no bad puns here i promise

anonymous asked:

ayoo! can i request bts reacting to seeing their s/o experiencing a severe case of sleep paralysis? thankss (by severe i mean like 2-6 times in a night and occasionally mumbling words of distress and stuff lolol) !¡

A/N: ayee, lol. Sure thing! Hopefully we did an okay job of describing what would happen in a situation like this, since Sar and I didn’t know much about sleep paralysis. We apologize if it wasn’t quite accurate, but we hope you still like it! ♡

- ❤Kat & Sar💖

BTS Reacts To Your Sleep Paralysis

Jungkook: He would come home late one night from practice. He’d walk into the bedroom and just hear you mumbling in your sleep. Thinking that it was just a simple dream he wouldn’t worry about it. But once he laid down next to you, he’d become really worried and scared, not knowing what was wrong. He’d stroke your hair hoping to calm you down. Once you’d relaxed and fallen back asleep, he would lay there, feeling so sad and helpless because he couldn’t do anything to help you. Before he drifted off to sleep, he would kiss your head. “I’m sorry Y/N, I can’t help you. I’d do anything if it meant you not having to go through this. I love you Y/N. It’s all going to be okay. I promise you.” Bringing his thoughts out into the open, he finally falls asleep, dreaming of your beautiful smile and vowing to make you smile everyday for the rest of your lives. 

Originally posted by jungkookfortunekookies

Jimin: You would be having an episode in the middle of the night, whimpers of fear escaping from you, no matter how hard you tried to keep quiet. Jimin would stir awake, still groggy before realizing what’s happening. “Shh…shhh….It’s okay Y/N. Please don’t cry I’m here.” His voice would become shaky as the tears he held in started to fall from his eyes. He’d rock you back and forth in his arms until you’d fall back asleep. “I’ve got you baby. Don’t worry. I’ll always be here.“ 

Taehyung: He’d be scared. Taehyung has never been good with words and this is one of the times where he would give anything to be able to talk to you. To make you understand how he cares. When you’d start to mumble and squirm around in your sleep before awaking in fear, he’d pull you close. His hand would hold the back of your head and pull it into the chest that you’ve found so comforting before. His other hand would be placed on your lower back, pulling you as close as possible to him. Taehyung would hope that you’d be able to understand what he’s trying to say. Soon enough you’d fall back asleep, feeling safe encompassed by his arms; the warmth they bring keeping you safe through the entire night.

Originally posted by hyosong

Hoseok: You’re the light of his life, so coming back from practicing his new solo dance to find you crying out in your sleep would shake him to the core. He’d run over to you, pulling you up, trying to get you to calm down and realize that everything’s okay. “Hey, hey it’s okay baby! I’m here I’m here, you have nothing to worry about!” Not knowing what else to do, he’d start doing his usual aegyo faces, along with the noises. Hobi would continue to do this until your tears would stop and he’d see the beautiful smile he loves so much start to spread across your face. “There’s my beautiful girl! Don’t worry! I’ll always be here to make you happy! Because I love you so much!” With that said he’d pull you down with him, placing a quick kiss on your lips before running his hand up and down your back until you’d fall back to sleep.

Originally posted by jinful

Namjoon: All the members always joke about Namjoon knowing everything. But when he’d realize what was happening to you, he would feel completely stupid and helpless. He wouldn’t know what to do to help you through this, so Namjoon would sit up and pull your head to his lap, stroking your hair hoping to sooth you back to sleep. Once he was positive you were asleep, he’d stay up long after researching what he could do to help you and hoping to find something to make you feel better. “I promise Y/N, if this happens again I’ll know what to do to comfort you. Trust me baby, you’ll never feel alone going through this again. I’m here. And I’m never leaving.”

Originally posted by chimchams

Yoongi: Yoongi has told you before that he’s never been good at expressing his emotions or what he truly feels. But seeing the love of his life crying out in fear after waking up in the middle of the night unable to move, he cracks. Yoongi would do anything for you, even pour his heart out to make you feel safe. He’d pull you closer to him, cuddling you. “It’s okay baby. I’m here for you. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll always be here for you, I promise. I’ll always protects you Y/N. You know I love you.” With him whispering this over and over to you, you’re able to fall back asleep, a small smile on your face knowing that Yoongi never breaks his promises.

Originally posted by saltysyub

Seokjin: Being the awkward mom that he is, Jin would be secretly panicking. He’d be spitting out anything that came to mind. “I’m here Y/N. I love you! Shhh it’s okay, I’m here, please don’t cry. I’ve got you. I promise.” When he noticed nothing changing he would become even more anxious until one of his dad jokes came out. When he noticed you stop and sniffle, he’d keep telling you bad jokes and puns until your tears were dry and your whimpers were non existent. Jin would pull you in for a quick kiss before playfully saying, “I knew you loved my jokes,” before laying down with you. After all his “bad” puns, you’d be exhausted and drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Originally posted by niehauscosima

hey guys! so I just hit 1k (???) so I decided to finally do that long awaited follow forever that I have been promising well.. FOREVER. I made this blog during the Euros because I needed more people to complain with/share memes with and boy I haven’t been disappointed…

Anyways here is just a little shoutout to all my mutuals because thank you for not unfollowing me when I go into that white-hot-rage-live-blogging-mode™️ & I promise you all there is nothing but bad memes and unfunny puns to come :)


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“And here is what I like to call the ‘think tank’,” Carlos said jovially, flinging the door open with as much flourish as he could manage. “Do ya get it? Huh, huh?”

