#contempt papyrus

[razzyarts]

Necesito volver a cambiar la historia de Forgotten Past pipipipi TT

[arik-fonarik]

I saw someone asked for your opinion on Horrortale Papyrus

So I want to ask, what do you think about Horrortale Undyne.

Now I'll try without the list format

Undyne is a cornered creature, crushed by the burden of responsibility and constant demands from all sides. She tried to be strong, tried to act fairly, but the situation was hopeless.

She couldn't afford to relax, couldn't slack off. She was honest in her feelings only to Alphys, but she was injured. Left alone, abandoned by everyone, she could not stand the pressure and closed herself in, and then completely broke down.

I think she's had a lot of nervous breakdowns.

She became cruel, stopped feeling responsibility and compassion, it was replaced by indifference and contempt. All the guilt that she felt poured out, leaving only anger. Now no one is ordering her, now she will put pressure on everyone, make them feel what she felt. Now only she can judge and this court will be merciless.

So, now she is an indifferent, cruel, intolerant of objections, striving for order, an abandoned soul that continues to live only by terrorizing monsters and the searching for fallen people.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

might be a controversial/unpopular opinion but i headcanon that any classic variant of sans has some sort of superiority complex going on. maybe not exactly that, but they're some flavor of self-righteous, i guess?

OKAY LISTEN. i'm not saying sans is a bad guy or anything (i love him very much i swear). canon sans is written really well in the sense that he's intentionally very vague and mysterious so we can speculate a lot on his past and intentions throughout the story. idk, maybe my reading is completely off but sans appears to me as a lovable asshole, especially to someone who is a child (frisk). he likes playing around with frisk - yeah it's harmless but still his advice tends to be vague, especially when it comes to battle tips lmao. just imagine in-universe how terrible his advice comes off to a child.

and like, the restaurant scene. sans is intentionally acting all blithe about letting a child die on his watch, under a promise - like i know it's supposed to be a funny off-hand comment to the player, but in-universe again he addresses this to a child. it's just- lmao this guy has some problems for sure.

i think being self-righteous is just tied to his role as a judge as well. he's always 'right' in his judgement, because that's what he is. i think it's just interesting to explore that particular aspect of sans' personality, that he acts in what he thinks is right, and he's always right, isn't he? maybe that's why i tend to enjoy undertale stories where sans somewhat assumes the role of the antagonist - it creates some fantastic dynamic with people around him who it seems like he never really connects well.

~ crowshipping anon

Crow!! Yayy!!

And I honestly kinda vibe with this interpretation honestly. I haven’t completely finished playing all the Undertale games myself (curse my lack of motivation 😭), but I watched a few playthroughs here and there, and it seems like something that could make sense.

Especially when he’s given such an important position like a being a Judge, his opinions and judgements are likely taken seriously by Asgore.

And the thing is, you can also make an argument for this with our most popular classic variants; the Murder Time Trio. Murder justifies what he does as being better that he does it instead of the human, justifies it with that he will eventually stop the human.

Really, he may even argue that his current actions don’t really even go against his job as the Judge; he has judged that the human must be stopped, and he has to do it because he’s the only one who can. I’ve even seen some ideas going around that maybe he views himself as the Angel from the Prophecy, having judged that the Underground will be free by death.

Horror is the entire reason his Underground started eating humans, and he is also the reason that the Core is damaged beyond repair. He didn’t want to sacrifice himself for the Underground, and he survived the event that took his eye, yet he still judged that Undyne and Alphys had to pay for their betrayal—and in doing so he decided that the rest of the Underground would be doomed to starvation or eating people.

He decided to trick Horror Papyrus into eating human meat even though Papyrus very clearly did not want to, and Horror doesn’t seem all too guilty about it—even as Papyrus goes out of his way to prevent Horror from eating humans at his own request.

I’ve even seen around by bigger Horror/Horrortale fans than me that Horror’s reasons for starving himself may not even be entirely selfless—such as for a moral reason or wanting others to have more food than him. But rather because he views it as beneath him and he won’t go “that low.” How canon that is, im not sure, but it’s interesting.

Then meanwhile there’s Killer. He sneers at Swap and threatens to kill him if he ever attempts to compare himself to Killer again, he holds the beliefs and mindsets of his human that were taught to him very closely and looks down on anyone who views things differently with contempt—especially if they attempt to “force” him to view things differently.

Things like mercy or kindness or hesitation are seen as weakness and things to take advantage of in his mind. Even himself is not free from this nihilistic, fatalistic, violence and apathetic driven worldview—-looking down on himself in Stage 1.

He will go out of his way to prove himself and his views right, even if that means doing exactly what Chara did and coercing/provoking someone into killing, attacking, hurting, etc, either themselves, others, or even him.

This is exactly what he was supposed to be, and it’s pointless to try and change or hope for anything more than what he or anyone else deserves. He probably finds Murder’s attempts to justify his genocides absolutely ridiculous. And Horror to be absolutely hypocritical. (Which is why Color’s specific way of approaching Stage 2, wanting to show him a better life—something new—rather than trying to change or fix him, worked so well.)

[ivyprism]

The Farm Boys (Skeleton Boys Info Dump)

Long-ish!

Grove - Farmtale Sans

Personality: A very lovely and helpful skeleton. He is quiet and composed. He is also physically quite strong. He is amusing, lively, and quite gentle. He enjoys jokes and helps out on the farm. He works hard, but he also knows when to unwind. He assists where he can, is very knowledgeable about plants and soil, and understands everything and anything there is to know about flowers and crops. He is a gentleman who is also very kind-hearted and loves animals. He has a skill of holding a lot of things and he is also very fast.

Appearance: He has soft gentle teal eye lights. He has freckles. He wears a straw hat.

Elm - Farmtale Papyrus

Personality: He's a cheerful and endearing skeleton. He is self-assured and powerful. He is intelligent and knows what he is talking about. He takes farming very seriously. He assists others whenever possible and is not scared to lend a helping hand to others. He adores the farm, and while he is not as skilled at farming as his older brother, he takes special care of the exterior and the housing. He is an expert at carpentry, painting, and woodworking. He is also tremendously strong. He is good with an axe. He is also very fast on his feet.

Appearance: He has a gentle olive eye. He has freckles and a scar on his cheek. It's very small. He has a red bandana around his neck.

Ridge - Farmfell Sans

Personality: He's a tough but lovely guy. He is no-nonsense, stern, and straightforward. He never backs down from a verbal altercation and knows how to fight. He is assertive, flirtatious, and protective. He enjoys having fun, but not too much fun. He is quite intelligent and is well-versed in farming and ranching. He can teach someone about farming. He is extremely powerful and can benchpress a large number of trees. He's a bit prickly, but he relaxes with those who don't mean him any harm. He is a bit of a show-off as well.

