from at least one human actually speeds up the whole drying process.

Asriel: Hey. Hey, that's working, you guys! Here, let me help you with that. *said Asriel excitedly, creating RAINBOW FIRE, the hottest fire he is capable of creating (hotter than white, blue, and orange fire, which are three other types of fire he is capable of creating and controlling), in the palms of his hands* The more hands we have drying my fur, the faster we'll get done.

Moments later, Asriel began helping his sisters dry his fur with fire magic; and just like his sisters, he is hovering his hands over his wet spots without burning himself or his fur a single time. And with rainbow fire too! Not orange, not blue, and not white! Rainbow! It’s the hottest fire Asriel is capable of creating; and with Asriel’s assistance, the whole drying process is going even faster; but still not fast enough though. What the Dreemurr kids need is assistance from a fourth individual with fire magic. But as far they know, MK doesn't have fire magic or any type of magic for that manner. ...Right?

Chara: Gosh, it sure sucks that you don't have fire magic, Lizzy Boy! Because if you did, we'd probably be done by now!

MK: Hehe. Yeah, about that, you guys… *MK commented in a cool and confident manner, giving the Dreemurr kids the impression that he actually does have fire magic (and he does too) as he made his way over to their current location*

Once MK reached the Dreemurr kids' location, he stood right next to Asriel and held his robotic hands up as if he was going to create actual fire with them. Surprised by this, the Dreemurr kids all stopped what they were doing long enough to see if MK was indeed capable of creating fire.

Chara: Wait! MK, do you; do you actually have fire magic?!

After being asked such a question by Chara, MK's cool and confident behavior vanished out of the blue and was replaced with incredibly nervous behavior; nervous to the point that it felt like he had butterflies floating around in his stomach. Then afterwards, he just froze in place, completely unaware of what he should do or say next.

MK: (Crap, crap, crap! I got too excited! The plan was to show them my magic in the basement; not here!) Ehehehehehe. U-u-u-um… *stammered MK, laughing nervously to somewhat cope with the awkward situation he's currently in*

MK actually does have magic! For 15 months now; ever since his 10th birthday, MK has had several magical abilities of his very own. But because he was too inexperienced with all of them at the time, he has been keeping them a secret from many individuals including the Dreemurr kids until a time comes that he feels he can use all of them effectively and efficiently (and without choking in life threatening situations such as that time he was in danger of falling off of a bridge in Waterfall); and now that MK feels that he can thanks to training from his parents, Alphys, Papyrus, Undyne, Sans, and Gaster, and especially now that he's done with school, he is ready to tell those he's been hiding them from for so long; starting today with the three Dreemurr kids. But not right now though! MK was planning to show the Dreemurr kids his magic in Gaster's secret basement but he got too excited! Up until this point, he had been doing a spectacular job hiding his magical abilities from the Dreemurr kids. But it's not too late though! If MK can somehow convince the Dreemurr kids one last time that he lacks magic, then his secret will be safe until it's time to officially reveal his magic in Gaster's basement.

Frisk: MK, Chara just asked you a question. Do you have fire magic or not?

MK: U-u-u-um… Ehehehehehe~

Frisk: Well, do you?

Seconds later, MK broke the tension by tickling Frisk and Asriel with his tail and robotic fingers respectively, taking at least some of the attention off of himself in the process.

MK: Ehehehehe. Nope! Nope, I just wanted to tickle you guys! *lied MK with a nervous tone in his voice as he began tickling Frisk and Asriel rather hastily* Ehehehehe. Coochie coochie coo! Ehehehehehe~

Frisk: AHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! *Frisk laughed frantically upon feeling the tip of MK's scaly tail "drill" into her bellybutton underneath her striped shirt* MK, YOU JEHEHEEHEHHEHEHERK!!! *she shouted through her laughter without any actual spite; just mere moments before sinking down to the floor* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERK, MK!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!! EEEEEEEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!

