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#just as the founding fathers intended
garleansecretary · 2 months
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I own a AR-23 Liberator for home defense, since that's what Democracy intended. Four Automatons break into my house. "What the liberty?" As I grab my Helldiver Helmet and Automatic Rifle. Blow a golf ball sized hole through the first Bot, he's dead on the spot. Draw my P-4 Senator on the second Bot, miss him entirely because it's a Revolver and nails the neighbors Terminid. I have to resort to the HMG Emplacement mounted at the top of the stairs loaded with explosive shot, "Tally ho lads" the explosive shot shreds two bots in the blast, the sound and extra shrapnel set off super destroyer alarms. Call in eagle stratagem and blast the last terrified automaton. He bleeds out waiting on the democracy officer to arrive since 500 kilo bombs leave nothing to stitch up. Just as Democracy intended.
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gummi-stims · 1 month
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Stim board for the "just as the founding fathers intended" meme?
Idc what's in it, just have fun ::>
https://youtu.be/aqBw3H_Ik3s?si=3Inkh-HqaSEsDKgo
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This was ridiculously fun to put together, love this meme lol
🔴-⚪-🔵
💥- x -💥
🔵-⚪-🔴
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nevesmose · 1 month
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Syndroma Holmiensis
Things are different now. That was the last advice Mikulin's father had given him. The Imperium is the biggest gang on the whole planet. The Night Haunter's gang. Stick with them and you'll do fine, son.
His father had lost an eye in a streetfight years ago and the bribe to fit an augmetic was far beyond their means. Mikulin tried to focus twice as much on the other eye instead, solid depthless black like those of every other Nostraman, as it gleamed with something like desperation combined with raw avarice.
Was it hope, he wondered? Something so rare on the Sunless World that they'd had to steal the Gothic word to describe it exactly. Whatever sibiliant kennings and poetic phrases his ancestors had used to subtly imply the possibility of a better future were gone now. Inefficient in comparison to the language of their new overlords.
Most of the time Mikulin found it hard to care overmuch. His ancestors had mined adamantium and murdered one another in the dark for century upon century and achieved nothing. Built nothing. Created nothing but further generations of void-eyed killers.
Until the Night Haunter came. He who flayed and freed Nostramo, pinned the planet down and eviscerated it inch by inch, block by block, heart by heart and corpse by corpse until nothing was left but order and a full stomach.
Mikulin loved the Night Haunter. Mikulin feared the Night Haunter.
It was natural for him to hold both thoughts simultaneously. He loved and feared his father too, didn't he? A strong provider, working shifts in the mine when the work was there and doing what he had to when it wasn't. But also a monster when he'd been paid and given the money straight back to the company bar.
When he was old enough to work they moved to the nearest great city, Nostramo Secundus. Dear Grey Place, the Adamantite City, a hive built into a vast outcropping of ore-bearing rock that jutted out into the roiling black ocean.
His father had called it a promotion, but the truth came out eventually. The mine bosses were scared that his drunken actions, his too-public offences against the new rules of society, would bring the Night Haunter to them. And the Night Haunter rarely found just one criminal worthy of punishment when paying a visit.
Far safer, therefore, to send the problem away into the teeming masses of the nearest hive city. Losing the work had destroyed his father but Secundus gave Mikulin a new razorgang to run with and all the freedom he was brave enough to steal. And he had the Night Haunter to thank for it.
Mikulin loved the Night Haunter. Mikulin feared the Night Haunter.
Mikulin cared little and knew less of the other demigods who had come later, surrounded by an inferno of blinding light and guarding their father the Emperor. Such events, occurring so far away in the capital, were of little importance to remote grey Secundus. Only the Night Haunter mattered because time and distance meant nothing to him. He could be anywhere on Nostramo, seeing and hearing all in his domain and dispensing punishment to the high and the low alike.
Mikulin loved the Night Haunter. Mikulin feared the Night Haunter.
Then the news reached Secundus that the Night Haunter had left to join his father and brothers in conquering the galaxy for humanity. Mikulin had looked up at the coldly glinting stars and felt a twist of envious fury in his gut. They had taken Nostramo's king from his people and wouldn't even use his name.
Konrad Curze, the Emperor had called him. An alien name from an alien being. Mikulin knew it was the Night Haunter who Nostramo's first Astartes followed into the void, him and no other.
They had tested Mikulin once for suitability. Just put your hand in the box on the servitor's chest. A brief sting and a few moments later the verdict was given - negative. Elevated hereditary cancer risk and other minor genetic flaws not meeting the threshold of mutation, the magos biologis announced before moving on to the next prospective recruit.
Stick with the Night Haunter's gang, his father had said. So Mikulin had apprenticed himself to the Administratum, serving the new Planetary Governor appointed in the Night Haunter's place. One of the first natives to join, they said.
Natives grated in his mind like two ends of a broken bone. We weren't natives before you came, before you took him away. We were ourselves. But things are different now.
The first time he really saw offworlders up close he'd just about managed not to stare, or grimace in the closed-off Nostraman way which, to the initiated, was just as expressive as a scream. Someone has put coins in your eyes, he'd thought irrationally, or broken glass in different colours. It happened sometimes as punishment for people who sold out their gangmates or saw things they shouldn't have.
It took him a long while to accept that it was just how they were, the same way they walked the street wrong, slowly, looking at the sights around them like prey. Behaving like that would get a Nostraman killed but, collectively, there seemed to be an indulgence for offworlders.
They didn't know what the people said or thought about them and they didn't have to care. Often Mikulin found himself hating them, hating their accents and their language at the same time as he learned to mimic both to rise up in their organisation.
The outsiders planned great things for Nostramo in the Imperium. We can make this world so much better, someone with eyes the colour of ice melting into slush told him. Mikulin said nothing.
They built Nostramo Secundus a botanical garden to rival any city in the Imperium. A vast adamantium-ribbed dome of glass filled with a kaleidoscope of verdant colour and shape tended by specialised horticultural servitors, the whole edifice illuminated by numberless ultraviolet and visible-spectrum lamps to allow the plantlife to thrive even on the Sunless World.
On the wall surrounding their creation, where Mikulin had to pass every day to reach the Administratum complex, the offworlders had commissioned some famed remembrancer to paint a mural of a lush, rolling Terran landscape lit by a rising sun and bearing the title LET NOSTRAMO FLOURISH.
The people of Nostramo Secundus hated it and the building it adorned. The cost of entry was high enough to exclude all but the wealthiest and every Nostraman visitor had to wear thick eyeshades or else suffer hours of headache and near-blindness, all just to look at plants. Mystifying.
Mikulin had access to the records of just how much power, water and heat the gardens drew away from the rest of the city. How many hab-tenements could the same resources support instead? He had calculated it once on a scrap of parchment and the answer sickened him.
The Night Haunter would have judged the creation in an instant, razed it to the ground and impaled the builders among the wreckage. Eventually Mikulin came to realise that the gardens were never really intended for him or any other native, only to improve the lot of the offworlders condemned to serve the Imperium on dark forbidding Nostramo.
Once, without thinking, he'd saluted an Administratum superior in the Nostraman way, hand clawed over his heart to say may it be torn out if I am untrue. The condescension and pity in their eyes had struck him like a physical blow.
Damn you all, he thought, eyes stinging with a shame he couldn't begin to process. Take your costume-jewellery eyes and your costume-jewellery Imperium and leave us alone like we always should have been. Our world was already better. We were already better.
Mikulin loved the Night Haunter. Mikulin feared the Night Haunter.
Mikulin grew old slowly, the decay held back by juvenats and technology for as long as the Administratum had the budgetary headroom to provide. Nostramo seemed to rot quickly in comparison. The nobility and oligarchs reappeared with new names and faces but the same blood in their veins, the same corruption in their hearts, and no Night Haunter any more to excise them like a chirurgeon.
He didn't remember exactly when it happened, but one work cycle he realised that the Imperium was no longer the biggest gang on the planet. Work orders, requisitions, suicide statistics, every item of paperwork that used to filter upwards to the Administratum had slowed to a trickle and eventually just stopped.
Mikulin continued to attend the office and the Administratum continued to pay him, but in reality the alternative government of the gangs and nobles had slipped into place like a knife between ribs to quietly usurp both their functions.
Eventually the last offworlders left Secundus. No one would say whether it was voluntary. Their replacements were black-eyed and loyal only to the shifting politics of the warlords they followed. They funnelled the city's sparse resources to pay debts and shore up alliances before the newer, hungrier gangs overthrew them and were consumed in turn by their own children in the incestuous reproductive cycle that was as irredeemably Nostraman as the smog filling up their lungs.
Through it all, Mikulin of the Administratum was present, observed and said nothing. They treated him with something like respect - that rarest of things, an elderly Nostraman.
In the end it was Mikulin who finally closed down the botanical gardens. Let the plants rot and the gangs split the proceeds however they pleased. He left and went back to his tenement, hobbling slowly the same way he did everything else now, and went past that accursed mural once again.
It had been smashed and defaced countless times, the people of Nostramo Secundus giving vent to their fury at the image of an idyllic fantasy they would never possess. The rising sun was blotted out by an arterial splash of black paint and, above it all, someone had scrawled new blood-red lettering to change the painting's title.
LET NOSTRAMO PERISH.
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thereadingaddic7 · 5 months
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>Own tools for self defence since that's what the Great Beings intended
>Four members of the Brotherhood of Makuta break into my hut
>"Holy Gadunka!" I say, as I grab my silver painted mask and zamor sphere launcher
>Launch a Kolhii ball sized sphere of Energized Protodermis through the first Makuta, he's dead on the spot
>Draw my disk launcher on the Vortixx, misses her entirely because the disk was from Ko-Metru and nails the neighbour's Kavinika
>Have to resort to the Cordak Blaster at the top of the stairs, six rounds loaded
>"For Mata Nui!"
>The explosions shred two Piraka in the blast, the sound sets the local Ussal population off
>Grab my Whirling Shields, charge the last terrified Steltian and break his body so badly the Red Star can't put him back together
>Just as the Great Beings intended
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poorboypictures · 10 months
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youtube
Small video I made that will lead to more.
Happy Fourth, Y'all.
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vaguelyprophetic · 10 months
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perhaps I’ll spend my fourth of july writing stewyroman fic
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miku-bookclub · 1 year
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just as the founding fathers intended
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atknp13 · 11 months
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YA DAFT FECKIN' CUNT,
WHOSE BLOODY ARSE HAVE YA BEEN LICKIN' THE SHIT OFF OF FIR BREAKFAST YA WHOLE GODAMN LIFE?!?
WHO'S BOLLOCKS HAVE YA BEEN GARGLIN' FIR YA TA THINK IRISH PEOPLE CAN'T BE BORN IN GREAT BRITIAN?!?
YA BLOODY FOOKIN' MOOPPET!!! THAT'S NOT EVEN THE FLAG OF THE UNITED KINGDOM OF GREAT BRITAN AND NORTHERN IRELAND,YOU GOPPING LITTLE SHIT.
THAT'S THE FLAG OF GREAT, BLOODY, BRITAIN!!!
I BET YA CAN'T EVEN FIND WALES ON THE BLOODY FOOKIN ISLES MATE.
I AM EQUAL PARTS BAFFLED AND FRUSTRATED BY THE IGNORANCE OF ALL YE FECKIN' YANKEES.
I ONCE HAD SOME NITLESS WITLESS TWAT COMMENT THAT "JAPAN AND CHINA" WERE THE SAME THING!!!
ANY RESPECTABLE CHAP WORTH THEIR SALT, KNOWS THAT CHINA IS THE NATION OF TEA, (WHY DO YA THINK WE SENT THOSE BUGGERS THE POPPIES!?!)
AND JAPAN ISN'T AS IT LACKS THE FECKIN' FARMLAND TO GROW THE BLOODY SHITE.
BLOODY HELL!!!
I SHUDDER TA EVEN THINK OF HOW MANY OF YA ABSOULUTE BELLENDS THERE ARE COMPARED TA US.
GUN TOTIN' YANKS LIKE YOU SHOULD BE DRUG OUT INTO THE STREET AND SHOT!!!
NOW EXCUSE ME MATE, DUE TO YOUR COMPLETE ANEURYSM OF A REPLY,
I MUST BREXIT OUT A FIRST STORY WINDOW WHICH MIND YOU, IS NOT ON THE BLOODY FECKIN GROUND FLOOR!!!
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thevelaryons · 19 days
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WILLING LAMB TO THE SLAUGHTER
Body of Water - Florence Welch // Wings of Fire: Darkness of Dragons, Tui T. Sutherland // VBS - Lucy Dacus // Fire & Blood, George R.R. Martin // My Dark Vanessa, Kate Elizabeth Russell // rollercoasterwords // unknown // Phantom Pain by Caitlin Conlon // Feeling Blue by Katy Tackes // Mike Townsend (Knows What He's Gotta Do) - The Garages // Eldest Daughter - Isabel Pless // The Collected Stories, Matthew Ward
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bloogers-boogers · 1 year
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So I've been getting into the sp fandom lately and let me tell u it's a must for me to do a one-shot.. It's gonna be a good attempt
One-shot SP
/CURSE/
(Kinda shipping? (Kyle/Cartman) Kinda trying to replicate the imagination land scene where Kyle dies an other various scenes, Cartman(important for the plot),Cartman and Kenny lore,some Stan against, and death of a main character. Kenny plays a role, also y'know death and resurrection that's he's thing.. right?)
It a pretty damn long One-shot.
It's been a common day in the little mountain town of Colorado called south park, Randy had arranged a parade/party at one of the most popular places in town 'DikinBaus' because of some festive weed special (trying to make it seem out of the ordinary weed when it comes to the same shit with a diffrent label) that Stan Marsh and his three other friends would care less about, well, atleast one. Eric Cartman.
Yes, the little evil master mind of south park.
Bitch was angry and quite bitter about the fact that his old home was no longer his, after being part of creating it's popularity. Though he did deserve it and his jewish friend made it know.
"I don't know why you're so pissed off, Cartman, you we're asking for it when you took advantage of Butters hard work," The latter roll his eyes.
"Whatever, it's Butters," He stated, as if it were obvious.
"Dude, just be grateful you got your old house back," Stan tune in, his tone was a little bit frustrated then it should've, luckily his fat friend payed not much attention to it. He wished he could move back, be close to his friends, have his old life back. But his father was farther than an idiot to just let go of his marijuana dream.
"How am I gonna be grateful about losing my DikinBaus!?," He exclaimed angry. Kenny, their blonde friend snorted, "shut up Kinny!."
"C'mon man, it's not a big deal," He patted the bigger boy's shoulder in hopes he'll just moved on from the subject. But ofcourse, he didn't.
"No! I can't leave it like this with out a fight!, I work hard for that shitty place to reopen, it's not fair!," He clenched he's fist, glaring at the nothing.
Both three boys just looked at each other, in a mutual agreement of not getting involved.
Later that day, Stan was forced to partake in the event host by his father, ofcourse not before arguing and complaining about it being just another waste of the income they made, for then later on his father to complain about how they had no money for more resources. Repeat all the time. Stan just hold the bridge of his nose outta frustration.
No boy his age should be this stress out for his parents doings, in this scenario, his dad.
"Hey Stan, check this out!," Exclaimed excited, Randy. The boy followed him, as he has no other choice but to listen.
"What the fuck is that," Stan questioned a little horrified, confused? He couldn't tell, cause he actually gave two shits. But this looked outta the ordinary of the ordinary. If that even makes sense.
There was a seagull looking mutation with what it seems like a rats feet. For a second there he was worried his father accidentally caught man bear pig's kid.
"It's the Tergrity farms mascot!," He exclaimed even more excited taking out a board outta nowhere, explaining his new strategy.
Oh. So that's that.
"Yeah, bye," said lastly, in a flat tone, no longer caring about the rest before returning outside.
Stan was not gonna get involved, no matter how bizarre and crazy his dad's Karen episodes get, he told himself for the millionth time that same day. He was NOT getting involved.
[...]
"For fuck sake dad! What did you do!?," He shouted confused by the change of event, being tied in a chair was far from the plans he had for this evening.
"Uh.. well, let's say it a TEGRITY strategy," Randy smiled commercially, clearly seems nervous. Clearly fucked up. The latter frowned from that response.
Stan sighed, "okay. What did you do," he asked again, finally had calm himself and processed the situation he's in. No pizza night at Tolkien's tonight he said to himself.
"Well, remember my mascot?,"
He nodded, ofcourse he did, it all happened today.
"Well turns out he's like, related to chutulu."
Stan wanted to grip his nose outta frustration again, so bad, after hearing that, "what?," he asked again. As he couldn't believe that thing was related to.. unfuckin' believable. Actually it was definitely believable.
"Yeah, I don't know how'd it happened but he found out and wanted to massacre me and my farm, can you believe that! I even offered some of my weed," said exhausted while having a pout face as a child being scolded.
"Okay, so how the hell did we end up being tied up?."
"Stan, there's a bunch of cult members in south park," he stated obviously while he rolled his eyes by being questioned this much. But he still bother to answer, "those motherfuckers knew chutulu wanted us so they found us, knocked us and tied us up, as their way of worship. We're pretty much a sacrifice."
