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capricioussun · 26 days

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hello! I haven't dropped an ask here in a while

what do you think uf bros' music tastes would be like (if they even listen to music much?)

also any hcs about small shows of sibling affection despite everything? (gotta love finding the silly softness and wholesomeness in the Edgy AU™️)

Hi hi!!! Hope ur doing well :*) 💖

Music taste...

For Sans I'd say it's probably generally more instrumental stuff than anything. I don't think he has a problem with vocals but sometimes finds them annoying or distracting if he’s trying to relax or focus on something. As for sounds, i can see him being kind of like...easily influenced by it? So like, rock, techno/edm, loud fast sorta stuff for working, and maybe softer slower stuff like jazz or dreamcore for relaxing/sleeping. I can definitely see him listening to heavy grunge specifically when he drives tho

For Papyrus, i think ive mentioned it before, but he has super weird and eclectic tastes. He kinda likes...vibes, or strange technical stuff when it comes to music more than a specific genre or sound. It's a super song by song basis, but generally fuller sounding music is preferable, stuff with a lot going on basically. He'd probably also listen to punk/grunge/garage stuff just for the aesthetic lmao

As for affectionate gestures (ur so right fr), i mean, 90% of what Papyrus does could be considered an affectionate gesture when it comes to Sans. He hems and haws about it, sure, but he cooks for him, cleans for him, tidies for him, makes sure he has nice, warm presentable clothes, moves him to more comfortable places whenever he falls asleep somewhere weird. Underground, aside from the fact he also cleaned compulsively as a nervous tic, a lot of what he did and his caretaking nature came from looking after Sans.

Even later on the surface, he still keeps track of his tastes, makes extra of any meals to keep in the fridge for any time Sans stops by, gifts him clothes or things he might like that are also useful, of course that he knows Sans wouldn't buy himself. He’s definitely the more straightforward of the two when it comes to showing how much he cares, despite his best efforts to be some measure of discreet.

With Sans, he definitely has a harder time of showing it, mostly from trying to make sure to keep a distance so he'd be certain Papyrus would be okay if something happened to him or he Fell Down. But at the same time, he can't really help it, and he doesn't want to make things harder on Papyrus in the meantime with varied success, so it's usually just in little things. Checking on him the rare occasions he’s asleep when Sans is up, patching up some of his clothes any time they get messed up in a scuffle, keeping things at least as tidy as they were/doing laundry/dishes any time Papyrus gets injured or gains LV so he doesn't have to worry as much about taking care of things.

On the surface, he slowly becomes more comfortable showing it, checking in with him, "teasing" about things to remind Papyrus to take better care of himself, making an effort to get along with his evil furballs. Every once in a blue moon he might even make some sort of gesture, getting him a special gift of some sort, being very lowkey about it, because really, he does want Papyrus to know he cares and pays attention, and he knows he sucks at saying it.

Of course Papyrus does know, but you know how it is. They tease and prod but they really do care a lot.

#thinking of specific examples of stuff they've done for each other but I don't want this to be 10 miles long so i will leave it at that...#they enjoy being mean with each other but they're the only ones who have a perfect sense of what's too far/too much and get really #defensive of each other if someone else crosses those lines #<-#also part of why Sans dislikes Undyne so much. she doesn't pay attention to that line and sometimes really is just very mean and harsh with #Papyrus. of course they also have a complicated relationship since she's sort of his boss/mentor but yeah...#they're so silly i love them #underfell #uf edge #uf red #underfell sans #underfell papyrus #sun spots #amee-racle #fighting for my life against autocorrect to type ur url #it hates tumblr urls so much...#clear sky sunset #ty also 💗🎉

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alettertothesea · 1 year

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Hidden Talent

Hinata and Tobio walked down the stairs lazily. A few minutes earlier, Hinata’s mom had asked them to watch after Natsu, Hinata’s sister, because she needed to step out for a while. Reaching the opening of the living room, the two boys blinked at the new setting of the room. The coffee table that used to be in the center of the latter had been shifted to the left. Now, on the rond carpet, a dozen plushies and dolls were seated in an arc, facing the TV. In front of them, Natsu was standing, all smiles, speaking to her motionless toys.

Hinata took a first step into the room, quickly followed by Tobio. Hinata flopped down on the sofa, while Tobio slowly sat down. Seeing the shadows of the two boys, Natsu's smile widened and started to bustle about the room. After a short silence, she introduced herself and picked up a black hat and a wand that lay at her feet.

For a good ten minutes, Natsu did a series of magic tricks. She began with the most classic one: the rabbit in the hat. Then she made several by using cards, with the happy participation of Hinata and Tobio. And as soon as a trick was over, the little girl was applauded like the greatest of magicians. At one point, Tobio and Hinata even gave her a standing ovation.

Then it was suddenly Tobio's turn. Hinata pushed him off the sofa, the raven-haired boy finding himself standing in front of the piece of furniture, somewhat puzzled.

Tobio timidly walked to stand where Natsu was.

“Show us what you can do, King!” Hinata shouted out, smirking mischievously.

Tobio glowered at him before he looked around the room. Then his eyes fell on a plastic box filled with accessories. A tambourine poked out from the clutter and a faint smile tugged at Tobio’s lips at the sight of it. He went to get it and when he came back to his place, he gently tapped it against his palm and at the third time he started to sing.

Tobio was known to speak his mind loud and clear, scolding Hinata whenever he did something wrong during practice or even during a match (not hesitating to hit him if necessary), his voice echoing throughout the gymnasium. But here in Hinata's living room, his voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if the boy still didn't feel comfortable to have people listening to his melody. Hinata didn't know the song Tobio was singing. Before his eyes, the somewhat tyrannical boy had become an idol, spotlights illuminating him, fan cries resonating all around him, his music spreading throughout the archipelago.

Besides volleyball, Kazuyo had planted another love in Tobio's heart. After every volleyball practice, he had taken his grandson to karaoke. It was he who had taught him to play the tambourine, tapping the rhythm of a song. It was he who had taught him to love this activity as much as the sport he lived for. It was thanks to him that he liked to sing, to hum when he let his thoughts wander.

On the couch, Hinata was shocked to hear Tobio's voice, his mouth agape. His eyes shone so brightly that people would have thought that a constellation had been painted in them. His lips curved slightly at the corner of his mouth; joy, surprise, excitement being the emotion behind this tic. His heart swelled like a hot air balloon, slowly lifting his body, as light as a feather bewitched by this chant. He really is amazing, his inner voice sighed longingly. When he thought he had discovered everything about this boy, Hinata was always struck by something new.

A silence followed Tobio's performance. Then Natsu jumped up from the sofa, clapping like a seal and shouting to his brother, “Onii-chan, show him chuu-san!”

Immediately snapping out of his thoughts at his sister's words, Hinata stood up, acting like a puppet, but his mind was no longer clouded by Tobio's magical fog, completely lucid now.

Walking dangerously towards Tobio, the boy with the beautiful voice said in bewilderment, looking alternately at the brother and sister, “Who is chuu-san?”

When Hinata was a few centimeters away from Tobio, he lowered his head for a second and then lifted it up. Tobio almost paled in dread, but disgust made him frown and he took a step back, stammering, “What the f-. What is this?”

Tongue stuck out and curled up, the tip touching that of his nose, Hinata invaded Tobio’s personnel space, making him step backwards until he couldn’t escape his friend anymore.

“My hidden talent,” Hinata said in muffled speech, his arms wide open like a grandmother welcoming her grandchild. “Now, give me a kiss!”

Tobio abruptly turned his head, as Hinata's face was particularly close to his and inwardly screamed "Noooo!" of horror. Behind his closed eyes, Tobio wanted to wake up from this nightmare.

#kagehina #haikyuu #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #hinata natsu #prompt challenge #writer

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jinjahime · 25 days

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time had stopped. no . . . no, that wasn’t right. time didn’t stop. [ it never did. ] but to whatever gods felt like listening, sora desperately wished it would.

the tick of the clock seemed to echo loudly in her thoughts, heavy and reverberating and weighing her down with every passing second; she was only vaguely aware of the voices speaking in the room, of the sobs coming from umashi—but all she could hear was the tick, tick, tick of the clock. it was a hand on her shoulder that pulled her from her silent drowning, green eyes flicking up to look at the hand’s owner.

“ ah—kurosaki-sensei— ”

her attention off the clock for the moment, sora slowly realized the sounds of umashi’s cries had muffled, and looking at the doctor she could see why: it seemed he had picked up umashi at some point and was letting the toddler sob against his shoulder. something in sora’s stomach twisted, and were she to examine it deeper, she’d realize it was guilt—right now, though, it was merely more discomfort.

“ you just graduated, didn’t you? ”

“ . . . yes, kurosaki-sensei. ”

that drew a sigh out of the doctor.

“ no need to be so formal right now, kumori-san—i just wanted to check on you and see how you’re doing. ”

lips parted as her brows furrowed swiftly at the question, feeling ready to snap over it—how is she doing? her father was now dead and her mother was still missing, how did he think she was doing—but. one look at umashi, who had apparently cried himself to sleep in kurosaki-sensei’s arms, was enough to get her to shut up before she could even speak. what good would it do him—do her, even—to act like that right now? instead, sora's shoulders slowly dropped, as if letting that previous weight from the ticking of the clock slip to the floor with a heavy thud.

“ . . . i—i . . . ”

her words trailed off, and sora could only stare numbly at the floor as her thoughts began to slow, almost as if they had started to sync up once again with the pendulum of the clock on the wall.

tick, tick, tick.