Appearance: He has deep red eye lights. He has freckles. He has a golden tooth and a scar on his left eye.

Spruce - Farmfell Papyrus

Personality: He's a courageous but prickly skeleton. He snaps and is ferocious. He isn't scared to verbally demolish someone. He is very protective of his farm and family. He might be a bit of a flirt, but he is a strong individual. He can be very rigid and harsh, but after he gets used to someone's presence, he relaxes. Once you get to know him, he is a gentleman. He never shows too much contempt to anyone. He is extremely powerful and adept at animal wrangling. He is very strong and can bench press a whole moose if he wanted to, but he doesn't.

Appearance: He has bright red eye lights. He has a scar on his left eye that is very big and splintering at the edges. He has freckles and a red bandana around his neck.

Roan - Farmswap Sans

Personality: He is a joyful and cheery skeleton. He is quite powerful and assists where he can. He's a tough guy who can help you carry things. He enjoys his job and is not afraid to assist others who are in need. He is courageous and astute. He is incredibly knowledgable on a wide range of topics. He is quite calm under pressure and adores hens. He is both charming and astute. He knows how to help folks when he can and isn't hesitant to do so. He knows how to assist and always solves difficulties swiftly.

Appearance: He has bright teal eye lights. He has a small scar on his left eye. He has freckles. He has a bandana around his neck.

Lark - Farmswap Papyrus

Personality: He's a laid-back, prankster skeleton. He is quite strong and can lift some very large objects. He is a witty and astute skeleton. He understands that in the end, it is all about plants, animals, and trees. He enjoys playing practical jokes. He gets a little chuckle out of the reactions. He is really lovely and understanding, although he has a filthy tongue and is quite agitated, which he manages well. He enjoys assisting others and, like his brother, is quite intelligent in this regard. His love to help others tends to help motivate him on the farm.

Appearance: He is a skeleton monster with olive eye lights. He has a small scar on his right eye that is diagonal. He has freckles.

---------

@kioko-noodles / @kiokodoodles @hearty-dose-of-ranch @didderd @caycanteven @underfell-crystal @und3rwat3r-a5tr0naut @buff-borf-bork @rainbowut

[adhdbisexualramblings]

Connected to your CG!Papyrus and Regressors!Sans and Flowey idea...

It's, mostly, just Papyrus sitting down, holding two little ones in his arms (maybe they're sleeping or something, I don't know) when somebody with ill intentions tries to get to them, so Papyrus just... goes into a protective brother/dad mode, silently scaring the offender away, before again smiling sweetly to the kiddos.

Because those are his babies. No one is allowed to do bad stuff with them

Ta-da! *glitter bomb* Drabble for the UT agere ask (please send me more of these /srs)! (though I think it got a bit off-topic 😅-)

(Papyrus talks in all caps, usage of '~' for a whine, and the story might be a bit wordy and confusing(?) because I haven't written in a literal year)

The echo flowers jabbered on as they always did, but Papyrus wasn’t focused on them. The constantly humid grass squished under his glove, soft to the touch, and the tall skeleton was glad he lacked skin to avoid the wetness seeping into his battle body. The warmth of the two individuals curling against him helped, too, he supposed. Papyrus leaned against the stone wall carefully to not jostle the sleeping secondary skeleton in his arms. Purely blue water, emitting a serene glow, gushed through the riverbed just near the three, and the distant fall of rain pattered against itself.

Papyrus glanced at his two little ones fondly but frowned slightly at what he saw. With a quiet sigh, he chided, "FLOWEY, PLEASE DON'T ANTAGONIZE SANS."

Flowey, a temporarily potted golden flower, had spat out his pacifier (which ended up bumping harmlessly against his pot due to the clip tied around it) to stick his tongue out at his reluctant companion, who had been nestled in Papyrus' other arm. He blew a raspberry rather childishly. Sans stirred a bit and lazily cracked open an eye.

Flicking his bony hand from where it had been tucked against his chest, the skeleton's open eye flashed briefly as Flowey's pacifier, now back in his mouth, and accompanying clip glowed blue.

"Mmf-!" Flowey made a noise as his pacifier fell to the floor, bringing him with it. Refusing to simply let go of it, the flower tried fruitlessly to pull it back up, only managing to lift it an inch or two before it fell back down. Flowey pouted, still not letting go.

Papyrus narrowed his eyesockets disapprovingly. He turned to look down at Sans, who looked satisfied at Flowey's struggle, "THAT GOES DOUBLE FOR YOU, BROTHER. YOU SHOULD KNOW BETTER," despite his best efforts (and his understanding of manners), the taller skeleton couldn't bring himself to sound too stern. Still, Sans looked upset at the words nonetheless and shrunk in on himself with self-contempt.

"...sorry, pap..." he mumbled, still sleepy. Papyrus stopped his attempt at sternness and clicked guiltily.

"IT'S ALRIGHT, BABYBONES," he cooed quietly, reaching his hand up to push his brother back against his shoulder and simultaneously massage the top of his skull, "I'M NOT MAD, OK?"

Sans nudged his younger brother affectionately, accepting his words with a noncommital hum. Papyrus chuckled under his breath, shifting him so they could lean comfortably against each other.

A vine poked the skeleton on the shoulder a bit harshly. Flowey, finally popping his paci out of his mouth, flopped against Papyrus' arm dramatically.

"'Pyrus~," he whined, staring up at him with innocently pleading eyes. The skeleton in question, disregarding the tone, shifted his gaze to him and moved his hand so the flower rested on his glove instead of his arm. Flowey pushed himself into the worn-down fabric tearfully, inhaling.

"WHAT IS IT, FRIEND?" Flowey hadn't liked any other nicknames Papyrus had tried to come up with, so they had stuck to the usual. The flower didn't clarify, only letting out a sad but short whine. Papyrus' metaphorical brow creased before he caught sight of the still-blue pacifier stuck to the floor, "AH, RIGHT, YOUR SOOTHER."

Moving his hand to undo what Sans had done and eliminating the gravity magic, Papyrus watched as Flowey quickly took the freed binky to his mouth again and gratefully sucked on it. The flower stared up at his caregiver with adoring eyes and earned an equally as adoring laugh when he burrowed into Papyrus' scarf, shutting his eyes contently.

"I LOVE YOU, TOO, FLOWEY." He muttered, taking care to be extremely light when stroking the petals.

His two boys seemingly fell asleep in a matter of minutes. Papyrus slowly rubbed small circles where his thumbs lay, occasionally humming parts of songs he knew. He loved days like these. Sans and Flowey were the two people he cared about most (even if that was a bit of an overestimate since Undyne was also of equal standing), and the tall skeleton enjoyed caring for both of them when it mattered. Papyrus had always wanted to nourish something, even in small ways - like cooking pasta. To have his two most beloved people depend on him so trustingly felt nice. He felt...well, even more productive than usual!

