#{{out of this world; ooc}}

[mrroxs-workshop]

Cat fight 🐱🖕

[ask-the-pioneer]

"Oh, monna gi! I do not see many of your kind here, and I'm here from a neighboring settlement. My title is "The Chronicler", and I must record that you were here - among the many other things I must record. First off, what is your name, and second, where are you from, monna gi?"

Marbles stirs, woken up from her half-nap by an unfamiliar voice. Monna gi? She turns to the stranger as her own eyes readjust to the faintly lit shelter corridor.

A tall scavenger woman stands before her, wielding what appears to be a file of paper in one hand. A… ledger? The symbols on her forehead and the little flask tied to a belt suggest that she is a wandering scholar. The quality of the harness that she wears, as well as a string of big shiny pearls on the woman's neck make Marbles think she must be an important person. You do not often see scavengers don such expensive clothing.

Chronicler smiles and repeats her question to Marbles, who is still a bit disoriented. "Ah, I apologize for interrupting your nap, but I’d like to ask you a couple of questions before everyone goes to their sleeping cells for hibernation. May I know your name?"

Monna gi means "blue one" in Yoŋasabi, the native language of slugcats. Marbles is transfixed. Her familial name is Blue, but last time anyone has called her that… it was a very, very long time ago. Must be a coincidence, surely. Her own fur is of blue tint. The slugcat nods at Chronicler, letting her know the question was heard and accepted.

"Sorry, sorry. My name… Marbles. Maban. Like… how do I translate this into scav language? Small round stone, but shiny, see-through."

The Chronicler settles down and opens her ledger. "I see, I see. What a lovely name. What about your place of origin? Have you travelled far?" the scavenger's voice is gentle and warm, as if she's talking to an old friend. In the paper-filled folder there are rows upon rows of handwritten glyphs in a language Marbles does not fully recognise.

Truly, the odds of meeting two scavengers with even a rudimentary knowledge of scuglang is unheard of. Marbles blinks, trying to bring her distracted mind back to earth. She takes a minute before uttering "...I'm, I'm from here, actually. Came back to visit my old home".

"Oh, really?" Chronicler replies enthusiastically. "That's so sweet. But please be careful around these areas. There are a lot more vultures and lizards now. Many tribes have designated patrols to spot dangers and dispatch hunting teams. They are likely to stop you and question you, simply because this is strictly scavenger territory. The main routes are safe, though. You will know, because they are marked with white and blue glyphs. I would suggest sticking to the main roads for as long as you can" she finishes writing something down in her ledger, then scoops it up.

"Thank you kindly, mahin. This will do. Have a good rest tonight!"

// The Chronicler belongs to @kcdodger

[uwuwha]

And oh, I wish I could hold you in my arms || but lately my body has been so afraid

A comic for @cometquest's blocktales apocalypse au! Can be interpreted either romantic or platonic. I kind of made my own story here, but you should definitely go check the au out!! His character designs are sick as hell and I've been a bit insane about them lately 🙏🙏!

Text reads: And if I knew you a little less, and my soul held a little less pride, I'd ask for you to stay safe by my side. But in my heart, I have long known what your answer would be.

Some extras below the readmore! Fair warning it's quite long

The comic without leetspeak!

In honour of the most recent lore post

Banner says: and me I feel also not so good Griefer's saying: Dude this yogurt fucking sucks

And my original tags condensed into incomprehensible paragraphs because there was not enough space to fit all of them underneath. Dear lord.

Genuinely I keep thinking about them oh my lord. The way in a normal world they would have never met. Wouldn't have even known eachother existed except in passing and rumors. Yet in this world where everything is falling apart Griefer and Jim are the only lifelines in their towns, do they meet even if its in voicechat. The only way Roadtown can talk to Turitopulis. And if Red lives in somewhere other than Roadtown or Blackrock, then Jim is quite literally the only way Brad can get updates on his father.

So they start talking and planning and communicating. And they communicate and they learn about eachother and they start talking more than strictly necessary and days or months or maybe years later, Griefer suddenly realizes that he's looking forward to his next conversation with Jim. He likes talking to him. He finds comfort with him. He cares a lot for Jim. A lot. Like a bird trying to rip out of his chest. Over the voice on his headphones who hes never seen before.