Asriel: HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! *Asriel laughed hysterically the moment he felt robotic fingers wiggle up and down along his sides* MK; HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA; MK; HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHA; OH MY GOHOHOHOHOHOSH, I HAHAHAHAHATE YOU SOHOHOHOHOHHOHO MUCH RIGHT NOHOHOHOW, DUHUHUHUHUHUDE!!! *he then said through his laughter without any actual spite* HEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!

MK: Ehehehehehe. No you don't. You guys love me; me and all of my classic jokes! Ehehehehehehe. Like this one! Ehehehehehehe. OOOOF!!

All of sudden, MK got pinned face-down against the floor by Chara, which in turn made MK stop tickling Frisk and Asriel.

Chara: Mwah ha ha! You are in a world of trouble, young man! *teased Chara as she kneeled over MK's legs with her back facing towards his own back* Tricking us into believing that you have fire magic just so you could catch us off guard and tickle us; who does that?

MK: MEEEEEEEEE! *shouted MK proudly while wiggling and splaying his 6 toes; proudly because it appeared that all three Dreemurr kids bought his lie about lacking fire magic* Heeheeheeheeheehee~!

Chara: (Gah! Why must you always tease me like that with your toes, MK?) Oh, you are so asking for it now, Lizzy Boy! Frisk, Azzy, stand back!

A few seconds later, once Frisk and Asriel got out of the way, Chara began ZAPPING MK'S FEET WITH RED LIGHTNING (Red lightning due to her Determination soul)! :O All in an attempt to tickle his feet!

Chara: MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! *laughed Chara “evilly” as she zapped MK’s feet with lightning* UNLIMITED POWER!!! *she shouted like Emperor Palpatine XD* MWAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

MK: Eeeeeeeeeeep; unlimited power? Eeeeeeeeeeep! Chara, eeeeeeeeeeep, what are you doing to my feet back there? Eeeeeeeeeeep! I can feel you touching, eeeeeeeeeeep, my feet with something; eeeeeéeeeeep, but I don't know what it is! Eeeeeeeeeeeeep! You're making them tingle like crazy!

Uh oh! MK's not laughing! If MK's not laughing, that can only mean one thing. Chara's red lightning isn't working! Instead of tickling MK, all she's doing is making his feet feel extremely tingly, hence why MK is repeatedly shouting, "Eeeeeeeeeeeeep!"

Chara: Ugh! I'm trying to tickle your feet with my lightning magic, you doofus! *said Chara to MK without any actual spite*

MK: Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Oh, eeeeeeeeeeep, that's your red lightning? Eeeeeeeeeeeep! Heeheeheehehee; wow, eeeeeeeeeeeep, heeheeheeheehee, that's awesome, Chara! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Super awesome! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Chara: Heeheeheehee. It is, yes! Heeheeheehee. But it would be even more even more awesome if it was tickling you, Lizzy Boy! I've tickled someone's feet with lightning before, you know! Just ask Frisk!

Frisk: Pffffff… Hahahahaahahahahahahaha!!! *snort* It's true, she hahahahahahas!!! *snort* Heeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!!! My feeheeheeheeheeheet to be exact!!! Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee!!! But just one time thohohohohough!!! *Frisk honestly acknowledged; laughing and giggling at just the mere thought of Chara tickling her feet with her red lightning* Hahahahahahahahahahahaha!!! Ohohohoh my gohohohosh, it's making me lahahahahahaugh just thinking about it!!! *snort* Heeheeheeheeheeheeheeheeheehee~!!!

MK: Hahahahahahahahahhahaha! *laughed MK in response to Frisk laughing; not because Chara's lightning is starting to tickle his feet* Eeeeeeeeeeeep! Ooohoohoohooh, hahahahahahaha, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeep, it tickled that much, huh? Eeeeeeeeeeeep! Hahahahaha! Eeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

Frisk: Yehehehehehehehehes!!! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha~!!!