Papyrus snapped his head up from where he'd been trying to keep Flowey's pacifier in his mouth (the flower tended to cry if it fell out while he slept) by a squelching sound.

*Moldsmal incidentally crosses your path!

The skeleton pulled his two charges away from the burbling mass of jelly out of that familiar protective instinct. Moldsmal wasn't exactly 'dangerous', per se, but any attack would disrupt his little ones' sleep, and Papyrus wouldn't like that for them at all - it took a lot for both of them to sleep at the same time.

Eyes narrowing, he visibly shuffled further from the Moldsmal, who was still making its purr-like noises.

"NYEH..." he drawled in a warning tone, making sure it knew he meant business. The Moldsmal blurbled something - maybe an apology - as it jiggled with nerves. Silently, it wobbled away from the trio, its noises sounding a bit offended now.

Papyrus nodded with satisfaction as he watched it go. There, now they were all safe. Sans mumbled something and shifted. Papyrus leaned back into the wall behind him.

Yes, days like these were very nice.

(oh golly, that's long. I went off-topic, but I think it turned out fine. I enjoyed writing it, too! Undertale age regression asks are my favorites!)

[drcharadreemurr]

Familiar ground

Frisk's second journey played out practically identical to the first. They met the same monsters, fought the same battles, made the same choices. You were questioning what the point of them resetting was if this was all they were going to do. It just didn't make any sense to you.

Their interactions with Toriel were different but only slightly. Toriel mentioned something about dejavu but other than that it was practically the same. Same battle, same stalling until she stopped attacking, same everything.

It wasn't until they stepped into Snowdin that you finally spoke up. "Hey Frisk, you have done nothing different so far. If this was all you were going to do then why did you even reset in the first place?"

"That was just the ruins Chara, it's too contained. Now that I'm out of there I can do things different."

You scoff, "Whatever."

Frisk wasn't lying entirely, there were differences here and there but It all led to the same result. Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton, all of them did the same things. Though somehow Frisk managed to get into the true lab before fighting Omega Flowey. You were gratreful for that, the less you had to see of that monstrosity the better.

You did have to admit one thing though, Frisk was getting really good at dodging. They had yet to die a single time in the timeline, which impressed you at least. Frisk's journey went all the way to Asgore without fighting, as the events for Asriel to appear occured. Flowey absorbed everyone and Asriel was there.

They fight, Frisk saves him and then Asriel breaks the barrier. It was nice to see the sun again, you hadn't realized that you were starting to miss it though it had only been about a day. Everyone was happy around you and for the first time in a while you felt yourself fill with ho-

You blink and find yourself back at that bed of flowers again. That hope you were starting to feel being replaced with anger at Frisk once again resetting.

"What the hell Frisk? They were free again and you just reset, why?"

"It wasn't different, it was all going to play out the same again, I can do better. I can get a better ending."

"Frisk, what if there isn't a better ending? What if breaking the barrier is the best ending?"

Frisk looks at you with contempt, "There's always a better ending, I just have to figure it out.

You let out a sigh, "Fine, whatever, just don't make a habit of resetting please."

Frisk says nothing as the step into their third timeline.

[bettyist]

sleepy girl mocktail it come with egg roll 100 gecs deftones opener oldhead sephora 10 year olds virus au smile virus puppet virus beige flag liquid latex no more parmesean cheese twilight sparkle bite peach cobbler hennessey sweet potato donut wellness check livestram grwm hoarder edition unalived guess the drink challenge japanese man found dead in septic tank high visual weight disneybounding child labor eye surgery the monkeys fist instacart ai art he waited 1 year for this ride baby cheese slap a blinding stew that escalated quickly his first backflip bloody cuticle nails lip combo geometry dash theyre running out of ideas crack wings jesus has risen mandarin oranges pesticide red 40 diet chemical peel im custom wood burning i wish i was special self care era alt phase just one more kiss gay obama be like let me be queer chiitan pro wrestling wet rat chicago rat hole memorabilia fastest sandwich maker i know can you wrap my burrito on your day off from taco bell yeah we have an ice dweller in the chat let me get rid of this ice dweller lying on your dead mama im not upset with yall because i know you're mentally ill which is why one day im gonna open up a hospital how to wrap a casket we're never making it out the hood goofy beats free brick in washing machine yes and say that shit with your chest barbieland contempt hearing rexona 24 hour intensive action pussy wind hello kitty antiperspirant crooked nail underground tunnel new york hi im spongebob creepypasta miku papyrus font cigarette shame hi im bunny money spread y2k mcbling gothcore emo criteria for getting a lobotomy coffee milk tea a skirt should be the size of a belt farmersonly.com you are not the father you are not bulgarian yes chef haggis teenage dirtbag huge crush on pomni claires perfume valentines day jewelry do not visit elephant park psychosocial they ate humans new years miami mall speedrunning skip malice mizer

[ask-the-virtual-council]

I posted 5,353 times in 2022

That's 5,353 more posts than 2021!

149 posts created (3%)

5,204 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@samithemanni

@jsab-strawberry

@irummna

@corpsefiend

I tagged 561 of my posts in 2022

#fnaf - 113 posts

#the council has spoken - 81 posts

#william afton - 68 posts

#five nights at freddy's - 58 posts

#afton blogging - 37 posts

#prev tags - 34 posts

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Longest Tag: 139 characters

#yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes ye-

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Cue Toby just staring at Slender intensely.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it, Slender... Not gonna lie, being your proxy had its perks, but it also had its downsides."

'You're not my Toby, are you?', the thin creature said, crossing his arms.

21 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

#4

Unknown:Uhm...where am i?Am i- *looks around and he can't seem to know where he is* okay, hello?Anyone here? *calles out for anyone* If uhm...i'm disturbing anyone here...i'm sorry, i try my best to go back but...this happens randomly!Can't control it...

A tall, thin figure in a suit approaches him(you called them a 'he', so I'm just inferring). 'How did you even...?', he stutters before reaching out a pale, bony hand to the unknown individual.

29 notes - Posted May 29, 2022

#3

(aight imma shove the last thing i sent in here since the gltch so we can continue the rp)

Zaen's whispering from earlier is a bit louder now, though the words are rubbish. Was he speaking a foreign language?

Zaen looks up, and the Papyrus is somehow startled though nothing about him seems off. Even he questions this as he shakes his head and spawns more bones, "I'm only going easy on you, I do have access to every attack in the multiverse. You could be easily be dead right now, count yourself lucky..But count out the goat, he looks like a goner."

