#am beggining to understand why in the comics everyone fucks everyone

[realatlast]

What are they looking at? (Wrong answers only)

[anuknowha]

Till Death Do We Part// Chapter 4, Too Much Fun

I would highly appreciate it if you reblog it and all its lovely tags. Thank you!

In a bedroom:

Music rang through the bedroom, everyone dancing and clapping their hands in enjoyment. The door cracked slightly.

A light skinned man who held a microphone in one hand. The tune of pop music playing in the background as he started to tap his foot to the beat. He danced across the floor, smooth as ever as his "audience" observed him in awe.

He put the microphone to his mouth and took an inhale as the words slowly appeared on the screen. He started to sing.

"I don't care what you're talking bout baby. I don't care what you say. Don't you come walkin' beggin' back mama. I don't care anyway. Dime after dime, I gave you all of my money. No excuses to make." He was in complete sync with the beat as his curly black hair bounced with his every movement.

The youngest girl was shaking her hips to the song. The skinny dark skinned guy next to her soon grabbed her by her hand and started to dance with her.

Another male, with pale skin couldn't help but gyrate his hips as he tapped his feet to the beat.

Two of the more bulky young men remained on the edge of the bed clapping their hands. The heftier guy was on the floor, admiring the man before him. And the other two women couldn't help but laugh and cheer him on.

Within a few minutes the song faded out and the room was filled with applause.

"That was great Michael!" One of the men on the floor chuckled.

"Thank you Duke." Michael bowed.

"What exactly happened to you Michael? When I was alive you were well and thriving." The young girl said, Michael couldn't help but toss her a small smile.

"Cardiac arrest, well overdose I should say. I guess its because my physician gave me too many pills and I just couldn't take it and it ended me."

"Man they didn't have to do you like that. Always gotta get rid of the black man because of the empowerment, right?" The guy in the bandanna huffed.

"I don't believe it was on purpose..." The girl stated.

"No, it probably was." Michael said nodding his head. "Tupac is right. Even though I had changed the color of my skin and altered my face it never changed the fact of the matter that I was still a black man."

"I still can't believe you did that Michael." The heavy set guy on the floor expressed.

"I've had some conflicting battles with my self-confidence, a good example of that was me hating the shape of my nose. Janet did too, and we both ended up getting surgery for it."

"Well a person like me got murdered and I still think Biggie over here did it." Tupac announced.

Biggie got up and walked over to Tupac with a face of disgust. "You weren't alive when it happened but they killed me too Tupac. Someone killed me too, and although I had a beef with you I would never hurt you like that my brother." He sighed.

"Someone shot you too?!" The girl that Tupac was just dancing with nodded her head.

"They did from what I've read and ain't nobody find out who had killed either of y'all."

"And what happened to you princess? You get shot too?" He clicked his tongue.

One of the women on the other side of the room got up and looked over at him, she went over to the girl and wrapped her arm around her shoulder in comfort.

"Aaliyah died when the plane she was on crashed in the Bahamas. It was a very tragic death."

"I-I died from a heart attack too Michael." A voice came from the guy in the back of the room, everyone shot him a look.

"We know." they all said in unison, well almost all except the two who were on the bed.  

"Now, Michael, I still don't understand why you'd want to make such a drastic change to your appearance like that but what matters is that you're satisfied son." Duke said with a smile.

"I am Duke, I am." Michael laughed. “Well more than I was before if that’s what you meant.”

Biggie and Tupac only shook their heads at Michael’s response. And although they didn’t agree with his decisions, they knew in the back of their mind that they were in support of his decision in the matter. Everyone had the right to be happy in their own way, and they all knew what made Michael feel more confident in himself.

Back downstairs; as the two Beatles entered the living room everyone gave them a wide eyed look.

"Aren't you John and George...? From the Beatles?" David eyed them, taking in their forms.

"Yeah we are... What about it?" John snorted.

"I always wanted to meet the Beatles. You know, before there were three." Kurt trailed off until he took a better look at them, he squinted. "Wait-"

"George died in 2001." David added, being the only one in the room with possible knowledge of this information.