And if he knew Jim a little less well. If he maybe he were willing to beg a little more. He might've asked Jim to go and live in blackrock like his dad, or even go to Turitopulis to stay with him. But he knows who Jim is, and he knows who he is, and if someone had ever asked him to leave Turitopulis he would've socked them in the face. And even though he's calmer and more mellower than him, Griefer knows Jim would never think about leaving Roadtown for it to defend itself. And nobodys really manning the planes except for Jerry nowdays. So he never bothers asking.

But like a riving pounding against stone, the voices know they can't last forever and one day, maybe the voices finally got to him or maybe it was an act of self sacrifice, but Jim blows himself up. And all of the sudden Brad is left with headphones that emit static, no contact to Roadtown, and a sinking pit in his stomach. Do you see my vision here. Gripping myself.

[moonsvillain]

hotwings au where hawks is a vampire, dabi is a human, and they meet through the vampire equivalent of doordash.

dabi shows up at his door, scruffy and woozy (guy who's been doing this as a full time job and is not coping with the blood loss very well)

hawks is (rightfully) concerned and is ready to cancel his order but dabi immediately disagrees because "that'll fuck up my ratings sooo bad dude don't be an asshole"

hawks: "???"

dabi: "i really need this job man"

hawks kinda shrugs and asks if dabi's up to anything for the next few hours and dabi doesn't have anything going on so hawks invites him in and immediately sits this guy down on his couch to feed him and let him rest for at least four hours so he's not indirectly accused of manslaughter

one must imagine the disposition of an alley cat encountering canned food for the first time: internal battle of mistrust versus yummy treats

dabi goes down kicking and screaming

(the day he goes over to hawks' place it's raining so hard you can barely see and all dabi has is a cheap plastic poncho. hawks' place has heating—he very 'reluctantly' curls up on the couch)

hawks is probably the worst cook on earth but when he tells dabi this, he refuses to let hawks order food for him; dabi would literally rather die than subject another minimum wage worker to the storm outside just to come to this rich asshole's home

which ends up with dabi in hawks' kitchen, making himself a meal

(which, he probably wouldn't usually do this, but the blood loss is kind of getting to him. dabi's decision making has slowly trickled down to the average level it is when he gets drunk)

when he's fed and warm and hawks has forced him to watch two animated movies dabi could not give less of a shit about he finally turns to dabi like

"ok i know we're having a great time but also i really need to eat something. like. you. preferably."

dabi shrugs and offers up his arm, getting progressively more sleepy while hawks finishes his meal before falling asleep pressed against hawks' side

wakes up the next morning with a blanket pulled over him, cheek pressed to a throw pillow with a littleee bit of drool staining the fabric under him

sits up and looks around, armed only with blurry memories of the night before

("did i... sleep with this guy...!?!??!?")

finds a note on the table and unfolds it, trying to figure out what the hell is going on

(lovedddd hanging w u yesterday :P off at work feel free 2 make urself breakfast before u go. U should know where everything is. tip on the counter 4 u. xoxo hawks)

dabi, slightly mortified at the implication he rooted around in this guy's kitchen when he was out of it yesterday finds the tip

it's literally, like, $500 dollars

dabi scribbles down his phone number and sticks it on the fridge with a magnet

(half because he really needed that money and is pleasantly surprised that he got rent money a week earlier than he was expecting)

(half because he might not remember yesterday entirely, but he remembers feeling safe and warm and being addicted to that rare sensation)

hawks is very happy when he gets home, even if dabi isn't there, when he finds his little gift on the fridge

[syruptheskibidialpha]

i have atleast prob 40 hear me outs for some reason. anyways take this oooo-💤

also some art is by some diff peole on Tumblr,, the griefer ones btw nevermind theres ALOT from tumblr, twisted vee, soft king heartstealer and griefer wait where the FUCK is heartstealer..