He laughs again, and shoots the bones he's spawned at Zaen and Aliza. They stop abruptly before getting close, and a look of confusion spreads across his face as he tries to get them to move again but fails.

Zaen is scared, yet he looks at him with contempt.

*You look at Zaen with astonishment, but you refuse to bend down and help your brother.

*You look at Aliza, hoping to get an answer as to what happened.

40 notes - Posted May 30, 2022

#2

Random Tidbit of my Ask Blog Universe, if this is received well enough for someone to ask, I might actually start it:

Henry Emily: And then I told him tha-

Bonnie/Jeremy, pops head through small portal: Hey Mr Emily!

Henry: Yeah?

Bonnie: Your Gay!

Henry, thinking he'll win an argument: What about my gay?

Bonnie: It's re-arranging all the furniture in your office!

Henry, leaning into the portal to take a look: What do you me- What the... [proceeds to climb and fall in portal] WILLIAM AFTON GET BACK HERE WITH MY DESK, IT'S FINE WHERE IT IS!

William, dropping desk and running for dear afterlife: FUCK OFF HENRY, I'M TRYING TO MAKE THIS EASIER FOR YOU!

69 notes - Posted May 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Frostbite: "ngh!! Where am I..." ((I'm bored, so have an RP starter))

Oh? What's this? Who might you be? [Holds out her gloved hand]

92 notes - Posted May 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[razzyarts]

Mi parte del collab con Peaches u3u 💕✨

[scientistredacted]

Eye Glow Colors & Meanings

A Skeleton's eyes can glow to indicate emotion, and also helps skeletons with emotional regulation; a skeleton who rarely/never glows is not HEALTHY emotionally (GASTER). Red: Physical Pain, Grief, Hatred, Determination Green: Happiness, Excitement, Kindness, Friendship Purple: Sadness, Fear, Anticipation, Perseverance Yellow: Stress, Envy, Shame, Anger, Justice, Contempt Cyan: Curiosity, Confusion, Calmness, Concentration, Patience Blue: Integrity, Discipline, Honesty, Pride, Trust Orange: Confidence, Bravery, Anticipation, Aggression White: Frustration, Worry, Anxiety, Stress, Exhaustion Pink: Love, Embarrassment, Surprise, Hope, Rapid Color Changing: FREAKING THE HECK OUT.

Default Glows

Every Skeleton has their "default" glow, which is the color their eye glows when it just for passive emotional regulation rather than expression, and said glow is telling of the Skeleton's personality. Gaster glows a very light cyan, for curiosity, but it's so light because it's also influenced by white, for anxiety. He's a very, very curious individual, but even as a young child was prone to anxiety. For another example, Papyrus glows Green, for kindness and friendship, but a blue green (not cyan, darker than that), because he's very honest and trusting, and has a lot of integrity.

[ivyprism]

Horrorswap and Horrorfell Skeleton Boys (Info Dump: Revamp)

Warning: Blood, death, famine, etc.

Chai - Horrorswap Sans

Personality: He's a sweet skeleton man, but he has problems. He is a self-assured and compassionate man who enjoys sugar. He's a touch apprehensive and keeps his lovely confidence to himself unless he's with someone he trusts. He is a massive cuddler who will defend everyone he loves. He might be a touch rough while defending someone. He is also concerned about your health and ensures you eat properly and drink lots of fluids. He enjoys assisting others whenever possible. He has also learned self-care. He tries not to stress himself out, so he learns how relax when working on the farm.

Appearance: Chai has a scar on his left eye that is jagged and looks very painful. He has a small scar on the edge of his left eye. He also has sharper canines than average. He wears mostly blue!

Ceylon - Horrorswap Papyrus

Personality: He is a lovely, hilarious skeleton trickster with trauma. He tells jokes, but his sense of humor is off, and he is aware of it. He's always tense and angry at first, but as you get to know him, he's actually rather kind and friendly. When you first meet him, he's a little antagonistic, but as you get to know him, he's extremely lovely. He has a significant scar on his eye and dislikes it when others point it out to him. If he believes you are underweight, he will feed you. If you hug him when he's happy, he'll never let you go. He is an excellent farmer and worker.

Appearance: Ceylon looks like Stretch and he has a scar from the top of his skull through his left eye socket and down his cheekbone. Ceylon also has a white eye light on the right and an orange one on the left. He also had sharper-than-average canines. He has two small scars on the edge of his left eye.

Chive - Horrorfell Sans

Personality: He's a feral cat bone guy who's been through a lot. He is exceedingly guarded and aggressive to individuals he does not trust or like. If someone is genuinely pleasant to him, he will soften and relax enough to joke with his new acquaintance. He doesn't hesitate to protect his loved ones and is very loyal to them. When someone threatens his companions, he becomes furious and must be kept from tearing the individual who harmed his family limb from limb. He is very affectionate but difficult to get to purr, but with the appropriate training, he will.

Appearance: Chive has a large crack in his skull that runs across his skull leaving a nasty crack from the top of his skull to his right cheek. It is incredibly jagged. He has two red-eye flights. He is a skeleton with a scar on his left eye and two golden teeth. His jacket is red and black.

Cassia - Horrorfell Papyrus

Personality: He's a feral cat bone man who's seen a lot. Anyone who believes they have the right to insult his or his brother is confronted with hatred and contempt. He will be compassionate and kind to those he trusts, as well as protective, frequently shielding his loved ones with his arms. He is a very affectionate and loving individual. If his brother or loved ones are threatened or harmed, he is not scared to break the threat apart. He doesn't back down and is willing to do anything to keep his loved ones safe. He's the hardest of the brothers to calm down.

Appearance: Cassia has sharper canines compared to his already sharp teeth. He also has four scars on his right eye and each is jagged. He also has a cane or an optional wheelchair.

--------

@kioko-noodles / @kiokodoodles @miscneilleaneous @und3rwat3r-a5tr0naut @hearty-dose-of-ranch @underfell-crystal @rainbowut

[mageofspacemultiverse]

Though the mask remained ever stoic, his voice seemed anything but after Matild gave her defense.

You would...reprimand me for weaponizing your blood? Truly? As you...sat by for how many eons and permitted the subjugation of our people? Oh, you of little shame- His tone seemed genuinely offended, and it was evident his skin was both literally and metaphorically thin as papyrus.

I do not condemn your predecessors without any inkling, the path of irredeemable faith is not paved in blood and genetics. I do not blame you for your birth, merely disagree towards the mantle you've adopted upon yourself. And you should best not speak of my Children, you sagging artifice!!

He sighed, wrinkled hands resting on the book. In truth, your company has been more than accommodating as of recent turns, and I am by design an ever-evolving entropy, like us all. Yet you emerge and spatter me with your contemptible paradox again and again. What is it you desire from me then, Matild? To unburden myself of all my Life's charity at the revelation that there is one cause you would not disturb beyond Life's clutches, to throw my Lord across the burning coals at your humble suggestion that I disrespected you- Zomson stopped suddenly, coughing again into his tunic for a good 20-30 seconds, before his convulsing came to a stop.