Mal, the newbie that he was showing around, didn’t so much as blink.

Carlos resisted the urge to sulk. It took him a long time to come up with these puns— some reaction would be appreciated! Even if it was apocalyptic rage like Azar tended to favor, at least that was something.

“So, this is where the Ideas are stored?” Mal said curiously, striding inside without any of the hesitance that new interns usually showed.

Carlos blinked in surprise, before hurriedly going in after them, trying to regain control of the situation. He wasn’t so good with kids…

“Um, yes!” he said, falling into pace beside Mal. “As you know, I’m the head Idea man around here, so I help with creation next door, and then somebody brings them over here to be sorted and put away. That’ll probably be one of your duties, since you requested to work in this department.”

Mal hummed in vague acknowledgement, eyes darting back and forth as they took in the thousands of lightbulbs suspended in the air, each held in a separate container that had a small sticker on it.

Carlos could see the wonder in their expression, and he couldn’t resist a smile. It was a magnificent sight— this room contained all the innovations and sparks of inspiration that would ever be gifted to mankind, and it was truly a thing of wonder. Even Carlos, who had been working here for over six centuries, never tired of the sight.

Keep reading

You’re so Punny (Sherlock X Reader)

Summary: You spend the day telling puns and Sherlock doesn’t seem to be a fan of them. Sorry if there are some mistakes, I looked through it, I promise.
AN: I wrote this for a oneshot book I have on fanfiction based on a story I’m writing. Since it is one of my favorites, I decided to make it a reader insert here.

Sherlock sat across from you, reading that morning’s paper and ignoring his breakfast. Meanwhile, you ate quickly and tried understanding the book in front of you. You picked it up just to have something to do while you were eating. Sherlock wasn’t exactly talkative in the mornings and Mrs. Hudson had gone back down to her flat already.
“What are you reading?” Sherlock asked, not taking his eyes off of the paper.
You honestly didn’t know, but you saw the word ‘anti-gravity’ everywhere and began your horrible streak.
“A book about anti-gravity. I can’t put it down.”
His eyes shot from the paper to you, and you smirked, unable to help it.
“Really?” He asked. You could tell he was judging you. You could feel it even as you began to eat your breakfast and looked away, but you couldn’t help it. You laughed.
“Too early for puns?” You wondered.
“It’s always too early for puns, (Y/N).” he folded the paper and walked away from the table, going back to your shared bedroom.
“Please, please, please.” You begged. You really didn’t want to go to the store alone. You would’ve asked John, but he was at work. Sherlock was your only option at the moment.
He had declined every time you asked him until now. Tired of hearing you beg he sighed and stood up, grabbing his coat before marching downstairs. With a victorious grin, you followed.
The trip went by quickly. You found everything you needed and were going to check out when your phone dinged.
“Nevermind.” You said to Sherlock, stopping in your tracks.
“What’s wrong?”
“John just sent a list.” I went through the text, looking at the items John needed and wanted. Included in the list was a calendar to track the days, and keep up with major events, something you all had neglected to buy at the beginning of the year. You let Sherlock carry that one, so he wasn’t just following like a lost puppy.
You put everything on the table to check out, and as the clerk reached the last item, you suddenly remembered the calendar, and turned to Sherlock.
“Calendar.” You said, holding out my hand. “Wouldn’t want to walk out of here without paying for that. Last time I stole a calendar, I got twelve months.” The clerk laughed a little, and you did the same, looking at Sherlock, who wasn’t finding the humor in the joke.
“Get it, because-”
“I get it. No good.”
You looked at the clerk. “He secretly likes my puns.” You said, and she smiled.
“Not when you’ve been making them all morning.” Sherlock said, strolling out of the store, not having any business left in there.
“That’s the second one I’ve made today!” You called after him.
You scrolled through the channels, not finding anything that caught your eye, but there was nothing else to do.
Aggravated, you turned the TV off and let the remote fall to the floor.
“There’s nothing to watch.” You complained out loud.
“There are several programs to watch. I just saw you flick through all of them.” Sherlock said from his chair.
“Nothing good, that is.” You corrected yourself. “But I guess television is a medium. Anything well done is rare.” You pressed your lips together, trying not to laugh at your own joke.
“I’m serious, these are getting bad. How many more of these do you have?”
“Tons.” You answered and turned to him. “What’s wrong with a good pun?”
He didn’t answer, just kept typing on his laptop.
Your eyes scanned the paper from over Sherlock’s shoulder, reading small articles here and there. He knew you were reading, but didn’t say anything, only asked if you were ready for him to turn the page.
Seeing nothing else interesting, you agreed and he flipped to the next sheet.
“Oh, do you see that one?” You wondered.
“Which one?”
“The one about the Italian cook. See it?” He was still scanning the page.
“What about it?” He still hadn’t found it but played along.
“He had a terminal illness and he pastaway.”
You were ready for bed and walked out to tell Sherlock goodnight.
However, he wasn’t having a good night at all. You could tell he was becoming increasingly frustrated with whatever he was working with at the kitchen table. Chemistry things were everywhere and you could tell his jaw was clenched.
You walked over and put a hand on his shoulder snapping him out of his work. He ruffled his hair and leaned back against the chair.
“No luck?” You asked.
“None at all.” He groaned in response, looking at the mess he made on the table. You knew you were going to have to try to clean it up in the morning.
“I’m sorry.” You thought about it, debating on whether or not you should. He was already agitated, would you make it worse?
Worth a shot.
“I would tell you a chemistry joke to cheer you up, but I don’t think it would get a reaction.”
He only turned his head, eyes meeting yours. He said nothing and he didn’t have to. You ruffled his hair some more and walked back to the bedroom, a smile on your face.
“Sorry.” you laughed down the hallway.
You were almost asleep, your head against Sherlock’s chest. Despite his annoyance with your jokes, he didn’t protest when you scooted to his side of the bed and curled up against him.
You heard Sherlock sigh and his chest began to shake. Worried, you sat up only to see him smiling a little.
“What?” You questioned, wanting to know just what was so funny to him.
“‘Pastaway’.” He chuckled a little, shaking his head.
“I knew you thought they were funny!” You exclaimed.. He shushed you.
“You’ll wake up John.” He said gently pulling you back down.
“I think they’re clever.” He corrected.
“Whatever, you think they’re funny. There are few things that Sherlock Holmes thinks are funny and my puns are one of the few.”
“I said they’re clever. It’s a clever play on words, takes a bit more thought than most things.”
“Sure.” You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Pastaway…that’s my favorite.” You mused, closing your eyes.
“Do you know more?” He wondered. You grinned.
“I thought you’d never ask.”