"But why me!?," he stated bitterly as he was NOT trying to get involved today.
"Because you are, Stan! I told you about my strategy did I!?."
"I left!?."
They bicker a bit more before Stan decided to speak out for a solution.
"Look, I think, I have a plan. You know Cartman?."
"Your fat friend? What about him?."
"Well, he manipulated chutulu to join he's superheroe team awhile ago. Thing is, if we get Cartman, maybe he can help us."
"Isn't he like, a dick?."
"It's complicated. Let's just find a way outta of these ropes."
"Easy." Randy picked out of his pocket shirt with his mouth some weed and light it up with his feet and a lighter he had in his pants. And burned the ropes. He then untied him.
"You could've done that all this time!?," exclaimed baffled by his father's stupidity once again.
"No time Stan!," he said while he ran into the depths of the woods with the boy following behind.
Yes, they were in the woods. Let's move on.
[...]
Kenny found himself running like a mad man, he did not mean to provoke the dark lord, but he did. He just wanted answers about his curse! Was that too much to ask?
But here he was, regretting kicking one of those big claws of him after being bluntly ignored by chutulu, it seems it was looking for something. He assumed it was Cartman as he couldn't link the others with it. That fat fuck. What did he do!?
He couldn't bare die today as he was not aware how far chutulu would detroy the town by tomorrow. He needs to know why it's here, and ofcourse, his curse! Cause it seemed no one cares besides himself! Fuck!
He dodge one of chutulu lasers that ended destroying a car near by.
He hid in one of the markets from town, as if that's gonna make a difference. Then he saw him. That fat fucker! He was with Kyle and Butters in the meat section. Both seemed to be arguing about something while the blonde hold a riffle nervously watching the two, he'd care less right now about whatever those two were arguing about.
"You son of a bitch!," He slammed cartman into one of the freezer, Cartman looked at him with opened feared eyes, "what did you do!?."
"K-kinny..!?."
"Woah, dude, calm down," said, Kyle, "what's going on?."
" 'What's going on?'," he responded incredulous, "chutulu's out there destroying the town and killing countless souls! That's what going on!."
"Oh," Butters said not being so stoked about it.
"Yeah, we kinda know that, asshole," the brunette said casually loosing his grip.
"Eric thinks that chutulu may be here because of a mission," Butters explained.
"Oh really," the blonde said sarcastically eyeing him, "Cartman why the fuck did you summon chutulu here!? Do you know all the damage you've done."
"Excuse me? I didn't do shit, kinny!," Cartman exclaimed offended, by being accused so surely.
Yeah, he has committed various, and I mean, VARIOUS crimes, but he did NOT do this. Though he must admit to himself that this turn of events could be convenient for him to destroy DikinBaus. As no one in this stupid town does not deserve such a wonderful magnificent place. That HE made. And as such rightly deserves it and rightly could destroy it if he wanted to, right?
"Like I'm gonna believe whatever shit comes from your mouth, fatso," Kenny stated.
"It's true." Kyle spoke up, "what Cartman said.. look, I've been following this asshole since he said he was gonna try to do something about that dumb hotdog place, so, I followed him around-"
"Like and stalker," bluntly added Cartman.
"And-" Kyle continued, ignoring cartman's comment before frowning, "the only thing he's done is shit on Butter's porch and purchasing 200 hotdogs in hopes DikinBaus will run out and shut down. Which is the most ridiculous thing I've ever witnessed–"
"Oh c'mon, Kyel it was brilliant!," Cartman defended his stupidity, "it's easy an effective! I buy all the hotdogs, open my own stand and start a business," finalizing while crossing his arms. Kyle look at him angrily.
Nobody will question where he got the money to pay for all those hotdogs. Most likely in a fraudulent way. Whatever it doesn't matter.
"You ate all the hot dogs, fatass!!."
Cartman frown finding a better comeback, "well..! Atleast I have hot dogs!."
"What?," Kyle responded simply with one eyebrow upward.
"Tsch, whatever. I have a new better plan that I won't be sharing to either of you assholes."
Kenny, snapped. He had enough of this bullshit.
"Guys! Chutulu!?."
"Oh yeah, yeah," Cartman had his arms up. A freaked Kenny is a scary Kenny, "uh, what about him?," he added.
"Really?," he asked again incredulously, not waiting for an answer he continued, "something or someone must have summon the dark lord. We need to find a solution to get him out."
"Dude, that's chutulu. Even if we wanted to do something what can we do about it?," Kyle added skeptical.
"Yeah, it's not like this shitty town deserves to be saved anyways," Butters stated, still a little bitter about having to spend community service cleaning the mess the towns people made just cause he was seen as a sex offender for pinching a girl who he thought had no green on San Patrick's day!
"Well. Cartman?," Kenny asked staring deeply into Cartman's eyes. For some odd reason he felt a connection with the boy. As if his eyes had a glint of something.. he just couldn't recall what it was.
"How would I know?," Cartman asked confused, and kinda annoyed that he hasn't even started his plan B because of an overdramatic Kenny.
"You manipulated chutulu you fat fuck! Do it again," He exclaimed frustrated of the whole thing now looking at the other boys. He's finding all of these unnecessary scenarios being unfold overwhelming. Nobody seems to care, nobody seems to care about chutulu destroying south park, maybe he doesn't care!?
He sigh. Maybe he really doesn't. Maybe all this is an excuse to find out about his curse shield with the idea of being heroic. Screw that. He cared! This town may be fucked up but it was his home! Our home! They must care!
"Okay, I got a plan," Kenny stated finally after a brief silence.
[...]
Cartman found himself frowning angrily standing in the middle of the street, in a kitty costume. He would've rather just picked his coon costume but Kenny stated it'd be more effective and he was definitely trying to mess with him once again, cause he found it hilarious.
Stupid kinny.
The other three boys were hiding behind a dunked car near by him. Not like it'd make a difference. Always put Cartman in the more risky messy situations! Ofcourse he was convinced with a reward if things goes well, not because he's scared of Kenny and he was being a pussy! It was the reward he was promised of!
He heard Kenny snicker a bit, stupid kinny. He finds this amusing didn't he!? Asshole.
He then was faced with the giant dark lord with each step the ground rumble and the buildings breaking and weakening by him.
He gulped. He's done this before, he can do it again. Why is he nervous this time?
Both pair of eyes met. Time for action.
"Miaw Miaw! If it isn't one of my best pals! Miaw miaw!," he then climbed in one of chutulu's feet to his head. My gawd he deserves a reward for this acting. He then pursued on scratching the lord's head as he enjoyed the sensation of the fake claws on his skull, "who's my precious chutulu?," he then added a purr distracting the giant.
The three boys started preparing the trap they had made while upon seeing cartman's manipulation was once again, working. That fucking fatass.
Kyle was trying to knot the rope to one of the polls light but end up falling backwards in the sight of chutulu, who immediately put it's attention on the redhead. Great, just fucking wonderful.
Chutulu immediately turned his attention to Kyle and growled once knowing damn well this was set up.
"Dammit jew!," Cartman shouted making it more obvious that this in fact was, indeed a setup.
'Twack!'
Chutulu looked behind him as he had felt a tiny rock hit his tail.
"Stan?," Kyle said confused. Once Stan and his dad we're visible with some hunting gear on and some guns in there hands.
This was not going as plan. And once again Kenny sigh frustrated. He wasn't sure if the new pair of characters were a good thing or not. He's gonna let it slide this time.
Randy slowly approached chutulu leaving behind Stan, who just cautiously watched.
He then took out a weird mutant goose rat thing from behind his right arm.
Chutulu raised a brow. If that's even possible, but it was. Ofcourse it was.
Chutulu looked down as the mutant thingy went to his side rubbing himself against it's feet. It was heartwarming if it weren't for the situation they were put for and who it was. Then Chutulu did the imaginable, he squashed it.
Stan and Randy looked stoked.
"Well that does it," said Randy.
Both Marshes mouth agape, still looking at chutulu and now dead corpse.
And in splits seconds Kenny put himself in front of the two, standing in front of chutulu embracing his blonde hair exposing his face, he had taken his parka off. Glaring at the monster above. He have had enough.
"What am I?," he asked once more, "answer me now!."
"What's with this one?," Randy side eyed Stan, as he shrugged in response. Confused also.
Chutulu ignored him and approached Randy. Which jolted a bit nervous as he did not figure out what he did to anger the creature. If it wasn't his mascot than what?
He lowered his face to the man and quickly head bunked him to the side, hitting his body through a store window breaking into pieces.
"Dad!!," Exclaimed Stan, rushing in hurry to his father's aid. Noneless a idiot but still his idiot.
"Ow! I'm okay Stan.." the injured man reassured.
In a blink of an eyes the military had showed up and started attacking chutulu, bullets in and out angering the creature, he had put himself on it's feet again trying to block the bullets and attacking the attakers, Cartman still on the dark lord's head completely taken off guard as he was distracted with the dialog was then shot in the back 'ow!' falling off chutulu's head straight to the ground. He had broked his limbs and neck during impact. This anger chutulu even more, as for him kitty Cartman was like a pet.
Kyle and his other two friends had witnessed it. As he shouted, "¡Cartman!," he ran towards him caring less of the chaos around him.
"Fuck, he killed Cartman!," Kenny exclaimed as he approached the now what appears dead boy.
'There's no way'.
"Holy fuck!," said Stan from a far, he was still on his father's side but had witnessed it aswell.
Kyle was next to him analyzing the boy's wounds as he couldn't believe it.
"He's dead.." says Butters while having his mouth slightly agape standing next to Kenny watching the now corpse.
"You bastard.." whispered Kenny, he was staring at his so called best friend, lifeless eyes. It was definitely an odd sight.
"He can't be dead.." Kyle reassured griping into the boy's costume, "he just can't," he frowned.
Stan had already approached the scene as his father seem to had been well standing up not as injured.. or in this scenario dead.
He was also as stoked as the two other boys that were just standing there watching there fat friend laying there. Kyle was the only one on the ground gripping on to Cartman as if he didn't want to let go.
Kyle stared at him for a bit longer than he expected, his body had lost color, his half lidded lifeless eyes staring at him and his hands were cold.. this can't be happening. Cartman can't die. That's not possible!
Kyle with both his fist hit his friend's chest as hard as possible, anger. So much anger!
"Cartman! Can't! Die!," hitting him more times with no intention, it just felt right.
"Woah, dude," Stan put a hand on his best friend's shoulder trying to calm him down he's never seen his friend act this way. And to be honest he never expected to see Cartman this way either. Lifeless.
Kyle smacked Stan's hand off him still in disbelief.
"¡Cartman! Cartman!," he shouted almost in a cry, desperation in his voice," you fat fuck! Wake up!," he again hit as many times as he could, in the dead one's chest.
"Dude, Kyle.. he's gone," Stan said in the most pity voice. As if he could feel what Kyle felt.
"No he's bullshittin' he's fucking bullshitting, Stan!," He said almost as he's trying to believe it himself, he felt himself shake, his eyes felt watery.
A big thump caught their attention leaving the other boy kneeled to the other not leaving his side. He could now care less about that fucking dark lord and this stupid chaotic town!
"You fat fuck...!" he whispered more to himself as he closed his eyes and clenched his fist.
He may hate Cartman, and may have countless times told him that's he's better off being dead. But he really didn't mean it. If Randy can be alive, if Garrison can be alive, if man bear pig can be alive.. then why can't him? It's only fair. Two of those people he mentioned are assholes in there own fucked up way, but have done countless crimes and gotten away of being a dick atleast man bear pig is a wild satanic creature it makes sense if he kills thousands of lives. But those two other bastards are here! Free, alive.. So can Cartman!
"Cartman..?," he said choked as he felt steaming tears fall down his cheeks as he watched his fat friend laying down breathless, no bicker response. No insults. Nothing but flat silence from his part. His death even seems painful, not the typical peaceful dead look, just plain painful.
[...]
As the day ended things went back to normal as per usual, well almost.
Kenny never thought he'd find himself sitting in a funeral of one of his best friends. It was always the way around. For some reason it felt wrong. That he was supposed to be in that box and not his friend.
His mother crying on the side of the casket while some of the south park parents tried to comfort her, but failed. As she was never that close to them anyways. Besides, deep inside she knew no one would fully understand what she feels as she knows her son wasn't the best of person's. And that probably there were people from this town who'd want this or asked for this. But she? She saw the evil in him and had gotten tired of his stupid schemes but that was still her little boy and she will always be his mother. And that won't ever change, so the pain will always remain there. And everyone else was an hypocrite in her eyes.
The four boys remain silent, listening to the ceremony behold them. Yes four boys, as for now that Cartman would no longer partake in their group they added Butters in his place.
"So, do I like have to act like an asshole now?," Butters asked grabbing their attention.
"Uh no?," Stan answered.
"Well if I'm gonna take Eric's place I think I should like try to act like him, like when you guys once choose Clyde because he was the second fat boy of our class..?"
"No Butters, you don't have to act like Cartman," Stan stated now a little annoyed, this wasn't the place or time to discuss something like this when their friend hasn't still been buried. It kinda stings.. this feels fresh. It is fresh. Who knew this fat fuck would affect him?
"Are you sure?."
"For fuck sake Butters, shut up!," Kyle exclaimed angrily, receiving a couple of odd stares from some of the other people there. He cared less to be honest. He clenched his fist as he wanted so bad to punch his face and beat him up. As he'd normally just do with Cartman. Cartman..
Cartman, Cartman, Cartman..
He looked down to his feet avoiding his friends gaze.
[...]
Two days have pass, and honestly this Butters thing just wasn't working. Stan wondered if he truly would prefer having Cartman back than having to witness a whimp like Butters attempt to be a douchebag loser. Don't get him wrong, Butters can be a douchbag but he can't get into Cartman's level. Even if he tries to be. Maybe that's what Butters doing wrong? He's attempting to be someone he's not when he can easily be himself as a douche. But still, not Cartman.
For much of Stan's surprise, south park still hasn't changed a bit after his friend's passing. It's still chaotic, and bizarre. And as hard to admit it even feels longer and even torturous. New characters appear here and there, some were dicks, others were plain awful, some just bland boring ass people. He couldn't believe it, he's actually starting to miss him, as these other characters just feel forced to continue continuity when it's just full filling!
It's just two days. Two fucking days. He's been longer than that with out seeing his fat friend and he's okay with it, even thankful, and yet knowing he won't ever be seeing him because he's dead just changes things.
Let's not even talk about Kyle. Out of the the three. Yes, he's not counting Butters. Fuck Butters!
Kyle has been the most affected. Ofcourse he also has to witness the cringey attempts of their idiotic blonde friend, trying to become his new "arch-rival" as that comes in the packaging of being Eric Cartman. Including being a selfish, manipulative piece of shit. Anyways, point is, to be Eric Cartman you must also hate Kyle Brofloski. And Butters just doesn't have it in him to fully hate on someone or just give him the time of day Cartman would normally do daily, actually obsessively to Kyle.
So here he was, on one of the seats of the school buss behind Kenny and Butters, hearing Butters trying to bicker Kyle. It really feels surreal.
"So, Kayl."
"It's 'Kahl', if you're trying to mimic Cartman atleast do it right," he responded back with an added eye roll at the end.
"Well, geezz.. I mean Ay! Shut up you dumb jew! I'll do and say what I want, whenever I want!."
Well, now that's actually better. Stan actually had to repressed a laugh cause he actually found that funny.
"Wow, Butts you're getting better," complimented Kenny.
Butters beamed and stared at Kyle, who silently watch another kid entering the bus. He really did not bothered putting his attention on the blonde.
"C'mon Kyle, you must admit that was pretty good," He tune in, trying to get Kyle to loosen up.
"Yeah.. I suppose," Kyle then looked up at Butters while the other just looked back nervously. Kyle sigh, "can you fight?" he then added with a glint of mischief while the other two boys stared at Kyle, confused for the sudden change in demeanor. Butters looked a little uncertain on what to answer.
As he should, this is Kyle we're talking about.
"O-ofcourse I do!," In fact, Butters does know how to fight, just not Kyle, never Kyle.
"Great, meet me up after school in the playground," said finalized while standing up to get off the bus.
"Ah geez.." Stan heard Butters whispered before getting off the bus to join his friend.
He didn't know what Kyle had planned, but he sure wants to find out.
[...]
"Oh geez! I don't think I can be Cartman no more!," exclaimed Butters with a couple of bruises in his face, tired, "Kyle was beating me up like a butcher to its meat selection!."
"Well that is Cartman's job to deal with y'know," Stan added. He figured this must be a way for Kyle to get rid of Butters. So he followed along.
"Yeah dude, if you're gonna be Cartman. You must know that you have to become Kyle's personal punching bag," Kenny tune in, actually enjoying the laugh. He knew we were all messing with him. Cause in fact, it seems Stan was not the only one bothered by Scotch.
"Oh Jesus!."
"Man, actually I do believe you can become Cartman, even better. As you seem to be more capable of taking Kyle's moods," yeah, we can be assholes sometimes. Stan smiled a bit.
"Oh boy.." he was not liking what he was hearing. Before adding anything further Kyle approached the group, tuning in with a happy humming.
"Hey there guys," he then glared at Butters, "Butters."