John raised a brow and pointed to the dirty blonde sitting on the stairs. "And aren't you Brian Jones? The original lead singer of the Rolling Stones?"

Brian let out a sigh and nodded his head. Jim wrapped an arm around his shoulder and let out a laugh.

"He's still upset about being here." He teases.

Brian quickly threw Jim’s arm off with a blush. “I’m the only one in the room who was murdered, so yeah, I’m angry, I’m pissed, and I’m hurt.”

Freddie was quickly taken aback. “But, I thought it was a cause of misadventure?”

“You know damn well Freddie that a 27 year old man that owns a pool can obviously swim. He “drowned” in his own pool. It would be kind of ridiculous right? Don’t you think?” David ridiculed.

George tried to hold back a laugh, “Well at least your killer didn’t sit at the crime scene-.”

“Fuck off George. I swear. They never jailed him, because there wasn’t any fucking evidence.” Brian snarled as he stood up on the stairs, he started to gesture towards the slightly “older” man.

Jim quickly grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down, smoke leaking through his teeth as he rolled his eyes at the boy. Brian didn’t hesitate to try to free his arm from Jim who only tightened his grip.

David chortled, unable to keep his eyes off them.

By this point the two Beatles were fed up and decided to walk past them. And as they went up the stairs, Brian lunging at them like a wild dog, growling and baring his teeth, but Jim held him back not lightening his grip on his arm in the slightest.

George and John paused looking at the room filled with rock stars but soon continued their journey.  You could tell John was focused, he was quick to try to move from this room. It seemed to make him somewhat uncomfortable; or maybe the feeling was indifference.

Back in the bedroom; Tupac and Biggie were finally talking out the conspiracy many people were speculating.

"I think we can agree brother, that neither one of us are responsible for each other's death." Tupac smiled as he held his hand out.

"I agree." Biggie grabbed his hand and gave him a firm handshake.

"I'm glad everyone is gettin' along. You know back in my day, when Louis and I were swinging towns and jazzing up houses, there was too much going on, seemed that no one wanted to get along." Duke thought for a second, tapping his chin.

"All of you guys still had houses a swingin after we were long gone, huh?" Louis cackled.

"Yeah, and some of us are still on earth swinging, dancing, and satisfying the young and the old." The woman with her arm around Aaliyah spoke.

"I know I did Ms.Houston." Aaliyah nodded grabbing her hand.

"I think we've had enough talk about our troubles don't you think? Whose turn is it on the karaoke machine?" the other woman hummed looking around the room. "How about you Elvis?"

Most of the time, Elvis was cocky, but this time he was slightly reluctant about taking the microphone.

“What’s wrong? Michael questioned, slightly worried.

“You know karaoke wasn’t around much when I was.” Elvis sighed.

Michael walked over to him and handed him the mic. He gripped his hand firmly and gave him a reassuring nod. He whispered something as Elvis took the mic and walked to the front of the room. Whitney walked over and helped change the song for him.

“What song would you like?” she hummed as she scrolled through on Youtube searching for songs she possibly could have known.

“Jailhouse rock.”

The music started, and Elvis took a big breath in. He kept his eyes away from the screen and towards the others as he started snap his fingers to the beat. Everyone soon followed.

Outside the room; George and John were walking past until George caught rift of the music, he stopped. He moved closer to the door, and started watching through the crack of the door. He seemed almost in awe at the sight. John tugged on his arm.

"Let's go. I want to find that room." He stated stubbornly as he continued to walk, George's wrist in his grip.

George looked back in disappointment.

"But I actually was interested."

"Later George, first we read. I want to know how everyone died."

George let out a sigh until they passed a room in which they heard the strum of a guitar. They both stopped in their tracks and looked at each other. This door was closed, locked. Comically they both put their ears up to the door and John gave George a "shh" placing his finger over his hand to signal silence. They listened, the cords sounding slightly familiar to George’s ears, and his hand reaches towards the knob before its quickly knocked away by his band mate. Wave after wave of notes were heard by them. They wondered who was behind the door but dare not try to open it.

Nodding at each other they agreed to move on, until they got to a door that was wide open. They saw a boy sitting there, someone neither of them recognized. He seemed different from everyone else in the house.