Seconds later; Chara, after figuring out that she won't be making MK laugh any time soon with lightning, stopped zapping MK's feet. Poor Chara! Just when she thought she was starting to get the hang of tickling others with her lightning magic! Oh, but it's not so bad though. She probably just needs some more practice, that's all. Practice makes perfect and if she practices enough, then tickling others with lightning magic could very likely become something she can manage to do all the time rather than something she can only manage to do on a few rare occasions.

Chara: Haha! Well clearly it's not working on you! *said Chara disappointedly as she stopped zapping MK's feet with lightning* So, I'll just do this instead! *she then said joyfully, just mere seconds before she began blowing a whole bunch of raspberries on the sole of MK’s right foot while blushing red* Pbfffffffffffffffff, pbffffffffffff, pbfffffffffffff...

MK: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! *laughed MK hysterically in response to Chara's foot raspberries, his laughter overtaking him to the point that he lost most of his awareness to his surroundings* CHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAAARA; WOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOAH; MY GOHOHOHOOOOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOSH!!! *SQUEAK* EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! YAAHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! *SQUEAK* NOT THAT, HAHAAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA, NOT THAHAHAAHAHAHAHAT!!! *he pleaded through his laughter, spinning his tail rapidly as if it were a helicopter propeller* EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! EEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!

Foot raspberries are super effective against MK; so much so that they can easily be considered one of his weaknesses. Especially when they're blown directly on the ball of his foot right underneath his middle toe! Just ask his father, Rocco! He blows raspberries on MK’s feet more than anybody! :D

Frisk: Heeheeheehee! Whoo hoo! *cheered Frisk as she positioned herself on the floor next to MK's feet* Yeah! Foot raspberries! Like Rocco’s! Nice! Heeheeheeheehee! Mind if I do the same to his other foot?

Chara: Pbfffffffffff! Go for it, Frisk! Go nuts! *answered Chara in between blowing raspberries* Pbfffffffffffff, pbfffffffffff…

Frisk: Heeheeheeheehee! With pleasure!

Not even one second later, Frisk joined in, blowing raspberries on MK's left foot as Chara continued blowing raspberries on his right foot. With 2 girls blowing raspberries on his feet this time around, MK is laughing much harder and louder than before. But not just that though; he also happens to be squirming and thrashing like the little wiggle worm he is in Chara's clutches and wagging, flailing, and spinning his tail at a very alarming rate, bound to smack one or both of the girls at any given moment as tons of precious squeaks escape from his mouth in between his laughs.

Frisk and Chara: Pbfffffffffff, pbfffffffffffff, pbfffffffffffff...

MK: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!! GAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO, EEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEE, *SQUEAK* NOT BOHOHOOHOTH... *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STOHOHOHOOHHOHOHOOHHOP!!! *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! *SQUEAK* STOHOHOHOHOHOP IT!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! *SQUEAK* GEHEHEHEHHEET YOUR MOUTHS AWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAY *SQUEAK* FROHOHOHOOHOM MY FEEHEEHEEHEHEEEHEET, YOU CRAZY HUHUHUHUMANS!!! *pleaded MK desperately though his laughter, before pleading the following to Asriel,* HAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! *SQUEAK* AZ, HEHEHHEHEEHELP ME!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! *SQUEAK* HEHEHEHEHEHEEHEHELP MEEEEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!! HHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHA HAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Asriel: Heeheeheehee. Sure, MK; right after my fur dries. *responded Asriel with a sly smile*

MK: HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA; WHAHAHAHAHAT?!!! *SQUEAK* HAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!! *SQUEAK* HAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! THAT'LL TAKE FOHOHOOHOHOHOREHEHEHEHEHEVER!!! *MK then exaggerated through his hysterical laughter to Asriel* EEEEEEEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!