“ . . . how about you tell me which room is his, i’ll put him to bed, and then if you want to talk, we can. the medics will take care of your father’s body. ”

she could feel her lips parting again, could hear her voice speak— “ upstairs, first door on the left— ” but it didn’t feel like it was actually her doing it. it felt as though every part of her had gone numb now, and she was simply watching her own body as if it were some movie playing before her eyes. body. she looked over at the other room where just that—her father’s body—was lying, a blanket placed over him as if it could hide him from view. him. it. body. once more her stomach twisted, sharp and painful this time, as the echoing tick of the clock started moving faster, faster—

when she was sixteen, her mother disappeared. already on the downward path, sora fell further into a yankī personality, rebelling against her father, against school, against everything that tried to have some form of control over her life. but her father never said a word. not in support, not in disdain, he never once spoke about her behavior—in fact, he was incredibly distant from both her and umashi after their mother’s disappearance, often gone for long periods of time, only to return home at odd hours. despite his distance, though, he never stopped working at the office, never stopped making them dinner, never stopped being their father. and now . . .

and now, he was gone too. a body.

her head turned as the doctor walked back down the stairs, umashi now gone from his arms; sora ran her fingers through her shaggy teal hair, and at the moment she had half a mind to just shave it off. why did she do it in the first place? what was the point? what did anything she'd ever done matter when this was her life now?

“ i’ll put some tea on—how about you sit at the table? ” sora could only nod once in recognition of kurosaki-sensei’s words, sitting while still feeling like she wasn’t entirely in control of her own body. tick, tick, tick. “ there we go—the jasmine box is yours, isn’t it? had your name on it— ”

“ —i need a job. ”

the words came out without any effort on her part, and it seemed to stop him in the middle of his attempts to distract her—watching him, she could tell that’s exactly what he'd been trying to do. “ i’ll have to figure out with the bank about whatever money my father had in there, but that won’t last long-term—and whatever job i might get won’t pay enough to stay here. we’ll have to move— ”

her voice sounded distant, authoritative—it was like someone who was actually clear-headed, was able to compartmentalize the bad thoughts away, and only focus on what mattered most in this moment. sadness wouldn’t help, and whoever this voice belonged to knew it.

“ —you don’t need to think about all that just yet, kumori-san. you’re allowed to grieve first— ”

“ i can mourn later, kurosaki-sensei, but . . . i need to figure things out sooner rather than later for umashi’s sake. ”

tick, tick, tick.

the clock wouldn’t stop.

and so, neither would she.

#fic. 曇空乃 #death ment cw #grief ment cw

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totiredtowrite · 3 years

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Unnatural

Warnings - Cursing, somewhat religious themes, the word st4b, you talking like Ushijima frfr

Note: Reader's pupils are described, so if your eyes are too dark to see your pupils just pretend for me okay <3 It's never specified what reader believes in because I wanted to make it seem more weird than any known religions. One last thing, it don't matter if you're skinny, chubby, muscular or whatever, you're always gonna be considered handsome in my works >:(

Do I like this? Not much, but have it anyways

Male Reader

Oikawa wouldn't call himself a jealous person.

Just how true that opinion of himself was, well that's still up for debate.

Yet and still though, he finds himself getting more and more agitated as he hears more about you.

The 'mysterious new student' weirdly handsome and wears a (rather different) version of a western cross around his neck. Oikawa was sick of it at this point. He heard your deskmate talking about how so very scary and handsome you were, just eating up the attention others were giving her.

Oikawa formed an opinion of you before even seeing your face.

🂠🃑🃁🂱🂡

"Iwaa," Oikawa had his head in his crossed arms. "What are you doing?" He lifted his head up to try and peek at Iwaizumi's phone. The two were currently on their lunch break, both finished and just sitting around.

"Back off Shittykawa," Iwaizumi rolled his eyes with a tic in his forehead. "I'm doing something."

Oikawa huffed and dramatically dropped his head back into his arms. He was going to sit and pout for a while to annoy Iwaizumi, but them he heard a high pitched voice. Naturally he honed in on it to try and hear what the girl was saying.

"He's not that scary!"

"Yeah, sure Misaki-san."

"It's true!"

He hears the girls giggle.

"Whatever, he's handsome!"

"Of course, cause you've seen him?"

"Yes! I got to show him around!"

The girls voices trailed off as they got further away. Oikawa's previous determination to annoy Iwaizumi was overtaken by his curiosity. He sat up straight and poked his best friend in the shoulder. "Iwa-chan," curiosity laced his voice, "is there someone new?"

Iwaizumi nodded.

"His name is (l/n). He's supposed to be in our class."

Oikawa puffed out his cheek slightly. How come he hadn't heard of this?

Throughout the rest of the day, Oikawa was becoming more aware of how many people were talking about you. It was like the hallways were a chorus of 'I heard he was religious' or 'I could take him,' among many other things.

It was starting to piss him off, just a bit.

Who did you think you were? Not coming to class but grabbing the attention of what feels like everyone.

It's infuriating.

Oikawa in the next few days walked the halls with a scarier air around him. At practice he was what you could only describe as a monster. His fan club has noticed something wrong, but when they asked him about it the most they got was some half-assed excuse about practice and one of his charming, less-than-real smiles.

He was moving so fast through the hallways that it didn't register for a few seconds when he heard a soft thump, and near fell on his back.

"Ah! Sorry," He plastered on a charming grin and scratched the back of his neck in a display to come across as nervous.

"S'alright," You rolled your shoulder and stood up a little straighter. "I was not looking where I was going."

Oikawa opened his eyes. He didn't recognize your voice.

He looked up and stopped breathing for a few beats. Your pupils, (rather small, he noticed), made your eyes seem very analytical. Wait, not analytical, more like a knife that stabs him right in the damn soul. He doesn't recognize you. His eyes trailed further down. You were wearing the uniform. It's like nothing was out of place until- his eyes snagged on a western cross around your neck.

It looked kind of normal, aside from the numerous circles welded on to the metal.

You gave him a smile that was crossed between worried and amused.

"Are you alright," you finally said, "it seems like you've stopped breathing."

Oikawa nodded his head gently, making sure to let himself breathe as he looked back up to your eyes. He knows exactly who you are.

"Well, while you're in a hurry, would you mind showing me where class six is?" You smiled at him again.

He blanked. Class six was his room. Honestly he doesn't know why he didn't remember that. He put on a somewhat strained smile. "That's my classroom, I can take you there!" Obviously something wasn't right with him, but you just shrugged it off. Everyone gets weird around the new guy.

"Thank you." Before you said anything else, your eyes swept over his frame. "You're a saint."

🂠🃑🃁🂱🂡

'Pretty boy.'

Oikawa has been called a pretty boy before. That along with 'Great King,' 'heartthrob,' and numerous mean nicknames courtesy of Iwaizumi.

Never once has he been called a saint. Angel, sure, but saint? That was a new one. And to make matters worse, the nickname came from you.

The butterflies in his stomach were close to making him nauseous.

Every time you saw him now, you'd find a way to slip that damn nickname in. Always 'Good morning, Saint' or 'You look nice today Saint.' It. Sucked. Oikawa was sure that you were doing it to make fun of him. What really got him was when you said 'I'm glad the creators put me on your path, Saint.'

You could say the nicest thing to him, and it would sound like an insult in his ears. This was bad to the point that he was starting to mess up in practice.

Eventually Iwaizumi slapped him upside the head. "Just go talk to him! This is getting tiring Loserkawa!"

Oikawa pouted, but took his words to heart.

Apparently though, finding you isn't as easy as it was made out to be. He'd never actually tried to seek you out before. Most of your interactions came from you appearing out of nowhere and giving him some backhanded compliment.

Eventually, (after walking around for ten minutes), he just decided to ask around.

"'Scuse me girlie," Oikawa put on a charming smirk and tapped a girls shoulder. This was the eighth person he'd asked, she had better know.

The girl turned around to see Oikawa, and went rather pink in the face. "Oi-Oikawa-san! What do you need?" She turned her face to the ground and shyly wrung her hands together.

Oikawa wasted no time. "Do you happen to know where (l/n)-san is?"

She nodded, whipping her head up at him with wide eyes. "I think he's on the roof! He- Uh, he spends time there outside of classes."

Oikawa beamed. He didn't question how this random girl knew where you spent your time, but he pushed the odd feeling of jealousy down his throat. "Thanks cutie!" He waved in her direction before running off, determined to find you and... What exactly was he going to do? Tell you off? Whatever, he'll figure it out on the way there.

Well, needless to say he didn't figure it out. He pushed the door to the roof open, shielding his eyes from the sun.

You were perched near the ledge, humming some off beat tune.

You didn't seem to acknowledge Oikawa, though it was clear you knew he was there.

"You're unnatural," you said as Oikawa got closer.

Any words that he had previously thought of saying withered and died in his throat. He tilted his head at you and moved to stand near you. "Excuse me?"

You turned you head towards him, (finally), and took in his frame with lidded eyes. Your hands were tracing the weirdly shaped cross in your hands.

"S'true, the creators work in weird ways." You blew air out of your mouth and looked away from him, a content smile playing at your lips.

"Most of the unnatural are easily spotted, but you?" You narrowed your eyes in a coy manner, taking in the scenery from the rooftop. "You blend in so well."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Oikawa said, unsure of whether or not he should be flattered or scared.

"I never said unnatural was a bad thing," you hoisted yourself up and walked over to Oikawa. He took a small step back.

"What's even with you?" He snapped. You didn't seem phased as he continued. "Always calling me 'saint' and being a huge dick!" That last part was really only percieved in Oikawa's mind.

You tilted your head at him and stopped. "Is that not an endearing term? I was trying to make you feel special, but I seem to have greatly miscalculated." You frowned and brought a finger to your chin.

Oikawa's mouth opened in confusion. "Sorry?"

"You heard me. It's a compliment."