He was drawing or something, but they dared not bother him, he seemed too into whatever it was that made the young boy a busy bee. They were both curious as to who he was but John figured they’d find out more by reading than by asking him questions. Especially since he seemed like he wanted to be alone.

After a few more down they see a tall man standing next to a giant red door. This man was built, not wearing anything but a silk red robe. His face was firm with a lack of emotion. He had curly black hair, and brown eyes that shifted over in their direction. In his hand was a scepter, it was golden and about half his height.

“You have come to read prophecies?” The man questioned, his tone and posture staying still as a statue. “You must state your names.” he announced.

“John Lennon.”

“And George Harrison.”

The man put his hand on the door, the scepter glowing. The door soon opened and John and George took a step in.

In the basement; Janis let out a small gasp, “I should’ve told them that they can’t see their own or any of their band mates.”

I appreciate feedback! 

Taglist: @lennonwhipped  @rogers-flowered-blazer  @caviarandqueen @sweet-mother-love @peacelennon

[odderancyart]

Cherry

Warnings: implied past abuse

Underfell

AO3

Next

Sans leaned into the couch. Absently he fingered his collar. It was an unusually good day. There had been no questioning his and his brother’s authority in Snowdin, the dogs had taken care of all crime and the new food-transports from the capital had arrived, which made everyone in an extra good mood. Especially since none of it had been missing this time. Stolen or kept by the Capital.

Papyrus was sitting at the kitchen table doing paperwork. Doomfanger was resting in his lap. Sans would’ve helped his brother, but he hated paperwork. It was awful. Also, ever since he spilled mustard all over it Papyrus had banned Sans from ’helping’.

Yeah. It was a good day.

A phone signal went off, and Papyrus picked his up. He sighed as he checked the caller before accepting and putting the phone to his ear.

“YES?” His eyebrows rose as listened to whoever it was. Sans watched in interest.

”WHAT? BUT SANS IS H…” he interrupted himself. Papyrus looked very bemused, and slightly worried. Sans sighed. Well. So much for that good day. ”NEVERMIND. I AM ON MY WAY.”

Papyrus stood and waved for Sans to follow him. With a groan, he rose from the couch, pulling on his coat as they left the house.

”what was that ’bout, boss?” he asked as they walked though Snowdin. The denizens of the small town moved out of their way as they proceeded to take the road leading toward the forest.

”THE CANINES TOLD ME THEY HAVE FOUND YOU. IN THE FOREST. DOGGO SAID YOU WERE ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED OF THEM AND EVERYTHING. ’YOU’ LOOKED HURT AS WELL, APPARENTLY.”

”what.”

Sans received no reply. It didn’t look like his brother knew what to think either. That was fucking weird. It would’ve been one thing if it had been anyone else. That’d still be strange, but explainable. The Dogi, though… with their incredible senses of smell and loyalty to the skeleton brothers, it should’ve been impossible for them to mistake anyone else for them. Sans sighed. Well, they’d have to wait until they reached their destination – wherever that was – until they got an answer.

It was freezing in the forest. Sans had to close his jacket to keep out the cold winds. When the winter affected skeletons, then temperatures were low. They passed through most of the forest, and Sans realized they appeared to be on way toward his sentry station.

When they reached it, he could see how Lesser and Dogaressa were kneeling close to something scrambled up against the wall of the sentry station. The huddle appeared to be breathing shallowly. The other dogs – except Greater who was on duty guarding the food – were standing watch. Dogamy gave away a happy yip as he smelled them. Doggo looked grumpy as always, but his tail twitched, showing that he was glad to see them. Both looked very confused though, staring at Sans. He scowled, and both immediately averted their eyes.

Dogaressa looked up, looking relieved as she moved away from the huddle. She grabbed Lesser’s neck and dragged him with her.

”(Lieutenant! Sir!)” she greeted, saluting them. The huddle gave away a terrified squeak. Papyrus nodded slightly in reply, but Sans only had eyes for the monster next to his sentry station. It was a skeleton. He made a move to teleport up to them, but his brother grabbed his shoulder, stopping him. Fine. His brother wanted to look first.