...Magic users, you said...? The same as your own, I wager. Remind me: upon which principles did they develop and culminate their arcane sources? What was their drive?

Matild lingers in the doorway to Zomson's room. Though her face is as emotionless as ever, there is a softness to her eyes as she watches the priest.

Zomson sits in a dusty old chair, reading through a dusty old copy of 'Life of Pi' by troll Yann Martel. He stiffens slightly as Matild stands in the entry to the room, but he does not make any other action to acknowledge her presence. He does clear his throat as he turns the page, then fades back into silence.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Happy (late) birthday @venelona!!!! Hope you enjoy this lil HT Frans piece... and I hope you had a fun birthday!!

The house got very cold when it was dark.

Frisk had gotten into the unfortunate habit of needing to walk around to clear her head, specifically after waking up in the middle of the night. Usually, all she required was a short circuit up and down the hallway, maybe a few minutes staring out the nearest window... but today, her body and wide-awake mind seemed to be directly conspiring against her.

... She genuinely had no idea how long she’d been up. She didn’t feel any sleepier, and sunrise felt years away. The hallway crawl just wasn’t cutting it anymore... Frisk, very quietly, made her way down the stairs, hoping a mild change in scenery would convince her subconscious that bed was far better. Papyrus didn’t like leaving the stove on during the night (a waste of valuable wood,) so as the night progressed, the house got slowly colder and colder and colder. She wandered, aimlessly, through the door and into the living room...

...

“O-oh.” Frisk stopped dead- and backed up a few steps, into the doorway again. “Hi. You’re... you’re up too?”

...

Not a word from Sans. As per usual. He was sat on the sofa in almost total darkness, his signature hoodie defending him from the cold but... also several blankets, strewn over his legs, a perfect little couch nest for him to keep out the unpleasant weather.

... He turned his head, blood red iris slowly zeroing in on her. He was definitely glaring, apparently unhappy at his silence being interrupted by her of all people... ‘grin’ just a low scowl, eyelight unblinking and glowing ominously in the darkness. Everything about him just felt so... unfriendly. Unfamiliar. From his eye, to his teeth, to his stare and hunched posture and deafening silence in reply to everything she said...

... She could smell the contempt. 

It made her chest squeeze, painfully- she couldn’t keep eye contact, gaze dropping to a spot on the carpet instead. He was nothing like the skeleton she’d known so many years before. The warm, bubbly idiot that she could hardly keep herself away from, who she felt so safe with, who she would’ve trusted with her life...

...

... I don’t feel safe with him now. Not anymore.

...

“I-I’m just, uhm... clearing my head.” She said, softly. His stare was accosting- it made her feel like she needed to apologise.

... He was right to be angry at her. He had every right in the world, and she wasn’t going to try and protest her innocence or convince him to forgive- she’d taken enough from him already. She wasn’t going to take his anger, too. 

She had her lucky stars to thank that Papyrus had the kindest heart of any human OR monster. He’d accepted her back into the skeleton household with more than just welcome arms... he was so sweet, he’d even tried to comfort her. Years trapped in a post-apocalyptic hell directly caused by her misdeeds, and his first instinct was to give her food and warmth and attempt to soothe her guilt. 

“YOU WERE YOUNG, AND TRAPPED IN A NEW AND SCARY PLACE! YOU DIDN’T INTEND FOR THIS TO HAPPEN. NOBODY DID. IT DIDN’T HELP THAT EVERYONE ACTED LIKE YOU WERE EITHER A DESPISED HORRIBLE ENEMY, OR THE GREAT MAGICAL SAVIOUR WHO HAD TO BURDEN ALL OUR HAPPINESSES. WE PUT TOO MUCH PRESSURE ON YOU.”

It was sweet of him. And she appreciated it. But... her being young and afraid was a reason, not an excuse. At the end of the day she’d doomed them all with her selfishness.

...

Sans, on the other hand...

...

... He has every right to hate me. I’d hate me, too.

Maybe I already do.

...

“... Pretty cold in here.” She mumbled, a pathetic attempt at conversation. Her heart was aching- thinking about all the stupid conversations they’d had together in this room a lifetime ago.

...

No response. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore. He’d already turned his attention to something much more interesting; the unlit fireplace. 

...

“I-it’s chilling me to the bone, hah...”

...

... His skull whipped around, glaring directly at her, dot in the centre of his eyelight visibly shrinking- he didn’t just look annoyed anymore, he seemed genuinely angry. Frisk flinched and wasted absolutely no time in turning around, taking the message and ducking out of the room without so much as another word, heart immediately flying into her throat as she quickly made her way up the stairs. Welp... looks like jokes are a no-go. Ever. 

She entered her room, intending to just tuck herself back into bed and forget the whole thing had ever happened.

... 

Problem was, Frisk had cooled down with the house. The blankets on her bed weren’t enough anymore- even wrapping herself up like a sad little burrito left her drawing into herself to retain warmth. She needed her sweater if she was going to get any chance of sleeping... and it only took a few minutes rifling through the darkness to realise where she’d left it.

...

So... back down the stairs.

This time, when she entered the living room, her blankets pulled around her shoulders, Sans didn’t bother lifting his head to look at her. She wasn’t worth the effort. She swallowed, nervously, observing where she knew she’d left her sweater... 

... On the couch. Right next to him- within arm’s reach.

...

“... I, uh...” Why was her voice so loud? She was sweating despite the cold. “M-my sweater...”

...

Shockingly, still nothing.

Frisk inhaled gently through her nose, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet, mustering up a little courage. He couldn’t blame her for getting her stuff, right? She just needed to take her sweater, and then she could go running back to her room to hide and try her best not to cry loud enough for either of the brothers to hear. She did her best to swallow her nervousness, eventually managing to bring herself to cross the carpet, quietly... the offending item of clothing was laying on the couch cushion beside him, crumpled and with one arm inside-out.

...

She couldn’t stop herself from looking at him, in the darkness. He was pointedly avoiding eye contact. And... in a sad way, that made her feel a little better; at least he wasn’t being outwardly angry, right?

Frisk balled up her sweater, tucking it under one arm and turning to leave.

...

Except she didn’t get very far.

Something caught her wrist- Frisk very lightly jerked against it, before blinking and realising she wasn’t moving anywhere. She turned around...

...

He was... holding her wrist.

Sans was sitting closer to the edge of the sofa, but she couldn’t see his face- his head was bowed, posture hunched and as ‘small’ as his massive frame could get.

...

Huh?