Oikawa brought a hand to his stomach. Yep, those butterflies were nauseating.

🂠🃑🃁🂱🂡

"(Y/n)?" Oikawa looks up at you.

He had his head laying on your lap, your fingers playing with his hair absentmindedly while you flipped through a book. "Mm?" You looked down.

"Are you ever going to tell me what you meant by unnatural?" Oikawa shifted so he was sitting up straight. The question has been floating around in his mind ever since you started dating.

You chuckled softly and patted his hair. "I'm not too sure myself." You said with a shrug. "But if it makes you feel any better, I am too."

Oikawa rolled his eyes at your answer, but quickly got over it and melted into your hands when you pulled him closer to plant a kiss on his forehead. It doesn't really matter how unnatural the two of you are in the end anyways.

As long as it feels as right as it does now, Oikawa's fine with anything.

#male reader #x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #anime x male reader #hq x male reader #m!reader #tooru oikawa x male reader #jjk x male reader #tw cursing #cw religion

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tttinytrash · 3 years

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Alright, this one’s another from Shy. Disguised skele accidentally gets revealed and panics, because he is in fact a moron. Our goober of the week is Horrortale Sans this time around, much more mellowed out now that he’s surface side than his unhinged canon counterpart. Again, I’m stealing the concept of being able to unzip from @shamedump because I find it to be a much more pleasant way to get your friend back after tummy cuddles than regurgitation. With the context out of the way, onwards!

“Dude, if looks could kill I’m pretty sure you’d have been vaporized on the spot.” You said, holding the door open for your companion.

Sans threw one last glance at his shoulder at the still silently fuming owner of the establishment as he exited the buffet. “yeah, he wouldn’t be the first.” He tugged on his ever present beanie, his favorite nervous tic.

“Can’t say I’m too surprised.” You say jauntily, trying to distract him from the death glare at his back. You fell into step beside your friend as you two walked back towards your car. “You really can clean a buffet out. The business model for all-you-can-eat really didn’t factor you in. Not your fault it’s a flawed system.”

He laughed, “what can i say, it’s all practice.”

By this point you two had reached your car. You both piled in, your friend with more difficulty than you purely due to his large size compared to your little Corolla’s cab space. Luckily, your drive wasn’t all too far, not that he ever complained.

Once back at your house, you went inside and he went his own separate way. You never saw him get in a car, but you knew he didn’t live anywhere nearby. He swore he wasn’t walking for miles to get home, which is the only reason you never insisted on driving him home.

This was just one of many odd things about Sans.

To start, his appearance made him stand out a tad. He had dark olive skin, red eyes (one paler than the other, being blind) and silvery blonde hair. This wasn’t too odd on its own, but his very large size (6′11″ and broad shouldered to match!) size made him easy to pick out in just about any public space. He was a little on the chubbier side, but definitely had muscles buried underneath. He seemed to love picking you up, and hefted you as if you were feather light.

You’d also never been to his house, or met the brother he always gushed about. But you’d also pieced together enough to know that something less than pleasant lurked in his past so you weren’t going to push the issue even if the curiosity was killing you. You figured he’d open up in time.

He had no reservations about coming over to your place however, which brought you to you next hangout a couple days after you’d been soft banned from your third buffet in town.

This time it was just a movie night with cheesy movies from the 80s and 90s, the worst the quality the better as far as you two were concerned. You were in the kitchen making snacks (chocolate chip cookies, popcorn, and assorted clearanced Halloween candy) when you noticed Sans about to lick the spoon used to stir the raw cookie dough.

“Hey, hold it! This isn’t the edible kind, you could get sick!”

He scoffed “trust me, i’m sure i’ll be fine.”

“Nu-uh, no risks tonight, mister. We have to get through the trainwreck that is Batman and Robin. I’ve never managed it before and I can’t have my moral support getting queasy on me!”

You tied to take the spoon from him, only for him to take it out of reach simply by lifting his arm straight up. This was far from your first time roughhousing like this, so you didn’t hesitate to hop up and try to shimmy up his arm like a kid on a jungle gym.

He was laughing until you actually managed to make it up to his head, when he gave a near panicked “h-hey, watch the beanie!”

“I’m not going for your hat, I just need to save you from yourself!” You did purposefully avoid his hat whenever you played like this, knowing he hated having it messed with at all. You didn’t get it but respected his privacy enough to leave it alone. The tension bled back out of his frame once your climbing hands had not used the crown of his head as a hand hold.

The horseplay continued, and sadly he did manage to get you off. From that point he pinned you by literally lying atop you, much to your dismay. You were on your front while he leaned back on you as if you were the most comfortable lounge chair on the planet. You tried to wriggle free but Sans took his moment to gloat, tossing his head back to dramatically savor finally dunking the spoon in his mouth.

You squawked in surprise when fabric fell onto your face, which you pulled off to regain visibility. It was Sans’ beanie in your hand.You two shared a look of shocked silence, before what you were seeing actually registered.

Instead of your friend’s face hanging above you, there was a giant freaking skeleton.

You both gave an undignified “Ack!” while the skeleton scrambled up and off of you, the spoon that had hung from its mouth clattering to the floor.

It was huge! And- OH MY GOD HALF OF IT’S SKULL WAS CAVED IN! Wait, it was in Sans’ clothes...?

You realized that the skeleton and your friend Sans must be one and the same in the same moment he reached out over the short distance between you two, grabbing you in such a way that your arms were pinned to your sides and dragging you closer.

He looked panicked, and that reaction was only exacerbated by your knee-jerk reaction to attempt to reel back out of his grip. You regretted the small scream his sudden grab surprised out of you as well.

You managed a baffled “S-Sans?!” before the word was shut out by darkness lit by a crimson glow.

Fight or flight immediately kicked in, unfortunately choosing the least glamorous third option of freeze. You did still quickly realize you were being swallowed alive, the greedy gulping around you dragging you deeper within your friend at alarming speed.

Once you landed in a wider space you could actually muster enough brainpower to act on the fight part of the previously mentioned fight or flight and began to pummel the plush tissue around you without having a true target.

“Let me out! Sans! Please, we’re friends!” You shouted upwards.

The space around you was rapidly getting tighter, to the point that your flailing limbs were eventually subdued by what seemed to be combination of the tissue around you constricting as well as the two solid bands of firm pressure that had to be his arms smushing in at you from the outside. Only when you were forced to stop did you finally hear the pained hissing from your host.

“please stop fighting. oh delta this was dumb, ow ow ow.” he begged, voice oddly distorted from your current position.

“I don’t have much choice! Get me out, I don’t want to die like this!”

“you won’t i swear, i couldn’t hurt you if i wanted and i don’t.”

His voice rang with sincerity alongside the clear pain. “Then... why am I here?” You barely registered as the pressure ebbed since you’d stopped struggling.

“i don’t know, i didn’t have time to think, i just panicked. you saw me and i just... didn’t want you to run away. so i guess i just wanted to keep you close instead.”

You couldn’t help the bark of laughter. “You panicked? I panicked! You up and grabbed me then downed me like a sardine!”

“i mean yeah... but you saw me. the real me.” You didn’t need to see his face to know he was confused by your reaction.

“Dude, that surprised me for sure but that’s so not what scared me.”

“wait what?” The flat and utter bafflement made you laugh a little despite the circumstances.

“I don’t care that you’re a monster. This explains a lot, actually, but you’re still my buddy. Who gives a crap about species?”

“you know what we did underground. you should be afraid.” This wasn’t a threat. It was sad statement of fact in his mind.

“Bullshit. I’m the one who stayed in the town with the highest monster population in the world. Ebbot City is where I chose to live, and you have just as much right to call it home as I do.” You started rubbing firm circles into the flesh around you. This kind of physical affection was usually directed at his back rather than the inside of his belly, but it seemed to have a similar calming effect anyways. Tension bled out of the tissue around you and made way for quiet sobs. You let him cry, silently supporting him as he processed the flurry of emotions.

You continued to rub as silence fell. You were taking the opportunity to process everything for yourself as well, but were eventually pulled from your musings when he finally spoke.

He was laughing weakly, voice still watery. “y’know, i thought long and hard about how to tell you about what i really was. this was not even close to any of the half baked plans i’d made.”

You laughed heartily in response, “I’d expect not!”

“so... now that you know.... we still good?”

“I stand by what I said. I was friends with Sans when he appeared human. Still buddies now, nothing changed. Except now skeleton puns are on the table.”

After a beat of stunned silence Sans laughed so hard you were jostled around, which made you laugh in surprise at the bizarre sensation, then continue laughing as his mirth fueled your own.

“paps is gonna hate that you said that, you cannot even fathom.”

“Wait, I’ve unleashed a whole arsenal haven’t I?”

“oh hell yeah you did.”

“Shit! How am I gonna compete with years worth of built up cheesiness?!”

“eh, don’t get too rattled already. i’m sure you’ll find my stockpiled material humerus.” You practically felt the smugness as a palpable force.

“Delta, it has begun.” You groaned, to his delight.

You were eventually released, which was made simple since he essentially just sliced himself open with a finger. You were allowed to clamber out and he sealed himself back up while you readjusted your mussed clothes and hair.

Sans grabbed his beanie off the floor, worrying it between his hands.

“Is that what made you look human?” You asked, pointing at the hat.

“y-yeah. it casts a glamour when worn. maybe i should keep wearing it anyways....”

“Nah. No need.”

You didn’t find it hard to meet the gaze of that big, glowing red light that was his good eye this time around. You heart squeezed seeing his severely damaged skull, sure, but he wasn’t scary. You knew what a goober he was, the lack of skin could never change that. He looked cautiously hopeful from his place on the floor, looking up to meet your gaze for once considering the height difference.