Asriel: Heeheehee. Not if I use my “special towel,” it won't. *Asriel claimed, planning something mischievous while making his way over to Frisk, Chara, and MK’s current location*

MK: HAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA; WHAHAHAAAHAHAHAT?!!! *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA; A SPEHEHEHHEHEHECIAL TOWEL?!!! *SQUEAK* HAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA; YOU HAVE A SPEHEHEHHEHEHECIAL TOWEL YOU COULD'VE BEEHEEHEHEEN USING?!!! *SQUEAK* HAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Asriel: Yes. *Asriel shamelessly answered while smiling*

MK: HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! WELL, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, WHEHEHEEHEHEHERE IS IT?!!! *SQUEAK* HAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA!!! AND WHY, *SQUEAK* HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE, THE HEHEHEHEHEHECK HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAVEN'T YOU USED IT YET?!!! HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Asriel: Heeheeheehee. *giggled Asriel in response, walking next to MK and the girls with a mischievous smile on his fuzzy face* Because… it's kind of attached to you, my reptilian friend. *he answered, grabbing MK's tail and using it as a towel for the next while* Heeheeheeheehee~

MK's tail; that's Asriel's “special towel;” and as Asriel consistently brushed his fluffy torso, neck, ear, and head fur against it as if he were using an actual towel all the while his sisters continued blowing raspberries on MK's scaly feet, the loudest and most hysterical laughter poured from the young reptilian boy's mouth. He was being tickled on his most sensitive spots and his laughter was so loud that it echoed throughout the entire first and second floors of Gaster's house!

MK: BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHHAHAHAHA HAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! AZ, *SQUEAK* NOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHO!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHWHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!! DOHOHOHOHOHON'T USE MY TAIL AS A TOHOHOOHOOHOHOHOWEL!!!! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!! EEEEEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEHEHEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!! HOHOHOHOHOHOLY MOHOHOHOHHOHOHOLY, YOUR FUR TIHIIIHIHIHHIHICKLES!!!! *SQUEAK* *SQUEAK* HAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Asriel: Heeheeheeheehee. It most certainly does! Heeheeheeheehee! Best “towel” ever! Heeheeheeheeheeheehee~

Frisk and Chara: Pbffffffffff, pbfffffffffff, pbffffffffff…

MK: GAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! FRISK, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, CHARA, *SQUEAK* HAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, NO MOHOHOHOHOHORE RASPBEHEEHEHEHEHEHERRIES!!!! *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!! OH, MY POOHOOHOOHOOR FEEHEEHEEHEEHEET!!!! *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHA!!!! AND, AZ, QUIT IT!!!! HEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!! YOHOHOHOOHOHOU'RE GEHEHEHEHEHETTING MY TAIL ALL WEHEHEHEHEHET!!!! *SQUEAK* FFFFFFFFFFWEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!!!! *SQUEAK* STOP BEFOHOHOHOHORE YOU GEHEHEHEHEHEHET YOHOHOOHHOHOHOUR LOOHOOHOOHOOSE FUR STUHUHUHHUHUCK TO IT!!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

Too late! Due to Asriel's bad shedding problem during this time of year, some of Asriel's fur already got stuck to MK's tail; and as Asriel and his sisters continued tickling the young reptilian boy himself, it only got more and more covered with tickly fur; individual strands of it sticking to the scales in a polka dot-like pattern from the base all the way to the tip. It made MK's tail feel itchy, very itchy; quite an unusual feeling from Asriel's insanely soft, silky fur. Especially after washing all of it with pet shampoo! But luckily for MK, Gaster, after moving the Dreemurr kids off to the side with his telekinesis and after summoning hands to hold their legs against the floor after placing them in upright sitting positions with their legs together, was able to get it all off with just a simple snap of his fingers.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#undertale tickle #undertale tickling #monster kid #asriel #frisk #feet tickling #upperbody tickling

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lilhawkeye3 · 4 years

Text

This Ohio discourse has got me dying to create discourse about every other state now hehe so I officially present:

Hawk’s review of 36/50 US states!

In alphabetical order because that fuckin song “50 nifty United States” has been stuck in my head since fourth grade.