"AHHHHHH!!!," He scream while dashing out of there before adding, "Screw you guys I'm going home!."
"Well, that does it," Kyle shrugged.
"Guess no one can deal with you more than a day," Kenny added.
"I guess so."
"So now what?," Stan questioned. Everything just went silent.
Normally Cartman would suggest some stupid shit, we'd shit on first before following through with it. But even the substitute bailed on us, so we must figure it out on our own.
"Board games..?," Ken then added.
"Nah, done that yesterday," Kyle replied, tapping his foot on the ground, kinda impatient, kinda bored.
"What about basketball," Stan suggested. Once again the three boys remain silent. The wind whistling in their ears as they thought harder and the space between them felt thicker as they become smaller. And smaller, and smaller..
"Who wants to try summoning Cartman with a ouija?," Kenny added plainly, while pursuing on leaving the area to his place, with the certainly the others would followed.
In fact, not only did they follow, they were eager for it.
[...]
-In Hell-
"Dammit! no barbecue at sight in the most hottest place between three worlds!," Cartman exclaimed baffled.
He's been a hell citizen for two days now, and it has sucked. He isn't even allowed to go in the cool clubs cause he was a minor and would be forever be one for eternity! He did enjoy the public torture that was embrace there but besides that, nothing too outta the ordinary he could see up in south park.
He sigh, not knowing what to do, with out his friends to annoy, death feels empty. Boring as fuck! He wants to get outta here!
When he approached a counter were there were two men talking about some country song while drinking martinis, he decided to sit next to them. They immediately stayed quiet as his presence disturb them. 'Dumb bitches' he thought.
"So... how can we get out?," he asked.
"Excuse me?,"
"Yeah, like how do we get out from hell."
"Oh, why the hell do you want to get out?."
"Because it's boring as fuck, i want to live!."
"Well, he is young, George," one of the men side eyed his companion. The other nodded in agreement.
"Well there's no way, young boy," one of the men answered, I'll call him number two. Pftt, number two, get it? Hahaha! He repressed a laugh and continued trying to get more information outta the two grown men.
"Okay, but like there must be atleast someone who COULD know a way outta here, right?," he digged.
"Hmm.." number one begin thinking, pftt.. number one, "actually I believe there is."
Getting the boy's attention, he leaned forward as if it'd help him hear them any better. They were both drunk as fuck. For what it appears. Their talk was all gibberish, but 'anything to get out of here' he said to himself.
"You should look for the 'dark red soul'."
"The 'dark red soul'..?," he murmured.
"Yup, he lives in the coast side, just follow the direction signs and go to the yellow hotel. And just ask for him, someone must know where exactly he lives at, he's quite a party goat," number two explained chugging the bit of martini he had left.
So that, he did, he followed the directions signs that lead him to hotel 'jak n off' it was yellow, that's all he cared about. This asshole better know how to get out or he'll make sure he'll make himself a new bowl of chili.
[...]
"Oh, looking for red man?."
"Sure? Is that dark red soul?," he asked not very sure if it's the same guy he was told of.
"Yeah, that's his party animal name. Follow me."
'Tch, lame.' But he did follow. This tall freckle man took him to a long dark alleyway, he was feeling skeptical at first but then remembered he couldn't die if he was already dead. It's like respawn. Sigh. He remembered when he first came here, he fell in some spikes down a lava-fall (waterfall) he also remembered how painful it was but how quick he repawn back. So all is new.
The man enter a dark room and turn on the lights.
"Yeesh!!," some rookie exclaimed angrily as he was caught in a very peculiar position with a lady friend. Both naked.
"The fuck man!?," the red head turned his gaze down looking at the chubby boy.
His eyes widen as the latter.
"Dad..?" his mouth slightly agape. He couldn't fucking believe it. Out of all things. Out of all people. It was him.
Back then he would've dreamt of finding his dad, feeling complete and happy. But once he knew about what the town hid from him what HE hid from him, he just became bitter with the idea of ever having a father figure in the picture. He figured it would've weakened him and it was for the best to had never encountered or meet him. Cause he hates feeling weak. Cause he isn't.
They both looked at each other for a long brief silent second.
The other two people that were in the room left them, well more like the other dude stole his companion.
"Uh.. 'dark red soul'..?" he added, uncertain what to say. The boy felt his legs wobble and his lip twitch. While the older man had his left eye twitch instead.
"Yeah.." Jack answered quietly.
They were both put in a very awkward situation.
"..Eric huh?.." He then added when he received no answer. He wasn't use to having someone who didn't listen to him. Noneless a son who doesn't. Scott was always so eager to answer him even with the most smallest things. Man, he really missed his boy.
"You know my name?," the boy answered too quickly than he expected. He cough nervously, "ofcourse you do, I'm Eric Cartman," he boost his ego. More like a cover up of his insecurities at the moment.
Jack lighten up a bit at the comment. Indeed he knew about the trouble maker he was, well the trouble in general, everyone in south park knew. The son of a single crackhead whore mother, a whore he slept with.
"I see you're quite a confident one," he said cheeky before nudging the boy.
Cartman jolted by that action. Skepticism was basically like his middle name. That type of gesture is uncalled for and unnecessarily. And it made him feel uneasy for some reason.
"Yeah..right," he decided to ignore the remark, "okay so.. I heard you know how to get me back to south park?."
"Oh, so that's why you're here?," then he realized that the only reason the boy is presented here was because of the inevitable, he died in the upper world.
Maybe it's his instincts, or just maybe because he's been so lonely. He feels this sudden sickening attachment towards the boy. As messed up as it sounds, considering he did ground him into chilly. But in his defense he didn't know. He didn't know he was his father. Would've that made a difference? That he couldn't know. But that made him soften just a bit. That would keep him fooled just for now.
"Yeah, I want to get back home," Cartman stated, as the tense moment had started to drift off coming to a lighter ambient.
"Oh, well I suppose I could help you with that," he lied. He saw Eric's eyes sparkle a bit, as in hope. It remind them so much like Scott's..
"Sweet!," he exclaimed excited. Finally, this literally hell will be over soon.
[...]
"So you're saying you own that hotel?," Cartman asked. As his father explained most of his living down in hell and his ropes in it.
They headed to a taco stand and Jack gesture him to take a seat in one of the chairs while he order.
"Pretty much. Cool huh?," he responded a little proud of his accomplishments.
"Yeah.. so.. 'jak n off'?," Cartman asked while he saw the waiter place their beverages in the counter.
"Haha yeah.. I thought it'd be funny. No one seems to care," he added with a chuckle, taking a sip of his soda.
"Ha.. I- when I was in the upper world me and my friend kinny started a business reopening a old hot dog restaurant and we named it 'DikinBaus' haha.. just to mess around with people," he admitted, strangely still feeling uneasy and nauseous.
"Ha! 'DiknBaus'? I love it!," Jack laughed a bit whipping a fake tear out of his right eye, "I guess we share a certain humor, Eric."
"Yeah.." he look down at his hands. It felt odd talking to his dad. He wasn't sure if it was good but he knew it wasn't unpleasant.
"So you also have a business?," Jack asked interested. His boy does resemble him in ways he won't deny that, though his slut of a mother's features were surely there, all over his face to be in fact.
Scott never seem interest in taking big steps on trying to climb to the top leagues or have big ideal dreams. He seemed okay with living in the low peaceful life and well, following his favorite bands gushing over there new songs as a fellow follower than a leader.
"Well. Turns out they took it away from me when it became one of the most popular places in town! Can you believe that?," he complained, finally letting loose the awkward tension he felt, to vent his anger and displeasure, "and what's worse is that my mom followed through with it and didn't care that we had a lifetime successful business with a cool looking house!."
"That sounds awful, your mom's a bitch," Jack admitted. He can already tell Eric can have a bright future as a business man if he we're to try harder.
The boy jolted. It anger him when anyone talks bad about his mom, maybe Jack can be an exception being his dad and all?.. but it still pinch his heart and left a sour feeling in the tip of his tongue. Yes, his mom's a bitch, but only he can say it. He really doesn't know how to respond to his dad about it.
"Right.." he then continued sipping his soda, "so, how did you manage to create one of the most popular hotels in hell?," ignoring further his mother's mentioned.
"Well, when I was down here I was very popular among the other people that had also previously died. I stood out in a way."
The food had already been served. And Cartman picked one of the bean tacos and starting munching it, he felt his father's stare on him and he felt conscious of how he was eating 'Do I have something?'.
"Really? What made you so different?," oblivious to the other stares he was getting from the other customers.
"My death," He bluntly admitted, making Cartman almost choke on his food. 'Fuck'
"Oh," he flatly stated.
"Yeah, it was a hit back then. Everyone was talking about it, and people glorified me for it. As they say it was one the most radical deaths they've had ever heard happening," Jack explained, smiling by the memory, he found himself oddly proud of it. As it had benefited him in so much, and honestly he liked the attention on him, "As to expected I was very popular and was given many opportunities, like talk shows and lots and lots of 'money'," said emphasizing the last word.
Cartman stared at him for brief seconds, "money?," hint of greed in his words. Jack smiled by that, and nodded. He sure was his son.
"So.. how did you die?," he finally asked that anxious question he's been wanting to know.
"So like, I was kinda forced to help my annoying friends out to bring back chutulu to the underground, even though I didn't want to and wanted to just use chutulu to destroy 'DikinBaus' as because no one deserves such a wonderful place I made, and I was shot by the military by accident while I was on top of chutulu's head, falling straight to the ground," Cartman answered casually, squeezing some ketchup on his plate mimicking the blood he imagine leaving, sparing the costume details and the manipulation tactic he use too.
"Wow, I guess us Tenenorman just have it in us on dying radically and cool," Jack laughed excited with a fist in the air.
The name used took Cartman off guard. He was a Cartman after all! But it really warmed his heart to be complimented that much and it felt nice, being included for once. So he let it slide just this once.
"Yeah, I guess it is!," He exclaimed more confident and puffed his chest out, proud.
Jack gave him a warm smile and Cartman returned it back.
[...]
Jack had went on asking for some books he claimed as 'solutions' for Cartman's problem, while the boy decided to sit back and rethink his choices of the chilly incident and how different it would've been if they had just told him the truth.
Then, he felt a odd buzzing sound inside of his ear. He started smaking his left side with his palm.
"Cartman!," he.. 'was that Stan?', "Dude can you hear us? Are you there?."
'Holy shit, it is the hippie!'
"Stan?."
"Fatass?," another familiar voice chimed in.
"Aye! I Ain't fat you stupid jew!."
"Holy shit, Cartman dude!," Stan exclaimed a little too excited then he wanted to be. Cartman flinched by the intense noise in his ears, it was bothering him.
"Ow! Aye you damn hippie! Lower your voice will yah! My head hurts just hearing you guys!."
On the other side Kyle couldn't hold a smile. The other boys just laughed by being able to still annoy Cartman even being in a whole different life.
"So how's it going over there, Eric," Kenny asked.
"Yeah, you haven't lost ten thousand pounds over there by not eating junk food all day?," Kyle added, knowing well Cartman would answer back by the remark he leaned forward to the magic ball that was centered in the middle of the ouija.
"In the matter of fact, you dumb jew, I'm eating pretty well," The boy answered with puffed cheek and airs of superiority, "But things are going pretty well, it's boring as fuck though I was trying to find a way outta here," he then added. Not even questioning how they even managed to connect with him.
"And how's that going, Cartman?," Stan asked curiously. He really wanted to know if there was way.
Cartman took a few seconds to rehear his friend's question. He considered it a bit. After all, he was starting to find hell quite less boring now that he found his dad. He was not going to admit that to them though.
"Uh- well, I'm still on it. Not much luck though," he lied.
"Dammit Cartman, you fat fuck you really can't do shit with out us can you," Kyle then added, smirking slightly.
"Aye!."
The three boys started howling of laughter.
"Eric?."
Eric jolted in shock by the sudden voice behind him, reappearing to his vision. He reposition himself.
"Everything alright?," Jack answered a little concerned of his son behavior just now. He had just returned with some books at his hold while he witnessed Eric seemingly talking to himself.
It was nothing new to him that his son was mentally fucked up, so he has decided to shrug it off.
"Yeah, everything's alright."
'Who's that, fat boy?,' Stan asked.
"No one.." Cartman answered in a whisper.
"C'mon, Eric. Let's go to my place and discuss about your situation," Jack added with a nod gesturing to follow him.
Eric then pursued on following behind him.
[...]
"I guess we lost connection with Cartman," Kenny stated. As they no longer could hear their fat friend.
"How long will it take for us to be able to contact him again?," Kyle asked a little eager. He was finally being able to enjoy the presence of Cartman again, and honestly it was hard to admit he did miss it.
"Probably tomorrow," the blonde shrugged laying down on his bed, "maybe we should try asking the goths if they know how to bring a person back from the depths of hell."
"That sounds like a good idea," Stan chimed in.
The three were now determined on bringing Cartman back.
On the other side, Cartman found himself admiring his father's pent house. It had one of the most amazing views of hell. He stared at the window for a brief long period while seeing every store, house, streets, even the small from afar hell citizens.
And don't get him started on his gaming room! There was also a personal gym 'meh' who gives a damn about exercise. He continued looking through the home. Big kitchen, bathroom, room.
Wow, literal heaven.
There was a box full of condoms on one of the kitchen counters which his dad immediately hid when he found the boy inspecting the area.
He followed behind him with his arms cross on his back, he liked how much Eric was admiring his success with those big innocent looking eyes, though he knew deep inside that image, he was a little devil just like his mother. Both innocent looking yet easy to sugarcoat someone into giving them what they want, making them devilish.
He remembered venting with pride to his son Scott about being a Denver bronco and the games his won, all the attention he received because of it looking for praise from him, but received none but a small nod while he presided on listening to music. Maybe because he was a teen and no longer interested in hearing about their parents accomplishments and tales.
But Eric, oh small little Eric found everything he did amusing and exciting! He enjoyed that.
"Okay, uh.. Jack?," the boy spoke, uncertain what to call him.
"You can call me dad," The redhead added too quickly, he 'tsch' silently.
It went silent again. Jack figured it'll be a matter of time for things to settle down and fix on it's own.
Cartman had his mouth slightly agape staring at his father trying to pick on any slight hint of bluff in him. But found none. 'No one wanted to be his dad' no one dare tried to be.
Jack was starting to feel a little uncomfortable 'maybe it was too soon?' Before the boy spoke up.
"O-okay, dad," he said with a flat line as his mouth.
That word just felt so cursed coming out of his mouth.
Jack beamed.
[...]
A whole week has passed and the boys were no longer able to contact Cartman. Kyle began to worry if something must have happened to his idiotic friend while in search of an exit from hell.
They had failed miserably to summon Cartman back. Tried the various forms the goths have told them to do. But nothing worked. And now they had lost the only connection they had towards him, Cartman was just too much to bring back he supposed.
Stan had suggested that it may be because he was too fat to fit in any of the portals made. He found that funny cause it was most likely to happen.
He sigh.
The boys decided to just start looking for a new replacement. As they had already gripped on the idea on the other boy's return being less possible.
So here he was. Being the one chosen to pick the new Eric Cartman.
"So why again do I have to pick him?," he asked with a frown expression, having cupped his cheek with the palm of his hand.
"Because, the new Cartman has to be able to keep up with you," Stan stated the obvious.
Kyle raised a brow by that, "What's that supposed to mean?."
"It means, that if he were to be put in a stupid situation where he pissed you off enough to riled you up, then he must be able to budge through with it."
"Doubt it," He said bored. He wasn't interested in finding a new Cartman, he wanted his Cartman back. Their Cartman back.
"Okay, kid. You got the rules?," Stan questioned, eyeing a brunette chubby boy. His name was Tobias. The boy tilted his head not as sure.
"So.. I just can't fight back?," he asked displeased, wrinkling his nose. 'Kinda like cartman' Kyle thought.
"No. You fight back in a sketchy scheme to bite back at Kyle," Kenny explained balancing a pencil with his mouth, "you just let Kyle beat you up."
"But- that's not fair! How can I just let this dude just beat me up?."
Kyle was just standing next to him eyeing the boy. Already annoyed by this interaction. A good start he supposed.
"Dude, it's Kyle you just-" Stan gripped the bridge of his nose to calm himself down, "look, you be an ass, then Kyle beats you up for it. Get it? That's how their dynamic works."
Still not reassured by the answer the boy looked at Kyle in a stance for a fight.
Kyle then did a stance, about to prepare punching the kid. But before even giving him a throw, the boy flinched and cover himself up with his arms.
"Damn, what a pussy," Stan said.
"Ay! I ain't no pussy!," he shouted, his fist were clenched, and his cheeks were red with embarrassment, frowning his face.
"Go on," Kenny tune in, finally fully focusing on the boy, an eye brow raised.
"W-well.. you guys are a bunch of assholes! Fuck you guys!."
"Okay, okay," the blonde boy raised his hands, grinning from ear to ear, "and what am I?," he closed his eyes putting a hand in one of his ears waiting for the correct answer.
"A poor piece of shit!," the boy in question exclaimed, "you're a stupid hippie. That only -" he points at Stan. And continued bashing on all three of us.
Stan and Kenny were grinning widely while Kyle felt a little sting is his chest.