“We’ve still got garbage movies to watch if you’re up for it.”

“and you’re really ok with me... as is?”

You knew you were being repetitive, but if it helped quell his anxiety you didn’t mind. “Course not. One one condition.”

“what condition?” He sounded fearful.

You smiled cheekily “Next time you want me in there,” You poked his belly, which had stayed soft as ever even without the humanoid glamour in place, “Ask first. Deal?”

He blinked, then laughed, cheeks dusting in a gradient of red to blue similar to a blush. “square deal.”

Your movie night went off without a further hitch. Well, except that you still had to bail early on Batman and Robin.

God, that movie was so bad.

But you ended up dozing off on your friend instead after putting on something that was mildly less garbage. One of the last things you heard before losing the fight to stay awake was the happy hum from him as he adjusted his arm around you to ensure you were comfy against him.

How could he ever think he was scary when he was so dang cute?

#undertail vore #horrortale undertail #extreme cuddling #soft vore #safe vore #also scolding him about raw dough is ironic considering how often i did that even before the edible kind was widely available #im a hypocrite lol

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tales-of-two · 3 years

Text

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟWelcome To The Melody!Void New Souls ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

Inside this au lives multiple monsters and characters to roleplay and interact with. (Mostly skeletons)

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟI'm Kaname the owner of Melody!Tale, I'm a hobbyist artist who loves drawing skeletons, let me introduce you to the characters that live here.

*.✧ Melody!Tale's Characters *.✧

✧ Mitzu (Au Grillby), Von (Demonica's devil), Zero (Main easy going spell caster), Akarui (Zero's older brother/time manipulator), Dorky (Pop Idol)✧

☆ Boris (Bara is an experiment), Anubis (Incubus), Artemis (Doctor/Scientist), Kage (Negative version of Zero turned good), Zayne (Fell Zero an ass lol), Zeke (Skeleton Werewolf) and LockHart (Brother Of Tic/Nightmare Parasite) ☆

✯ Dante, Hades, Sugarbee (all lusts, Hades-mafia boss Dante-Stripper Sugarbee-Model), Xion (Butler/caretaker), Hiroshi (prince), and for the snek bois Naja and Sephiroth. ✯

ロ Elias (Vampire), Karma (god of bad luck), Miyu (God Of Time), Hohenheim (Angel Artemis's older brother-Passed on), Seven (Lizard Skeleton), Spade (Info Broker)

Barnaby (Incubus), Geoffrey (Bounty Hunter), Lulu (Bounty Hunter), Yin(Outcode Yang's Twin), Elizabeth (Vampire/Daughter Of Hades), Butterball (Bitty) ロ

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟI'm Saide owner of the REMVOID I'm more of a hobby writer with a love of skeletons and the lover of Kaname. Here are all the characters I own!

｡*ﾟ+ REMVOID Characters ｡*ﾟ+

*･゜ﾟMist [Protector Of Dreams], Obscure [Protector Of Dreams], Fog [Gaster Of UnderCover], Haze [Ex-Assassin], Mercy [Outcode], Yang [Outcode Yin's Twin] *･゜ﾟ

☆✧Bass [UnderRave's Sans], Turntable [Brother Of Bass], Calla [Lusty Lamia], Joc [Bounty Hunter/Calla's Younger Sibling] Camille [Calla's Youngest Sibling]☆✧

☆Tic [Brother Of LockHart/Doctor], Maestro [Deal Maker], Buttons [Demon Lawyer], Eros [Love Demigod], Johnathan [Oracle], Bernard [Bb Vampire], Copper [Kindness Vampire], Steel [Mafia Member], Yew [A Baby Nature Spirit]☆

✿ Steam [UnderCover's Grillby], Spark [UnderRave's Grillby], Misty [Bitty] ✿

✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧ Now that you've been introduced feel free to interact with any of them and send them asks anytime, they're all open 24/7

We'll have them answered eventually, promise! Either by written text or art.

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didderd · 1 year

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Tac has been added? Ooouh, can I use FLIRT

Tac: (For a split second you can see a hint of blush on his face, as he's a bit caught off guard, but it's gone as quick as it was there, and his expression turns into an amused smirk.)

*Low chuckle.* Cute attempt. (He put's one finger under your chin, lifting it up slightly.) Almost as cute as you, Doll.~ *Winks*

#he took ur flirt n sent one right back at u two fold :3 #hehe. we simp fells here #(let me know if the colors make it too hard to read. they're fun. but i can stop doing it if it bothers anyone <3)#tam ask event #tourette's sans #fell tic sans #tac sans #undertale #undertale au #didderd ocs #didderd asks #anonymous

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zirkkun-uthcs · 3 years

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Could i request some headcannons about UT Sans and Paps, UF Sans and paps, and US paps with a S/O or friend that has tourettes? Or they just muscle spasm a lot.

It's fine if you wont write for it due to not understanding! It's not a very usual disorder.

(maybe) shockingly enough, I actually do know a bit about tourettes! Not a large amount, but I think enough to write a little drabble here anyway ^^/

&&&

Undertale!Sans - Sans doesn't really worry about it that much. He doesn't really pose much judgement over people for things like this, he's more concerned about who someone is as a person and what actions they've done to define themselves more than anything else. He probably won't even mention it even when you first meet -- hey, everyone's got their thing, everyone's different. He definitely won't realize it's a human medical condition until you tell him, and even then his only reaction will probably be a rather nonchalant "oh. cool. nice to know." or something of that regard. But let it be known that if anyone tries to say something about it, he'll immediately come back at them by pointing out the first noticable "obscurity" about them, with some sort of ending moral to the extent of "maybe don't bother commenting on something you don't know about," after the person will most likely be hypocritically offended.

Undertale!Papyrus - Papyrus, while he doesn't mean any harm in asking, will most certainly comment on it the first time he notices it, more than likely in concern, but with some explanation he'll be sure to keep that in mind and not really bring it up in such a way ever again. But, at the same time, he'll probably still be a bit observant of it, and begin to notice potential patterns or correlations you might have between emotions and tics. He won't say anything, but if there's any reason of him to be suspicious of you not being in a good mood based off of this, Papyrus will quickly act on it by doing something for you to try and help compensate, like getting you a gift or making you dinner. Maybe by him not saying anything, either, you'll be even more happy, because you won't see it coming!! A greatly selected plan, he assumes.

Underfell!Sans - Straight up, he does not care. Fell doesn't really bother with other people's business, and he most certainly doesn't bother with worrying over people's appearances or speech. He won't really say anything unless you do, but it's not like he'll have much opinion on the topic. At the same time, however, he doesn't tolerate other people being rude to someone else purely by how they look, so you can expect him to be right by your side if anyone tries to mess with you or make fun of you. Then he'll probably do something really silly and simple like buy you some ice cream to get your mind off of it, even if it didn't bother you. Maybe it's a bit more for him at that point.

Underfell!Papyrus - Edge is a little more judgemental about people's outward appearances, as he holds himself to high standards, but he can accept things pretty quickly when he finds out they're outside of the person's control, no matter how socially "negative" they might be. He's more likely to prod and question it than the others due to this, and partially because he has his own curiosity about tourettes himself. Various human medical conditions are still difficult to grasp, and more than likely, this is his first exposure to it. Hopefully you'll be patient in understanding he doesn't mean any harm in asking, even if he may come off as judgemental or rude.

Underswap!Papyrus - So long as you still give him hugs that's all he cares about. Okay, it's not all he cares about, he does care about you as a person as well. Of them all, Swapap is the most likely to tease you about it from time to time, in the most playfully intentions possible, but will also stop if it bothers you too much. He doesn't wanna be an asshole about it, but he does tend to resort to jokes when he wants to be a bit more positive about things. Though, no one else can make jokes. Only he can. He'll shut down anyone who even tries. Only he gets this special boyfriend privilege. His job is to keep you happy and he'll be damned if it doesn't happen.

#undertale #undertale headcanon #undertale x reader #underfell #underfell headcanon #underfell x reader #underswap #underswap headcanon #underswap x reader #undertale au #undertale!sans #undertale!papyrus #underfell!sans #underfell!papyrus #underswap!papyrus #uthcs headcanon #zircon answers #anonymous

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starkeristheendgame · 4 years

Note

Young starker au prompt where tony comes knocking on peters door, crying after Howard slaps tony and peter is just like oh baby come here it’s not your fault and they cuddle and peter plays with Tony’s hair until he falls asleep

TW: Implied/referenced child abuse | Implied/referenced physical abuse | Brief mention of abuse related bruising

The moment Peter opens the door, he knows.

Tony was always so expressive. The human face has 43 muscles, and Tony used every single one of them in creative variety. There was not a single emotion Tony was capable of hiding from his face, least of all his eyes.

Peter took one look and knew in an instant that the man before him was broken.

Pain, betrayal, hurt, hopelessness. They all blinked at him in neon lights, in the downturn of his mouth and the agony in his eyes, the tic of a muscle in his jaw. The tense shoulders, hunched spine and the red mark steadily settling into purple on his jaw were evident but unnecessary hints.

"Oh, Tony," Peter managed, pulling the door wider, reaching for him. Tony went silently, pliantly, like a ghost. He was cold to the touch and there was no obnoxious, cherry red Mustang on the sidewalk, which meant he'd walked all the way here, sans jacket. Peter knew immediately there was more or less only one reason Tony would’ve left the house in such a hurry, redness marring his jaw.

Tony said nothing as Peter pulled him closer, trembling in his grip like a horse about to bolt. Peter knew the rules for times like this. They were simple enough.

Don’t ask. Don’t make promises. Don’t say their names.