[thanatologie]

actually, as a secondary thought - and i know this is the wrong-ish crowd to probably ask but i'm thinking - you know he's probably semi-regular face in the bar with no doors, right? like he probably really would know wanda and stephen and doctor voodoo, etc.

[spidersins]

fighting the urge to make my icon angels baby boy for the month or just his cute self

[paintedkinzy-88]

Lust's bro coming home after a date with his bf only to find a large golden noodle curled up around Lust both asleep. Blue in the kitchen cooking and Ink in his half form doodling surrounded by half a dozen sketchbooks.

Stfu that’s actually hilarious hold on—

Warning for. Suggestive topics in the background, I suppose. It is Underlust. I tried to keep it PG, but also I’m very tired so eh ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Writing jumpscare boo

“Sans, I will be completely honest with you. I do not know what I am looking at.”

He wasn’t quite sure how to describe it, either. Papyrus’ brother has always been an… interesting character, to put it lightly. And he doesn’t mean that in any negative way! Stars knows the Great Papyrus would never settle with normal, especially in the world they live in. “Normal” here was extravagant, in-your-face, and exceedingly too personal. It had to be, unfortunately, for all of their survival.

Sans, however, found a way to be all of that, but so much better. He knows everything and everyone, flaunts his stuff like there’s no tomorrow, can party with the best of them and put on incredible shows every other night at Grillby’s. He’s memorable, in ways Papyrus just cannot understand, but deeply admires. And above all else, Sans is respectful.

Sure, he is the biggest piece of fruit on the grapevine, collecting gossip like it’s a national treasure, but he knows when to share and what to keep to himself. He’s become a safe space for many monsters, for better or worse, able to pick apart their walls and façades like they’re just a big game of Jenga. Papyrus has seen him do it too many times to count. He’s able to pick out the one monster in the crowd that’s clearly trying to drink away all their feelings for the sake of a party, and coerce them into cutting off their tab, talking it out in the bathroom, and going home for the night with newly smeared makeup. Whether that was with or without Sans coming along depended on the monster and the mood.

In other words, he was a reliable “mom friend” at a party, despite often having a few drinks himself.

But, more importantly, Sans has a personality beyond just sex and drugs. It’s something only people that manage to get past his pelvis have the opportunity to see. His room is filled with space memorabilia rather than the hottest magazines. He had a secret lab instead of a dungeon. He’d rather have a good burger and a soda than any of the tangy drinks and edibles that were so often found in everyone’s homes. Heck, his hobbies revolve around “star” gazing, pranks, and just making people laugh.

He encouraged Papyrus to live by his heart rather than by the lust flowing through his magic, unlike every other monster that wants him to be “down for anything.”

More than all of that, Sans was impossible to predict. He could honestly tell you the secrets of the universe one moment and then hit you with a water balloon the next. He made life in the Underground interesting and infinitely more tolerable.

That is to say, this scenario that Papyrus has currently walked into has certainly taken the cake. Multiple cakes, even.

There were currently three skeleton monsters in his living room, not including himself. One was standing in the doorway of their kitchen, in an outfit so unlike what he is used to seeing around Snowdin. A blue bandana is wrapped around his neck, hiding his neck and collarbone, with sturdy grey shoulder pads underneath it. His shirt covers his entire ribcage, and his pants are baggy and tucked into noticeably-not-high-heeled boots. On top of all of that, he has an apron on that says “Reach for the Stars” with multicolored stars littered across it.

In front of the couch, surrounded by an insane amount of paper, pencils, and other art supplies, is a skeleton of much similar structure to the other one — if you chose to ignore the horns, tail, and bare wing bones. He also has a scarf around his neck, this one brown and covered in writing and black splotches. His tan and white long sleeve shirt also covers much of his torso, but at least it’s a little more form fitting. His pants are flowy, however, but there are some sort of black leggings underneath them. He has no shoes, and Papyrus doesn’t see any near the door that aren’t already supposed to be there. A little strange to be barefoot in Snowdin, given the weather, though he supposes the folk in New Home or Hotland may enjoy the aesthetic?

The final two are by far the strangest part of this scene. Which is quite amazing, considering one is his actual brother.