For several painful seconds, she didn’t know what to do. She just stood there, staring down at the giant skeletal hand that had completely encircled her tiny limb... she didn’t even know what she was looking at. Why was he holding her? Her stomach twisted- did she do something wrong after all? She got too close, didn’t she... oh stars, sh-she got too close...

There was a horrible few moments where Frisk began to genuinely consider something. Would Papyrus help me from his brother if I screamed?

...

“... don’t leave.”

...

His voice was... closer to before than Frisk would’ve thought it’d be. It was a little deeper, and sounded gruff and rusty from lack of use, but... it was him. It was definitely Sans. 

“Huh?”

“you’re... cold, right?”

...

He was addressing her? Asking her a question? She was so taken off guard that all she could do was stammer out a dumbfounded “Y-yes.”, eyes darting up and down his body, looking for a clue as to what his intentions were.

... He lifted up his other hand, and held onto her wrist with that one, too.

“it’s... warmer here.” He raised his gaze to her arm. “stay.”

...

Well. It’s not like I have a choice.

“... Sh-should I... sit down?”

He nodded.

...

Frisk really didn’t know what to make of it. But... she sat down, nonetheless. As soon as she’d settled onto the cushions he let go of her hand and readjusted the blankets that were strewn across his lap, throwing them over her legs too; moving every spread until she was as deep in the nest he’d created as he was.

...

He sighed, deeply, through his nasal cavity... like a weight had been taken off his shoulders.

...

She couldn’t help it. He smelled so familiar, he was broad and warm and his jacket looked so soft and comfy... Frisk wasn’t thinking about much at this point, her head suddenly felt light and fuzzy, her Soul reacting the same way to him as it did all those years ago. Despite her jumping heart, she pulled in her legs and leaned against him. 

He responded without hesitation- an arm went around her back, moving her in even closer, pushing her cheek up to the furry collar of his hoodie. He pressed his face into the top of her head.

... Her Soul fluttered. Relief washed through her whole body, she was certain that if she’d been standing her knees would’ve buckled underneath her.

He... he doesn’t hate me. It was difficult to hold back the tears that threatened to cluster on her eyelashes. He doesn’t hate me.

“... don’t leave again.” Sans mumbled, voice shockingly quiet and thin- more emotion in those three words than she’d seen from him for weeks.

“... I-I won’t.” She mumbled back. “I promise.”

...

... He was right. It was very warm, cuddled up with him under blankets, sharing what little heat they had between each other- much warmer than alone in her bed. She traced her fingers over the divots on his phalanges, and he carded his free hand through her hair...

... It took both of them all of a few minutes to fall asleep, folded into each other for the first time in years.

[poptod]

hello! i'd like to make an ahkmenrah x reader request! maybe present-day reader gets teleported back in time to when ahkmenrah was alive and they eventually get to the palace and stuff happens? maybe they tell him about modern life? and maybe reader is unnaturally beautiful to the ancient egyptians because humans evolve to be more attractive as time goes on so a person from our time would be hot shit 4,000 years ago? this is long lmao. thanks!

Notes: god ive always wanted to do this kind of storyline but i was worried about like,, logic and stuff getting in the way of the storyline. anyway! i was so fucking elated to receive this request. i got a bit carried away so apologies! WC: 3.2k

+

Okay. It isn't that bad.

Would you ever see your family again? Probably not, but you weren't ruling the possibility out.

Would you ever get to have sour patch kids again? Probably not. But even during the time you lived in 2020, you had eaten more concentrated sour patch kids flavor than all of the people around you combined.

This little village on the outskirts of ancient Thebes is hardly L.A.––though that's probably a good thing––and is small enough for you to know every inhabitant. Your shop there is small to suit the town, and well known ever since your arrival in this time.

They found you beside the river, thought you to be a gift from the Gods. You were hazy, though––whatever had so forcefully pushed you back in time had made your head spin, making you sick and unbalanced. So, when they asked if you did in fact come from the Gods, you had no way of defending yourself either way. Generally you've been denying it––they think you are a god, and the only way you've convinced them you're not a god is by saying you're a gift from them. It explains the way you look, unnaturally beautiful and alien amongst the more pure genetics of earlier humans.

Your shop is pretty simple. You make portraits from paint, more realistic than anything else that exists, and it only affirms their belief in your god-like status. Fortunately word seems to not have gotten out––the village has remained small, and no one from Thebes has run into you. Every now and then you get unreasonably anxious that a noble will find you and turn you into a slave. It's a worry most people around you have, so you find comfort in the fact that you're not the only one. Still, you're not quite accustomed to such an atmosphere––the thought of nobles and Kings noticing you still sends terrified aches into your stomach.

It's about two weeks in that it gets bad. People start to pass by the village, more than you would've thought, and they're all looking to trade goods, food, and information. The people of the village talk about you––you're something interesting, you can't deny that, but they don't know just how worried you are. Whenever you see someone you don't recognize outside your home, you refuse to come out.

Five days later and there's soldiers in your home, looking over your paintings on their way back to Memphis from conquering the realm of Kush. You hold a deep contempt for them––you don't know all that much about history, but you know how Egyptian soldiers and Pharaohs reigned power over the people of Kush.

The soldiers aren't all that worrying. What really gets your heart pounding is the final man to enter your hut; a man bearing a crown and a long sword, with golden braces around his wrists and a chest plated in green scales. Your fingers dig into the wood of your counter when he notices you. The crown on his head––it's the crown of both upper and lower Egypt.

This is a Royal.

"Where did you learn this skill?" He asks you, eyes trained on one of your bigger drawings. It's just on papyrus––not for sale––and hung on the wall as a display of your talent.

"I spent a little while travelling the world," you answer. Technically, growing up in the modern world was a bit like travelling the world; you got to see the cultures and practices of many, many people. "The rest of it's practice."

"The peasants here, they... they claim you came from the Nile. Is that true?"

"Well... that is where I was found," you say carefully, but you can already tell you've fucked up. The look on his face is indescribable beyond the fact that he's pleased.

"How would you feel coming back to the capital with me?" He offers to you, setting his hands on the counter and leaning forward. "I think my father would much like to meet you."

"I – I don't think I'm really cut out for -"

"Nonsense," he dismisses with a smile, taking your hand from its' spot on the wood. "We shall teach you proper writing skills, give you a beautiful home, and the salary isn't horrid either."

You can't just say no. If you do, he's going to ask questions––he's going to get confused, and he's going to get suspicious. No one would turn down an opportunity like this; free schooling, free housing, and much more money for something you already do.

"Well... alright," you say quietly, looking to the home around you that you built with the help of the other villagers.

"Wonderful. My name is Kamun."

