#umbrellamom

[fourthmedium]

umbrellamom replied to your post: reggie trying to train klaus’ telekinesis by...

Grace silently entering the room after the sixth hour mark and holding the glass so Klaus can take sips of water.

OOF

[seancetm]

  @umbrellamom

  “….oh… I see…” Slowly, Grace’s arms lowered from their extended position, hands that had been opened in greeting instead clasping against her apron. She wondered how she had missed her own children growing too old to give her hugs anymore…

         “Well…” She paused, mentally calculating whether her next words would be welcome, “….I prepared a snack… you’ll still have some, won’t you, dear?”

It was unlike him to not rush into any offered embrace. Klaus had always been an incredibly tactile child, even as he matured into his teenage years but today? He didn’t want to be touched. The night before had been hell on earth and it had taken everything he had just to get out of bed. His skin was crawling and burning and all he wanted was to pop some xanax, smoke a joint... anything and crawl back into the confines of his bed. Accepting an embrace from mom? Klaus had a feeling it would break the last vestige of self control he had left.

The last thing he wanted to do was start crying in such a public part of the house, where his father might see. So, swallowing hard, he’d shaken his head and backed off from the offered hug, hating himself even more when he saw how she reacted. “Sorry mom, just... I slept funny last night-” he didn’t sleep at all, actually. “-back hurts...” It was a flimsy excuse and, if she knew what he’d gone through last night- if she’d been party to, or had seen Reginald and Pogo walking him out to the mausoleum she’d know precisely what was wrong.

“Yeah... please, I- I’m hungry.”

[krakentm]

Slurred words (whilst Grace tutts worriedly in the background)

“I fucking love my mom. She’s not my real mom but she didn’t go and S E L L me. And she’s been there for me ever since we were four. So yeah. Love mom.”

[unreliable-seance]

@umbrellamom

Grace laughs, the sound muffled into the napkin held to her lips. The robot doesn’t eat (unnecessary waste), but Mom learned early on to taste-test her culinary creations before presenting them to her family. (One prank involving sugar switched for salt saw to that… no one wanted a repeat of Dinner on August 20th, 1996, 7pm.)

        Accordingly, she has half of a fresh baked cookie in her hand, a small bite taken from its center to confirm ingredients and state of doneness (eggs, butter, sugar confirmed; core temperature cooled to less than 156 degrees Fahrenheit). The cookies are, indeed, ready.

       “–Yes, darling….” She says, extending the remainder of the treat to Number Four’s small form. He’s growing, but so lean. And he won’t be justNumber Four for much longer, Grace knows this in her code. Whether he become The Seance or something else… (something with a K)…. time will tell. “… Here you are, just for you. The first cookie.”

Four watched the robot check the cookies, eyes gleaming with excitement. It wasn’t often they were given sweets, let alone cookies. It had been dad’s rules after all-- they all had a specific diet. The giddiness he feels over having the opportunity of getting to eat cookies makes him smile from ear to ear.

Without waiting for anymore approval, Four reached out and took a bit out of the cookie. The chocolate melted in his mouth, the crumbs falling all over his shirt as he took another bite. “This is delicious mom--” He spoke with his mouth full of the sugary goodness.

[rumorsabound]

😴😴😴😴

SEND 😴 FOR MY MUSE TO FALL ASLEEP WITH THEIR HEAD IN YOUR MUSE’S LAP.

The glow from Allison’s phone illuminated the hundreds of paintings in the picture gallery on the second floor. It was night and for once, she was the only one still awake. Except for Mom, maybe. She didn’t know where she was. 

The images on her phone seemed to fit in perfectly with those on the wall, in their own, strange way. A selfie courtesy of Claire with a diamond filter adorning a crown on her head fit in perfectly with the regal looking woman three down and two to the left. Another string of filtered animal face pictures they had taken together to entertain Claire on her first plane ride paired nicely with a landscape where a couple of bunny rabbits populated the foreground. Allison may have scrolled through that gallery for half an hour, her fingernails rhytmically swiping next and then looking away to the paintings when remembering had gotten too much. Tap, tap, tap. She almost didn’t notice when she wasn’t the only one making the noise.

Mary Jane heels on the hardwood floor.

Mom. 

“I’m sorry,” Allison said. “I know this is your place and you’re probably tired. I’ll get out of your hair.” She didn’t know why she’d come up here, why she was even doing this to herself. It was just torture, plain and simple. She turned around and moved to vacate the curved sofa but the look on her mother’s face only read no, stay. It always did. 

When the Hargeeves matriarch came to sit next to her Allison’s head snapped back to the paintings, trying to find one to focus on but having little luck. She had other things on her mind. 