He held Tony close as he tugged him through the doorway and kicking it shut, fingertips sliding along Tony’s cold hip as he marched him towards the bedroom. Aunt May was still on her overnight, but Peter knew she wouldn’t mind Tony being here. Not least when she saw the reason.

Tony was like a limp ragdoll, distant and glassy eyed when Peter pushed him gently onto the edge of the bed, hair mussed and flopping towards, his restless fingers the only sign of life, tap-tap-tapping away on his knee.

“Did you know the name of the space shuttle that NASA launched in 2011 was Endeavour?”

Tony liked when he talked. Liked topics he could focus on, topics that would draw him away from his emotions.

Peter had once distracted him on the situation by saying as many false facts as he could, until Tony had leapt to his feet and, in order, corrected every single one of them until he was blue in the face and breathless.

Now, though. Now Peter just wanted to take care of him, so he did. He peeled off Tony’s leather jacket carefully, gently, setting it over the back of his desk chair before he pulled his shirt off him, too. Tony seemed to blink back into reality then, head tipping a little, out of focus eyes fixing on him quizzically.

“Don’t get excited, Champ. My shirts are softer,” he hummed, running his palms down Tony’s bare shoulders. There were no other bruises, no other marks, which meant Howard must’ve hit him once and that was all.

It was a tiny relief, but Peter didn’t linger on it, leaning forwards to press a soft, chaste kiss to Tony’s collar before he moved to his closet.

He chose a ratty but soft and warm shirt, stuffing Tony into it like a stubborn toddler before pressing a hand to his chest and wrapping his other one around his back, guiding him into laying flat so he could work on Tony’s belt.

“You can’t tell me not to get excited then do this,” Tony rasped, and it was weak and quiet, but Peter smiled none the less, looking up at Tony with a gentle smile.

“If you nap for at least two hours, I’ll ride you until you scream,” he promised, pinching at Tony’s hip to get him to lift so he could tug off his jeans. The sound Tony made was soft, cheek turning into Peter’s sheets. It made Peter want to crawl on top of him, around him, cocoon him in a bundle of warm safety, but to do that he had to get Tony comfortable.

When his jeans were around his ankles he took off Tony’s boots, set everything aside, and crawled along the bed besides him, reaching down for the soft comforter folded at the bottom of the bed.

Tony was still cold but Peter payed it no heed as he curled up around Tony’s back, nudging him gently until they were spooning, cheeks cushioned on his pillow. He wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist, palm splayed over his stomach protectively as he used the other to tug up the comforter.

“You know, I’ve always found the name ‘Francis Crick’ quite funny. He’s one of the two scientists that discovered DNA, you know. I’m glad my name is bland. ‘Parker’ isn’t really something you can make fun of,” Peter spoke lowly, hugging Tony close.

His breathing was steady and Peter could feel the vibration of when he hummed, a light sound to show he was paying attention. He smelt like whiskey and aftershave, a perfect and familiar combination.

When the comforter was tucked up over their shoulders he moved his hand, burying his fingers in the long, soft locks of Tony’s hair. The strands were just the faintest bit stiff with the remnants of hair gel, malleable and raven under his touch. At the contact, Tony let out a long, shuddering breath, head tipping back into the touch.

When they were settled he wriggled forwards a little to press a kiss to the hinge of Tony’s jaw, thumb rubbing against his side soothingly. “Its never your fault,” he whispered, the one remark Tony had reluctantly agreed to permit as they lay in the shadowed room, Tony slowly acclimating to the heat, breathing evening.

“Never.” he twirled a lock of Tony’s hair around his fingers before shifting his hand, scratching his nails slowly and lightly over his scalp.

Peter stayed awake as Tony relaxed in his arms, pain and sadness slowly fading, chased by their entwined bodies and the soft nonsense Peter whispered in his ears. When he was sure Tony was asleep he kissed his jaw again, featherlight and warm.

“One day you’ll find the strength to admit to him that you’re so much better than he could ever be. One day, he’s going to look back on the life he could have had and mourn you, and you’ll be bigger and brighter than he ever was. And I’ll be right there with you. One day, he won’t hurt you anymore.”

He paused for a moment, watched the way Tony’s shoulder rose and fell.

“I promise.”

#fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #tony stark/peter parker #tony stark x peter parker #starker: abuse #starker: angst #starker: hurt #starker: au #starker: alternate universe #tw:child abuse #sie fics

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capricioussun · 2 years

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Ooh if you're doing headcanons, tell us about UF Papyrus! What does he do with his hands when standing still? What do his footsteps sound like? How close does he stand to people he is talking to? He's such an interesting character!

It would be my pleasure darling! UF Papyrus (most commonly nicknamed here as Edge) is like my It Blorbo. The final girl of my brain. It always comes back to him…

(Probably) unsurprisingly, a lot of his “standard” behaviors were heavily influenced by his world and upbringing, so you’ll mostly see a lot of…caution, in his behavior, especially around others!

I’m a big fan of the headcanon Papyrus stims and fidgets, but unfortunately, these traits are either seen as childish or anxious/nervous in UF, so he’s had to repress them to avoid appearing outwardly weak in any way. When standing idle, he’ll either cross his arms or rest his hands on his hips – for some reason, he doesn’t like having his hands down, so they’re rarely at his sides if he’s stationary unless he’s standing at attention as a Guard. Though in private, or maybe after some time on the surface, he’ll pick up a mild tap wherever his hands are resting (still usually crossed or on his hips, but also might be clasped in front of him). It’s a pretty mild tic, especially considering his gloves mostly dampen the sound, but if he’s really stressed, his hands are clenched into fists wherever they’re resting, and he may clench and unclench them periodically (usually a sign his LV is bothering him).

As for his footsteps! It actually varies a lot! I’d mentioned a little while back he has a number of different strides, but overall, he usually actually has a surprisingly light step! It comes from needing to be quiet, for stealth’s sake, and unlike many other interpretations of UF Papyrus, Edge doesn’t really wear heels because he’s…already very tall and it would just make existing a little more difficult for very little return. So if wearing shoes, it’s usually tactical boots or reinforced “work” shoes, which lend very little sound to his steps at all! Though if he was barefoot and non-binding (and on a hard surface like tile or hardwood), you’d be able to hear the little clicks and taps from his claws! But just for standard walking w/ shoes on, quiet and even paced!

Again, possibly unsurprising, but Edge much prefers to keep his distance when talking to others, at least outside of stab range. He makes sure to keep his volume up when speaking to others he’s not overly familiar with, taking on a little bit of his Guard-sona, because otherwise, he’s actually a bit of a mumbler! So he tries to make sure to keep a level, hearable volume so whoever he’s talking to doesn’t try to get closer. Conversely though, if it’s someone he’s familiar with, he’s usually more than okay with being closer, especially if it means he doesn’t have to pay attention to volume or how he’s talking. It’s not unusual to see him and Levi (his Undyne) basically shoulder to shoulder when they talk! Half habit from having discreet conversations back underground (the closer the better, for quiet’s sake), but also just because they’re bros and personal boundaries have diminished between them over the years! Same with Red (Sans)! Tends to stand closer to avoid raising his voice, especially since Red is so much shorter than him lmao

Also, a little fun additional fact u did not ask for, he actually really likes picking people up. He’s way too uncomfortable touching others pretty much at all back underground, but after surfacing and getting more used to physical contact, he really likes holding others! Loves to carry kids or pets, absolutely the guy who moves people to their bed if they fell asleep somewhere else. Something about it just makes him feel…steady, reliable. He’s also super protective so it might have a little something to do with that, too, but eh, it is what it is. (This is especially fun with Void (VF Papyrus) because he has two (2) sets of arms, this means he can and will just pick someone up and also continue doing things unhampered)

I agree!! Aggressively!!! I love him…

#sun spots #clear sky sunset #smol-dargon #thinking about her again (underfell papyrus)#☀️💕👏#uf edge #underfell #underfell papyrus

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the-odd-job · 4 years

Text

Up in Flames chapter 6 - As Above, So Below (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Thundercracker, Skywarp Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2438

( Previous )

True to what Megatron had said, they were allowed to leave the ship.

With escort.

They asked Soundwave about it, in the lack of Megatron—where was he, anyway?—and the TIC easily enough gave them permission and the company they were required to keep. This time it was Thundercracker and Skywarp who got the honor.

“Megatron: prefers Skywarp accompany you. Teleportation ability useful for hasty retreats.”

And Thundercracker was trine to him, so it made sense. Besides, the two—even with Skywarp’s lacking intelligence—were some of the strongest Seekers the Decepticons had. They could feel safe under their protection.

Yeah right. As if they couldn’t take care of themselves.

But if Megatron demanded they had company when leaving the Victory… Could be worse. At least they were allowed to leave. And as far as company went, Skywarp and Thundercracker weren’t the worst out there. Skywarp and Sideswipe got along swimmingly, and Sunstreaker could actually say the same about himself and Thundercracker. Thundercracker was a sensible individual and didn’t get on his nerves just by existing.

They greeted the two Seekers in front of the lift to the surface, Skywarp immediately accosting Sideswipe into conversation on where they’d like to go and what they’d like to do. Sunstreaker and Thundercracker let them go at it until their compatriots had decided to just go to the shore and then… Ah. Jet judo, sans all the violence. Flying around on Skywarp, more like.

Sunstreaker cocked an optical ridge at Thundercracker, silently asking if the Seekers were really going to let either of them on their backs after all the history they had. Thundercracker could only shrug in response.

It might just be Skywarp who was nutty enough to go for it. Well, Sideswipe had no complaints, just promised to leave all the damage and attempted murder to the past. Seeker surfing, then?