Papyrus strode up to them. The huddle scrambled as far away they could. Which wasn’t very far, because the wall behind him quickly stopped them.

”LOOK AT ME,” he ordered, and the monster quickly obeyed. Sans gasped as he saw the monster’s face. They were identical. From the shape, to the sharp teeth with a gold replacement and the scar over the right eye socket. Red eyelights. The only difference was that the other monster’s face was extremely bruised.

”B-Boss!” the other monster stammered, trying and failing to form a disarming smile. Even their voices were identical, even though this one’s was raspier – like he’d been screaming. As Papyrus’ frown only deepened – in confusion and irritation at not understanding what was going on – the other looked even more terrified. ”i- i’m s-s-so-sorry, Boss. i didn’- didn’ mean to fall asleep again. please. please please please do-don’t h-hurt me, Boss,” he begged.

”W-WHAT?” Papyrus stared at the monster in horror. Sans could only imagine how awful it must feel to have someone who looked exactly like one’s brother begging to not get hurt. He quickly shortcutted up to his brother once it was obvious that Papyrus had no idea what to do. Normally any kind of impostor would be dead or chained by now – it happened that some shapeshifters had tried, but this was a little too good for a normal faker. Plus, why would one of those act like this?

“ok, that’s ‘nough.” Sans’ eye socket was blazing red and he glared down at the other ‘him’. The monster flinched before he got a better look at him. Then he slowly blinked. He seemed to almost forget his fear as he stared at Sans in shock.

“okay, what the fuck?” The monster exclaimed. Sans and Papyrus glanced at each other in surprise. No way this was a shapeshifter. They hadn’t thought about it before, but the monster spoke in lowercase Comic Sans. Only actual skeletons could even identify fonts, and changing them and letter cases was something that was hard even for them.

“ya tell me, buddy.” Sans finally commented. “why’re ya beggin’ my bro not to hurt ya for? and what’re ya doin’ at my station?”

“y-yer? ‘t’s my sentry station.”

They stared at each other for a couple moments. The dogs and Papyrus were just looking extremely perplexed. No one had any idea what was going on here, if that wasn’t obvious.

Finally, Sans spoke.

“ya’ve ever heard ‘bout the multiverse theory?”

He had studied it when he still worked in the labs. Until something had happened. He still didn’t know why he had dropped out, but he felt no need to go back so it didn’t really matter.

“’c-course.” A small light had begun to burn in the monster’s eyes. He almost seemed to forget to be afraid, nearly looking excited. “ya think…”

“well yer not a shapeshifter so i can’t think of anythin’ else.”

Papyrus cleared his throat, waking them up from their conversation. Both had forgotten they were out in the open, and in others’ company. The excitement of having the Theory proven had been too distracting.

Other Sans flinched at his brother’s voice, and let out a squeak. Sans himself only rolled his eyes.

“CARE TO SHARE WHAT THE HELL YOU TWO ARE TALKING ABOUT?”

Sans chuckled as he looked his brother and the dogs over. Papyrus didn’t try to hide both his curiosity and irritation while the dogs did their best to not show how intrigued they were. Except for Lesser. Lesser was busy trying to build a snow statue.

“this one’s me. from ‘nother universe,” he simply told them. “parallel universe, most likely, with how similar we look.”

The dogs completely stopped acting like they weren’t pay attention, and stared at him with gaping mouths, showing off all their teeth. Papyrus blinked, but didn’t seem to be able to think of anything to say. Eventually he seemed to catch himself.

“GET HIM HOME, SANS. WE CAN’T LEAVE HIM HERE BUT NO ONE CAN SEE THIS… COPY OF YOU.”

Sans grinned and saluted jokingly.

“sure thing, boss.”

He grabbed the other him and stepped into the Void.

I came to think when I was going to bed yesterday; what if instead of Underswap, the abused and scared UF Sans ended up in (my normal) Underfell where the bros are best bros like they should be? I'm thinking of continuing this. Any opinions?