Sans, in a rainbow hoodie with a purple star on the chest that Papyrus has never seen him wear, is currently in the center of a rather large, yellow, lizard-like… beast? Monster? Was that a monster?? Papyrus has never met a monster like this before, and he’s met a LOT of monsters in his time in the Royal Harem, before meeting Mettaton. Perhaps Undyne would know them? Or, actually, if they were a monster, maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised that Sans knows them, since Sans seems to know everyone in the underground far better than he probably should.

Either way, this was a very… Innocent yet weird moment to have walked into. Not that Papyrus was necessarily complaining. He hated to walk in on anything else.

All of the skeletons present (aside from the large one, who seemed to be asleep. Were they a skeleton monster?? Their pseudo skin seems very similar to his and Sans’ ecto bodies) are now staring at him, sockets wide and bodies frozen, like three children with their hands caught in the cookie jar. Even Sans himself looks surprised and confused, as if seeing his only other house mate within their very house was an unexpected turn of events.

Finally, the one in blue whips his head around to look at his brother, brows pinched downward. “Lust! You said he wouldn’t be home for another hour!”

He’s holding a plate of tacos in his hands. That’s perhaps the most normal thing in this entire scenario.

“Uh, yeah,” Sans replied, surprisingly. Why on earth he’d reply to such a cursed word, Papyrus had no idea. “He shouldn’t be back until, like, six somethin’.”

Papyrus distinctly remembers saying he’d be home at four-thirty sharp, actually. It figures that his brother would remember incorrectly, though he supposes it didn’t matter since he was technically correct. “It’s actually six twenty-four, right now,” he informed them, crossing his arms. “I had to stay later than normal because Mettaton needed help brainstorming new and exciting questions for his game show this week. Obviously, I was the best person to ask.”

Sans nodded, as if he expected this response. “Yeah yeah, hold on.” He shuffled around a little bit, reaching down towards his pants pockets. The large skull that laid on his stomach huffed unhappily, to which he simply patted their forehead with a soft “sorry, Dream.” Finally, he pulled out his phone and clicked it on.

A small purple phone Papyrus has also never seen before.

The horned skeleton on the floor snorted, propping his head on his hand. “Lusty, I think that’s the phone I gave ya.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Oh my stars,” the blue one groaned. He ran his free hand down his face, finally setting the tray of tacos down on the nearest table. “How did you mix that up?!”

“I’m sorry! They look similar!”

“The multiverse one literally has a star keychain, how did that slip your mind?!”

“You try havin’ two phones!”

“I literally do, you absolute doofus—“

“Yo, guys, don’t wake the baby,” the horned one scolded playfully, gesturing to the lizard-skeleton-thing. Which, if that WAS a baby, Papyrus was terrified to know what the parents looked like.

Though, knowing how rare children were, he supposed the skeleton was joking, now that he thought about it.

Great. Another comedian then (he says with all the fond annoyance, of course.)

“Excuse me,” he speaks up once again. They all turn back towards him, almost completely in sync. Terrifying. “I’m sorry to interrupt… whatever this is. But I would like to know who the heck you all are and why you’re in my home? How do you know my brother exactly? And are you all skeletons?? I didn’t realize there were other skeletons like us. And, more importantly, WHAT and/or WHO is THAT?”

He gestured wildly to the yellow being, sockets pinning his older brother down. Sans at least had the decency to look apologetic.

He should be, for keeping such cool and not-ravenous friends to HIMSELF.

“… Any chance I can convince you this is a dream?” Sans tried with a sheepish grin.

“Absolutely not.”

“Damn.”

“I can explain!” The skeleton-dragon-monster popped up from the ground happily, tail wiggling like a boney snake. Now that he was up, Papyrus noted that he was even shorter than his own brother. It was quite cute.

The blue one ran both his hands down his face now, though Paps swears he can see the corner of his teeth perk up a bit.