They flew from the crashed, underwater ship to the shore, and Victory’s platform disappeared under the waves until there were no reminders that the ship was there. Sunstreaker and Thundercracker landed some ways from the water’s edge to avoid the accursed sand, but Sideswipe and Skywarp barely touched down before they were back in the air already, Sideswipe riding on Skywarp’s back this time. Were they both of them cackling or was that just Sideswipe?

Eh, probably both.

He and Thundercracker sat down on the grass and tilted their helms up to follow the crazy loops and rolls Skywarp was performing. Sunstreaker could feel Sideswipe’s enjoyment of the challenge it was to keep his grip on the Seeker.

So the two of them were having fun. That was good. Sunstreaker and Thundercracker, for their part, sat in silence for a while, surprisingly companionable despite the fact they hardly knew each other—but kindred spirits could recognize each other.

It was Thundercracker who broke the quiet by speaking up. “I heard you stabbed Megatron.”

Sunstreaker didn’t voice his surprise, but he was definitely feeling it. What happened behind closed doors didn’t stay behind closed doors? Especially something like this? He couldn’t imagine Megatron would’ve wanted that to become common knowledge, that one uppity frontliner had gone and stabbed him. The question that remained, then, “Where did you hear that?”

“Rumble and Frenzy tattle,” Thundercracker replied simply.

That did nothing to alleviate Sunstreaker’s confusion. “About things like these? Sounds dangerous.”

From the corner of his optic he could see Thundercracker’s lips twitch into a slight smile. “Soundwave knows what Megatron doesn’t want spread, and what he doesn’t care about.”

And somehow this fell into the land of ‘doesn’t care about’? But, “‘Soundwave knows all’, was it?” Sunstreaker asked wryly. Who was he to argue if Soundwave deemed Megatron to not give a damn if others knew Sunstreaker had stabbed him? Mech was a goddamn mind reader. And protective over his cassettes. If he’d thought Rumble and Frenzy had come under risk for spreading news like that, would he have ever let them?

Was the whole incident just so inconsequential, then, that Megatron didn’t care about it?

Sunstreaker couldn’t pretend he knew the tyrant’s reasoning, even if Soundwave did. If he asked either of them, would they provide honest answers?

Thundercracker hmhed in what sounded like continued amusement, pulling him from his thoughts. “Something like that. Can I take that as a yes?”

Now Sunstreaker’s mouth pulled into a smile too, a bit vicious. “You can. I stabbed him.”

“And got away with it?”

“Evidently.”

“Dangerous move.” Oh, if he didn’t know that was true. Megatron was dangerous, and could’ve very well slagged him for his insolence—without bringing harm to the sparkling, too. There was nothing that would have protected him if Megatron had taken true offense with his actions. “What spurred you to it?” Thundercracker asked.

Ah. What had, indeed? Missing his claws, the chance to really test Megatron’s frame with just digits… And jump from that into using a knife, and not just at any random gap of armor, but the warlord’s throat.

Even knowing that there was no way a mere knife could have reached deep enough to do any true harm.

Why had he? “...I wanted to see if I could,” Sunstreaker responded at length. Megatron had a warrior’s reflexes. Maybe he could’ve stopped him if he had really wanted to. Or had he lowered his guard? Was that why Sunstreaker had managed his act?

And did he have any internal hangups of his own? Something in him that would have made him think better of stabbing who was likely the single most dangerous mech to exist at this point in time?

He hadn’t, evidently. He ought to be proud of that—no fear, no hesitation, just foolhardy stupidity… Bravery. Depending on who you asked.

Probably stupidity, in the circumstances.

And… “I wanted to see what would happen.” Megatron had shown a lot of leniency with him. He’d fought the tyrant on near even footing, and what of after he’d come back to his senses? Megatron had merely welcomed him back to the land of the sane, and hadn’t taken offense, that time either, for all the damage he had delivered him. He had accepted the news of the sparkling.

Hadn’t really done anything more than defend himself where appropriate, and fragged Sunstreaker where appropriate, no matter what Sunstreaker had done or said. Cursing, insults, there had been quite a few things that could have earned him more than what he’d received.

But further still from all that, ”I wanted to punish him.”

Thundercracker glanced at him at that, surprise in his field. “Punish him? For what?”

Sunstreaker huffed, some ways amused, some ways rising anger at the memory of every slagging thing Megatron had done to him in the recent times. “For getting me into this whole slagging mess and for being an unrelenting jackass.”

And for the moment of it all happening, for always taking control of him and never letting him be in charge—of the situation, of himself, of his life. Always telling him what he should do and forcing his hand if he didn’t cooperate.

Fragger.

Thundercracker snorted. “Fair, I suppose.”

They both fell silent for a moment, watching Sideswipe and Skywarp’s continued play. Sideswipe had already dropped a few times, but Skywarp had kindly caught him before he’d hit the ground, every time.

Those would’ve been some painful impacts if he hadn’t.

“Personally, I think he likes your spirit,” Thundercracker spoke up again, without much warning. Sunstreaker glanced at him from the corner of his optic. They both knew who he was talking about, anyway.

“Oh?”

Thundercracker tilted his helm towards him. “You’re strong and fightful, refuse to be cowed and know your worth. Those are the types of people he finds attractive.”

…Right. Megatron liked him. That would explain some things, at the very least, but Sunstreaker frowned all the same. “You know an awful lot about me. And about Megatron.”

Thundercracker huffed a sound that wasn’t quite laughter, but pretty close anyway. “Yours is right there on the surface.” That… Probably wasn’t a lie. Sunstreaker smirked. He didn’t hide things much, did he? Why would he? Wasn’t he one of the most gorgeous mecha to walk any planet, one hell of a fighter, and talented at practically everything he did?

Everyone envied him, or if they didn’t, they were very dumb.

”And I’m trined to Starscream,” Thundercracker continued. “He knows more about Megatron than anyone, short of Soundwave.”

Sunstreaker nodded his acceptance of that. So Thundercracker was a fairly authoritative source of information on Megatron thanks to his ties to Starscream, and considering even Sunstreaker knew Megatron and Starscream had been allies for practically the entire war, and that Starscream had had his rank from the beginning?

Although he could only use “ally” in a very loose manner. They somewhat fought on the same side, but nothing had ever suggested they got along very well.

That didn’t mean they hadn’t learned a thing or two about each other, for how long they’d worked in close quarters.

“How do you feel about him? Megatron?” Thundercracker asked next, looking at him properly. Sunstreaker met his gaze evenly before turning his attention back to his brother. Sideswipe was free falling, again, but there was Skywarp, swooping in to catch him mid fall.

“He’s the unfortunate sire of my sparkling, but I don’t care about him beyond that,” Sunstreaker answered after a brief pause. “Not on a personal level, if that’s what you mean. The fucking is good, but that’s about it.” That was the truth. He cared about what Megatron could give him, and that was pleasure.

He cared about what Megatron could give their sparkling. He wanted to secure its future. Wasn’t that only natural? It was his.

But none of that translated to any honest care for the mech himself. He couldn’t give a frag about him. The only reason he’d even care if he died was the sparklet. If it wasn’t for it… Pits, he would’ve probably danced on the mech’s grave. Why not, after everything he’d done to him? Bastard had sort of ruined his life.

Because Sunstreaker had had nothing to do with the course things had taken, no way.

Thundercracker made a sound of understanding and acquiescence, but continued shortly after with another question. “Has he said what will happen to you after the sparkling emerges?”

Sunstreaker shrugged. “He’s said I can stay with the Decepticons if I want to be a part of its life, or presumably my other option is to leave and go Primus knows where, if I didn’t want to stay with it.”

“Would you return to the Autobots?”

At that Sunstreaker gave his conversation partner an incredulous look. “You kidding? No. Even if they had me back by some miracle, I don’t want to go back to see what they think of me after everything.”

Thundercracker nodded at him, not arguing. It wasn’t like Sunstreaker didn’t have a point, right? Slag, what would the Autobots even think if he just… Delivered the sparkling, and let Megatron have it, and came crawling back to his original side, begging for goddamn forgiveness for his actions?

Not really a thing he did.

“Will you stay, then?” the Seeker inquired.

Sunstreaker’s mouth straightened to a thin line and he decidedly didn’t look away from the two frames frolicking in the sky. “I haven’t decided yet.”

He got another nod for that. Thundercracker probably asked out of simple curiosity, because they really didn’t have enough of a relationship for him to be likely to wish in one direction or the other. What did it matter where one who was still practically a stranger to him was?

But, there were other concerns Sunstreaker needed to consider in making that decision too. “Onslaught said I can’t expect anything good if I don’t fight.”

Thundercracker responded after a delay. “That might just be Onslaught’s opinion. Megatron doesn’t necessarily agree.”

“It does make sense though, doesn’t it?” Sunstreaker pointed out. If he wasn’t carrying, if he didn’t fight, what use to Megatron was he? A nice lay? Would that be enough to keep him protected if he otherwise only hogged resources?

“Some, I suppose,” Thundercracker conceded. “What keeps you from fighting?”

Sunstreaker snorted. “Autobot sensibilities? The fact I have no loyalty for Megatron? Something like that.”

Thundercracker nodded at that again, but didn’t try to convince him to start fighting or anything of the sort. Sunstreaker wouldn’t have much appreciated that anyway. He didn’t need anyone telling him what he should do, thank you very much.

Thundercracker switched topics entirely after that, his optics drawing to Sunstreaker’s chassis. “Can you feel the sparkling yet?”

One of Sunstreaker’s servos came up to rub over his ruined insignia. His spark chamber lay under there, at the very core of his frame—and in it, a little something that would soon gain a will of its own. “Not yet. Soon though, I think. It’s been so many months.”

The Seeker inclined his helm, but before he had the chance to say anything more despite opening his mouth to speak, they were both interrupted by Sideswipe cussing out Skywarp. Pretty loudly, too. Both Thundercracker and Sunstreaker glanced up, just in time to see purple surround the two airborne ones.