Whereas many families enjoyed trips to the park, as a weekly thing, you had taken your baby girl to the Movie Premier, after you and Chris both not wanting to leave her. 

Photographers: Chris! Y/N! Over here!

Chris: Look baby! They’re taking your photo. You gonna smile?

Daughter: *Hiding in Daddy’s Blazer*

Y/N: Baby look! Say cheese! 

Daughter: Looks at camera for a moment, then back to Chris

Chris: Where’s the smiley face? *He begins to pull the cutest faces ever, until eventually…*

Daughter: *Giggles*

Chris: Atta girl! Come on, we’re gonna talk to the lady over there, who’s almost as pretty as Mummy!

Daughter: Mummy! *Stretches out arms to you*

Of course, there was interviews, and holding a little one whilst both you and your husband were being talked to, was never an advantage. But, all clouds have a silver lining. Or in this case, something a little more flashy. Diamonds, maybe?

Interviewer: So, both of you are new parents, and how are we finding the young lady?

Chris: Well, she can be very demanding for attention, much like her daddy. But, she’s a mummy’s girl. I mean, look at her now!

Interviewer: Yes, she seems to be quite happy with you, Y/N.

Y/N: She’s pretending. A good actor like her father. 

Interviewer: And you both? Had a break from the little lady here-

RDJ: I found you! *Looks at daughter* Hey little one! You gonna come with uncle Robert for a bit?

Daughter: *Giggles*

Y/N: You wanna go with Robert for a bit? Do you promise to be good.

Daughter: *Nods*

Chris: Come here baby, *Kisses forehead,* Now, don’t let Robert do anything bad, okay?

RDJ: As if! Come on baby, let’s go scare everyone

Interviewer: Well, it look’s like you guys have a potential babysitter already!

Chris: *Pulling you closer* No, He’s being a little shit. Downey loves her really, of course, but he think’s he’s the superior parent. He’s got a long way to go before he beats Captain Ameri-Father.

Chicken Soup [Tsukshima Kei]

This is part one of a fic I’m going to be adding onto whenever I get the chance. I’m really excited about adding to it, and I had fun writing this. Hope you enjoy 😊 

- M

“Mom, I’m home—"

“Hey, F/N.”

The girl screamed and flung her bag at the teenage boy in front of her, not apologizing as he grunted when the bag full of books hit his private parts.

“What the heck do you have in there?” Kuroo demanded as he dramatically stumbled to the living room and laid down carefully on the couch, his hands over his hurt area.

“My books for homework. What are you doing here?“F/N asked as she bent down and started putting a few of the books that were on the floor back into her bag. When she straightened, Tetsurou was grinning at her for the couch, his hands still over his crouch. F/N burst out laughing at the scene, nearly dropping her bag.

"Oi, c'mon this is serious.”

F/N managed to calm down and stopped laughing, sitting across from Tetsurou in the armchair, setting her bag on her lap.


“We’re gonna go to Miyagi.”

“Eh? Why?”

“I need to visit a friend. He’s home alone, sick, and I said I’d go visit him, but—”

“You want me to come cook for him. And you. You know I can only cook chicken soup for sick people, right? Course you do, I made it for you and Kenma once.”

“Please?” Tetsurou dropped to his knees, looking up at her with his hands together. “You’ll like him!”

F/N narrowed her eyes and stood up with her bag, putting her hand in front of her. “What’s in it for me, peasant?”