[victorian-cocaine]

A sad man's reflections about the love of his life

Love Sounds weird. L-O-V-E Four letters. Just four. Why is it that that word, just that simple four letters, are so fearable? Why is it that I have feared them the most of my life? Why does it hurts so much? Is this what I am supposed to feel? Is it normal to feel this empty? Fuck's sake, why? Is it love what's crashing me now? Or is it the knowledge that I have lost it? She doesn't look at me anymore, there's no more warmth for me in her eyes, not one single corner of brightness there. Her eyes weren't like that before, I'm sure. Have I done that to her? She doesn't want to work with me, she always sends some other pathologist who will end up storming out because I'm such a git. I'm a git. I remember, at the beginning I didn't care about her. I deduced her like I would deduce anyone else, I used her every time I decided it was fit to do it. I didn't even care how much I was hurting mousy little Molly. She was nothing to me. Once I saw the trail of tears there. That's when the guilt started. I would imagine the quiet echo of her sobs in my head. One time after the other, it would always get louder and louder every time I used her, every time I got her hopes up just to crush them the next second. I could see it in her eyes, I was hurting her. But, back then, it was just that moment, it would never bother me the second I got myself out of Barts. But life is cruel, isn't she? Molly was always so kind to me. And she, damn her, slowly but surely started making me care about her. Using her feelings to get what I wanted started paining me as well. It hurted to know I was the one who was breaking her. One night, I hadn't a case to distract my mind, I was lying awake in my bed and I started thinking about her. She always smiled, but it always was a sad smile. Her hurted eyes haunted me, replaying scene after scene, again and again. For some reason her feelings for me never died, it didn't matter how much of a git I was to her, she still felt the same for me. And I relised I liked it. It felt good. It felt solid. It warmed me. That's when I noticed that sentiment had found it's way into my mind. I was scared, I was so very scared. I had worked all my life evade sentiment, but there it was. And I was such a coward that I decided not act upon it. I tried to scare her off, I didn't want to get attached to her anymore than I already had. It didn't worked. And some part of me (the one I tried to shun, the one its voice was getting louder with every beat of my heart) was so unbelievably happy about it. It felt so good. I wasn't the only one trying to make it work, she was trying to forget me and it felt so good that she couldn't. She tried to date someone else, and then it started to hurt. A burning sensation in my chest, I could see every detail, every success, everthing that went wrong, every boyfriend who was not the right for her. Nothing was right about it, I didn't want to admit it, but I was scared that someday she would make it. I couldn't stand it. I just couldn't. It felt wrong, so wrong, I couldn't stand that she was kissing another lips and being touched by other hands. I knew it wasn't fair, I was never going to act upon my feelings, she deserved to forget me and move on with her life. I knew it, but I couldn't accept it, because deep inside me I felt that she was mine. She was mine. One time after the other, everytime she tried to date I deduced her boyfriend and ruined it for her. I was so jealous. I still am. I shall never forget that night, that damned Christmas night. She had dated someone at that time and I was so jealous when I saw that damned red present. I remember the twitch of desire that shaked me then, I remember the rage, she was succeding, she was forgetting me. I remember the coldness that enveloped me when I deduced her. She was going to see someone else that very night and she looked so beautiful. But she wasn't dressed up for me, she had put that much effort on emphasisimg her prettyness for someone else. She wasn't mine anymore. I was blind with jelousness, I felt betrayed, I didn't have the right to, but I still felt it. I felt hurted, and it was the hurt that talked when in turn I hurted her. But in the end I hummillated her for nothing. It was me all along and I was too stupid to notice, my judgment was clouded by jelousness and all I got in turn was the clear sight of her watering eyes fighting the urge to cry. I couldn't stand it. I never apologize, never since I'm a child have I apologized for anything, but that time I did it. Then I ran away, I was so ashamed. But it wasn't enough, after The Woman's 'death' she was forced to do the autopsy, and then she just had to misunderstood the nature of my relation with Adler. Because that's just my luck. And then it came. Moriarty owed me a fall, didn't he? I fell. Hard. And still she was there for me, she helped me fake my own death and I went to chase down the rest of Moriarty's web. It's funny how he never saw her. He put a gun for everyone of my loved ones but her. How could he not see? I haven't yet understood, if he was my equal in