#dersunder

[recklessmoon]

the daily life of ritsuka, feat. mitsuhide and casterchen. 

@dersunder / @ofchaldea / @jigendaishi

[kakeracat-blog]

“I am dressed up for Halloween. Don’t you notice the pointy shoes?” Bern clicked the heels of her shoes together to bring attention to them. This year was going to be a little exciting only because she hadn’t been a witch for Halloween in a few decades. It was pretty nice to go all out for this spectacular idea. The wind blew oh so slightly, only enough to brush her hair backward, while bringing the sweet scent of Autumn.

“What are you suppose to be?”

[godofsecondchance]

Shadows see all @dersunder

         ✣ Caster’s emotions were in check as he seemed to listen to the other drown on. His mind going over what it could possibly mean that his Master was telling him. There seemed to be for a lack of better words , no response on the Servants part. 

            It seemed the longer he was the other the more he wondered just what there mission was. What this Masters mission was. He could never get a word in edgewise it was like being boxed in and the Caster hated it. 

           “Are you finished~?” Mephistopheles tone still held cheer but his face was slack, cold. ✣

[juniperblooded]

@dersunder​

His Papa works from home an awful lot. Plenty of his friends at school say he’s super lucky to have his Papa drop him off and pick him up and play with him all the dang time—but half of it also means that Papa has to drop whatever he’s doing to answer his bosses on the computer or on the phone when he needs to work. And it can happen at any time: even play time or (even worse) Papa Time.

It also meant that his Papa was tired a lot.

Wolfram understands because he gets tired a lot when he plays or when he comes home from a long day of classes. And since it’s just him and Papa, Papa has to work even more to make up for the mommy that’s supposed to be there but isn’t. He likes it with just him and Papa, though. So he really can’t complain about wanting more Papa Time because Papa was already working super-super hard to make sure everything stays the way it is. Still, Wolfram can’t help but want to help out. Unfortunately, Papa won’t let him cook or clean anything and his clothes are already put away in his little dresser.

Being four is hard.

He had voiced his concerns to his teacher, Miss Ellie, one day. She had smiled and patted his head before telling him: It doesn’t have to be big. Sometimes, people will be happy if you just do something nice for them.

Wolfram had been diligently doing his homework one afternoon—because that’s what good little boys do and Papa was talking with his bosses again on the computer anyway—when he went down for some water. He had passed by Papa’s office and that’s when the opportunity had presented itself: Papa had fallen asleep at his desk, with his head cushioned by his arms. Papa must’ve been really, really tired, he thinks.

So now what?

I have to do something nice, but I’m too little to carry him to bed. Wolfram takes a seat on the floor; he’s not good at thinking on his feet. Maybe I can bring the bed to him, but I’m too little to carry the bed, too. He then remembers the television program that was on earlier when he and Papa were having breakfast: the guy had put the blanket over someone even when they weren’t on a bed! Wolfram’s mouth opened into a tiny ‘o’ of amazement before he scrambles out of the office and into Papa’s room. He can’t carry the bed, but he can definitely carry the blanket!

...Or so he thought. After nearly being swallowed up by the duvet, Wolfram had to improvise by taking up what he could in his small arms and dragging the rest on the floor, mentally reminding himself to tell Papa sorry if his nice blanket was dusty afterwards. He returns to the office again and it’s then that another problem arises: how was he supposed to put the blanket on Papa?

I didn’t think this through.

But there’s no use in giving up now that he’s made it this far! Wolfram decides that he has to just go for it. He maneuvers the duvet bundle in his arms and, with his whole strength, throws it over his Papa. It didn’t look as nice as when the guy had done it in the TV since it was kind of lopsided, but it’ll do.Oh! I should get him a pillow and stuff! Wolfram thinks.

It takes two trips: one for the pillow and another for all the stuffed animals Wolfram could possibly manage to carry. His stuffed animals always made him happy, so they’re sure to make Papa happy, too. 

He wasn’t tall enough to reach the top of the desk yet, so he put all of the stuffed toys around Papa’s chair and threw the pillow as close to Papa’s head as he could without hitting anything important (like Papa’s head). With a job well done, Wolfram heads out of the office and goes to the kitchen for his cup of water.

[lightofnohrr]

i needed to get this out of my system but!!!! there they are.

@dersunder

[soulreviver]

dersunder replied to your post “{Me: This is a dark series with lots of squicky and triggering and...”

( honestly before finding your asu I was under the impression the necromancer fandom was just me and three friends eRGFERG--- )

{Wait, wait, WAIT!! YOU MEAN IT’S NOT JUST ME AN WHICH EVER MUNS I MANAGED TO DRAG INTO NECRO HELL??? :D HELLO FRIEEEEEND!!!}

[interludetorevenge]

Meetings often didn’t stress him out, he’d think the ones concerning his undercover work for King’s Cross did but it’s probably because most if not all of them had to do with matters outside his own personal life. 

He didn’t expect for his own past to blind side him.

A week ago, he bumped into a man who shared his appearance, his voice–– everything but his experiences and name. It had been years since he’s seen his older identical twin, he’s older now, they both are, but he couldn’t mistake that familiar feeling that overcame him then. Disbelief, guilt and a sense of longing followed,  März always wondered what it could’ve been like to have Johann in his life during their youth. Perhaps they’d share the same camaraderie like his two adopted sons did? Or like his husband and his brother and sister in law? He vaguely recalls fantasizing about what kind of relationship they might have had, but he buried it deep to focus on what currently mattered. 

The bump in startled both of them, their exchange had been awkward. However, März had gotten enough nerve to propose a meeting of sorts to catch up. He was busy with work, both undercover and his day job and Johann seemed a little overwhelmed then. It was a perfect opportunity to exchange contact information, then go about their ways so they’d be able to recompose themselves. He mentioned about meeting at the local Starducks, ‘maybe next week––?’  which Johann reluctantly agreed to and they parted indefinitely. While the week wrapped up, he hesitantly texted him a day and time if he was free of course.

(He didn’t answer, but he did read it–– which relieved him).

And now he waits. 

He couldn’t remember a time where he might have been more nervous than now. His back pocket vibrates, he flinches, then he quickly retrieves his cellphone to find his spouse texted him: things will be okay, ‘Don’t stress yourself out, I’ll talk to you later, love you’–– it read  which causes a smile to briefly appear on his lips. The chime from the door alerts his attention, seeing a familiar face enter, März abruptly stands from the wooden chair.

“Johann!” He calls from the table he’s gotten for them, but approaches his older brother then to bridge the distance between them anyway. “Um, I’m glad you were able to come, how have you been...” A pause, “I’ve...gotten us a table, unless you want to get some coffee..?”

@dersunder​

[maitretmaitresse]

        @dersunder liked for a starter

                "Wot'll it be, mm?"

       Beatrice peered over the countertop which was, admittedly, about six inches too high for her to use comfortably. The agreement when they built the inn was that her husband would run the bar, and she the kitchen. However, like most roles in their marriage, the two got confused and switched about until nobody knew which way was up.

       Still, she'd ended up with a bar which was built for a six foot three man when she herself was five foot one - leading to the comical situation presented here, of the Thénardiesse leaping up whenever she needed to meet her customer's eyes. Curls splayed all over the place, and berries - berries? - fell out of the style she kept so well-maintained. She was not a happy woman, suffice to say.

                  "I ain't got all day now, wot is it?"