“You get to spend time with me and Tsukki—”


“Tsukishima. He’s on the Karasuno volleyball team, I met him at the training camp a while ago, he’s pretty chill. Anyway, I was texting him as I walked over here, asking him how his day was going. He said he was sick, and I told him I’d go visit him to help make him feel better.”

“Did he take you seirously?”

“Of course not, he’s just like you, salty; hates me, yet loves me.”

“I’m not going.” F/N stalked off to her room, leaving Tetsurou whining in the living room. She dropped her bag on her bed and started to change into pajamas, grumbling to herself.

Who’d do Tetsurou think she was? She wasn’t going to jus top onto a train and go to Miyagi on her Friday night, when instead she could be catching up on her shows or reading or doing anything but going to make soup for some salty volleyball player she’d never even met—

“I’ll take you to that concert.”

F/N looked up, narrowing her eyes at him. Tetsurou narrowed his eyes back at her from the doorway, and after staring at each other for a good thirty seconds, F/N blinked and sighed.

“Well, it’ll be worth it, right? I just have to make chicken soup.”

"We leave in five!” Tetsurou cried as he left the room.

“I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

After she’d changed into sweats and a T-shirt, F/N, with her phone in her pocket, demanded Kuroo keep his promise and ushered him out the door, cussing about chicken soup and salty volleyball players. She was in a bad mood the entire ride, ignoring all of Kuroo’s lame chemistry puns and all his ‘You’ll love Tsukki!’s.

And now here she was, standing in front of a house, in Miyagi, in pajamas, on a Friday night, behind Tetsurou as he knocked loudly on the door. After a few seconds a disgruntled and tired looking blond boy with glasses opened the door. He was wearing black sweats and a T-shirt that had a faded T-Rex on it. His glasses were crooked on his face and his nose was red, his hair ruffled. F/N was a bit taken aback from his height, but she was a bit used to it, since Kuroo was basically like her brother (or annoying cousin, which is what he was to her, literally.)

“Tsukki!” Tetsurou opened his arms wide, then dropped them. “Oh, don’t get me sick! Pardon the introdusion!” He called as he stepped inside past a very surprised Tsukishima.

F/N awkwardly stood in the doorway, unsure of whether to follow Tetsurou inside or sprint all the way back to Tokyo.
Tsukishima looked as if he was about to fall over, F/N stepped inside just as he leaned into the door, slamming it shut.
“Tetsu!” F/N yelled, barley holding up a slumped over Tsukishima, who was half leaning on the door half leaning on her. “TETSUROU COME HERE DAMMIT THIS IS NOT THE TIME TO TAKE A PICTURE!”

Kuroo apologized as he moved forward and helped F/N carry Tsukishima to the couch. They laid him down carefully and he stirred, opening his eyes slightly.

“Kuroo-san, why are you and a girl I’ve never seen before in my house?” He draped his arm across his eyes, sighing.

“This is L/N F/N, she’s a first year like you, she except way shorter—” Kuroo laughed as she smacked his arm — “and she’s here because I can’t make soup very as good as she can and you look like you need some chicken soup right about now. What kinda medicine did you drink?”

“The drowsy kind,” Tsukishima slurred, looking suddenly sleepy. “A whole bottle.”

“Okay, we’ve got a drugged blond, a crazy bedheaded weirdo, and me,” F/N said, standing up. “I’ll go make three bowls of soup.”

“Thanks!” Tetsurou called as she wandered into the kitchen.

Minutes later, Tetsurou and Tsukishima walked into the kitchen, the blond leaning into the black haired boy, who had a grin on his face and seemed to be taking in every moment he had an arm wrapped around the younger boy with extreme gleefulness.

As the two say down at the kitchen table, Tsukishima quietly told F/N where all the ingredients she needed were, and a while later she set three bowls of steaming hot soup on the kitchen table smiling triumphantly.


“Thank you.”

F/N sat down and joined the boys at the table, carefully eating her hot soup. Everyone ate in silence, besides for the occasional remark of how good the soup was, or Tetsurou trying to find things to complain about. After they’d finished, F/N set her bowl in the sink and took the boy’s bowls from then, about to wash them when Tsukishima spoke up.

“Just leave them, L/N-san, I’ll wash them later.”

“You sure? I really don’t mind—”

“I’m sure.”

Tsukishima got to his feet and wobbled into the living room, Tetsurou following after him. F/N followed afterwards, and found that Tsukishima had settled down on the couch, flipping through the channels on the TV, and Tetsurou was slowly scooting closer, smirking.

“You’ll get sick, Kuroo-san,” Tsukishima huffed as the back haired boy tried to sling an arm around him. F/N breathed a laugh as she sat down on the far end of the couch.

She felt an arm around her shoulder and groaned as Tetsurou snuggled closer to her. “Tetsu, please— woah!” Kuroo picked her up and moved them so they were closer to Tsukishima, Tetsurou sitting in between them, one arm around F/N’s shoulders, the other resting on the couch behind Tsukishima, a safe distance from the sick boy. They stayed like that for a while, comfortably watching TV. It took Tetsurou and F/N a while to realize what they were watching.

“Dinosaur documentaries?”

“Don’t like it, leave,” Tsukishima grumbled, smacking away Tetsurou’s hand that had gone to ruffle his hair.