intelligence, how could he miss my feelings for her? A bullet for everyone that mattered, but none for the one who mattered the most. Some nights, when I was certain I needn't sleep with an open eye but would still have to sleep outside, in the cold; I would lock myself up in my mind palace and convince myself that John was there to endure this with me, to share that burden, that Molly's warm eyes were there for me, like a hot welcoming tea cup, that Mrs Hudson would be there, offering her motherly and calming presence to me. I would open my eyes expecting to see them. And I would immediately close them again bitterly disappointed to understand that they were never really there. How I missed them! There was some point there in which I just had had too much. Molly was there, everywhere, I could not get her out of my head and I realised that if I ever came back I would act. Because I needed her in my life again. John was there too, I missed thinking out loud with him by my side and I missed his acid sense of humour. I missed my life. Sometimes I would look at the sky and just let myself imagine that she was still there, waiting for me, with her big brown warm eyes and a trembling smile just for me. I daydreamed that if and when I came back she would throw her arms around my neck and everything would be alright again. I kept going, I kept trying and every criminal I took down from Moriarty's web was a step closer to that fantasy. Sometimes I just rushed my mind in order to be done for the day faster so that I could go to my temporary accommodation and daydream in peace. Life must have so much fun with me, doesn't she? Because I came back, I recovered John, but when I came to Molly I had already lost her. She hadn't waited for me, why would she? A kiss on the cheek was my only farewell to my childish illusions. It hurted so much. It was almost comical, her fiancée was physically identical to me, I remember concluding that she hadn't moved on that much. The worst part? He was am idiot, and I didn't have the right to ruin it for her, I wanted to find something, whatever, just to stop it, but he was a good man, he loved her, he didn't have anything for me to use it against him. Why would she choose an idiot? She had a genius at her bloody feet but she chose the idiot. Then it hit me that she hadn't realised that I loved her, and that she hadn't realised yet that he was an idiot. I'm ashamed to say but I was so relieved that it didn't last once she understood his lack of brains. But then again, when I more or less had a chance again, I couldn't take it, because I had a case and it would be too dangerous for her to be involved with me romantically. Moriarty had missed her importance, but Magnussen shan't commit the same mistake if it became that obvious. I remember very well the contact of her hand against my cheek. She was furious when at the beggining of that case I came in contact with drugs. When that case was over I truly believed that I was never going to see her again. I had misused the time, hadn't I? I could have had her, but I chose not to and I was going to die without knowing the taste of her lips because I had been an idiot and banned myself from enjoy at least a bit of time with her. I knew something was off when Moriarty "came back to life". I knew it was a fake, but I was so utterly relieved, I still had a chance. I could still win her. Turns out that chance never came. When Mary died to save me I almost lost John. He was angry and grieving his wife and couldn't manage a rational thought. I couldn't even see my goddaughter. Molly was so distant too. I surrendered, I needed the drugs, I couldn't cope with everything because my world was falling appart and nothing seemed to work to put it back on trails. I almost died while pulling John out of his depression. Molly was too angry at me, I couldn't even think of getting near to her without getting slapped to death. If I hadn't been such a coward then, maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't have lost her. Euros and the bloody I Love You coffin. That's when I lost her. I told her that I loved her in tge worst of situations, of course she didn't believe one word. But I did, I knew then that I loved her, I didn't just felt strongly towards her, I didn't fancy her. I loved her. And I heard her heart tearing apart while telling me that she loved me too. I couldn't take it, I broke her heart, I broke mine and I broke that bloody coffin because I had to take that rage on something. And here I am. Lost but found, hurted and trying to heal, mad but sane. What can I do? Is there a way? Something? Whatever, I need her. Love. Four letters. Two syllabus. My salvation or my damnation? Hell or heaven? I don't know. Love. ,Molly. Love, I miss you. I miss her so much. I want her eyes to look at me with that fondness she always showed me. I want her to be dreamy around me. I want her back. Please, please, please. I don't know who I am pleading to, but still... Don't I deserve a chance? No, I know I don't. But I still want it. I still love her, I know (I want to believe) she must still feel something. Please, please, please.