They found their Cartman.
[...]
Cartman on the other hand had been laying down on the living room couch, with a very thin blanket as the environment he was in was already quite warm. Atleast for what his father had explained to him. The weather is only based on just two season changes. Summer and 'winter'. Summer is burning hell, winter it's freezing hell as if it were wanting to snow in literal hell, but it never does. Ofcourse, they were in summer when he had arrived, and it'll be like that for the next eight months.
The TV was on and it was kinda late at night for what he supposed called 'hell hour'. Their night time.
His eyelids were half lifted, tired. He won't deny the first few days spending time with his dad we're great, with the exception of the crappy so called 'food' he made, it was just too.. let's say bland 'healthy'. Unlike his mom's amazing cooking nothing could compare. But he had adapted to it very quickly as Jack had promised him to go out for some yummy foods as a 'treat'. He supposed he could endure the torture for a couple more days as long as he was still able to play with all his video games.
But the more the clock ticks the more bored he gets, the more un-patience he gets. Jack also wasn't always home compared to his mother. He had work, and had explained to him this is how he owns such nice things and keeps things in check under 'their' rooftop. He was barely home, and not only that he'd come back with lady friends and takes them to bed with him, claiming they were there for business. What he's not aware of, is that he's already very familiar with the so called 'business' before. His mother has finally mellow down on it but this prick doesn't seem on ending it anytime soon as some college freshman.
He had guessed his former wife had ended up in heaven as she is no longer in the picture and the man never mentions her. Taking this as a opportunity to sleep around with as many women he could get, just like with his mother. He frown by the thought.
He sigh, as he knows better than to knock on the grown man's door. He knew he had taken a lady friend with him inside, he didn't even bother glancing at him before taking her inside. So he layyed there. In that silent room, all by himself hearing the TV noises slowly being blocked by his brain.
He missed south park.
He missed his friends, and his bitch of a mom.
He closed his eyes. And then he jolted back up.
'That's it!' He exclaimed to himself.
He went through all the pages of the books Jack had brought, claiming they could 'help' which he never bother bringing up again cause he was distracting Eric with other cool more interesting stuff than returning him back to South park. For Eric's surprise they were a bunch of cooking recipes 'nothing of actual use!', he frown angrily. 'That motherfucker!' Literally.
He quietly tip toe to another shelf and started going through each individual book but found nothing. He was getting desperate as he was wondering how could Jack keep that information from him when it was literally the whole reason he found him for.
Then, when he was about to give up a green book had ended up smacking his head 'ow!', it had fell from above the shelf. But there was something special about that book that made him peek inside. There was code written in the back part of the book. He wondered where to use it for but was immediately answered as he look at the front cover. It was the best hint.
He slowly open the front door to sneak out and successfully do so. He ran trough each hall way of that huge building and had entered the elevator tapping a button for the ground floor.
He waited patiently, and had entered the shallow hallway. The book was titled 'room fith'.
He open the room and for his luck, it was opened. Everything was empty, a plain green painted room. He stood there confused thinking in 'what' he had calculated wrong.
Before 'snap!' The ground open immediately letting him fall straight into some cushions. The fall didn't feel so deep. But the whole secrecy makes it all skeptical, as if there's something to hide.
He looked around the small room, it was adorned with many satanic symbols, candles, glasses with sand and there were plenty of papers spread in the floors like rituals. He examine each one and approach the table that had many finished and unfinished work. Building plans, maps from areas of hell he hasn't heard of. He figured this was all work of his father as he can recall his writing from the small notes he had left him in the counter before heading for work explaining how to use certain things of the kitchen and wishing him a 'have a nice hell day' before adding 'you're not allowed to go outside'. Kinda controlling not gonna lie.
He flipped through plans and saw many other rituals of summoning. Who knows, he may be able to summon Kyle here? He snorted of the thought of pissing his friend off by bringing him to hell.
But then stop his tracks when he looked under the table to find a small safe, his eyes widen at the revelation 'this is it! This is were he's supposed to add the code.'
"What're you doing there champ?."
He jolted scared turning into the opposite direction.
Jack was smirking slightly while having his arms cross.
"Guess you're enjoying the tour huh," he approached slowly stopping three steps away from Eric.
The boy gulped felling this huge uneasy felling between them, sweating uncontrollably. He felt small for the first time in his whole life, looking at the older man's eyes.
Before being knocked out.
[...]
He opened his eyes and felt his arms tied to a wooden surface unable to move, he notice once adjusting his vision that he was in fact tied up in a chair. He freaked out, this feels oddly familiar.
He then turned his gaze upwards looking straight ahead. Seeing his father sitting down in a couch from that same room, arms were cross around his chest, man spreading but his gaze was straight towards him. He gulped once more. 'He really looks like Scott right now'.
Jack immediately lightened up once he saw Eric awake, he then proceeded to speak.
"Oh, Eric you're awake!," he beamed, forcing a cheerful tone. He didn't want the boy to realize how disappointed he was for catching him trying to escape, "look, Eric, I'm not gonna hurt you," he tried justifying his actions while he stood up.
"You knock me out and tied me into a chair you crazy bitch!."
"BECAUSE someone decided to bash in a forbidden area," Jack defended, he disliked the naming but bit his tongue.
"Cause you lied to me of helping me get out! Those books you brought were all cooking recipes!."
"Well, yes, they will be of help once you're older, champ! I didn't lie," the red head continued explaining while searching through his drawer, "Eric I want you to know that I'm just doing this for the best for you."
The boy remained silent which gave Tenorman the opportunity to continue reasoning.
"I want you to be able to accomplish your goals, I want you to become successful and I want you to be able to follow my steps in hell."
"What? Fuck that! I don't want to be a business man!."
"Eric, I see so much potential in you and have no plans on letting you waste it like your brother."
Eric froze by the mentioned of Scott.
"Unless you'd prefer ending up living in a old dusty hotdog like your mother lead you too?," Jack said with a blank face showing a couple of prints that had many, and I meant many incidents involving Cartman, "When you first approached me, that same night I made a huge search and found so much information on you, Eric, so, so much. You're quite a special boy," he added with a little hum.
"Scott has lost all his marbles, and as hard it is to admit it. I don't see him giving a good name for the Tenormans."
"Fuck the Tenormans! I'm no Tenorman!."
"But you are, Eric," there was a glint of greed in those eyes, something that made Eric's skin scrawled, "in fact, you're more of a Tenorman than a Cartman," he took out a scrapbook from the left side of his drawer.
He flipped through it and stopped in one, deciding to show the boy what was in it.
It was a old newspaper with a young man, probably in his mid-thirties he had ginger looking features but it looked like him, a way older version of him. He had a smirk on while being dragged by cops in the picture, his features resemble pure chaotic vibes. You just knew by seeing a glance of this man, he was trouble.
The article had titled 'psycho man rigged presidential election'. Eric gulped again.
"That's your great grandfather," he then picked up another of his prints, "you know who also tried rigging a presidential election?," Jack added smirking while showing a picture of Cartman and the head of Disney along of millions of election votes.
He then showed him another article, he so called great grandfather was standing next to three other boys picking on one in peculiar, he supposed a friend. He seemed jewish as he had a star of david necklace on him. This article had nothing too chaotic on it, they just use those four teens as an example of 'what not to be'.
Then his dad showed him a picture of his three friends and himself. One where he was in fact, taunting his jewish friend.
He sigh.
"Okay? That means nothing! I want to get back home!."
"That's the thing, Eric, you're not," Jack said, calming placing delicately the scrap on top of the drawer, "I'm protecting you, by the evil of yourself, the evil of your great grandfather's soul on you and the evil of your mother's influence," he pointed, sitting back down comfortably in the couch.
"I'll actually put of good use of your skill and potentials, someone like you Eric should always waste their potential in something actually beneficial than to just fuck around with," Jack lit up a cigar while he continued his rant, "that's what your great grandfather did wrong, and that's what you're doing wrong. Putting your motives and desires into unbeneficial things, un important things. And for what? Just for a three second laugh before being dragged away to jail or to a 'pyscho ward'?," he denied with his head looking at his expensive shoes, smiling after emphasizing his last sentence.
"You mother fucker.." Eric murmured finally realized what the ginger meant, Jack smirked in understanding, "Scott.. he didn't just go crazy because of what I did, he was already going crazy before I enter his life I just pushed him forward to actually snap!," the boy exclaimed scared.
"Ding ding ding!," Jack nodded happily, "see, you're very smart."
Cartman really wanted to go, run away and hide himself under the warm covers of his bed, under his mother's care far away from this crazy bitch!
Jack had left claiming he'd get him some food.
There he was just sitting there afraid, he really prayed for a miracle, just one more miracle in literal hell!
He closed his eyes tight trying to imagine himself being just trapped in a really bad nightmare.
The boy found the switch in personalities amusing, as it were so sudden and unexpected. In a blink of an eye the man that was seen as a caring cool father turned into a crazy psychotic lunatic! He really started missing his mom.
He felt himself uncomfortable felling the ropes being sunken in his flesh, hurting him and he felt having cramps in his calves, it hurted like hell and he couldn't do anything about it. He began crying outta desperation.
Then, he felt a buzz in his ears once more 'guys?'
His eyes lit up.
"Is there someone there?," he asked sniffing his snot back inside as it was running down his mouth.
"Cartman?."
"Kyle?," the brunette boy smile, 'there was still hope after all!'
"Kahl! You gotta help me! Kahl!," the boy cried with no shame. It isn't unusual for him to seek help from his ginger friend when he had fucked up and needed help solving it, "I can't! I'm all tied up and I-I-! Bwaaahh!!!," he cried louder.
"Okay, Cartman calm down!," his friend responded, "what happened? Is everything okay?."
"No! Nothings okay you stupid fuck!," the chubby boy eyes were all puffed up and red, while he felt his throat dry up, "this fucker lied to me! He lieeed!"
"Who lied to you?," he didn't hear Kyle ask as he cut him off continuing explaining his current situation.
"I need help! I'm tied up in 'jak n off' hotel in room five the ground floor! I'm at the bottom!," He cried once again, between breaths he hold back tears, he was freaking out. He was scared, and he was alone.
Then snapped back nervously when he heard a door open from behind him.
"Hey, Eric. I got you some grilled cheese sandwiches in hopes for you to cheer up a bit, my little future super star," said Jack beaming mimicking his mother's tone, it had sent shivers down the boy's spine, "I don't want you gaining too much weight though, or you'll be seen as a piggy for the rest of your life. And no one, likes, pigs."
"Cartman? Are you still there? Cartman!?," he heard his friend's voice.
He remained silent not trying to reveal his last only solution outta this mess, blocking also Tenorman's hurtful words.
"Why Eric! Look at you, you look like a mess," Jack put the sandwiches aside while running to his drawer and taking out a box of tissues and wipes. He then approached the boy and started wiping his face. Cleaning all remaining leftover tears and the snot that had started to dry up in his mouth.
[...]
"Dude, how the hell are we gonna go find Cartman if he's in hell," Stan exclaimed confused about his best friend's claims.
"The only solution is one of us dying," Kyle said with a frown, determinant on finding cartman.
"Dude!?," the latter responded with a brow raised and his arms raised in 'wtf', "dude I don't want to die! There's so much I want to do" looking at the ground thinking about the thousands of board games he hasn't played yet.
"Yeah, me neither!," exclaimed, Tobias.
Kenny remained silent staring at the red head.
"No one has to die, but me," Kyle spoke, he lowered his gaze. He knew it was risky, "I'm offering myself to do it," but it was worth the shot.
"Kyle that's the most crazy shit I've ever heard you say!."
"It's the only way! Nothing else has worked!."
"No, I'll do it."
The three boys turned their head towards Kenny. He had a frown and he seemed to not fear losing anything. Cause he wouldn't.
Kenny had already tried getting back into hell, dying various times to see if he could find Cartman but for some reason he hasn't been able to get a hold of the underground world. Waking back to life the next day. As in some sorta temporary limbo.
"That's okay, Kenny," Kyle reassured with a smile," I know you have your siblings to care of.. and well, I know Ike would have my mom and dad to take care of him, just in case I don't come back."
"Kyle, I'll do it. Eric is my best friend after all," Kyle's words was heartwarming but he wasn't gonna risk losing another friend.
Kyle frown reconsidering it. He then proceeded to nod.
They had left the Marsh residence as they wanted to be as far as possible from any witnesses, they went inside the weed 'garden'.
They found a solid ground far away from the farm. Atleast enough for a bullet to not be able to hear from a distance.
They got into a circle and Kenny stood in middle of the three.
He took the gun out, and pulled the trigger with not even a second thought. But there was nothing, just a small click everytime he pulled the trigger.
"What the fuck?," the blond asked confused looking up at Kyle.
"Sorry, Kenny I couldn't let you do that," his friend stated before pulling out a gun out of his jacket and pointed at his head 'that crazy son of a bitch' Kenny thought eyes wide open in panic, "here goes nothing," 'BANG' was all he heard before hearing the other two boys scream.
"Kyle no!," Stan shouted with his hands gripped into his head staring at his now dead friend, his face covered in Kyle's blood, "Jesus christ!!."
"Holy fuck," the brunette boy said horrified, "you guys are crazy! I no longer want to be part of this stupid group!," he screamed horrified before dashing away no longer looking back.
[...]
"¡AHHH!," Kyle found himself screaming while falling straight into what it seems to be lava. He looked upwards meeting with a pair of people staring at him. Is he really in hell right now? Fuck, he needed to start behaving once he's back in south park. He got up and managed to get out of the pit with ease.
He looked around, people forming circles partying here and there. There was lights everywhere even though it was pretty much lit already. Stores, buildings even food stands. 'No wonder that fat fuck didn't complain about being hungry' he thought to himself. Hell didn't seem bad at all! Well with the exception of the public torture displayed in front of him, he didn't seemed to mind it as much as he felt he should. What the literal hell?
He went to what appeared to be a big wooden cartel for new hell residents with the instructions on how to get back in their feet and their new purposes and do's, 'fuck that', he went where there was a map with all the locations needed to know. Also, pamphlets. He picked one and opened it. He recall Cartman mentioning a hotel called 'jak n off' and pursued following the directions given.
He then stood in front of a yellow building.
Okay, first instruction checked. Now, room fifth of the ground floor. But he stopped before doing any further action. He recalled his friend claiming there was someone with him 'what if they're still there?' He thought before considering a different approach.
Meanwhile...
"Holy shit, Kenny! What do we do!?," Stan said in panic, gesturing the other boy's dead body.
"Okay, Stan. Just listen carefully," the blonde had his right hand as a 'stop' gesturing to calm down.
He saw his friend breathing heavily, closing his eyes trying to regulate his heartbeat and breathing.
'he's just a crazy as Cartman!' That realization made the boy's eyes widen, "Holy shit," He spoke, now gripping into Kenny shoulders while the other boy flinched by the sudden action, "that was just as crazy level as Cartman!," he exclaimed his concerns.
Kenny loosen up from the grip before picking Kyle's body from head to shoulder. He gesture with his head for the other boy to help him with the other half.
Stan hesitated a bit but followed through.
"Fuck."
[...]
"Hmhm hmm!," Jack nodded repeatedly when he had finished re-dressing his off spring. He had bought him a little business suite the other day but had found this time appropriate to give.
The boy had refused and complained when the man attempted to take his clothes off but then failed immediately from his strength. 'Something beneficial from being a Denver bronco' he thought. He proceeded to submit.
Once back tied in the chair, his father turned him around being front of a large mirror.
'Ofcourse he was handsome' but he did not like being force to do things against his own will.
"Eric Tenorman," the man spoke with pride, "doesn't that just sound right?."
Eric gulped. He hated that name.
"Look at you, looking like a professional business man already!," he beamed again, "I'll be right back I'm gonna go fetch some wine."
"When are you planning to untie me!?," the boy wince when he saw a spider slowly going down on him.
A laugh as it were a joke was made, "oh, Eric," he then walked out.
None long after he had heard a loud 'thump' from behind him, he looked instead in the mirror and his eyes widen of excitement.
"Kahal!"
"Cartman?," the boy asked while standing up, he had fallen down from the cushions, ass straight to the ground, "Holy shit, dude! You alright?," he asked approaching him, he proceeded to untie the boy.
Kyle looked around a bit and proceeded to look at the boy that was stretching his back. He heard some cracking and popping.
'He looked like shit'
"We have to get outta here!," Cartman said before dragging Kyle from hand to hand outta the dark room. He was grateful he manage to see how his father summoned a door. But he stopped returning to the safe and grabbing the book and papers that were in there, once again gripping onto Kyle's hands dragging him out.
Once they were safe. They had ran out of the building, running towards the entrance of hell through the amount of new people that had arrived, and found themselves hidden behind 'Sussie's Buttocks' club.
Cartman sigh and Kyle just watched him with a frown brow.
With out further warning Cartman hugged the boy tight leaving Kyle speechless tensing his shoulders and his hands were up in the air unable to figure out if to correspond or just let the boy finish. He decided the second option.
"Thank you, Kyle! You came! I can't believe it!."
The boy loosen up the tension he had felt on his shoulders and just kept silent, letting his arch rival embrace him with his warmth. He could feel Cartman's rapid heart beat.