“Hey Mom? I have a question.” She didn’t wait for an answer to keep going. She knew if she paused she would never keep going. “How did you do it? I mean, be a mom. I know we weren’t the easiest kids growing up or even the best ones but you never faltered, ever. You always knew what to do. How did you know that? You can’t learn that from any book or the internet.” She shook her head, eyes quickly flicking through the paintings that had caught her attention before. “I don’t understand,” she sighed, her eyes coming to land back on the painting of the noble woman and as she did something broke, snapped hard like a piece of plywood. She didn’t know why. It was the same kind of snap that lead her to make all of her stupid decisions. Allison hiccuped her words. “You can try so hard to be a good parent and still end up doing the wrong thing. It’s like trying to walk through a god damn minefield but you made it look so easy doing it.” Tears pooled in her eyes and she covered her face in her hands. The last thing she wanted was to start crying. “I just don’t understand. I don’t know how to make it right again. I don’t know how to make anything right.” She sniffed and felt a hand on her back. She shook her head, didn’t stop hiding. But that was alright. Mom always knew what to do, because she was Mom. Allison let the hand stay on her back, she let her mom pull her in and hug her. She let her mom comfort her without really saying much at all. She let herself fall tired. She let herself be gently eased down to her mother’s lap. She let herself have the reprieve from trying to fight the encroaching sleepiness. She fell into dreams. And maybe, in the morning, she wouldn’t be waking up alone again.  

@umbrellamom

[h6rror]

‘ just focus on my voice. that’s it. you’re okay. we’re okay. ’

he would never admit he was having a panic attack – not because he was ashamed, but because he wasn’t even sure it was anything to worry about. a wave had come over him. impending doom. like everything inside of him wanted out and he knew, deep down, down past the horrors, that there would be nothing he could do to stop them. but it was fine. he was fine. right?        dark eyes blink, chest heaving, and ben reaches for her needing her touch to feel grounded. he’s nodding. willing himself to believe the light words parrying his darkness.   ❝ — mom? ❞

@umbrellamom ( meme )

[curiouscastarchive]

{{ Every character I have seen you write, both from TUA and other universes, is so well voiced. You do a fantastic job! And your muse list is filled with such interesting and diverse characters, it really speaks to your range as a writer! }}

i’m actually going to CRY! thank you so much, when i read this i very nearly said ‘thanks mom’ out loud - which speaks to how well you embody Grace; you are a GEM and i will treasure each and every one of our threads :3

[ beep beep how’s my portrayal ? ]

[hekraken]

“We need to change your bandages soon.” [Mom swoops in]

INJURIES   .     |     accepting   !!       ⸻     @umbrellamom

          ❛     ⸻     i’m   alright   ,   mom   .   promise   .     ❜   man   shifts   in   his   seat   ,   CRADLING   the   arm   with   the   bullet   wound   as   he   TRIES   to   get    comfortable   .   stubborn   diego   is   STUBBORN   !!

[bookshopcelestial]

NICKNAMES : Spirit, SK ZODIAC : Sagittarius HEIGHT : 5′4″ (smol) TIME : 12:10pm FAVOURITE BAND / ARTIST : (I assume this is for music primarily?) The Beatles, The Kinks, The Beach Boys, NoFX, Blink, Jimmy Eat World, Green Day, P!ATD, BlackPink, Elton John, Queen, David Bowie / Ziggy Stardust, Annie Lennox, Sara Bareilles, Christina Perri, Idina Menzel, P!nk, Kesha, Stephen Schwartz (the composer, not the musician), Hans Zimmer, and on and on and on... SONG STUCK IN MY HEAD : ‘To Be Human’ by MARINA LAST MOVIE I SAW : Third Rewatch of Captain Marvel LAST THING I GOOGLED : Martin Freeman in ‘Richard III’ (I actually was able to see him live in this performance in London, but couldn’t recall the year he did it.... 2014, it turns out) OTHER BLOGS : The only ones even partially active these days are @sunxking and @umbrellamom DO I GET ASKS : At times. I can be slow about answering them.  WHY DID I CHOOSE THIS USERNAME : Well. Originally my blog name was ‘TemptationAccomplished,’.... but I like how this rolls off the tongue. And Aziraphale is, indeed, a Bookshop Celestial.  FOLLOWING : I appear to be following 56 blogs, currently. AVERAGE AMOUNT OF SLEEP : Approx 6 -7 hours, depending on work and my own obsessive mind. WHAT I’M WEARING : I’m still in my riding gear, lol. was at the barn this morning. DREAM JOB : professional author of novels, comic books, teleplays... maybe I just want to be Neil Gaiman, I don’t know.  DREAM TRIP : I’ve been dying to go to New Zealand to see the Shire. FAVOURITE FOOD : Tonkatsu Ramen, Bao, Sushi, Chicken Pot Pie, Beef Stew with crusty bread...... Chocolate anything.  PLAY ANY INSTRUMENTS : I am classically trained on the Bassoon, also can play saxaphone and piano. And guitar, poorly. EYE COLOUR : green HAIR COLOUR : bit of brown and blonde, it tends to go flaxen because I’m in the sun so much LANGUAGES YOU SPEAK : English and Spanish, some Lakota MOST ICONIC SONG : You even have to ask? Bohemian Rhapsody. RANDOM FACT: Did you know that grey horses are born completely black and lighten over the course of their entire lives as they age? And that true black horses are born brown, then darken as they shed their baby coat. Both have black skin.  DESCRIBE YOURSELF AS AESTHETIC THINGS : Oh, well. Sunlight through a hayloft, the sound of horses grazing and snorting in a field, the smell of leather and aged books when they’ve been opened for the first time in a long while, the feeling of water protectors in prayer.