And Skywarp warped.

Sideswipe wasn’t any more equipped for warping than anyone else aside from Skywarp himself, and once they reappeared higher up in the sky, his brother was rather dazed. Enough so that when Skywarp entered another barrel roll like a complete asshole, his brother’s grip on the Seeker gave and he entered a graceless fall, fighting to center his senses.

Sunstreaker knew exactly what that felt like even with his own frame, not just from the experience bleeding into him from Sideswipe.

But Skywarp wasn’t a complete asshole and warped again, this time without Sideswipe, reappearing and transforming below his twin and catching him in his arms.

From there he flew over to where Sunstreaker and Thundercracker were sitting and touched down with a slag eating grin. Sideswipe he set down, and his brother very generously sprawled onto the ground, appreciating unusually much the feel of solid ground beneath him. “With great power comes great responsibility,” Sideswipe groaned, lifting his arm with some effort and jabbing a digit at Skywarp, “and you just misused yours.”

There was a glare too. Sunstreaker’s mouth rose into a smile despite himself, and Thundercracker looked a smidge amused too even as lightly berated his trinemate for acting rude. Skywarp just shrugged, not particularly apologetic.

But even through Sideswipe’s reeling, Sunstreaker knew he would just come back for more—once he regained his senses, anyway.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #sideswipe #sunstreaker #thundercracker #skywarp #fic #2020 #ashes #up in flames

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annaraebananawriter · 4 years

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I did a bit of research on Tourette’s syndrome and the characters that came to mind were Blue, Ink or Dust.

I thought of Blue and Ink because Tourette’s syndrome is often associated with ADHD, and I’ve read several fics where either Ink or Blue have ADHD (though if that’s not the direction you want to go in, they’re still both perfectly viable options).

I thought of Dust maybe having a more stress related tic, I don’t really have any particular reason for choosing him, he’s just the first character that came to mind (he’s probably what I would choose but that’s completely up to you).

If your looking for a character with a verbal or anger related tic, then I’d probably go with Fell sans.

Sorry for the long ask :P

I see, I see. You bring up some good points and another person has also suggested Dust, and I’ll have to think about it more.

But thank you for your input! It was very helpful!

#Ask Anna

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zenonaa · 4 years

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Hi! If you are still up for the writing prompts may I request Nagito x Izuru with number 13? (sfw - singing, which is cute because both of their voice actresses are great singers!)

The holding cell that Nagito sits in reminds him of the one they kept Byakuya Togami in. However, despite their similarities, they’re not the same. Not quite. For one thing, the two rooms are in different cities, though Nagito doesn’t know where he is right now. There hadn’t been any windows in the van, and he had been blindfolded too. On top of that, the other cell had been repurposed, originally a storage room.

Nagito doesn’t know what this used to be, if it had ever been anything else; but anyway, much like the other room, this one has had all the colour sucked out of it and the air feels very dry. It scrapes the inside of his throat. Their equally oppressive sizes seem the same as well. A couple of paces would take him to the opposite wall.

Across from him is a metal betch, fixed to the wall, but instead of using that, Nagito opted for the floor. He raises his only hand to his head and drags his fingers through his matted hair, pushing against tangles and knots, and when he presents his hand in front of himself again, he notices loose hair snarls his digits.

Thinking about losing all of his hair makes him laugh for some reason. Not once, but a whole lot. Must be the holding cell. Must be the sinking realisation of his situation, and if Nagito doesn’t laugh, what can he do? All he has done here is sit and sleep and sometimes sing under his breath. His barks puncture the air, and every time he inhales, his breath wheezes and his bones rattle.

“Komaeda,” someone states.

Nagito’s laughter peters out in seconds and his forced smile drops off in a fell swoop. That voice sounded close, but at the same time, muffled. He hesitates and as he shifts his weight, he glances behind him, at the wall.

“Kamukura-kun?” he says.

“Why are you laughing?” asks Izuru Kamukura in the neighbouring holding cell, talking to him through the wall.

“Huh?” Nagito rasps, like he forgot about his mirthless laughter, then he shoves his hand against and up his forehead, but unlike before, he doesn’t comb through his hair. The heel of his hand rides across the surface of his scraggly white terrain.

A few strands spring back into place. Izuru waits for an answer.

“Ah,” goes Nagito, cringing. “Did I disturb you? My apologies. I didn’t realise.”

Izuru doesn’t reply immediately. “Did something amusing occur?”

Nagito purses his lips in thought and rocks his head from side-to-side as he debates the answer to himself.

“In a way,” he says aloud.

“I don’t see what there is to find amusing in this situation,” says Izuru in that usual serious tone of his that would have been accompanied by that usual serious expression of his, which Nagito cannot see.

“But, do you ever find anything funny?” Nagito points out. He swishes a finger. “I suppose… it’s a verbal tic. We really are in such a hopeless situation, aren’t we?”

“There is a ninety-six percent chance of us perishing by the end of the month,” says Izuru.

Nagito snorts and tucks his legs into his chest. His lips contort into a grin as he imagines Izuru in the other room, probably sitting against the wall like him. Maybe even directly behind, and if a wall hadn’t been there, their backs would be touching. Maybe.

“Such optimism,” Nagito muses aloud, and he tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes creep slightly narrower. “But I’ll take your word for it. End of the month, hm? Perhaps we’ll make it to Christmas.”

The cell lacks any windows, and he has to trust the lights that switch on and off automatically to know what time it approximately is. Last he saw outside, which must have been several days ago, the sky had been red. Not exactly a wintery colour, but then, it had been red for some time now.

As red as Izuru’s eyes. Nagito’s mind strays, thinking of how Izuru has been in the next cell all this time, possibly even listening in without Nagito realising, and he would have wrapped himself in that thought like one would bundle themselves in blankets had Izuru not piped up again.

“What was that song you were singing?” asks Izuru, and Nagito tenses a little. Indeed, a few times since they arrived, he had been singing. Though…

“I didn’t realise I was singing loudly enough for you to hear,” Nagito admits. He smirks, but it’s not all that strong. “Your hearing is remarkable, much like our Mioda-san’s. Not only are you a genius, but your body is superhuman as well.”

Izuru’s tone hardens but remains cold like ice. “I asked you what song you were singing.”

The beat of silence clenches tightly.

“I-It’s just a song I know,” Nagito tells Izuru, raising his hands. “I heard it during a karaoke session with one of my foster families, and I couldn’t get it out of my head afterwards.”

“Sing it,” says Izuru.

“Huh?”

“I told you to sing it.”

Nagito blinks, feeling his skin prickle, but he can’t decline the request. It’s like Izuru is right up in his face. He breathes and relaxes his body - well, as much as he can with rattling nerves, then he braces himself and lifts his chin. The room holds it breath.

“The flower of passion is burning. Look, this is how much I’m trembling,” croons Nagito, and he is shaking, very slightly. It seeps into his voice, makes it quiver too. Silence puffs between each line more than it should, and he sings the next lines with the same waver as the others. “If this fated life is scattered… Drowning in love, just let me die.”

It’s meant to be a briskly paced song, sang against the screams of an electric guitar, and he almost manages, but his lungs are made of ice, and with each inhale, exhale, web-thin lines crack across them. He rests the back of his head against the wall, knocking against it gently. Maybe it would be more appropriate to sing a festive song, but this one is apt too.

“Burned by romance, my lips are parched,” sings Nagito as the rest of the room fades away, but he doesn’t. Nagito remains, and he stares forward. Electricity scuttles through him and his voice strengthens. “It’s alright if it’s pain. Please give me a dream…”

The room is bare and plain but that doesn’t matter. He feels bare too and sees himself, on the floor, and he sees Izuru, sitting with his back to him. Izuru, with his flowing black hair, stony features and warning red eyes. While Izuru will be wearing his smart monochrome suit, Nagito wears a black cropped jacket and a striped scoop-neck vest, dark red and olive green, all soaked in dirt. Nagito presses his head harder against the wall, but he doesn’t phase through and join Izuru on the other side.

They stay separated, but that’s okay, because as Nagito sings the next part, he holds that image of Izuru close to his heart.

“The flower of reality is getting wet. Look, this is how much I’m seeking it out,” he sings, and his eyes widen as he hears Izuru’s voice blend with his as he sings too.

Izuru must have learnt the words from listening to Nagito, who is still sure he never raised his voice when he sang it to himself in here. As he would expect, Izuru can sing well. Of course he can. His voice is controlled and no louder than speaking volume, but it’s not weak. It trickles through the wall between them and wraps ghostly fingers around Nagito’s body.

Of what Nagito knows of the guy, which admittedly isn’t a lot, he knows that Izuru gets bored easily. The only thing that stimulates him is the unknown, the uncontrollable, something that their former leader, Junko, also relished in. And anything to do with Junko, Nagito should hate. If Izuru knows the song, then surely he would have no interest in it, yet not only did he request that Nagito sing it, but he joined in too.

A smile blooms on Nagito’s face, and warms sets in at his chest. For a long time, Nagito resented his talent, a cycle of good and bad luck, but he wonders if that uncontrollable thing of his is something that attracts Izuru to him. Not just wonders… but he hopes this is the case.

He continues to sing. They continue to sing.

“The flower of reality is getting wet. Look, this is how much I’m seeking it out.” Their voices coil around the other’s, entwined. “Because my prayers are dyed red, I don’t mind if I’m dirtied by love.”

They progress through the song in harmony, their voices filling otherwise silent rooms. Nagito thinks he can hear some of the others chime in, but he doesn’t dwell on them. He turns around and places his hand against the wall, and he knows it’s ridiculous to think that Izuru has mirrored his movement and put his palm there too.