Arizona: Phoenix is hot. Can’t believe y’all choose to live in a place that gets haboobs. Saw Sen. John McCain in the airport. I feel that sums up the state well. 4/10

California: as a resident of the state of Oregon, I’m legally required to say fuck California😌 unless anyone else talking shit about Cali and then we got your back😤 SoCal vs San Fran vs Northern Cal are totally different worlds though. 7/10

Colorado: damn idk how y’all breathe there, them air is thin. But really pretty out there! 7/10

Connecticut: oh my god fuck New Haven. And Stamford, and Hartford, and— Yknow what? Let’s just toss the whole state into the Sound. For real, traffic is the WORST here and I’m so sorry that y’all gotta live like that. 3/10

Delaware: I cannot believe this is considered a state. There’s no difference between Delaware and Maryland/Pennsylvania. 1/10 should not be a state

Florida: “the only hills in Florida are the highway ramps and the Matterhorn!” —the shuttle driver at Disney World. He was right. Shit is flat as fuck here. And hot. And humid. The Gulf Coast is nice? But tbh it’s just all very touristy which is kind of a bummer. 5/10

Georgia: ...I can’t with the humidity or thinly veiled racism. But y’all got nice peaches! Also Black Panther filmed there so thank you for blessing us with that. 6/10 for fruits

Hawaii: okay pineapple farms are cool. Tbh I just feel really bad for how much mainlander/tourist bs all the islanders put up with. Ik price of living is v high and keeps going up. That said I did love Hawaii... although I was stung by a jellyfish. Hate those little bastards. 8/10 for wonderful people and nature

Idaho: as an Oregonian I’m required to also say fuck Idaho 😝 you da hoes. Okay for real tho southern Idaho has become v white white and kinda scary tbh. The northern part of the state is pretty chill tho. Also Oreida kettle chips are partly made in Idaho so I gotta give you half credit for that. 4/10

Illinois: at least you’re not Indiana. 4/10.

Indiana: I never want to step foot in Gary, Indiana again in my life. (Passed a Mack truck hauling a race car to Indy 500 though so that was cool.) 2/10

Iowa: I almost moved here. I’m so glad I didn’t. Why are the Quad Cities actually a group of five towns? I hate that. Also the roads were all cement, felt like driving on a sidewalk. Was also interesting because the second we got out of the city proper, it was just... corn fields everywhere. 2/10 y’all raising children of the corn.

Kentucky: I really don’t have anything to say about Kentucky. I thought the trees were pretty? 5/10 yeah idk

Maine: my relative has totaled two cars by hitting moose in Maine. Maine scares me. Or rather, the moose do. Also the lobster roll hype is real. And the coast truly is beautiful. 8/10 but an extra point for the moose bc I hate that relative so 9/10

Maryland: oh god Baltimore. Also I’m blaming you for the DC traffic because it’s on the land you gifted them. 3/10

Massachusetts: Patriots fans are the worst NFL fans (the racism is real, especially after fans burned the jerseys of Black players who knelt for the anthem). Liking Dunkin’ Donuts is not a personality trait. The North End in Boston is truly the best place to get pizza in the entire country. Western Mass is not the same state. And the Cape Cod bridges give me nightmares. 5/10 but cause I had to pay taxes two years and it really is Taxachusetts, knocking it down to 4/10

Michigan: it’s a lot bigger than I initially thought. 5/10

Minnesota: it’s Canada but in the US. Pretty driving through the southern part. Cops suck tho. 5/10

Montana: okay Montana is downright gorgeous. (Except Billings. Sorry, Billings.) I must include a photo. I wanna get a cabin here and just exist. 8/10

New Hampshire: can’t decide if it hates Massachusetts or wants to be Massachusetts. All it knows is that it’s better than Vermont. Which... y’know, valid. (If you wanna see NH culture watch North Woods Law tbh). 4/10

New Jersey: why are there so many goddamn highways in this state? Also there are more places to weekend trip than the Shore or the Poconos. Although you do have people pump gas for you just like Oregon, so... that’s valid. Things my friends have added: Newark airport is cursed (valid), the jughandles are nightmares (true), pork roll/Taylor Ham is good and so are bagels and New Jersey pizza (allergic so idk), and everyone is split on whether the shore is actually decent or not 😂 I give it a 3.5/10 out of spite