"Just so you know, I'm just here cause I couldn't stand your replacement," he said finally getting out of the boy's grip.
"Ay! You guys replace me already!?," Cartman protested angry while pouting.
The ginger smirked. With out realizing he felt himself hugging the boy tight. 'Fuck, he actually missed him', he buried his head under Cartman's shoulders as he felt him tense.
Kyle then let go, gazing at Cartman who had his eyes widen and the most heated red cheeks, mouth agape 'he looked gay' he thought. The boy then proceeded to lean towards him causing Cartman to panic as he weakly slapped him backwards snapping him out to his senses.
"Okay so who are we hiding from?," the red head spoke while he dust off the dirt on his jacket.
"Jack Tenorman."
Kyle's attention back to Cartman, in shock, "your dad?."
He nodded before vomiting. Everthing was all so overwhelming. Everthing his father revealed, his great grandfather and how home sick he felt, how much he missed his friends and mom. His insides twisted as he felt shivers all over him.
He made sure to point at Kyle's seamlessly new shoes though
"Ow gross, dude!."
[...]
Kenny found himself desperately wanting to go to hell but no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't. As if there were something blocking him by going.
He sigh, legs crossed next to Kyle's rotten body, flies piling up around him. He and Stan had hid themselves in Randy's shed. They weren't certain if to burry him or not so they toss him in there while both took turns checking outside for any future witnesses which they failed miserably because Stan's dad had went for a quick smoke hidding from Sharon, and looked at them, glancing at both boys before looking at Kyle 'ohhh' he murmured, both brows were raised before closing the door slowly, leaving.
Kenny then took out the ouija board and place it in the ground. Might aswell try to contact Kyle.
"Any luck?," Stan asked wincing from the smell that was coming out of his best friend.
"No," Kenny tried cutting some more blood out of his wrist, carefully not making the wound any deeper. They needed a living mortal's blood to be able to contact the dead.
"Do you think he went to heaven?."
"Nah, man. You really think one of us will end up there after the amount of shit we've down?," he had went to heaven before but it was a one time thing, after he started simply caring less about his deaths he became bolder and is no longer admitted into heaven.
Besides he recalled Kyle unintentionally killing a bunch of Canadians that was enough reason to be sent to hell.
"Good point."
Cartman and Kyle found themselves looking through rituals and plans, they inspected the book while Kyle flipped through pages then stopped pointing at one.
"Here 'lay the one and only chosen one for the path to open, a bright light as blindfold being turned to one'," then continued reading the next paragraph, " 'the second gripped to life, will become sacrifice to give light as they are two'."
"What's that supposed to mean?."
"As they are two.." Kyle reread trying to add sense to what was written, brows knitted together, "that's it," He said looking at the drawings of two men one represented death, the other life. While life was seen switching places with death.
He flipped through the rest of the pages reading new paragraphs and prophecies.
'Misplace the two bounded souls and fear it's wrath between worlds, as they are one'
'Life and death which are shown to be bounded by a soul'
'Death is life, life is death, a curse forming in between them as the new bounded soul is created'
He flipped through the next page and eyes widen. It was a drawing of Kenny and Cartman. 'Holy shit'
"Did you find anything?," Cartman asked while laying down on his stomach, making paper airplanes with the loose pages that were spread on the floor as he had gotten bored.
"Well, there you are my special little boy."
Both boys gasped turning around while they got up, Kyle having gripped the book on his chest. He walked backwards placing an arm on Cartman backing away slowly shielding him
'Cartman was our way out' he told himself, justifying his actions as if it were the first time he found himself protecting the fat fuck. Which it wasn't.
Jack stood there with his arms crossed behind his back, grinning eyeing the book then looking back at Kyle.
"I see you brought a friend to play, Eric," he took a pistol out from the inside of his suite pocket.
Both dashed outta there running through the multiple people that were all formed in circles. Hearing Tenorman shout from a far 'Ay! come back here!'
'Like father like son'.
Kyle panted hardly while trying to grasp some air, Cartman was knocked out cold on the floor. Hopefully they were far enough from Tenorman.
A buzzing feeling in his ear caught his attention, he held it because of the intense pain it did as if that were gonna stop it. Blood trailing down his cheek he looked at the hand he had held himself with 'my ear is bleeding'.
"Kyle?," the boy in question jolted.
"Kenny!?"
"Dude finally! We were worried sick for you!."
"Is he there? Kyle? Are you there!? You crazy piece of shit! Jesus christ!," Stan chimed in," are you alright? Did you find Cartman?."
"Yeah, he's right here," he looked at the boy that was now trying to stand up. He offered a hand while the boy reached out and was pull up to his feet again. He looked tired, uncharacteristically tired. It gave Kyle an uneasy feeling as he remembered what he had read 'Misplace the two bounded souls and fear it's wrath between worlds, as they are one' he assumed Cartman may be 'life'.
"Okay cool, have you guys find a way out?."
"Is that the hippie?," Cartman asked finally paying attention to the buzzy feeling of his own ears.
"Yeah.." Kyle whispered more to himself than to anyone else, "Kenny?"
"Yeah? I'm here dude."
"Look this is gonna sound crazy but,"
'Bang'
"¡AAH!," Kyle looked at Cartman who had screamed in horror, then looked at his now wounded chest half lifted eyes before feeling his legs weakened.
'Fuck' was the only thing that came out before knocking out on the floor.
'Kyle!?'
'Kyle!?'
'Kyle!'
The boy slowly felt himself waking up by the sound of Stan's voice rumbling in his ears. He grunted, feeling sharp pains in his chest were he was previously shot, but managed to stand up.
He looked at his hands an feet, then his chest. It seemed to have healed as if it never happened 'had he dreamt it?' He looked around and found himself in the entrance of hell once more. Cartman was no longer at sight.
"Fuck," he frown 'this was being dragged too much', "Kenny, are you there?."
"Yeah man, what happened? We lost you for like an hour!."
"An hour? Holy shit.. okay, Kenny. I'm not crazy but I think you're 'death'."
"What."
"Yeah. I have a satanic looking book on me that has you drawn in here stating that you're bound into a soul."
"W-what?.."
"Yeah.. as crazy as it sounds but you're bonded. Not only are you bounded but to Cartman of all people."
"What!?," he heard both friends shout in unison.
"Look I don't know much for sure, but that's what I've gotten from what's written here. It says we need both of you to be able to get out."
"But how? I'm not allowed in hell."
"What?," he found himself confused by that comment but shrugged it off, "look 'the chosen soul must be into one of understanding to open a door through life and death' i- I honestly got lost by that point," Kyle admitted nodding to himself.
" 'The chosen soul must be into one of understanding to open a door through life and death..'," Kenny found himself repeating the words. He frowned.
Cartman and him were bounded.. but how? But why? Life and death. If he was death that makes Cartman life. Which having him in the underworld makes it not possible to be 'life'.
Death.. death is life. Which would makes sense if he were to die and revive.
Would that mean switching places with Cartman? As he found himself in life and he in death. All this is messing up his mind.
Would that mean what's been blocking him from both heaven and hell and keeping him in a sorta limbo state is because he's slowly becoming life? And Cartman..
'fuck'
"Kenny?," Stan's voice snapped him back.
"We need to find a way to bring Cartman back and quick!."
The chubby boy felt his body weakened while he was carried by his father. He had taken him to the rooftop of the building he owned while gripping tight with steel chains his wrists and legs into some torture table he had put there.
Half lifted eyes stared to the ground. He felt like shit.
His father stood there with clasped hands eyeing him everywhere as he was some golden trophy, as he were just waiting for something. But he couldn't grasp what it was.
"Did I ever mentioned you that Liane was part of a cult?," spoke Jack.
Cartman just kept silent as he began coughing badly.
The grown man walked towards him taking out a tissue from his pocket cleaning some of the trail blood he had cough out 'the fuck!?'
"When I first met your mother it wasn't at some stupid party your town folks had told you about. I met her in a cult meeting. I was young and was told they will be free booze," He reveal while fixing the boys now untied tie, "we felt attraction immediately and bonded over the fact that we were both there for booze, laugh it off and things just lead to an other," continued while shrugging.
Cartman found himself feeling his muscles spasm.
"I'm the good guy Eric! I would've never asked for this to have happen to you if I knew," he then place his hand onto his chest as an innocent demeanor, "your mother is to blame."
"The thing is, unlike me, Liane ended up getting too into the cult meeting and had unintentionally set herself up with two other soon to be parents, she had dragged me in, unaware of what would happened. She found it silly and fun and I found it a little creepy but followed through cause I was just too wasted to care about the odd rituals the other members were putting us in 'everthing for a piece of that' I kept telling myself."
The boy cut him off he began to have various seizures that lasted for up to three seconds before repeating itself, he felt his mouth grasping for air and being choked by his own saliva. His fingers twitched and his feet curled.
"And then, months after, you were born," unfazed the man wiped the saliva off his cheeks, "ofcourse by the time you were born I had no longer any contact with Liane and that so called meeting became a fuzzy memory for me."
"But, Eric," he approached the boy, face to face, "this, it's life changing," the boy heard while still trying to grasp for air, his vision long gone as it became blurry.
"Imagine, a Tenorman being able to switch in between worlds! Being able to use this curse and becoming one of the most powerful beings on both worlds," He ranted for himself, with every word being said his eyes dilated. Malicious, greed, selfishness surfacing, "not being able to die! HaHA! We'd be unstoppable!."
'Bang'
Tenorman fell into the floor.
Kyle then reloaded his shotgun while two other boys stood next to him.
"Stan help me with Cartman!," Kenny order running towards the almost unconscious boy. Stan nodded following.
They had manage to summon Satan while being in the upper world. Luckily Satan owed Stan a favor and it was just all convenient.
They managed to release Cartman by pressing a button that was place under the table with the label 'release' on it.
Kenny held the boy who convulsions worsened.
"Eric can you hear me?."
"K-kinny? Dammit kinny! Get out my death sequence," the boy complained even though his eyes looked elsewhere.
"You're not gonna die fat boy! You're already in hell."
"Oh, right," His body stiffened trying his best to take control but failed miserably once more, "how's it going?."
The comment made the blonde boy cracked a smile, "look Eric," he gently caress cartman's hair.
'That's gay' he heard the boy remark but ignored it.
"It'll be hard to believe this.. but I die," Kenny revealed, "like all the time," he sigh, feeling the glances of his other two friends on him.
"I know."
Kenny's eyes widen, "no, like I mean it, I die all the time!."
"I know," his chubby friend frown feeling stupid by hearing his best friend seemingly finding it hard for him to remember the obvious. And because of the condition he's in 'duh' he didn't feel like arguing, "I can tell you death by death, each and single one with detail and date."
Kenny was left with his mouth opened, speechless, he couldn't believe it. 'Is he really telling the truth or is he fucking with me?' All this time he's been looking for someone atleast one person that could remember. And he was there all along infront of him, someone he least expected.
"And you didn't bother on telling me!?," Kenny said angry, he felt his eyes water.
Cartman twitch in his arms, "nobody seemed to mentioned anything, and you never asked. I figured it may have been a bad dream or not as important cause nobody seem to believe me the few times I did mention it, they all looked at me weird as it I we're delusional," the boy admitted.
Now that he thought about it. The times he has admitted to someone about his curse, Cartman was never present. Which meant he had never given the opportunity to answer him. And when he mentioned it he was either dead or not around to tell.
Like if it were intentional for both boys to not be able to share this moment until now.
"You know what's messed up?," cartman's voice snapped him back, he had a weak smile plastered, "I began to be so use to it, it was easy to use your deaths. Like the time you were in the death bed or the time I had convinced everyone it would be best to disconnect you to have your psp, or being able to better my vision stealing one of your eyes, I knew you'd come back, you always did."
Kenny's eyes sparked in amusement 'he really did remember'.
"But the first few times.. kinny they were horrifying, I still feel uneasy but it isn't as before," his body twitch some more while he complained about the pain in his arms and legs, "I remember the rats eating your flesh, I remember trying to shoo them away cause you still weren't dead."
Kenny watched his friend with such warmth as if it were a cute tale he was retelling.
"The time Kyle killed you with a chainsaw," 'I what?' They heard their ginger friend asked confused but ignored it, "being killed by a bull, eaten by some pterodactyl, by oral sex, squished, run over," the boy shaked, the pain decreasing the more closer he got to kenny. On the other hand kenny was feeling immense warmth in his chest, like literal fire. 'Hell, It's really burning!'
Kenny remembered always being close in a certain way with Cartman, they even were once trapped together by his soul because the stupid idiot had eaten his ashes.
He glance down at Cartman who had let his head fall into his lap, smiling. 'This was kinda gay' he thought.
He felt the boy latching on to him, and he won't deny he felt the sudden urge to do the same which he unintentionally did. The burning sensation in his chest increased the pain, becoming unbearable 'fuuuuuck!'
On the other hand Cartman never felt more peaceful in Kenny's arms, he felt like he was in the clouds and couldn't recall why the sensation just felt like he was falling but there was no fear of an impact just comfort with in the clouds and sky.
Stan and Kyle didn't bare interrupt the two boys as they knew it was needed to get out and Kenny knew how to do it but they couldn't help feeling a little discomfort as this felt intimate and private. Atleast for Stan it wasn't displeasing just disturbing while with Kyle it was the opposite. He found the boys sudden closeness displeasing he just didn't know why.
Sudden the back door sling open reveling Jack. Kyle prepared his gun and pointed at him making him stop in his tracks.
"You guys don't know what're you're doing! Fuck, ¡no!," He exclaimed once he saw Kenny holding on to Cartman and vice-versa. He knew there was no longer takes back as their ritual bound was already in the stages of ending.
The two boys burst into flames seemingly showing no response to it. Atleast from Cartman's part, internally for Kenny it was a pain in the ass but he didn't show it. Sweat begin to pop up in his skin and his nails digged up in Cartman's suit, wincing his eyes shut.
Their silloette formed a door which proceeded to opened.
"Dude! I think it's the portal!," Stan exclaimed getting near it, while Kyle shot Tenorman in the head once more before following Stan. Not after glancing at Kenny and Cartman before jumping through the portal.
Cartman then layyed down flat finally letting go of Kenny. The blonde watched him while he started twisting in pain 'this is it' he then looked at Cartman, suddenly understanding before proceeding to enter the portal, finally vanishing.
Kenny sigh as he turned into ashes finally dying.
[...]
"Morning dudes," Kenny salute, beaming. He was in a good mood after all.
"Sup Kenny," Stan greeted.
"Hey Kenny," Kyle added.
"Cartman hasn't arrived yet?."
"That fat fuck probably forgot to turn his alarm on," the red head spoke with a yawn.
"Or, he did set an alarm but ignored it," Stan added.
"Either sound possible."
Not long after Cartman got on the bus greeting them.
"Hey dipshits!," he proceeded to take a seat next to Kenny who grinned at him, "so how you guys dealing after the hell incident?," he asked.
Stan and Kyle just raised a brow confused.
"What're you talking about, fatass?," Kyle then added while frowning not wanting to deal with Cartman's shit again this early in the morning.
"Yeah, dude, you alright?," Stan chimed in.
Kenny stared at Cartman still beaming while he saw the bigger boy's face turned in disbelief.
"Dude! I literally died a horrible death not long ago! Remember? Hell!? Kyle you literally went to save me!," he screamed.
"Did he also came in a shining armor?," Stan teased while both best friends, then, howl in laughter.
Cartman pouted bitterly. Kenny put a hand on his shoulder understanding well enough the feeling. The boy glance at him.
"Welcome to the club," he smiled.
Cartman looked up at the two boys infront of him that still found themselves laughing then looked at Kenny, smiling back.
"This sucks ass."
They both chuckled.
[...]
Kyle found himself approaching Cartman while they were entering the school entrance.
"Hey, fatass."
"What up," the fat boy answered while he took out his phone.
"About me saving you did I also bring a sword?," he bite his upper lip before bursting into laughter.
"Ha ha very funny Kahal," the boy said bitterly, "actually not only did you showed up in a shining armor, a sword, but you also kissed me on the lips as I was the damsel in distress." honestly was not the best combat but it was the first thing that came into spot. He wasn't planning to let Kyle have the last word after feeling still bitter about the red head not recalling the previous events.
Kyle was left baffled by that. For some reason Cartman's stupidity was beyond compression but the mystical accusation left him speechless.
Cartman had already proceeded on leaving to class but Kyle just stood there blank hearing a small noise in his ears that kinda sounded like 'hootie and the blowfish'.
In class Kenny had both his hands clenched, excited. He never felt more happy knowing someone does remember! Not only that, but the bound ritual just made their bound strengthen, as he watched Cartman knowing the other boy felt the same. He knew the feelings were true cause he felt it, they both felt each other when their soul united once more 'as gay as that sounds'. Cartman looked back at him sharing that same beaming felling before returning to bother Wendy interrupting her speech with slurs an unwanted opinions.
He always felt alone knowing no one remember him dying, an as much as he had his moments despising Cartman there was now this warmth comforting feeling that someone other than him knew, even if it were a bigot like Cartman. It's not like he could complain much after all, they will be forever bounded by a soul so there's no preventing being connected to one an other.