“Everything of mine belongs to you.” Nagito’s fingers curl into his palm, and his grin haunts his face, teeth like tombstones. “So I want to be yours even more.”

His eyes creep shut and his forehead goes against the wall, and all the while, Makoto, Kyouko and Byakuya observe silently through the surveillance cameras, three silhouettes in a room lit up only by computer monitors.

#kamukoma #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #sdr2 #drae #dr3 #fanfiction #one shot #requests #sorry i'm taking so long with these OTL #hope you like!#redrosesandluckyclovers

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catalinaroleplay · 3 years

Photo

Gender & Pronouns: Cis man, he/him

Date of Birth: July 12th, 1988 (32)

Place of Birth: Westchester, New York

Neighborhood: Ventura

Length of Residency: Since August 2020

Occupation: Senior Investment Strategist at Astor Group

Face Claim: Adam Huber

BIOGRAPHY

TRIGGERS: Domestic Violence, Parental Abuse, Gun Mention, Drug Abuse, Death.

Not all stories can be magical fairytales to make us forget the dark side of the world, the cruel reality in which we live. Happily ever after are meant for the books because, in real life, there’s no such thing. In life, the books go on and the only thing left to do is survive the twists thrown at you, take the punch, wipe off the blood and carry on with another scar to remind you that life is anything but a fairytale.

Born Thomas Cornelius Conyngham, is a member of one of the most influential and oldest families in the United States. Although his father was just a small-town boy, driven by dreams and greed to become more than his old man, a veteran of the Vietnam war and former special agent on the FBI. His mother, Lilian, is the only daughter of Howard Astor, a New Yorker political businessman and socialite that could only be described as the good old American man, one of the last ones standing on the Astor Dynasty whose fortune was well-known by Conrad when he met Lilian at Yale University. The encounter was not an accident, no, there are no accidents when it comes to Conrad. Not only was Lilian beautiful, she was his golden ticket to a life he knew he deserved — she was his way in and to her own disgrace, Lilian fell for his undeniable charm and was, at first, swap off by his ambitious dreams. Yet, she knew it would not be an easy road to travel when Howard was not fond of his daughter’s choice for a boyfriend. Conrad did not fill the requirements to earn a place in the family.

But, you tell a young woman she cannot be with the boy she loves, the first love she has ever known, is the same as giving her your seal of approval.

Two years into dating and they were married, moving to Scarsdale to start their lives together. Lillian was the newly appointed journalist, writing for a local newspaper and Conrad an associate lawyer. The firsts years of marriage and life were not one to complain, they were working non-stop and barely had any time for arguments, it was a well-oiled machine that worked for both, at first. Conrad’s greediness, could not accept Lilian not wanting to have her father’s help. He did not want to be stuck with an associate paycheck when he could jump right into a partner position with just a phone call by his father-in-law. When the fights began, they only stopped (or pressed pause) to welcome their first son — Thomas. A charming, loving kid with the prettiest eyes you have seen.

Thomas was his mother’s pride and joy and his father’s greatest prize. The only time he and Howard agreed on something was that Tom was fated to greatness and greatness only, anything less than that was not acceptable. From the minute the boy came into the world, his destiny was sealed. Raised to be nothing less than extraordinary, the golden boy, an exceptional athlete, and top of his class at one of the best private schools in America. It was even ridiculous to think that someone’s life could be so perfect. Indeed, it wasn’t, imagine having your whole life planned for you and not having a say in any aspect of it — must drive anyone to madness. Still, Tom could not complain, he could not show weakness because his father would not tolerate it. He’d wake up at five in the morning to run before school, come home from practice to do his homework, and then get to work out some more with his dad, or spend time in the pool. Thomas was a robot, nurturing his father’s dreams and desires while bottling his will and feeding his frustration for not having the control of his own choices. As the years passed, he started to look at his father with other lenses. He saw him for the bully he actually was; Controlling his life for his own pleasure, complaining, playing games with Thomas’ mind to make him believe that it was just his way to show affection, love. But nothing was ever good enough for the man, there was no right because it didn’t matter what Thomas did, still wasn’t enough to satisfy Conrad. He always needed more, to the point where his greed almost killed his family, twice.

First, when Thomas collapsed during a swimming competition after hitting his head at the edge of the pool. His body was too exhausted, seeking for rest, one Thomas did not give because he always needed that extra hour. An extra hour provided by the use of Adderall. The first time he took, six months prior to the accident, to prevent the fatigue he was fighting off and then, again, and again till it became a problem. However, the fights between his parents made the problem pass unnoticed, until the doctors came with the result of his exams and his mother took over, standing for Thomas’ defense when it came to his father. He was sent for a two week treatment in a private facility away from home with the excuse of emotional exhaustion. Of course, the family paid to make everything go away and not stain Thomas’ record. Yet, as soon as he came home, the fights did not decrease but it became worse instead. And just like that, Thomas was gone. Started with minor crimes that were always covered by his father and grandfather’s influence. Countless hookups and parties at the Astors’ Estate all over the country. Thomas almost got expelled from high school, if it wasn’t from his grandfather buying the school a whole new library. One night, when he came home after leaving for God knows why, the fight between Conrad and Lilian became physical and Thomas jumped into his father. The years of abuse blinded him, he was a tic-tac bomb with nuclear power, fed with the years of abuse in the hands of his own father, that exploded. He could hear his mother screaming in the back, but it was a distant sound and not enough to make him stop. When his father took a swing back, knocking Thomas down, he ran for the gun he knew was hidden inside the house and he would have shot, he wanted to, but the moment of hesitation looking at his mother’s eye as she put herself in front of it made the boy pull the weapon down. His father took the moment to run and it was the last time Thomas saw him. After that fateful night, his parents signed a confidential deal, one to help with all the ammunition it needed to make Conrad’s life a living hell in case he breaks it, to keep the episode under the carpet. Howard made him sign away any right he had over Lilian’s money and more important, sign Thomas and the twins away. He no longer had any right over the children and his name was wiped from their birth certification.

At sixteen, Thomas Cornelius Conyngham was now: Thomas Cornelius Astor. Son of Lillian Astor and grandson of Howard Astor. Against Howard’s will, they moved to Catalina with the excuse of visiting old friends and Lilian’s new job in Los Angeles.

It was a fresh start to say the least, for both of them, but how do you carry on after something like that has happened to you? You don’t. You need to reframe life as you have known till it becomes normal. Eventually, things start to adjust, little by little. Lilian found love, one that is kind and generous, one that is unfeigned. The twins grew free from an abusive father. Thomas graduated with a summa cum laude degree in Global Affairs and Economics by Columbia University and a Masters in Project Management and International Business by Oxford. As much as his grandfather still held lots of expectations, he was taught what it meant to have the respect and the love of his grandchild and that meant more to him. They rebuilt their relationship, became closer and along with Oliver, Lilian’s new husband, Thomas found the support of a father figure and love. Whatever that means and Oliver’s name is the one in their birth certificate now, he legally adopted the children.

Life carried on as it always does. The boy was now a man, back in Manhattan and assuming more responsibilities at the Astor Group he is meant to, one day, command. He has been working his way up, besides what anyone thinks, he earned a PhD in Columbia to only increase his knowledge to help the business grow. He is passionate about the work he does, reformulating the Astor Group to be what he stands for and to hold the values of more than just an Real-Estate and Investment Group, but one that offers fair opportunities to whoever seeks them and does not discriminate. Thomas is a very key player in the work they do, to give the company a new aspect and a chance to continue the work as the world changes. On the side, founding the Boreal Group, the primary philanthropic and charitable vehicle for the Astor family. His mother is chairman, in charge of and owning 51% of the shareholders while Thomas and his siblings are the equal owners of the remaining.

Notorious playboy with a good heart became New York’s most eligible bachelor, Thomas Astor was successful, rich and not bad to look at, but very skeptical about relationships because he already met the love of his life a long time ago but the life twists made that, only a few chapters in the book. Still, time was moving and so was the pressure of his family and peers to ‘settle’ down and produce heirs. Thomas decided to take the easy route and got engaged to someone his grandfather approved and his mother was happy with, but it wasn’t love. At the night of their engagement party, Thomas received a phone call from his father’s attorney to inform Conrad passed away and, not only that, but named Thomas on his will as the only rightful heir. He hasn’t spoken or seen his father since the night he left and the only information he had was that Conrad became a partner to a firm in San Francisco and remarried. However, to Thomas’s surprise not only was Conrad married but Thomas had another sibling, a brother younger than his half-sister that was left with nothing. He flew to San Francisco the same night, not to the funeral but to speak with his father’s widow and half-brother, explain he wanted nothing to do with the money left and would happily sign it away back to them. Instead, he wanted a chance to meet his brother because if there’s one thing Thomas knows, is how scar one can become growing under the influence of Conrad Conyngham. It was a moment of clarity for the man, work was taking a lot of his life, he barely had the time to see his family in California, the twins were having lives of their own and Thomas was isolating himself inside a penthouse. Almost getting married just for the sake of everyone else. He was giving up the control of his life again and he could, again, hear the constant presence of his father’s voice in the back of his head telling him he wasn’t good enough. This was the only thing he could do to please others, be what they expected you to be.

Before he could be sent into a spiral, down back to a dark place of his mind, he ended the engagement with Amelia, packed his bag and moved his operation to the West Coast to try and reconnect with another part of his life and try to find the balance he seeks. It has been a long time since he has known love or friendship.

PERSONALITY

Positive: Courageous | Genuine | Protective

Negative: Destructive | Pompous | Competitive

Thomas Astor is portrayed by Carol.

#all #male #ventura #domestic violence tw #parental abuse tw #gun mention tw #drug abuse tw #death tw #adam huber

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