But Kuroo and F/N were both smiling at each other, and F/N snuggled closer to her cousin, setting her head on his shoulder and yawning, hugging his arm as if it were her stuffed penguin she slept with at night.

Tetsurou kissed her forehead and laughed when she groaned and called him a dork.

“You guys dating?” Tsukishima asked, his voice a bit tired, his eyes not leaving the screen.

“Pff, no,” Kuroo said before F/N could jump to her feet and start yelling. “She’s my little cousin.”

“Ah, poor you,” Tsukishima said, glancing briefly at F/N, then back to the TV.

“Thank you for your sympathy,” F/N replied, patting Kuroo’s shoulder as he stared at the two of them, feigning hurt.

“Ooh, triceratops, F/N! Oi, Tsukki, turn it—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, gaping as Tsukishima’s head finally dropped onto his shoulder, his eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. Tetsurou made move to get up, but Tsukishima cuddled (actually cuddled, man, looking back, F/N realized how much medicine he must have had) closer to Tetsurou, until he too, like F/N had his head on the bed headed boy’s shoulder. Tetsurou grinned at the ceiling, putting his arms around the two, eventually falling asleep, resting his head on top of F/N’s. 

Kuroo awoke first, and after he got his bearing he decided it would be a good idea to make breakfast. He gently set F/N’s head on the couch behind her, and did the same with Tsukishima, so their heads were laying on the top of the sofa.

He left quietly and started to prepare breakfast, deciding on something easy, like pancakes (those he could make).

What Tetsurou didn’t know was the F/N was half awake and half asleep. She curled up into a ball on the couch and inched towards Tsukishima until her head bumped lightly into his knees. Probably thinking it was her cousin, she fell asleep again, oblivious the blond boy was starting to stir in his sleep.

Whether it was the smell of pancakes or the sunlight starting to stream into the room, Tsukishima woke up, groggily blinking and adjusting his crooked glasses that were still on his face. As he yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he realized there was a girl curled up next to him.

He froze, not wanting to wake her up, but also wanting to go and eat pancakes. Before he could make a decision, the girl blinked her eyes open sleepily, then turned onto her back so she was looking up at Tsukishima.

When their eyes met, F/N realized that he wasn’t Tetsurou. But, he had pretty eyes.

And that was probably when things changed, and about a minute before Kuroo burned a pancake and loudly ‘woke up’ his 'sleeping’ friends with a loud and terrible off key verse of Happy Birthday (ended with cuss words as he burned the pancake).

However, the rest of this story is for another day.

To be continued ~ 


UNSPKN part 20

Where the explanation happens, along with bad puns.

Set after the events of “Flowey Is Not A Good Life Coach” fanfiction, comic will focus on beloved skelebros and their great need of psychotherapy after all that happened.

Also it’s not a spoiler, it’s just my version of (another) epilogue. Heh.

Prev - Next


Original fanfic - here

CoolSkeleton95, Sans and Chara

When Was Papyrus Born?

So, trying to figure out where exactly the skeleton brothers are from is an exercise in what seems to be futility. However, there’s one thing I haven’t seen analyzed much. And that’s Papyrus’ username. I don’t think I need to explain it, but, normally when someone ends their username with two numbers, it means that they are using the year of their birth as shorthand to make the name unique and theirs.

What ‘95′ could Papyrus be referring to, though … ? We know Chara’s fall takes place in 201X, and that Undertale takes place in the somewhat distant future. Unfortunately, we only get one reference that could imply how much time has passed.

So let’s go with that. 100 years, putting us somewhere in the ballpark of 211X.  That means that Papyrus’ birthday is either 2095 or 1995. Given this context, the easiest date to jump to is 2095. But … I’m not so sure anymore. Papyrus and Sans seem to be somehow related to Wingdin. Gaster. Father or grandfather, the fact that both brothers have blasters speaks of a connection with him.

But, moving on … Alphys, the first Royal Scientist since Gaster, made it her mission to unlock the power of the SOUL using the human SOULs and DT. And it apparently took Asgore a very long time to replace Gaster in the end. So that puts Gaster, and therefore Papyrus’ (and sans’) birthdates back. It seems 1995 is the most recent date that works.

Sans And Chara

Toby has gone on record talking about how, in a japanese translation, the word used for sans should be ‘older brother.’ During 201X, Papyrus will be … 15/24 years old, and Sans will be older. Sans, with his mysterious badge, secret lab and photo albums full of people we do not know, seems to have very likely been an adult, to have worked in an offical capacity. And his close (if secret) association with Alphys, and his love of science fiction (especially when it’s real) makes it just as likely that he worked with Gaster as a scientist, more or less.

That means that, in 201X, when Chara falls, Sans will be employed (indirectly) by the royal family. It seems startlingly likely that Chara could have met him. What would their relationship be like? Well … Let me draw up what I think like this. Sans has a whole system of childish code phrases to use when interacting with a friendly time traveler. He has a diverse and varied knoweldge of surface foods despite having never been there himself.

He likes bad jokes, to the point that he exalts those who make them …

… And the narration, which narrachara says is all Chara, is completely full of bad jokes.

And, lest we forget, Chara is the only main character who is established to draw … 

… And what do we find in Sans’ lab?