He's not a very nice person, you come to find. Or perhaps he's just not your tastes––the soldiers seem to like him well enough, at least the ones who aren't completely subordinate to him, but his attitude towards women and poor people is scathing to say the least. Otherwise he's very amusing, with a good sense of humor and quite generous with his food and wine as long as he gets his fill of it first.

The boat back to Memphis, where the royal family currently stays, is a long ride filled with various entertainments. It's clear these are not soldiers accustomed to rough conditions––the dancing women and flowing beer is enough to tell you that. Instead, you surmise these are faux war-heroes; people adored in their hometown for doing nothing but intimidating others in a foreign country. They try to get cushy with you, soften you up to their words and touches. It doesn't work.

He keeps you close to him. You let him do it, sort of––it's better than telling him no. Better than starting a ruckus. Then again, avoiding a ruckus is what got you here in the first place, standing before the doors of the courtroom where a false God on earth rules the Nile.

"Father, I bring you a gift from Thebes," says Kamun, pushing you forward by the small of your back. You can't bring yourself to meet the Pharoah's eye, so you fall to your knees and bow.

Everyone is staring at you. You don't look normal, and they all know it, and you know it. You could cry from the heat of their eyes on your back.

One of Kamun's soldiers steps forwards, handing the Pharaoh and his wife several of the drawings they'd taken from you. Silence passes as the two scan your work.

"How did you achieve such a mirror of the human face?" The Pharaoh asks in a slow, deep voice that sounds as he looks––old, weathered, wise.

"They came from the Nile," Kamun answers for you, and murmurs take the crowd by storm. You, on the other hand, feel your heartbeat increase in massive increments, speeding your already uneven breath. "A gift from the Gods, the locals said."

"I can't – I am not magic," you rush out, hoping your clarification clears you of any responsibility to the Pharaoh. You know he rules everything––if he says you are to stay here, you have no choice, and you don't like it here. Too many people. "I cannot give you anything, my King."

"I think you're lying," says a voice, its' tone soft and a velvet low. It catches you off guard, brings you to raise your head and meet the eyes of someone you don't know; a young man dressed in gold beside the Pharaoh's throne.

You almost lose your breakfast as your eyes bulge, your mind instantly recognizing him and connecting the dots. You were, by far, not a historian, but you knew a fair amount of Egyptian history––namely a family in the Old Kingdom who was headed by the Pharaoh Merenkahre. The remaining statues and busts of the King and his son are astonishingly accurate, and there can be no doubt in your head.

That being said, there also can't be any reaction on your face. You try your best to reign your expression in.

"I..."

Actually, you do have something to offer now. You know the names––memorized the history, committed each event to memory, and now you can pull their lifestory off from the top of your head. Wouldn't that be valuable to a King; a seer of the future, to predict the rise and fall of the economy and the coming armies. Besides, you can't just say he's wrong. That'd be treasonous to them. So you have to agree you're hiding something, come up with an excuse as to why you hid it, and it proves harder than you thought. You're quickwitted, though––it got you away from the villager's wrath, and it will promote you to noble living now.

You hide a smirk beneath a calm expression as you address the younger prince.

"They gifted me foresight," you say quietly, pretending as though it hurts you to tell the truth, "but told me to never inform others."

"You are in the presence of Ra once more," the Pharaoh reminds you.

"And others," you point out. "I would... it would be better to discuss such matters.. in private."

Detailed information about already-past events is enough to sway him to believe you. The Pharaoh is surprisingly easy to convince, and with a few, meaningless predictions of the future, he gives you housing in his own palace. Kamun looks proud of himself––puffs his chest out in front of his father and earns no compliment. Ire laces his glare as it falls upon his brother, Ahkmen, praised for his ability to see through your obvious lie.

The Pharaoh asks his younger son to guide you to your room. Apparently it's closer to his room than it is to Kamun's, and evening is approaching fast. The walk there, while short, is marked by a conversation composed mainly of Ahkmen's questions and your answers. When the two of you reach your room, he doesn't leave––actually, he follows you in and locks the door.

There's nothing more terrifying than a man with unchecked power, and there is no one watching you.

No fail safe.

You gulp.

"I know you're still not telling the truth," he says, and though it dismisses several of your worries it still begs the question; how did he notice? "Just thought I'd spare you the embarrassment in front of my father, but my generosity ends there. Now I won't hurt you, and I won't tell anyone––I'm just curious."

Oh thank fuck. He's not going to rape you.

"I'm not Egyptian," you blurt out.

"Obviously," he interrupts, but you glare him into raising his hands defensively.

"I'm from the future."

He stares at you. For a minute. You know this because you count it––he just pauses right in his stance, doesn't move, and stares at you for a whole minute like you just told him you're made of gold.

"I'm sorry, what?" He says, laughter suddenly wracking his body.

"It's how I know what's going to happen to your family," you say, hoping he'll believe you. Otherwise this handsome, seemingly-nice man is going to think you're insane for the rest of time. "I studied your family for years as a side-hobby, I don't know how to predict the future for anything but you and your father."

His laughing pauses, or lightens at least; enough for him to say, "actually?"

"Yes," you say, completely serious. This seems to gain his interest once more. "You have to help me. I know at some point people are going to ask me questions about other things and I'm not going to have an answer."

"Just do what all our priests do," he says with a chuckle.

"What do they do?"

"Lie," he says. You can't stop the grin that spreads across your face from the stupid joke, and when he sees that a shit-eating grin spreads across his own face, delighted he could make you laugh.

"Yes, well... I guess I could do that," you mumble in a laugh.

"There's no need for you to worry. Now that I know the truth, I can help you," he says, offering you something that takes nearly all the anxiety out of your brain. After two days travel with a prince, it feels like it took 50 pounds off your shoulders.

"Thank you, so much," you chuckle in relief.

"Of course. I do have questions though, and I want you to answer them."

"Anything."

These questions of his, they come at all times––almost at a constant rate when he takes you on long walks, which he does often. He passes it off to his father as an interest in your beauty, and it apparently works. This little lie also helps you enormously in avoiding the romantic advances of many of the people you come into contact with. You're still not quite sure how it works, since Egyptians supposedly had a strong sense of patriotism, but you look rare and they idolize it. Every eye that falls upon you sees something beautiful, and you can't understand it.

At least Ahkmen is normal. He doesn't talk about you being beautiful. Ever.

And it kind of makes you sad.

"Would you say people on the whole are happier in the future or in the past?" He asks you, his words surrounded by the warmth of a summer day in Egypt.

Birds chatter loudly in the trees around you, singing in the humid air that marks the mating season for many of them. The flowers that surround you are already familiar––you thought it would take longer for you to commit the shapes and colors to memory, but here you are. Dressed in gold-laced silk and turquoise necklaces.