New York: NYC is fun, Upstate is MASSIVE but really beautiful. Long Island is... yeah I don’t have anything nice to say about Long Island. 8/10 For NYC, 6/10 for Upstate, -2/10 for Long Island, gives us an average of 6/10

North Carolina: very good peaches. Isn’t South Carolina. Keep it up👍🏽 6/10

Ohio: I already told y’all how I feel about this flat ass boring state. I feel no need to slander it any more lmao. 3/10

Oregon: she flies with her own wings, mi amor🥰 to list all the reasons I like Oregon (and the issues too bc it ain’t perfect), I would need a whole other post. I’ll just leave you with this picture I took of Mt. Hood, the queen of our Cascades. 11/10

Pennsylvania: so apparently PN is three states hiding in a trench coat like NY. There’s upstate, philly and Pittsburg. Personally I think they’re just trying too hard and wanna get the same recognition as NY. Meh. 5/10

Rhode Island: THIS FUCKIN SHAM OF A STATE Just merge it with Connecticut and be done with it!! It’s tiny. Providence sucks. There’s nothing unique about this state that you can’t find in Southern Mass (except MA has cheaper taxes so y’all come to work and shop in MA anyways smh). Also the fingers are really annoying to drive down to get to some beach areas haha. 2/10 you’re barely better than Delaware.

South Carolina: my Black father was invited to a party celebrating General Robert E Lee’s birthday. So... 0/10

South Dakota: very gorgeous, didn’t realize the Missouri River went this far west, but VERY LARGE. I mean it looks big on a map but then you get there and... yeah. No speed limit on highways is a great time though. And the Badlands have mountain goats! 6/10 bc while pretty, living there seems really hard. (Picture is me in the Badlands).

Texas: gave us Juneteenth and Beyoncé and JJ Watts. Thank you Texas. But is very big, got independence from Mexico to keep slavery (yikes), is like 97% private land (yikes) and is like the second or third largest state. Very big. That said, everyone I’ve ever met from Texas is lovely. 6/10.

Utah: Other than Idaho, this is the whitest state I’ve been to. Or it feels that way. Like a, the people crossed to the other side of the street and held their bags because I’m brown, state. And I don’t ski so I can’t even say that’s a good thing (I fell off the ski lift the one time I went, long story). Yeah 0/10.

Vermont: wants to be New Hampshire or Canada and can’t decide which. So it’s just kinda there. Pretty hills though. 3/10

Virginia: let’s be real we all forget that Virginia exists west of Richmond. Nova is a beauracratic and traffic nightmare and half our neighbors had to pass security clearance checks. Hampton Roads and beach area is a tourist and mosquito nightmare. But there were dolphins and I made snowmen on the beach. Good times. 6.7/10

Washington: again, legally required as an Oregon resident to say fuck Washington because it’s all your fault we now are getting a toll on the I-5 border. But you’re better than California. And the Sound is really cool for fishing, love Wicked Tuna. And the fish market. Best salmon I’ve had. Eastern Washington... y’all got Spokane but the rest is kinda sparse. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 8/10

Wisconsin: cheese is actually good. Again, pretty state, much larger than I initially thought. 7/10

Wyoming: this was the ONLY STATE I lost cell service in when diriving cross country. Kinda surprised it wasn’t Montana, but no, it was Wyoming. Views are gorgeous though so I was distracted either way. 4/10

Thank you for joining me on this cross-country edition of Tea Time with Hawk. Please respond with any reactions, corrections, addendums about any and all of the states mentioned. And thank you for taking part in this wholesome Clone Wars fandom discourse with me 🥰💕

DISCLAIMER: THESE RATINGS ARE ALL A JOKE PLEASE DO NOT ACTUALLY GET MAD ABOUT IT

#ohio discourse #50 states reviews #oregon #midwest #california #texas #New York #massachusetts #deep south #midatlantic #New England #united states #the clone wars #DISCOURSE COMMENCE

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