While we’re here, there are a few other links I would like to draw as well. We know Sans hates making promises, but the way he talks about the one to Toriel seems to imply that he HAS made one before, to another person like Toriel. (who shares Chara’s pun passion and ‘greetings’) And that he doesn’t like making promises because, like he says at the end of the kill-all, he ends up breaking them. It seems to me like he made a promise to Chara a long time ago.

But the way he says that a person who likes bad jokes HAS an integrity you can’t say no to tells me he never felt that Chara let him down, or he would have revised that opinion. As far as he knows, everyone he knows who likes bad jokes has been excellent. So, Chara didn’t ‘betray’ him and make him regret his promise that way. 

It seems very likely to me that Sans made a promise to Chara. And Sans, in the end, failed them. 

If you accept that Chara names the songs in the Soundtrack …

Look at the period in that song title. Undertale’s soundtrack is normally very sparse with punctuation, and the other themes that have a character name in it, Undyne, Alphys and ASGORE, lack the period. It creates the impression that, after speaking their name, the writer of the Soundtrack falls into flat, deliberate silence, or that they spit the name out like a bullet.

I bet Sans knew Chara, that they were friends. That Sans broke a promise. And I bet Chara is still sore.

smoldovahkiin  asked:

I'm harley aka the annoying one who makes puns and bad jokes in your streams B) followed you ages ago on an old blog and then refollowed here and really appreciated the posts during my politics classes at college! Mostly found lurking about in Glasgow. Always appreciated the inclusiveness on your blog and you have the soundest followers👌 this blog helps me find cool folks so I have more Scottish mutuals who have the same politics and it's class. (P.S I am ready for alien isolation)

Hey Harley! You’ve got to promise to keep those puns coming. I’ve always tried to project the inclusiveness I see an independent Scotland being like in this blog and I will continue to do that.

And yeah I have the soundest followers💪 I’ll be streaming and recording alien isolation whenever I get it so stay tuned😁

anonymous asked:

any thoughts on gency kids? no worries if not :)

Do I have thoughts on Gency kids? (✿⊙‿⊙)

Doll, you just open up a big swirling vortex that eats away at my life for the better part of the day.

Okay, so I’m not big on science and technicalities and biology (and my headcannon probably isn’t possible but… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ). Anyways, what I think would happen is after Mercy and Genji got married, they would both get super baby hungry, but never say a word to each other until that moment they both confessed they want kids. Mercy would basically pull some scientist and doctor magic that resolves in a miracle (bad pun is bad). That miracle being that Mercy took Genji’s DNA and somehow replicated and made sperm from it and then after one quick surgery, bam, pregnant!

(If you give me like a couple days, you’ll have a Gency pregnancy fanfic, promise)

Okay, well, after that whole thing that my trashy-self demanded that I needed to write, here’s an actual answer to your question. 

Here you go, doll! (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧ 

Two babies. The first one, a beautiful girl who’s much like her daddy. Black spiky hair but her mother’s ocean blue eyes that hook Genji the moment he first sees them. They name her Valentine Sakura Shimada. Genji will always kiss her nose and call her Sakura (Japanese for Cherry Blossom). Mercy will play with her little fingers and toes and admire her little fingernails while she calls her sweetheart. Once she’s all grown up, Valentine is strong and quick in battle. Off the field, she’s quiet, and prefers to keep to herself, but is kind, resourceful and very observant, nothing gets past her watchful gaze. Rarely will she ever lose her calm and cool demeanor, but when she gets angry its as if the very earth is splitting open with magma (She will destroy anyone who gets her that pissed) Later she will learn to yield her own double red dragons with her Kama (A sort of short sickle type weapon that comes in pairs and that’s used to mostly block, trap and disarm an opponent’s weapon). As an adult, she fights right along side her father and uncle. Her uncle teaching her many fighting techniques. She’ll have struggles of honor and justice and knowing when she’s gone too far (Very similarity to her uncle, her father will note unhappily) but will get through it with Zeynatta’s help and find her inner peace at a very young age.

Yeah, my brains all over the place with Gency kids so here’s the next baby. I’m complete garbage, sorry not sorry.  (✿◠‿◠) 

The second child to Mercy and Genji is a kind boy. Genji is the most excited about this, loving that he’ll have a son. After he’s born, everyone quickly realizes he’ll take after his mother. Blonde hair, fluffy and cute just like his mom’s, but his brown eyes are definitely his fathers. Taro Egon Shimada is as loving and great as his mother through and through. Taro was Genji’s picked, and Egon was after Mercy’s father. Genji’s proud of his son, and Mercy even more so that he follows in her footsteps. He’s caring and soft and wonderful. Taro knows exactly what’s right and what’s wrong, and knows that there are other answers besides violence, naturally hating war and death. He’ll get fearful sometimes of all the death and destruction, and want to hide from it all, but he slowly gets past his fear and saves lives. He’ll become a surgeon and make his own breakthroughs in nanobiology. He’ll add on to his mother’s Caduceus Staff, adding a feature that allows the golden stream when connected to a person that sudden gets killed to immediately resurrects the person. He’ll also create special packs that he can attached to a person that will boost their power for a solid minute before destabilizing. He’ll dawn his own Valkyrie suit, making his own adjustments and adding a small pair of wings to the bottom of the spine, allowing better fine motor control and ascending and descending movements. He loves his older sister, and she loves him, feeling completely protective over him while he feels responsible for her emotional and mental states. They go through a rough period of harsh words and long silences when Valentine loses her way for a few months. She’ll call him soft and helpless, he’ll call her cruel and uncaring. They continue their bitter fight in their late teens until she returns from a trip with his father and Zeynatta, Valentine a better and happier person They make amends, and Taro is happy to have is loving albeit protective sister back. He’ll later become one of the worlds best surgeons, but lose both his legs below the knee to a bombing while he was saving a mother and child from a burning building. No one know they had a second round of explosives until his legs were crushed under tons of rubble but the mother and child was safe. Mercy was forced to amputate his legs right then and there, but they brought him home alive. He struggles for a bit with his new prosthetics, but with consoling from his father, leans to love himself as he is.