"I think the happiness of a population is dependent entirely on the circumstances surrounding it," you say. Sometimes your answers relate more to the human condition than the progress of time on the human race; he likes these answers, too, so you tell him exactly what you think. "Six thousand years from now, there are times of great misery. One is even called the Great Depression, but five years before that were some of the most prosperous times my country had ever seen. The same cycle is evident here."

"So.. great misery and great happiness come in waves?" He asks, pace slowing as he tries to understand what you're saying. You pause along the pathway, allowing him space to think.

"It's a pattern, actually. When the economy goes up, it will always come down. Recessions happen right after economical booms. And yes," you say before he can ask, "a time of unease will follow the prosperity of the current years. But it won't be for a time yet."

"Will it happen in my lifetime?"

He's murdered about three years from now. You think you might be able to stop it, but if you do, it'll alter history quite a lot. Either way, he wouldn't live long enough to see the recession the building of the great pyramids caused.

"No," you say. "But I'd prepare for it anyway, if only to keep your citizens safe."

"Of course. You... you are a great scholar," he tells you, resuming the slow walk down the shore of the Nile.

"Oh. Uh, thank you," you mumble as a blush fills your cheeks.

"What did you do in your time?"

"I was an artist, but I spent a lot of time giving lectures on the role of autistic people in ancient Egypt. Autistic people are often timekeepers," you say, and you know he'll figure out what you mean. Autistic isn't a term here, but many timekeepers of these ancient times were autistic, and considered highly by their societies.

"You might be able to give lectures again, if you'd like," he suggests. "People would come from far and wide to hear you speak. And you've got things to say that I know many scholars will find interesting."

"Mmm," you wince, "I kind of want to stay away from altering history too much."

"Oh, yes. My apologies," he says in a softer voice.

"It's alright," you say. "I'm glad you think I would be a good choice for that kind of thing, though."

He chuckles bashfully as he turns to the ground, scuffing his sandals as he walks.

Ahkmen is sweet––much sweeter than any of his family members, and you find yourself appreciating that every time you pass by his room. You pass his door often, always stopping a second to contemplate the tall, wooden doors. He's on the pathway between your room and the library.

Most of the time he's not in his room. Actually, you can usually find him in the library––there or outside in the markets or near the stalls. Today is different; he's been missing all day, and only when you walk the path back to your room do you hear his voice, talking to himself in his bedroom.

"They're bombarded with just such compliments, though. I can't – I can't stand out!"

"Or maybe you should, because you still haven't said a single thing yet and they probably think you're completely uninterested and that's why they aren't noticing you?"

"You and your... logic," Ahkmen spits.

"Come complaining when you kiss them under my advice."

As you attempt to peek through the crack in the door you stumble, knocking your hand against the wood. You barely hesitate before knocking again––cool and collected, smooth to slip into another lie.

"Oh! Hello, um – hi," he says awkwardly, slipping out of the room when he sees you. He quickly closes the door behind him, careful to keep you from seeing the other person in his room, but you can't bring yourself to care about the stranger.

Think of an excuse, why am I here?

"Oh, that's... I like your flower," he comments softly, eyes flickering between your eyes and the flower tucked into your hair. You'd forgotten about it, but raised your hand to touch the petals as you smiled. The perfect excuse

"Thank you. I thought you might like it, so I," you take it out of your hair and grab his hand, holding his palm upwards, "wanted to show you.. um, here."

Setting the flower in his hand, you curl his fingers around its' stem and push his hands back into his chest. He stares at you for a moment, confused by your strange behavior, but accepting of your gift anyway. You know him well enough now––he'd never decline a gift from you.

"A white iris," he tells you in a lofty tone. "A symbol of the dead. Funny it looks so lively on you."

You need to get out of here before your chest combusts.

"I need to go now, but I'll see you this evening, yes?" You ask, stepping instinctively closer. He doesn't back away.

"Of course. And, um," he takes your hands, keeps you where you stand as he slips the flower back behind your ear, "keep it. I want to see it on you at dinner."

He's close to you––close enough that it gets hard to distinguish his breath from your own, when you started holding his hand. When his other came up to your face. When he leans in and kisses your forehead. It's barely there, just barely, but there's no mistaking the soft plush, the affection clear behind gentle, precise movements.

You rush away the second he lets your hands go.

[charamelwrites]

Babysitting with Extra Morbid Steps

pairing: skeleharem

Chapter 28: Posted!

“FORGETTING IS NOT MOVING ON,” Black countered. “THAT’S REPRESSING.”

“When did you become a therapist?” you joked half-heartedly. “Ah whatever. You don’t have to talk to me about my problems to make me feel better. Thank you, though.”

Black gave you another look. “THERE YOU ARE AGAIN, REDIRECTING YOUR EMOTIONS.”

“Stop talking to me about my emotions when all you ever show is contempt, Mister.”

Fic Summary

Papyrus is dead. Frisk can't reset. Sans was losing his mind. His only solution was to pull through alternate versions of him until he finds him again.

Unfortunately, you're the one in charge of babysitting your best friend and his dead brother's alternate versions.

[foxalone]

Nor!Sans: I would appreciate it if you would wake them up, but don't shout at Jasar , Carefully pliss

Gim opened the door and greeted Corrupted File, however, he gave Jade a slightly discreet look of contempt.°

Nor!Sans: Corrupted! I missed you so much! Come in don't stay out in the cold, Jade also come in please friend

Jade enters the house behind Corrupted File

Mark!Papyrus: Nye! Human! friends! Meet Jade the human I captured her! After asking her for permission to capture her obviously

Corrupted File: {sees everyone inside} *Slowly walks to the front door, and places gifts right in front of the door.* Sigh* (( Sounds like they're having fun... I should probably get going... before they see me))

Merry Christmas y'all... *Turns around and starts slowly but quietly walking away*

Magma and Docrath: Hey All of y'all it's been a while very fucking Christmas!! *Waves to everyone!* Oh and by the way let me introduce you all, to my new bud Docrath!

... Hi..

P.S. You don't have to answer this if you don't want to I don't have time...

Nor!Sans: Your horns are cool! Hehe

The stature of Docrath, together with that feeling of intimidation, gave a low blow to Jasar's pride

Nor!Sans: Where is Corrupted File? I prepared food for him...

Gim!Sans: Just kidding Merry Christmas flower girl haha

Magma!Sans: Damn crazy witch...

At a Christmas party where most monsters hate humans it's no place for Jade, she decided to wait outside for dinner to be ready and then go to sleep...

she felt a little uncomfortable, she really didn't want to fight or argue with any monster at least that day...

Jade the Human , Jasar!Sans , Nor!Sans , Gim!Sans and Underblood belongs to me

Magma!Sans, Corrupted File!Sans and Docrath by : @virgilsteve

Undertale by Toby fox