“Okay, so, I’m Ink!” the little one started, pointing to himself and then to his friends, “That’s Blue, Dream, and you know Lust! Kinda. Not AS Lust, but whatever. We’re all best of buddies, and we’re just hangin’ out today because Dream hadn’t seen Lust in a while and he really likes Lust’s hoodie, and when a piece of your hoard calls to you, ya just have to answer.”

“Mhm,” Papyrus nodded, utterly perplexed and not understanding a good portion of that entire explanation.

“A hoard is a dragon’s, like, very important personal belongings?” Sans tried to explain. “Like… a collection of… actually, never mind, it won’t matter in the long run and it’s hard to explain. Just know that Dream sees my hoodies and blankets and pillows as his own, and they’re very important to him.”

This is going to give him a headache. “So he needs to. Snuggle them. While you are in it.”

Sans snorted, patting Dream’s head again. “I mean, I don’t have to be in it, but it makes the experience better for both of us.”

Fair enough. He would much rather be cuddled up to his boyfriend than dealing with whatever-this-was.

“Anywho!” Ink paused. “Where was I?”

“Introducing us and failing to explain why we’re here,” Blue offered unhelpfully.

“Right! We’re alternate versions of your brother—“

“Oh my Stars, Ink.”

“And we all defend the multiverse together, but we’re also really close! Like family, not friends-with-benefits close, to confirm—“

“Oh my STARS, Ink—“

“— so we like to hang out in each other’s universes when we’re not fighting world-ending bad guys, and today we just so happened to be here for… whatever reason I may have already forgotten. Anyway! I gave Lust a phone to use across the multiverse, and it has the time of the Doodle Sphere on it because that’s consistent across the multiverse, but that also means it’s different from YOUR world’s time, with timelines and resets and all of that, so we confused the two.”

There was a long pause after Ink finished rambling, smiling happily up to the taller skeleton in the room. Before he could really register any of what was said, however, Blue muttered a little, “Technically, Lust confused the two, not us.”

This, of course, earned him an indignant shout from his brother, and—

Okay, yeah, no.

Papyrus nodded multiple times, clapping his hands together and pressing them to his teeth. “I have no clue what’s happening here,” he stated plainly. “I’m going to assume this is just more of Sans’ weird time-space shenanigans and… and I am. Going. To bed. I think.”

They all blinked at him quietly. The dragon-thing shuffled peacefully, sighing and rubbing his head against Sans’ chest. He looked comfortable, and incredibly soft as well. Perhaps when Papyrus had more motivation to understand what was in front of him, he’d ask if he could pet the large creature.

Breaking the silence, Blue gestured to the plate of food beside him. “Do you want a taco before you go?”

“… Sure. Why not.”

[fadewalking]

You guys are afraid to make ancient elf characters and it shows.

[nofacednerd]

the Lower Decks/SNW crossover really dared to ask the question of what would happen if Starfleet’s most autistic soldier got thrown right in the middle of his special interest

[wackpedion]

hes so fucking embarassing whyd he do all that

alt ^^

[yaoislumberparty]

[fightwing]

bruce immediately asking if he hurt dick after days spent infected yeah okay dc i see this and i raise you: 😭😭😭

[relentlessgrief]

if you hate mystra take delight that during the Time of Troubles, Helm punched Mystra so hard she died

[lususnatura]

psst... if y'all would like a personalized ask, feel free to like this post, and i will get right on drafting yours ASAP (; i just feel like they are really fun though i haven't really gotten the chance to do them on here yet!! so, what better time is there than now?

[extravagantliar]

i think we all don't put things down. It’s a funny part of the condition of being alive. To love is to live and to live is to look at things and linger as you never know when the last time you’ll see that person again, you may not remember those last words, and sometimes we get goodbye but we still have to grapple with it. we as writers also come back to similar stories, the same themes, an old friend, all artists do it. so rewrite that idea again and again, make as many beautiful pieces of art along the way, grapple and fight grief and transform it into something whole and good. don't stop writing those things, its okay to put the bad things down and okay to evolve past a point you thought you'd be ( congratulations on making it around the earth again. ). remember, play with it - find your voice, transform what you need, lose what you hate and revisit the rest. We all come back to the same theme of trying to be alive and love after all.