So I’m dead right now, I can’t handle Gency feels anymore. I’ll see you dolls when I resurrect. Later. ✖‿✖

EDIT: Taro can control a Shimada Dragon

hello, i’m ava! i’m a self-deprecating writer with a penchant for sassiness and bad puns. i’m not very good at these intro things so here are some fun facts about me: i write things for, i’m 100% british, i have an irrational fear of oranges, and i am obsessed with anything and everything disney-related. feel free to chat with me whenever! i promise i’m nice (even if my resting bitch face says otherwise).

insta: @ava_tallulah

twitter: @avatunnicliffe

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HHE Pinch Hit Fic

I offered to Pinch Heat for HHE and got @agent-carnter  They were not much for fluff or crack and preferred things on the darker side. I hope I fit the bill.  Sorry there is no porn, I tried but it did not fit.

The sun had finally set. Hannibal stood watching from the library window as th sky turned from blue, to pink, to purple and finally black. Only then did he allow himself to grab The Bottle. Held sacred to this one day of the year.  It’s amber colored contents fell, filling the crystal like fire made liquid. Hannibal watched it hit the bottom then flow up the side, the tip curling back in just before it could spill over. He heard a small laugh and looked up, smiling as he watched Will take a seat. It was Hannibal’s seat, which only caused Hannibal to smile more.

“I still want to know how you tracked down a bottle made on my exact birth date.”

Hannibal glanced over to Will, serene and relaxed in the chair. The fireplace cast an ethereal glow over him, his curls glinting and his face as beautiful as when they first met. Age had certainly been kind to his husband.

“You’re going to spill if you keep looking at me like a lovesick fool.”

With a deft twist of his wrist, Hannibal stopped the flow of liquor to one glass and repeated the process to the other, his surgeons hands never once wasting a drop of the precious vintage. The iced rocks clinked in the glasses as Hannibal started to carry them over. He paused and turned back to the bar where he opened a second container, pausing as he eyed the contents then tipped the remnants in. The whiskey bottle was picked up and eyed carefully as well before Will was eyed just as carefully.

“Hey. It was not me.” Will held up his hands up defensively but a soft smile still played about his lips.

“I know.”  Hannibal said as he turned the near empty bottle to watch the last swallow swirl around. “I just did not realize how much time had passed for us.”

“Well you could water it down to make it stretch. I used to do that in college.  Worked pretty good with wine too.”

Hannibal really did try to school his expression into calm neutrality but Will always could read him like an open book and now, after so many years, Hannibal wondered why he even bothered trying to hide anything.  Will’s laughter, ringing sweet and golden in the room, let him know how badly he had failed and that it was to quite an absurd degree.

“I really hope you never lose your pretentions. I love seeing that offended cat look. Yes! Just like that!” Will dissolved into laughter again.

Hannibal just shook his head, swirled his drink and headed for the second seat by the fire. He sipped his drink as he went and offered the second one to Will despite knowing the answer. Hannibal set the drink on the table next to Will, within easy reach but not encourage him to drink. Though he did miss sharing evening drinks with Will, Hannibal knew why Will didn’t and he respected it. However, it would be rude to not at least offer.

Once Hannibal was settled in the chair he held his glass aloft, staring through it and studying the warped view of the world it offered. Will was hard to view through it so Hannibal quickly took a sip, letting the smooth burn settle in mouth, throat, stomach. He supposed he should have eaten beforehand but it didn’t really matter.  What mattered was the warmth; from the whiskey, the fire, Will’s gaze.

Still vibrant eyes locked onto Hannibal’s, no hesitation now at maintaining prolonged contact. Hannibal now found himself dropping his gaze first, using the excuse of another swallow. It was too easy to get swallowed in those eyes and there was time enough for that later. Silence reigned, broken only by the crackle of wood being consumed, turned into heat.  His glass was empty before he spoke again.

“Would you believe me if I said I had it all along, even before we first met? That it was Uncle Robertus’ first and mine second?”

Will eyed his untouched glass and made a motion with his hand, silently asking Hannibal to take it, to not let it go to waste. Hannibal, as ever, obliged. “If you were telling the truth, of course I would. I know you had a bottle from that year, or within a few years. Or rather, your Uncle did.”

Hannibal sipped and inclined his head once in acknowledgement.

“But it wasn’t from the day I was born. So, how DID you get it?”