But he'd care less, he wasn't alone no more.
He smiled once again, he's been feeling all giggly all morning, he just couldn't help it. He was happy and today was just a nice super fantastic day.
School had ended as the bell rang.
The four boys walked with each other discussing what they'll do this evening as a squad.
"What about boar-"
"Stan, I swear to God if you say 'board games' once more I'll kill myself," Cartman interrupted by grunting.
Stan frowned.
"No offense dude, but Cartman's right. We've been playing boards games three times in a row for weeks," Kyle chimed in.
Kenny nodded. He knew Stan had developed a new obsession with board games when he moved to the farm and starting hanging out with Tolkien, which we didn't seem to mind much, but it had gotten boring being repeated multiple times everytime they hang out.
"What about cards?," the blonde suggested.
"Same shit," Cartman rolled his eyes with that.
Is that 'hootie and the blowfish' they began hearing in the background?
"Does anyone hear that?," Stan asked looking around.
"No," Kyle quickly stated.
"Anyways, what about basketball?," Cartman suggested while putting his attention on the others, his hands gripped on to his waist.
"You know what? That doesn't sound like a bad idea Cartman," Stan agreed while turning his focus onto Kyle who seemed kinda spaced out.
"Hm?," the boy said before barfing on Cartman.
'BLEEEEARGH!'
"Ah! Gross dude! Wtf Kahl!?," he wince disgusted wiping off the barf from his jacket, "disgusting!," he kept complaining.
"Sorry!."
"Woah dude," Stan exclaimed.
"I think breakfast didn't do me too well," the boy explained while rubbing his stomach, nauseous.
"Fuck you! You're so fucking disgusting!," Cartman kept rambling angry while walking off, seemingly going home, "ew! Screw you guys I'm going home."
"Sorry, Cartman!," Kyle apologized once more before returning his attention to the others, "so is basketball still on the list?."
"Hell yeah."
Cartman not long after joined the other three with a new jacket staying farther away from Kyle claiming that he didn't want the ginger to barf on him again which the boy rolled his eyes from and Stan calling him out a 'pussy' while continuing playing the game.
It was a nice evening with the four boys peacefully enjoying their company as everthing had turned back to normal.
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ablobthatisuseless · 11 months
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hambuger
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baurus · 2 years
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i love how lara goes through gunfire, deadly gas, dizzying heights, near fatal injuries, zombies, trained soldiers and explosions all to rescue sam and then she’s never mentioned ever again. like lara just dumps her and moves on. what’s up with that?? 😵‍💫
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inkskinned · 1 year
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"the curtains weren't blue on purpose. why should we care?"
my love! let me ask you this - did you eat breakfast today? this tiny moment in your life. just think about it. did you?
for some of you, the answer is yes and for some of you it is technically and for some of you it is does coffee count. some of you reached for cereal or gmo-free overnight oats or frozen waffles or 3-day-old pizza. sometimes we eat the same thing, every day, for weeks. i get tired of eggs randomly, only to go back to craving them desperately. i'm cuban; i take my coffee like my father showed me, very milky and sweet.
some of us ate in a hurry. some of us hate eating breakfast but if we don't we will get nauseous later. some of us took our meds first or took our meds after. some of us have a kitchen 5 feet wide and sometimes it's the biggest room in the house. some of us are confident there will be food in the pantry and some of us flinch and say well, the paycheck is coming. some of us turn on a podcast while we eat or we scroll our phones or write in our diaries.
some of us are choosing, specifically, not to eat breakfast. some of us are too busy. some of us are pretending we "just forgot," but we are ignoring the warning signs that everything feels too-heavy. some of us are so consumed with anxiety or grief that we can't eat. some of us can't stand up long enough to make our coffee. some of us have no table to sit down and eat.
i cannot tell you what an artist "meant" by their choices. but they did have to make a choice, conscious or otherwise, to give you information. to give you a little bit more light. each of these choices are little stars of data; connecting speckles for you to weave through, drawing a line.
you cannot use a mirror in a dark room. for some of us; we will not care that the curtains are blue, because that will just be a data point and not enough light to see by. for some of us, the blue curtains will be the same as our childhood bedroom. it will make us seasick. for some of us, blue will be the color of frostbite. it might look like a pixel up close; but from a distance, oh! the picture blooms.
i cannot tell you what will stick out for you. what will carry meaning. some of you will read the sentence "i didn't have breakfast today" and say "this means nothing." some of you will read that and say "oh, me neither." some of you will say "this means the character is probably a little grouchy." some of you will say "oh, i wonder if they're okay. why didn't they eat anything?" ... art is a mirror. i am holding hands with you, over space and time, and asking you to feel something with me.
i want you to read my work and find a blue pair of curtains. i want you to read my work and find things in it that i never imagined placing. i have no way of knowing what will resonate with you, that's true. and maybe i just was hungry while i wrote this, and thinking about the eggs in my fridge. but if you found meaning, that meaning is yours. it cannot be erased just because i didn't "intend" it. you created a different world by interpreting my work. it's collaborative! that's beautiful! that's stunning!
just! imagine looking at the night sky and saying - it's stupid to have a favorite constellation or a favorite star. they're just there.
because here's the thing - across centuries and cultures, we look up. we still find meaning in the stars. these beautiful, lovely scattered accidents. are you looking? they call. and we look back and say oh! of course we are!
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writingouthere · 4 months
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singlemom!reader x neighbor!sukuna. you miss having a baby and Sukuna is dying from a combination of your sexual tension, his lowkey(highkey) baby fever and the drudgery of attending a child's birthday party
cw: Sukuna's breeding kink, red flags are present and accounted for, no one gets laid tho so sad face. this actually ended up being way more sincere and heartfelt than I intended but honestly very typical of me
"Oh we're not together, Sukuna's just been letting me and Bug crash while we look for an apartment."
"Oh he's not my boyfriend, we're just friends!"
"He's actually not Bug's dad. No, no. But, they get along really well. She enjoys having someone else to hang out with aside from me, I think."
Your laughter after the last one plays on repeat as he goes to grab the two of you some refreshments. Sukuna feels like he's living the world's worst version of groundhog day, except instead of being some sad loser who relives the same day over and over, he's apparently a sad loser who is going to live the same conversation over and over again.
"Fuck this shit."
"Um, excuse me but could you watch your language. This is a kid's birthday party." Sukuna wants to ask the bitch who is correcting a grown man's language if he would mind watching his own fucking business but you seem to care about what these losers think and he won't make life difficult for you.
If he happens to step on the guy's foot as he leaves with two cups and a juice box caught in his elbow, well, his steel toed boots need the exercise.
Sukuna knew that if any of his acquaintances, he didn't have friends after all, could see him now, they would die laughing. Die ,because he would kill them for laughing, but fuck he couldn't even really blame them, even in his hypothetical.
Once upon a time, Sukuna was a feared criminal. People pissed themselves when he cornered them in a dark alley. Other bad guys would look at him and say, "wow that guy's a real piece of shit" and now look at him. Stuck at some three year old's birthday party. One more kidzpop butchering of an already shitty song away from committing another felony.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he knew he was at least getting some pussy out of it, but he had just spent the past two hours hearing you deny him to anyone who asked and it was really starting to get to him.
He knew he was being a little bitch about it, and he wasn't upset just because you weren't fucking him. He was upset that all the things you were telling people, they were technically true. He was just letting you and your daughter crash. He was just your friend, not your boyfriend. Even the comments about him not being Bug's dad, but him being positioned as some kind of really invested babysitter, those might have stung more than the ones about your relationship but you thought that was true too.
Thinking about the kid made him look for her, not that Sukuna ever wasn't aware of where you and your daughter were. It had become instinct before he was even aware of it.
Bug was laughing with some kids he recognized from daycare and others from their regular trips to the park. Her happiness was contagious and Sukuna found his lips twitching up at the ends despite his shitty mood.
Your daughter's eyes found him from across the playground. "kuna!" she called, waving her little hand at him. He waved back with his available hand and made his way towards her. She met him halfway, her little legs unsteady on the wood chips but she didn't seem to notice. She was always like that when she saw him, she ran fearlessly. Maybe she just trusted he'd catch her.
Was it so wrong of him that he didn't like the reminders she wasn't his. That it stung, not just because of his feelings but because it just couldn't be true. He might not have fathered her, but fuck anyone who said this little girl wasn't his.
"I got you a juice, you've been running around so much you gotta be thirsty."
"Not thirsty," Bug argued leaning into him. He held up his hands that were holding the grown up drinks for the two of you, and moved the package still lodged in the crease of his elbow towards the petulant toddler. "Take it, or I'll drink it."
Bug stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed it. She struggled to get the wrapping off the straw and Sukuna didn't even notice what he was doing until she had the straw stretched out towards him and he was pulling the wrapper off with his teeth. He spit it out on the ground as your daughter gave him a polite thank-you and then walked away, sipping her juice as she went to catch up with her friends.
What had become of him?
"Need a hand?" You smile at him and Sukuna hands over your cup before taking a sip of his own. There was unfortunately no alcohol in it but drinking it occupied his mouth before he acted like a pussy and asked you, "what are we?" or "should we get married?" or something equally as pathetic.
"God, I want a baby."
Sukuna almost spit out his drink but he manages to tone it down to just a little cough before turning to look at you. You don't even seem a little embarrassed which is just infuriating. Sukuna's about to make a suggestion on how he can help with that when you sigh and point to where some loser is holding their ugly baby.
"Aren't babies just the cutest, I miss when Bug was that age."
Oh, so this was just you looking at other people's red-faced brats and feeling nostalgic and was not in fact a call to action. Sukuna rolled his eyes and leaned back on the hand closest to you so he didn't touch you as he was so tempted to do these days.
"That baby, like all babies, is hideous. All they do is cry, shit themselves and vomit and I'm not even sure Bug is the exception to that and she's the best kid there is."
You look touched at his affection for your daughter but also fired up on behalf of babies everywhere.
"You can't just say a baby is hideous, Sukuna. Those are the Zenin's. Bug is friends with some of them."
"Well are the older ones cuter, because that baby looks like someone fucked one of those hairless cats."
"Sukuna!" you hiss but he sees you smile, despite yourself. "Okay, maybe that baby isn't like the cutest baby-"
"Hideous."
You continue after smacking his arm. "But Bug was cute, okay. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom." You take out your phone and quickly swipe until you get to what you're looking for. "See, cute baby."
Sukuna grabs your phone and looks. It's not the first picture he's seen of a young Bug and he's taken his share of photos of her himself, but he finds himself taken in by it anyway.
It has to be a picture from when Bug was really young, she still had the scrunched up, red face that he associates with newborns. But he thinks you're right, she's still cute. He doesn't know if it's because he knows that baby will grow up to be your daughter, but he finds his thumb caressing her little baby cheeks, the wisps of hair he can see peaking out from where she's wrapped in a baby blanket. It's then he sees she's not alone in the picture and there's a different version of you holding her.
The thing that stands out to him is how tired you look. He thinks this couldn't have been too long after you gave birth but still, he wondered if you'd gotten any rest those first few months. You still didn't like talking about your ex, or the circumstances that had led you to his apartment, but Sukuna knew that chances are you were taking care of Bug single handedly and that couldn't have been easy, cutest kid or not.
"She was beautiful, she still is." He reluctantly hands the phone back to you and you look at the picture again, tears building up in your eyes.
"She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I-I wish that the circumstances were different in how I got her. Sometimes, I wonder how I'll explain everything to her when she's older. She just deserves so much better than him, you know?"
"You both do." Sukuna reaches over and brushes away one of the tears that had managed to fall down your cheek. He leaves his hand there a moment, holding your cheek in his palm, just appreciating the warmth.
"Do you want any?"
"What?" Sukuna isn't sure what you're talking about anymore. He can only see your lips right in front of him, the way that your eyelashes brush against your cheek as you blink faster and faster.
"Babies, do you want any?"
Something short circuits in Sukuna's brain and he wants to say, fuck yes.
He wants to tell you that he thinks about it every day. Every time you put Bug on your hip or send him youtube videos of hairstyles you want to try on her. Whenever it's late at night, and little feet pad out of your room and Bug asks him in the loudest whisper he's ever heard, if he can get her some water because she's so thirsty.
He thinks about it when the sun streams through the curtains of his apartment in the morning and it lights up your hair as you move throughout the kitchen, a force of nature, a creature from somewhere far too good to have ended up here with him.
He thinks about it when the three of you go out and people just assume you're a family, because of course you're a family. When you and Bug play some made up game, or Bug gets tired even though she denies it and he carries her sleeping form against his chest. When he holds her in his lap on the subway and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder and he feels like this, this is what he's always wanted.
He's not all pure and good though, because he thinks about it late at night in his bedroom too. After a day of your smiles, of seeing your thighs stretch out of those sleep shorts you started wearing when the weather warmed up, whenever he remembers the feel and smell of your panties when he's lucky enough to find a pair in the laundry basket, he thinks about how the two of you would make some really cute fucking babies.
He's imagined it a million ways. He's imagined you telling him you've gone off your birth control and you need him now after he takes you out on an anniversary dinner. Or him crowding you up against the kitchen counter and you begging him to put a baby in you.
His favorite fantasy is currently one where you get so carried away when you finally finally fuck that you don't ask him to wear a condom and he spends the whole night making sure you're nice and good and full of him and when you tell him a few weeks later you missed your period, he'll let you freak out. But then he'll tell you that he'll take good care of you, and Bug, and your soon to be little one and he'll finally have you, all of you and once you have your second, he'll knock you up again, as many times as he can because there could never be too many mini-you's running around.
At this point, Sukuna remembers he's talking to you, the real you and he swallows a few times before he speaks.
"I do," he says simply but something must show on his face because you're looking at him in a way you never have before. He hears your breath hitch and he leans in to kiss you, and you smell so good and his thoughts are consumed by the little family he just knows you're going to have when suddenly he's pelted by a variety of sharp, little objects.
Sukuna immediately holds up his arm to shield you from what he now sees is a barrage of wood chips which are being thrown at you by an army of toddlers, including your daughter.
You immediately get up and start talking to the kids about the danger of throwing what are basically large future splinters at people's faces and Sukuna is contemplating the murder of every child that isn't his own when you turn to look at him.
You're not just looking at him, you're seeing him and oh. Maybe he would be getting laid tonight, after all.
The slow burn is almost done folks.
thank you to the amazing reception to this series and the one-shot I posted(which there will be a prequel of soon!). it's literally so insane. Masterlist will be up tomorrow which I hope helps with accessibility!
edit: masterlist is up!
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yaksha-lover · 6 months
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Someone New
Summary: Travelling worlds has its side effects; namely, having visions of multiple timelines. As you get closer to the housewardens after their overblots, you begin to see the possible future that awaits the two of you, if only you decide to choose them.
Overblot gang x Reader (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus)
GN but mentions of biological children - imagine anything you want though (magic spells that make anything possible!)
i. blooms of red and bursts of reason; riddle rosehearts
Even after knowing him for months, you don’t touch Riddle until long after his overblot. He isn’t truly comfortable with you, with anyone, touching him so casually.
The chill of autumn ghosts your skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms. When he notices you rubbing your forearms to gather some warmth, Riddle insists on offering you his coat. Something about ‘rule five hundred and nine.’
His ways don’t always make sense to you, but you appreciate the sentiment behind the action. You take his coat, uttering your gratitude to him, although it’s quite small considering his stature. He offers you a small smile; in Riddle’s case, you know that means a lot.
You can’t help but return his smile, the small affection making your heart stir suddenly. It’s nice - spending time alone with Riddle. At the beginning of the year, you’d never have imagined becoming close with him. It was hard to see past the strict housewarden who never let anything go.
You think he’d made assumptions about you too. About you being a troublemaker, someone not worth his time, just another problem. You’re thankful you’ve both come around.
You stare at him from the corner of your eye as you walk together. He truly is gentle at heart, despite what his temper might suggest. His red hair sits perfectly on his head, cutely framing his face. It makes you think of his mother; his hair is perhaps the only good thing she passed onto him.
You snap out of your thoughts when you step a little too hard into a puddle and accidentally splash your pants, slightly dirtying them. Riddle turns when he hears your grumble, and you prepare yourself for a scolding. You won’t hold it against him; it was your fault for being careless.
Instead, Riddle only shakes his head gently, before asking if you’d like to stop at Ramshackle to change before you two arrive at the library.
Your surprise forces you to take a moment and just look at him. So far he’s come from the person he was only a couple months ago. You feel strangely sentimental, so you reach out to touch his shoulder, intending to thank him.
As soon as you make contact with him, the world around you shifts, brown and orange leaves being traded for the bright green of spring.
-
You sit under a pagoda tree, the wind gently blowing the pages of your novel. It’s strange - you’re seeing things as yourself, but you’re not in control. It’s as though you’re replaying the memory of someone else. At the sound of someone’s voice, ‘you’ look up. It’s there that you spot familiar red hair; it forms a stark contrast to the vegetation around you.
He’s not alone, either. In Riddle’s arms is a small baby, with identical hair to who you presume is his father. It’s a striking image - Riddle with his child. He’s noticeably older; if you had to guess, he seems to be in his late twenties.