TAGGED BY : @awayfrom14thcentury (thank you friend)

TAGGING : Literally anyone is welcome to do this if they are interested. I’ll tag @ineffablequestion, @hllhart, and @demonicpaintingss

[fourthmedium]

Because Tumblr ask refuses to play ball:

@umbrellamom

“…remember, look for things that you can touch. ground yourself.” {{ Wherein Reginald Hargreeves taught Klaus to look for the dead, but Grace taught him to look for the living. }}

he comes back to himself slowly, curled onto his side.  he thinks he’s on the sofa, which means…means he failed.  means he passed out again, when he was supposed to be learning, supposed to be concentrating, supposed to be channeling.  he’d felt something, something in his core, hands that weren’t his moving of their own accord.  it had stopped before his father had come back, before he had lost himself to darkness again.

slowly, he blinks his eyes open, flinches against the light before he finds grace, makes her face out, reaches for her.  ❛ i’m alive? ❜ he knows, but he needs…needs some kind of confirmation.  ❛ right now? ❜ 

[seancetm]

“Who did it? I’ll kill them” Grace said it with the same fastidious tone she used when talking about cleaning the lint trap on the dryer. It doesn't help (or does it?) that she's pulling on yellow rubber gloves and pulling a canister of BORAX from beneath the kitchen sink. She smiles sweetly at Klaus, "...Don't worry, dear. I wont let you come to harm."

He’d just got done sobbing at the kitchen table when Mom’s voice filtered sweetly through the misery and caught his attention. A watery smile accompanied by a weak laugh did little to lift the melancholy from his eyes. Mom had always had such a knack for lightening the mood but with Dave’s death so fresh in his mind (not on his hands, no, he’d scrubbed and scrubbed until he’d drew his own blood,) it just wasn’t working. Eyebrows contorted with pain, Klaus’ voice was hoarse and croaky when he finally answered.

“You can’t, mom, you’d have to go back in time…”

And only Five could do that. Barely.

“I wouldn’t say no to some waffles, though, if… if you’re not busy.”

[krakentm]

I keep missing all the milestones but here we go! Opened the app to a fantastic surprise this morning ❤️ thanks guys!

This is largely thanks to @seancetm ❤️

Also follow the tua fam! @th-horror @extra-ordinarytm @umbrellamom @robomum @spaacemonkey @spaceb1y @rumorsabound @patchinghearts

(I'm sure I missed people but you're loved nonetheless!)

[rumorsabound]

umbrellamom replied to your post “headcanon #003 Allison had gone into motherhood thinking it was going...”

my HEART

camp allison is also a mama’s girl and she didn’t purposefully try to be a bad mama she just made mistakes~

[curiouscastarchive]

continued from HERE || @umbrellamom

             Her question is...troublesome. Because how is Phinneus supposed to answer? Should he crush Grace out right? Ruin all her hopes, dreams and human inquiries? The obvious answer is NO. Who is he to say ‘many a time , dear ; more than you could count.’ It isn’t Pogo’s responsibility to ruin Grace’s spirit ( funny to think a robot might have spirit at all ) . Only to manage the house hold: the children; GRACE herself. Phinneus Pogo is the keeper of the house when his master is busy, this being one of those times, he must analyze quickly what the best problem solving answer might be. “My dear, Grace.” He begins, simian voice charming and smooth. “Why would you think He might do something like that at all?” Phinneus likes Grace; she’s sweet, caring, all the things that Master Hargreeves is not. There is a part of him, deep within himself that feels regret for the words he’s chosen. He doesn’t want to lie to Grace; far from it. Pogo would like to do nothing more than to reveal to the robot that she has been altered so many times; that he’s nearly lost count of the redactions ‘Sir Hargreeves’ has made - but would it help; would it aid her at all in her mission - to take care of the children?

[fourthmedium]

❛ no, mom.  i’m fine. ❜ he snaps the words out, harsh and biting, hands curled on the table.  he sighs almost as soon as it comes out because he doesn’t mean it like that, didn’t mean it to come out so fast, so hard, so mean.  

he’s all over the place, up and down and confused, and everyone’s so fucking irritating lately.  ❛ sorry. ❜ even that comes out uncomfortable, quiet.  ❛ i feel like shit.  it’s...i’m fine though.  really.  just a stomach bug or something. ❜ // @umbrellamom & cont !!

[seancetm]

W h a t

...

Thank you all so much!

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@krakentm @th-horror @rumorheard @allurfavesrtrans @umbrellamom @curiouscast @cannonfoddcr @numberedseven @spatialjumps @tenebroustm @waketothefire @extra-ordinarytm @viroccidere @spaacemonkey