“Where there is a will, I want to be in it.”


It was now Hannibal’s turn to be amused by an offended cat look. Though he would term it more pouting puppy. He took another sip, not even bothering to hide his pleased smirk.

“Please? Tell me? You  promise every year and every year it’s the same bad joke. Literally the same. You could at least tell a new one.”

“There is safety in having constants, Will.”

“Not in constantly making what are not only bad puns, but bad sex puns.”

Another nod, another sip, another small stretch of silence.

“It came, as you probably guessed, partially from determination, partially my love for you, and,” Here he shrugged, smiling in self depreciating humor. “Partially my own ego. I wanted to get something sentimental, something rare and hard to find that I knew you would truly enjoy and not just be grateful for because it came from me. I wanted it to be the best present you ever had and I wanted it to come from me.”

“That is the why, which I knew. But…how?”

Hannibal sighed, finishing the last of the second glass. He didn’t miss the way Will’s eyes widened, the way he leaned forward nervously, as he set it down and folded his hands over his stomach. “Relax Will.  There is still some left, remember? Perhaps you will drink it this time?”

“How, Hannibal?”

“Do you remember our wedding night?”

Despite the determination Will was showing, more so than the other nights, Hannibal saw him roll his eyes and sit back, losing some of the tension that coiled his still slim body tight. “Which one?”

“We only had one wedding night, Will.”

In perfect sync, they both looked down at the bands on their fingers, crimson bands bright in the firelight.

“Of course I remember.  Some memories you don’t lose, no matter how much time has gone by. I could never forget it, Hannibal.”

“Do you…wish you could?” Hannibal hated how small, how weak, he sounded but he had to ask. He still needed that reassurance.

Will gave him a look that Hannibal could not interpret and reached for him. Hannibal almost drew back in fear. It took considerable effort but he remained still, surprise crossing his features as Will’s hand settled warm and gentle on top of his.

“That is the one memory I will never give up.  Heaven, hell or highwater, it will be there, safe and protected and ours.” He leaned in, lips hovering over Hannibal’s and Hannibal leaned forward, pressing them together and almost sobbing at the soft, yielding warmth of them. Will crawls into his lap, never breaking the kiss but never deepening it either. It remained a gentle press of lips, warmth and love, pure affection.

Hannibal eventually broke it, gasping softly for air and hugging Will close, revelling, as always, in the solid weight of him. Marveling at how perfectly they fit together and smiling as Will, ever wont to do, curled up and tucked his head under Hannibal’s chin. Hannibal, like their wedding night, like many nights after, nuzzled the silken locks. They stayed that way before Hannibal started feathering kisses over what parts of Will he could reach without moving them.

Will chuckled and obligingly lifted his face and twisted his head to give Hannibal more places to kiss. Like the giddy teenagers they never were, the laughed and kissed, touched and nuzzled, each as loathe to stop as the other.

It seemed no time passed till they heard a rooster crowing. Both looked to the windows, watching the sky start to lighten though the sun was not up yet. Hannibal turned a stricken look to Will.

“Won’t you have the last drink, Will?”

“Hannibal…you promised.”

“I know..but…please?” He couldn’t keep the sob down, couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t be strong. Not this time, not after so many years. Not after having been able to hold Will for an entire night. “Will please.  I kept my promise to you. I stayed and waited. Do not make me wait another year.”

The sun rose higher and Will rose from his lap, slipping like quicksilver through Hannibal’s grasp though he tried with all his might to hold onto him. Will looked sadly at Hannibal, silently asking forgiveness as the first rays of sunlight fell into the room, turning his once solid form translucent. Hannibal closed his eyes, feeling tears fall unhindered, unable to watch, again, as Will faded from his life.

He opened them when he heard the rooster crow again, the room full of sunlight, the fire nothing but embers. Will’s ring lay where had left it on the chair which bore no evidence anyone had sat in it for a long time.  Hannibal groaned and rubbed his eyes, head hurting and stomach sour from the whiskey and disappointment and exhaustion.

Somewhat unsteady he rose, taking both glasses back to the bar, moving by rote to clean and put them away. He remained standing there, hands damp as he looked at the almost empty bottle and almost empty urn.  Fingers traced the engraving on the urn, “Will Graham-Lecter”, before he peered in it again.  Empty save for what clung to the sides. So many years gone. So many years alone. One glass of whiskey. One scoop of ashes. Keeping his promise to survive, live and thrive.

A bitter laugh escaped him. He had survived, had lived, but he had not thrived. He found, if not happiness, at least contentment in the things he always had; cooking, music, art. They had all lost their luster, the thrill they once gave, muted and dull. The only time he felt fully alive was the night of his wedding anniversary, the night he got to see Will even if only in a drunken haze.

Every year he had the one glass of the special whiskey, small, to make it last, to live as long possible though he wanted anything but. His final promise to Will though. Once whiskey and ash were gone then, then it would be time.

“It really was my Uncle’s bottle, lost and forgotten. Found by chance. I knew you would never believe that, though.”

He looked once more at both urn and bottle, at the small crystal vial kept hidden in a corner just waiting. Waiting for the final drink. He smiled and decided that next year, the truth would make a the perfect, final anniversary gift.