“MC? Sorry to bother, but he’s been refusing to eat today. I checked our parenting books thrice, but I haven’t found any suitable solutions. I thought you might know how to help him.”
“That’s okay,” you hear your voice say. “How is our little guy doing?”
Riddle passes the baby to you, and you finally take notice of his other features; this child has the same colour eyes as you, and a similarly shaped nose.
You then catch a glimpse of the ring sparking on your left hand, and the other on Riddle’s.
“Hmm,” you’re vision-self says. “Let’s go back home, I’ll try to see what’s bothering him.”
“Alright, dear. I’ll start on dinner,” older-Riddle replies.
He takes your hand and helps you up, before you walk back toward the house in the distance, your hand still in his.
-
When the greens turn to orange, you blink, finding Riddle looking at you. You’re back at NRC.
“Are you alright, prefect? You seem distracted.”
“I’m okay, Riddle. I just…never mind. Let’s get going.”
You decide not to tell him about your strange…Dream? Vision? It all seemed so real…you could smell the tree sap and feel the breeze flow against your skin. You held a baby. Your baby…with Riddle? The two of you were older, but would it really be possible for it to truly be your future? That seemed ridiculous. Then again, you thought the same thing about magic a few months ago.
You resolve to keep this strange occurrence to yourself until you can figure out what happened. It’s hard to look at Riddle, having now seen the two of you married and with a child together. You’re more flustered than usual. Was this just some kind of daydream projection of your fantasies about him? You weren’t even really sure you could say you have a ‘crush’ on him - after all, you’ve only recently begun getting close. Not that you haven’t thought of him that way at all but-
You’re sure Riddle takes notice of your strange behaviour throughout your study session but, thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it.
ii. dizzying dreams and endless nights; leona kingscholar
You’d fought Leona hard to get where you are now - on the left side of his bed, with Grim sleeping at the base. You’re exhausted with everything going on with Azul (hopefully) temporarily taking your dorm, but it’s hard to sleep with how worried you are about the situation.
Leona’s room is dim, moonlight cascading over the silk sheets. You can barely make out his form, curled up in the blankets and turned away from you.
You don’t want to disturb the sleeping lion, but he happens to be hogging the entire blanket. You suppose you should’ve known, but it wasn’t as though you had time to take anything from Ramshackle.
When the chill becomes too much to ignore, you try to tug part of the blanket away from him. This causes Leona to roll over, arm suddenly falling around your back.
You’re hit with another wave of blurry vision as the moon melts into the sun.
-
“Morning,” you hear a voice, your voice, say to him. Your tone is playful and lightheartedly chastising. You can feel his arms wrapped snuggly around you.
It’s happening again, the same as with Riddle. You’re seeing things from your own eyes, but you’re not in control.
A groan comes from behind you, Leona shuffling his position but refusing to open his eyes. His bare legs brush yours under the covers. “Too early. Go back to sleep.” He pulls you closer into his chest.
‘You’ laugh gently, turning around in his arms so you’re now face to face. “You promised the queen we would attend this banquet. Especially after we missed the last one.”
He looks older here too, but as gorgeous as ever. Despite just waking up, Leona’s dark hair falls perfectly around his face. The room is different than his one at school; it’s still a bedroom, but it looks as though you’re back in the castle of Sunset Savanna.
Leona finally opens his eyes, looking at you with a heavy gaze before flipping you below him. His arms hold him straight above you, looking down on you lying prone on the bed. “Hmph.” He leans in close until your lips are only millimetres apart. “We have some time, don’t we?”
You’re left staring into those piercing green eyes, entranced by them being closer than ever.
With that, he leans in completely, lips brushing over your own as he begins to kiss you. The longer it goes, the more ravenous he becomes, more and more greedy for the taste of your lips.
-
When the sunlight fades to moonlight, you’re left embarrassed. That was - so much worse than with Riddle?! Ugh, it’s so awkward with Leona sleeping beside you now, like you’ve violated some kind of rule by thinking of him that way.
You’re too afraid to even consider the possibility of it being some kind of dream. It came on so suddenly, but you hadn’t been asleep. The whole thing seemed so real, too elaborate for a simple dream. No, it had to be more than that - some kind of vision - but how could that be true? And what did that mean about your vision with Riddle? Surely they couldn’t both be correct.
You’d intended on ignoring it before, but with Leona’s vision, that seemed futile. Perhaps the staff would have some answers for you…
iii. seashells shimmer in the forever sea; azul ashengrotto
Azul isn’t one for touching, and this time neither are you. Ever since the Crowley’s theory about alternate universes and rips in time since you’ve travelled worlds, you’ve decided it’s best to stay away from touching too many people. It was…interesting, to see a possible future with Riddle and Leona, but it’s certainly left you ambivalent. It’s a bit difficult not to avoid them when your mind drifts to your ‘visions’ while in their vicinity.
Riddle is kind enough to ignore your sudden shyness, but Leona has openly called you out on how flustered you get around him. He seems both confused and amused about the development, and his smugness is too much to handle sometimes.
Fortunately for you, Leona doesn’t hang around the Mostro Lounge much, making it the perfect place for you to avoid him. You try to force Ace and Deuce to come with you and study there, but the two have been reluctant considering their previous encounters with the twins while trying to get Azul’s picture.
That means you’re left to go alone, sometimes. Well, alone except for Grim. He never leaves you hanging as long as you agree to buy him food. Just like today, where he sits passed out across the other side of the booth, having eaten himself into a food coma.
You try to return to your homework, but out of the corner of your eye, you catch Azul staring at you from the staff area. When you make eye contact, he only waves, smile dripped in plasticity. When you don’t clue in, he walks toward your table, eventually taking a seat across from you, beside Grim.
“Hello, Prefect,” he says.
“Azul.”
Unlike Riddle - and even to some extent, Leona - you haven’t really gotten close to Azul after his overblot. He doesn’t exactly want you to, it seems.
“I noticed you’ve been frequenting the Lounge quite frequently as of late - I just wanted to thank you, for being a dedicated patron.”
“I’m not doing it for you, but you’re welcome, I guess.”
“Ah yes, I presumed. So, who are you doing it for?”
Your mind snaps to thoughts of you and Leona in the future, his arms around you in his bed-
“Nothing. No one. Do you need something, Azul?”
Despite your attempt at neutrality, Azul must see something on your face as you attempt to rid your mind of your vision of Leona. He leans in a bit, curious to observe you.
You begin packing up your things, too distracted to continue studying.
“No need to leave on my account,” he says.
“It’s not.”
He stands at the same time as you, presumably planning to head back to his office. Unfortunately for the both of you, you hadn’t noticed Grim migrate to his place sleeping on the floor. When you take a step forward and trip, Azul is, tragically, directly in front of you.
Your arms reach out instinctively, but instead of stabilizing yourself by grabbing onto his shoulders, the force of your fall knocks the both of you over.
As soon as you make contact with him, your vision swirls into another world full of beautiful blues.
-
The coral sea is even more breathtaking than you remember. You’ve only been a couple times, but the drastic differences between the land and ocean always manage to stun you. The water is so clear that it practically glitters as you wave your hands through it, feeling the water pass refreshingly across your smooth skin.
You’ve never been to this specific place before (presumably, it doesn’t exist yet), but it’s clear what it is: a restaurant. If the octopus logo has anything to do with it, clearly it’s Azul’s. It wasn’t too surprising to you that he would have more restaurants open in the future, but you weren’t sure what you were doing here. If the pattern followed, it seemed inevitable that you and Azul would be…romantically-involved in this timeline, but that just didn’t seem possible.
At least you had befriended Riddle and Leona to an extent - Azul looked down on your existence as a magicless person, seemingly entirely apathetic about you in general. You had to admit, the feelings were mutual considering his treatment of you and your friends.
You feel ‘yourself’ look around the restaurant, before heading back into the staff area. You knock on the door to an office, and Azul opens it with a smile.
He, too, is older. His face has matured a bit and he also wears his hair a bit longer. Azul still has his grey suit, though.
“Hello, MC. Done for the day?”
“I guess so, boss,” your voice replied cheekily. Boss?? Why would your future self ever work for-
“Hmm, I may have more tasks for you, why don’t you come in~”
With that, future-Azul takes your hand and tugs you into his office. On his desk sits several picture frames; one of his parents and one of his wedding. You happened to spot yourself in the second one.
It’s a bit jarring to see; you and Azul posed together, dressed up in such fancy clothing. His arm sits around your shoulder, and yours around his waist. Before this, the two of you have never even shook hands.
You hear yourself giggling, cornering Azul against the wall as soon as he closes the door and bringing your arms around his neck to kiss him.
You can already feel the dread forming; you definitely won’t be able to spend time at the Mostro Lounge after this…
As the two of you pull away, Azul starts talking about a reunion for your graduating class at NRC.
“I told them maybe - with the new branch of our restaurant opening, we may wish to stay back. Then again, it could be a great opportunity to network for us. What do you think, dear?”
Before you can hear your reply, the world fades back into the familiar lighting of the Mostro Lounge.
-
A groaning Azul is beneath you, having (unfortunately for him) broken your fall.
You utter a quiet ‘sorry!’ as you get off of him, still a bit flustered from your vision.
He gets up, dusting himself off. Thankfully, the two of you are in a rather secluded area of the place, so no one was there to witness your embarrassment.
Azul can no longer maintain the facade of kind gentleman as he turns back to you, voice dripping with passive aggressiveness.
“I would prefer if you refrained from touching me in the future. Thank you.”
With that, he gets up and leaves. You shake your head - how could there possibly be any timeline where you’ve married him?
iv. jaded jewels shine, awaken from slumber; jamil viper
While helping out with the VDC, you’ve had time to get close to Jamil. Much closer, in fact, than with any of the others you’ve had visions of before. Now you’ve avoided touching him for a whole other reason - you’re scared you won’t have a vision.
Spending time with Jamil has made you realize things you’d never thought about him before - his handsomeness, intelligence, and talent. You’ve developed a bit of a crush on him, considering how much you admire him.
However, you have no idea how he feels. Jamil has never been one to express his feelings so outwardly, but you can’t get a read on him at all. He’s been polite with you, but he’s treated you basically the same as everyone else.
Your attempts at getting closer to him have been rather unsuccessful - the group is so busy practicing, everyone’s been way too exhausted to really do anything.
You manage to get a moment alone at Ramshackle when the rest of the boys have gone to sleep, and you find Jamil sitting out on the porch alone.
“Hey,” you say. “Mind if I join you?”
Jamil turns to look at you before nodding his head. You take a seat beside him, following his gaze to the stars. The sky is dark but the moon casts a glow on him, making Jamil look beautiful under the light.
“What are you thinking about?”
He hums for a moment before replying, “What I’m always thinking about - how things will just go back to normal again after the end of the VDC.”
You don’t really know what to say; his fears seem inevitable, no matter how much you want to comfort him. “I’m sorry…I can’t understand what it’s like for you, but…what if you could still have some kind of happiness in your life?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know…you could still find love?”
“Find love? You think that’s what I care about?” Jamil’s tone is bitter, but his voice never rises. “Sorry, but you’re awfully naive. Things like love won’t make my life better. It’ll only complicate things.”
“I-I understand.”
When your voice shakes, Jamil finally looks up at you, sighing when he spots your watery eyes.
“Prefect, relax. I’m not angry at you. It’s just a frustrating situation for me, I’m sure you know. I don’t have time to think about love. I just need to focus on myself.”
With that, he pats your shoulder before standing up, leaving you alone to stare at the night sky. Jamil hadn’t even realized you were trying to confess to him, and you felt terrible for even trying to bring it up. Of course he wouldn’t be able to think about something like your stupid little crush - you feel so silly for even bringing it up, you should’ve known better since you know all about his circumstances.
It was then you realized - Jamil had touched you for the first time. He touched you and nothing happened.
The first one you’d been seriously interested in, and there seemed to be no future for the two of you.
Was it possible you’d already messed up this timeline, making it impossible for that future with him to occur? The whole thing made your head spin and your heart ache.
v. swept into spotlights, doused in delicacy; vil schoenheit
Vil had been a surprising comfort in the wake of your unrequited crush on Jamil. The two of you had gotten closer after VDC, and Vil had a way of pulling honesty out of you. It had only taken him a couple days of observing your awkwardness to guess at the situation.
He’d been a shoulder to cry on, both literally and figuratively. There’d been a moment when he first pulled you into his arms that you’d wondered - hoped - that he might be a possibility in your future, but alas, no vision. It was a bit disappointing but you knew it was wrong to feel too badly; it would be greedy of you to desire a connection with so many knowing you could only end up with one.
Vil became a friend - someone you could rely on, someone who could make you laugh, and someone who couldn’t break your heart.
Even when you would start to feel something more than platonic for him, you had to push it away. He was certainly gorgeous and talented and perfect…but he wouldn’t be that for you. He couldn’t, apparently, and maybe he wouldn’t want to either.
Vil was more than just a fellow student - he was an actor, a model, a celebrity - someone too far to reach. Even if you had a vision with him, would it matter?
You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Vil’s hand on your cheek, turning your face to get the correct angle to apply your eyeliner; he’d insisted you get dressed up with him and Rook to go out tonight.
“Move onto the bed,” Vil says.
You stand from the chair in front of his vanity and move hesitantly toward his bed. His silky sheets look perfect - you don’t want to ruin them. Looking back at him, Vil rolls his eyes and gently pushes you toward the bed until you lay back.
You’re left staring up at him on your back, while he sits above you, applying the rest of his products on your face. He’s so close to you, his luscious golden hair almost tickles your face. His pretty purple eyes don’t focus on your own, following his makeup brush.
He looks cute like this, concentrating hard to perfect your makeup. He bites his lip gently, drawing your attention to his pretty mouth, shining with the pink gloss he’d applied earlier.
When he leans away to pick up the blush, you mistakenly think he’s finished and try to sit up. At the same time that you rise, Vil turns back to face you. The timing coincides into an accidental and brief meeting of your lips.
It takes a second for you to realize that the dizziness your feel isn’t due to your racing heart, but the sudden appearance of another vision.
-
The lights flash, bright and blinding. The sharp clicks of cameras obnoxiously disrupt the music heard softly on the street from nearby restaurants and clubs.
You’re rushing away with Vil, hand in hand as he pulls you toward a black limo waiting up ahead. You nearly stumble, but Vil is quick to stabilize you.
Once the two of you escape the paparazzi, you’re left sitting side by side in the backseat of the limo, both breathing heavily. Vil gives the driver instructions to return back to his penthouse.
He turns to you. “Are you okay, darling?”
You feel yourself nod in affirmation, taking ahold of his hand again. He squeezes back.
“I’m sorry they’ve ruined another date. I know it’s hard for you not to have much privacy, but it seems no matter what I do, they find us.” He strokes your hand with his thumb.
“It’s okay, Vil. I knew what I was getting into, dating a celebrity and all that.”
He plants a kiss on your cheek. “Still, they shouldn’t bother us. I may be a celebrity, but you aren’t. You deserve privacy.” He sighs gently. “Has this…impacted our previous discussion?”
You look back up at him. You assume based on past visions that he’s much older now, but he’s kept his youthful and gorgeous look. Even now, his purple eyes make your heart flutter embarrassingly.
“Of course not. I want us to have kids together. You’ll be the best dad and protect them from all this. I know it.”
He kisses you on the lips this time just as your vision begins to end.
-
Vil snaps his fingers over you as you come too, rolling his eyes.
“I know my lips are practically intoxicating, but did you really get that worked up over an accidental peck between friends?”
Your face becomes hot at Vil’s statement, embarrassment setting in. He doesn’t know how right he is.
“Ah, sorry. I got…distracted.”
Vil laughs gently. “Why? Thinking of more of my kisses? They’ll cost you~”
When you stammer in response, he just ruffles your hair gently.
“I’m just teasing you.”
You stare at him for a moment before speaking. “I don’t think we can do each other’s makeup platonically anymore.” If it ever was, that is.
Vil rolls his eyes dramatically again.
vi. hidden in shadows, warmth comes in waves; idia shroud
The incident with Vil leaves you even more confused than before. It makes you wonder…if just touching isn’t always enough to have a vision, does that mean a future where you end up with Jamil is still possible? You don’t even want to hope, knowing the heartache he’d unknowingly caused you before.
And Vil…having a vision about him makes this complicated. When it was just lingering thoughts you could push to the side of your mind, your growing infatuation with him was easy to ignore. Actually seeing your future with him, has made your heart swell and ache at the same time.
You don’t exactly choose to become friends with Idia, it just kind of happens. Just like the previous situations where you’d attempted to avoid the star of your latest vision, Idia is someone who seems like a good choice to help you stay away from them. He isn’t good friends with Jamil or Vil (or frankly anyone). Incidentally, the two of you become friends after a small argument over an anime (the only topic that allows Idia to temporarily overcome his social anxiety just to disagree with you), and you begin to hang out occasionally.
The more your old friends hang out with the VDC group, the more you begin to make excuses and go play video games with Idia and Ortho.
It feels strangely easy, spending time with Idia. You never have to pretend, and with your shared interests, conversation comes naturally. Once you’ve spent enough time around him, he feels much more comfortable around you, willing to share his (strong) thoughts and opinions on everything.
Idia is very…different than you would’ve guessed before you knew him well. While he can be rude, you find it more funny than offensive, and it’s pretty fun to banter with him. His room holds small glimpses into his true personality; video games he loves, posters of his favourite characters. His passion for these things is clear as day.
Sitting on Idia’s couch, you’re playing against him and Ortho in Super Smash Bros. Ortho immediately claimed Kirby, proceeding to destroy the both of you multiple times until he emerged as the winner.
Despite the loss, both you and Idia can’t help but smile. Ortho makes a celebratory noise, before turning back to you.
“MC, we are about to encounter another rip in the time continuum,” Ortho says. “I’m so excited, do you think it will finally be my big brother’s turn to earn your love?”
“What?” you and Idia say for different reasons.
“How do you know about that?
“Earn their love??”
“It’s part of my programming to monitor all things involving space and time.”
“Huh. Okay.”
You suppose it’s true, you’ve never really touched Idia before. The two of you got along like best friends; it wasn’t so much of a stretch to say you could end up having a future together. You hadn’t thought about it much, in light of recent events.
“Usually you’re the only one able to see, but since Idia’s here, why don’t I show him too!”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ortho,” Idia says.
“I think it will be good for you, brother! Don’t worry, I’ll give the both of you some privacy to see your future. It’s approaching in three, two-”
When his countdown reaches one, Ortho plops your hand on top of Idia, making your vision fade once again.
-
The Island of Woe is familiar to you by now, after everything that went down with Idia. The architecture remains impersonal; the uniformity of the blank steel walls reminds you of a maze. The thought had unsettled you, the last time you visited.
Strangely enough, you don’t feel that same sense of anxiety and claustrophobia in this vision. You’re strangely calm; it wouldn’t be crazy to assume that exposure and familiarity has dulled these feelings.
The scene is devastatingly unsurprising. You suppose you’d always known what Idia’s future would be; what all his ancestors futures had been. That hadn’t lessened the spark of hope you’d been carrying that perhaps things might turn out differently than he believed.
You had a bad habit of that: false hope for Jamil, false hope for Idia. It didn’t truly do anyone any good, no matter how much you wished it to.
You’re in Idia’s room. Aside from its size and how nice it is, the decor is a clear giveaway. The posters that line the walls aren’t from media you recognize, so it must be future content, but it’s all in line with Idia’s current tastes. You’re happy he has that, at least. You even catch a glimpse of a couple of his old posters from NRC rolled up in his closet. A few pieces even stand out, things that seem much more suited to your taste than his own.
A familiar head of blue hair wanders into the room.
“Hey MC.”
“Hi Idia,” you feel your lips gently pull up in the corners. Despite ‘your’ outward expression in the vision, you feel a small twinge of pain in your chest.
Idia’s entrance into his room (your room?) lets you take a close look at him. Even ten or so years later, it seems he hasn’t been able to rid himself of his eye bags. Even so, you still think he looks nice, his vibrant hair illuminating his pretty face. He’s cute, smiling back at you.
“Sorry I’m back late again. There’s been so many problems with the new system update, even Ortho can’t handle it himself.” Idia’s expression drops a little.
“It’s okay, I know you’re busy.”
Idia comes to sit beside you on the bed, head turning toward you. “Is it though? Stuck down here with me, and I can’t even be by your side half the time. I doubt this is the life you- anyone would dream of.”
“I miss you, of course I do. But I chose this life. I chose you.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have.”
The tears well in your eyes before you can stop them, and Idia’s panic only rises once he notices.
“Gah!! No, MC, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean it like that. Sevens, I’m so stupid.” Idia awkwardly pulls you into his arms, and you begin wipe your tears onto his shoulder as you settle down.
“Sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me,” you sniffle.
“Don’t apologize, it was my fault. I don’t know why, every time I try to tell you how I feel, it always just comes out wrong. I try to tell you that I love you, that you deserve better than to be stuck here with me, and it comes out like that.”
“Idia…I know what you meant, it just took me by surprise to hear those words.”
“Loving you is supposed to be the one thing I can do to make your life here better, and I can’t even do it right.”
“Says who? Don’t you think I should be the judge of that?”
“I made you cry, MC! Something is wrong with me…”Idia’s cheeks flush pink as he stares at his feet.
You want to comfort him, to tell him that it doesn’t matter, but you quickly feel yourself being pulled away. You’ve never wished more than to have a few more moments in a vision.
-
The room remains silent for a minute after the vision ends, the both of you trying to process what had happened.
“Idia…” you say, trying to bridge the gap between you, but not exactly knowing how.
“Maybe- I uh - maybe you should leave?” Idia says sheepishly.
“Leave? What did I do?” you say, feeling a bit hurt by his suddenly rejection.
“Nothing! I just- I’m sorry, I need some time. I can’t speak right now, I need to be alone.” Idia is clearly panicked, so you follow his brother to the exit.
“Sorry, MC,” Ortho says, opening the door for you. “Sometimes Idia gets overwhelmed in situations like this. Please, give him time and…please don’t give up on him like everyone else does.”
vii. sun and moon, forever in orbit; malleus draconia
You’ve known Malleus as long as you’ve known Riddle, but despite your blooming friendship, you’ve never had the chance to touch him before. The fae always seemed to prefer to keep his distance when visiting you at Ramshackle; close enough to talk, too far to touch.
That all changes when you finally agree to join the gargoyle studies club. It’s not as though you’d purposefully avoided it before, there’d just always been too much going on to really think about joining any of the clubs.
With Idia shutting you out, you were in dire need of a new hobby that would allow you to finally avoid thinking about what had gone down with him in the days before.
When Malleus finally strolls by Ramshackle again, you’re able to inform him of your intention to join his club.
It’s a remarkable thing, having stunned the fae prince into momentary silence at your request. He furrows his brow before replying.
“I do hope you aren’t making a joke at my expense, prefect. That would be rather cruel of you.”
You wave away his words, telling him that you’re entirely serious. He looks you up and down for a moment before a playful grin pulls at his lips.
“I suppose I will see you in our meeting on thursday, then. Please, don’t be late. We have much to see.”
-
Weekly meetings become bi-weekly, and soon you’re meeting up with Malleus almost daily. Since it’s only the two of you in the club, you take certain liberties when it comes to subject matter. You agree to let Malleus show you some ruins and he, in turn, agrees to watch the bachelor with you.
You don’t even like the show, but Malleus’ reactions are the real entertainment. He’s surprisingly sassy and opinionated about all the drama, although he tends to get confused on ‘human customs’ as he so puts it.
“Why won’t he make a choice? It’s clear who he truly desires,” Malleus asks one day, sitting on Ramshackle’s beat up couch as you watch the reality show together on your laptop.
“I don’t know, the guys on this show are always like this. They want to keep around as many options as possible until they’re forced to choose,” you mumble, mouth full of popcorn.
“Human men are fickle.”
You laugh. “Fae aren’t?”
He takes a moment to answer. “Some. Not dragon fae. Once we choose a person to love, we give everything to them, and expect the same in return.”
You don’t know how to reply to that, so you turn back to the screen. Throughout the rest of the episode, you can feel Malleus’ gaze flicker between yourself and the show, not fully invested like you are.
-
You’re not oblivious to his hints. It’s clear that things between you are become more than friendly, but it’s difficult to know how you feel about it.
On one hand, Malleus has always felt strangely charming to you, despite how he often came off to others. There was something about him, or perhaps just the sum of his parts that came together perfectly to make him into a wonderful being.
Spending time together and getting close felt nice, but you were far too used to this pattern to not feel worried about some kind of impending doom. It seemed every time you had a nice friendship, things would fall apart as soon as you found out about your future together.
Even when pleasant, the strangeness of the experience makes it uncomfortable to be around them again. You’ve felt bad avoiding your friends, but there isn’t much you can do to change your feelings.
Even worse - what if your vision with Malleus isn’t positive? After what you saw with Idia, the fear lingers in your mind.
Once you opened the gate, questions begun to flood your brain. What would a future be like with Malleus? Would that even be possible? Would you be his consort? Would a relationship between a human and fae be accepted? Would you be able to handle it? The anxieties were endless.
You think about telling him about everything. About Riddle, Leona…but how would he react? You tell yourself that it’s better if he doesn’t know. At least not until after.
He’s the first one you touch on purpose; you have to know.
A casual stroll around Ramshackle leads to the purposeful brushing of fingers, and you’re pulled into a familiar haze.
-
You’ve never been to Briar Valley, but you know with certainty that your vision takes place there.
The hall you sit in is long, gold trims running along the walls. The black dragon heraldry mounted above the fireplace at the end of the room looks more expensive than anything you’ve seen in your life.
Two wide doors swing open, and Malleus finally enters the room. He isn’t alone.
A small black shape zooms past his legs, plopping itself in front of you.
“Daddy and I picked you flowers from the garden!”
The blur isn’t some shadow, but instead a small child. Five or six, if you had to guess. If her words didn’t give away her parentage, the small, stubby horns peaking out from the top of her head of dark hair certainly told you this was Malleus’ daughter.
“Thank you, sweetie.” You smile at her, taking the flowers she drops in your hand. There’s still some dirt and roots attached, but she’s so adorable, you truly don’t mind.
“Can Uncle Silver take me horseback ridding today?” she asks you. “Daddy said it’s okay with him if it’s okay with you.” She blinks at you sweetly.
“Alright, I suppose. Just be careful, dear,” you reply.
“I have the best parents in all the kingdoms!” she shouted, running along to her chambers to get ready, leaving only you in Malleus in the room.
“She’s so lively today,” you comment, looking up at him.
“Indeed,” he replies, coming to rest beside you. “You look beautiful, my love.”
“And you, my king.”
The two of you share a kiss. It’s all so - dizzying. It’s not unexpected to have a child with Malleus - you had one with Riddle, but this is different. This child is older, she knows you, she feels so real.
He pulls away to smile at you. “I have a gift for you.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“Need there be one for me to celebrate my wonderful spouse?”
“I suppose not. Thank you, Malleus. No matter how many gifts you give, I will treasure them all.”
He pulls out a box from his pocket, asking you to turn around. You feel him guide a cold band around your neck, clasping it in the back. He then places a small, handheld mirror in your hands, urging you to look.
The necklace he’s given you is beyond stunning. It’s silver, with a dazzling gemstone in the middle. You don’t even want to ponder how much it must’ve cost.
You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.
It’s strange - seeing yourself much older when Malleus looks the same. It unsettles you more than you’d like to admit. It’s one thing to know you’ll age at different rates and another to see it with your own eyes.
This must be something on your mind in the future as well, because of the next thing you decide to ask Malleus.
“Will I see her grow up? For me, it feels like she’s been young forever. I love it and yet…I want to see more of her life than just this.”
He doesn’t ask who you’re referring to. “You will. You’ll see most. I was practicing mature by my eighty-first birthday.”
You sigh. “I may not even get that far. I’m healthy now, but who knows. The curses of being human…”
He tilts your chin to face him. “It is not a curse to me, my love. I chose you, and I would again.”
There’s infinitely more to discuss, but you already feel yourself slipping away.
-
You come to from the vision mid walk. Malleus is unaffected, seemingly still in the middle of one of his explanations behind the rich history of one of gargoyles you’d just passed by.
When he notices your silence and turns to ask if you’re alright, you have no response for him.
It seems almost selfish, for you to choose him. Why- why did there need to be so many things wrong? Why did you have to be human, to pain him and your future children by leaving them behind so early?
The joy and the pain - would it all truly be worth it? Or would it be better for it to have never happened?
Malleus looks at you with concern, wiping the tears suddenly cascading down your cheeks.
“What’s wrong, my child of man?”
Everything and nothing, you want to tell him.
viii. all things end, all that we intend; conclusion
Seven beautiful souls, all potential endings. Every future you glimpsed has it’s own charms, and it’s own poisons.
Which future will you choose? One of them? Or perhaps…another?
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sgrplumditz · 3 months
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You had his baby and he didn't know (Pt. 2)
A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback! I am so beyond grateful that you guys enjoyed the 1st part. I never fathomed to get this much attention from my first post, which means I didn’t really intend on making a part 2. But with such gratitude and motivation… here it is!
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
She had told him everything, and through it all he did nothing but soothe her, keeping her small hands in his as her soft voice filled their ears. It wasn't until now that she had realized how absurd it was to feel nervous to tell him the story of her unaccompanied pregnancy, and her introduction to motherhood.
Like herself, he also held no resentment, or distaste toward the secrecy behind the conception and birth of their beautiful baby girl. Simon's only intention was to understand her and her decision to keep their child a secret from him, but in the midst of her reminiscent disclosure he couldn't help but feel alienated, guilty and a rollercoaster of many other emotions revolving her and his daughter.
His usually hard, and stoic gaze had softened for her -- which wasn't an unusual occurrence for him when it came to her, the mother of his child. "Hey, you're alright" he soothed when he noticed a stray tear race down her soft cheek. His thumb instinctively coming up to stop the salty drop of emotion in its track, and likewise she instinctively leaned into the feeling of his large hand that cupped the side of her face.
The moment was tender, intimate, comforting -- it was everything that she craved from him from the moment she found out she was carrying their child. Their baby girl seemed to be emotionally connected to her mother. The sound of her fuss and whimpering coming from the playpen where she had been placed to rest. Both her and Simon's attention was drawn to the infant the moment her restful cooing was replaced with the sounds of discomfort. Her mother knew that she was most likely hungry, but her father, Simon seemed to only be alarmed by the sudden crying. It was evident that his protective nature had taken over -- a quality of his that could not be tamed or ever be put to rest.
"She's just hungry, Si" she spoke, breaking the silence between the two. The melancholy aura of the room immediately being lifted as she chuckled softly at his high alert behavior as it only reminded her of the first few nights that she was home from the hospital with her daughter.
As she normally would she gently picked up their daughter, making sure to keep a firm hand on the back of her neck to support it. Her maternal nature was in full effect as she spoke sweet and soft words to the baby girl. Her cries being soothed, and her simple mind now distracted at the sight and sound of her mother. Simon watched this all divulge in front of him. He didn't know whether his heart ached because he had missed hundreds of moments like these or if he felt such sorrow because he didn't share the same bond with the tiny being that he helped create.
He let his the thoughts and endless "'what if" possibilities consume his mind while she prepared a bottle with the infant still resting in her arm. She was small, measuring out the length of her mother's forearm. Normally she would make the bottle with ease, but as time went by and the baby girl grew, the process slowed down. She was careful and calculated making sure that the baby was always safe in her arms.
"I can take her if you're alright with it" spoke Simon in a mildly nervous tone. “It’d make it easier for you to prepare her bottle, yeah?” he spoke again, using the feeding time as an excuse to finally hold their daughter. But he was nervous? Simon doesn’t get nervous. He has always been incredibly calm and collected to the point of mastering stoicism. He wasn’t nervous to hold the infant — that was the less of his worries.
There were so many special events that he had missed while he was away. Core memories that he doesn’t have with her or her mother. He missed the pregnancy, the first kicks, the birth, the first powerful cries from her little lungs, the first feed from her mother’s full and lactating breasts, the first skin-to-skin contact —which he read was essential for bonding in newborns, the dad walk out of the hospital after being discharged as a family — the one where he knew his overprotective nature would automatically take over.
So many factors playing into the aggregation of his nerves, but there was a single one that was keeping him on edge the most. Simon was nervous that he wouldn’t be able to bond with the small and fragile being that shared half of his DNA. Being absent for so many critical events made him doubtful in his ability to be and feel like a genuine father. All of his nerves dwindling down and relying on this very moment.
But none of it mattered. The pessimistic thoughts that lingered in his brain practically disintegrating. As if the warmth of his daughter’s small body destroyed every doubtful fiber in his own. She was no longer just his biological daughter, but a part of him. His soul was tied to hers, his emotions was connected to hers, his breath was for her. His entire being was engulfed by her.
The baby adjusted herself in his broad, tattooed and muscular arm by leaning her small face into his chest, as if she sensed some sort of familiarity in him. Like mother like daughter.
She watched their entire interaction curiously. She saw his hardened exterior breakdown at the moment their daughter’s infant body fit into his arm like a puzzle piece. It was obvious. Just like she felt her daughter was made for her, she was just as equally made for him. The instant connection between the father and daughter was electric. This was everything she had wanted and more.
She always knew Simon would be a great father — he was a great guy after all — he was attentive, protective, polite, masculine, and so much more, but she never fathomed that it would have been as magnifying as she felt it to be.
Simon’s gaze turned to her and she swore she saw his eyes glistening, tears threatening to spill. No words were exchanged between the two, but she knew exactly what he was feeling and thinking. As their daughter’s mother, she felt those exact emotions as well.
She was then engulfed by his scent. His arms embracing the two most important girls in his life, but it was not just a typical embrace of joy — it was firm, passionate and filled with urgency. He needed them.
With their daughter still resting in his arm, he used his free hand to remove a stray strand of hair from her face before he firmly cupped it. A soft kiss landing on her forehead.
He pressed his forehead to hers and exhaled softly before breaking the silence, “I am so proud of you” he said — his english accent thick and correlating respectively with how emotional he was.
“I am so proud of you” he repeated again, “but you are never doing anything like this alone. We do it together. As a family”.
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