#god the ink was SO FUN SO FUN

[payasita]

bro you got a little something on your-- no it's cool bro i got it

[deets under cut because Thanks Tumblr]

[hinamie]

oversaturate

[boxesblr]

I never moved on from pib's final pickpocket on the Baba Yaga and saying "I would like to try to steal back everything she took from us" btw. It's the perfect capstone on a running joke that underlined the character archetype. It's loving and heartfelt and simple and cheeky. It makes no apologies about being a trickster move. Real in what it means to accomplish and unreal in what it makes true about the world.

And then he's honest with her about it. And she remarks that it's just like the two of them, for him to steal and her to be stolen from. That they're so alike, that they transcend this corruption and unmaking and soon to be remaking. They're just so archetypal - a witch and a black cat

[normalenjoyer-png]

for requests this is really specific but can you draw ink sans holding a photo of prescribed adderall pills (adhd medication) in his hand like he is holding a golden lock of an angel’s fine hair

sure thing boss

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Crush Gossip

*slides in with a grin* I am here and we are here for a special installment. @spotaus get in here friend!

Blue centered drabble :D

Just as promised :3

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

*-------------------------*

Blue moves the cleaned plates towards the cabinet before returning to the sink. He puts the whiskey glasses in and starts washing them carefully. He really enjoyed the night and their little gyftmas celebration.

Even if some aspects could have gone better. Or not happened at all.

Blue loves Dream. He really loves his best friend. But Dream needs to stop trying to help him by getting Ink to notice him.

It is fine.

A yawn and Blue doesn’t look away from the water “You are up early.”

His brother yawns as he joins his side “You are up early.” He sounds grumpy “You are already finished cleaning?”

Blue nods as he takes care to wash the smaller glasses “Of course. I know how to handle my liquor.” And he shoots Stretch a grin before frowning “Don’t you want to sleep in? Alphys will oversleep today so not notice you skipping work for a bit and Chara isn’t meant to arrive until a few days.”

Stretch huffs unhappily “Yeah yeah I know.” he yawns again as he leans against the counter as he ignores what Blue said to ask his own question “Dream and Ink out already?”

Blue shrugs “Yeah. Dream had to go again or Core would locate him again… and Ink… Well I am pretty sure Ink left midway through the party.” Blue saw how ink had checked his phone before quickly tugging his phone away and packing his things and leaving.

It stung a little.

Stretch nods as he takes the towel before waiting for Blue to finish the first glass so he can dry “It was nice to have them over.”

Blue laughs and nods “It was great!” he smiles.

Stretch chuckles before toying with the first glass “sorry it didn’t… work with Ink.”

Blue pauses before shrugging “It is fine. It isn’t like it is a surprise.” Blue had already known there was no interest anyway.

Stretch frowns at him “Blue… I know you… I know you were excited to have Ink over. You are allowed to feel disappointed.”

Blue sighs as he gives the next glass over “It isn’t a big deal” he rushes to wash the other glasses.

Stretch frowns at him “I disagree… Blue you-”

Blue pushes the last glass into his hands “There! All clean! If you can finish that up I will go to quickly fix our puzzles!”

Stretch doesn’t make a move to dry the glasses “You just said Alphys will sleep in anyway and not notice.”

Blue nods as he puffs his chest “Doesn’t mean I have to skip too! You enjoy your morning! Make sure to drink a lot of water and you know where the medicine is and-” and Blue gets stopped by magic by the front door.

Damnit he is blue now.

Stretch speaks calmly “Blue. I want to talk about this. Now.”

Blue sighs but doesn’t fight the magic and let it guide him to the couch. Stretch puts the glasse son the drying rack and joins him.

Stretch leans back against the couch “So… the mistletoe… Did Dream tell you he was planning that?”

Blue groans and shakes his skull “No… I didn’t even realise Dream added that with decorating… I found out when he pushed us under it and pointed it out.” he rubs his cheek “If I had known I would have removed it.”

Stretch nods as he leans back “Why? I thought you like Ink?”

Blue sighs as he waves his hands “I do! But it is more complicated than it just being a matter of me liking him!”

Stretch nods along and waits as he looks at him expectingly.

Blue stares at him before crossing his arms “Ink blocked my number… I don’t know why.”

Stretch looks shocked “But I thought you two were friends?”

Blue rolls up more “We are… I don’t understand why… I wasn’t even asking anything out of the ordinary or weird. Just asked him how he was doing and if he wanted to hang out with Dream and me… When I didn’t get a reply for a few hours I send him another message to ask if he was busy. Only to get an automated message back stating the number I was trying to reach had me blocked.” It was a thing they all agreed on with the multiverse phones. That if you blocked someone they should be able to know. Mostly because if it is an emergency so you don’t waste your time with messaging someone who won’t ever see your messages.

Stretch frowns “Yet… he came to the party?”

Blue shrugs “Just because Dream asked…” Dream had asked for Blue but Blue wouldn’t be surprised if Ink just wanted to come because of Dream. Blue can’t really blame him for that either. Dream is a god like Ink. And Blue is… well very mortal.

Stretch leans back “huh… strange.”

Blue sighs “Not that strange. Dream can be very convincing when he wants to be.” Which is putting it mildly.

Stretch laughs and nods “I noticed… No the strange thing is that if Ink really didn’t want to be near you he wouldn’t have gone to a private Gyftmas party in your universe.” Stretch raises a brow “Sure he has a bad memory but he should know that at least.”

Blue frowns and shrugs “I guess… I just think he wanted to be near Dream.” Which he honestly isn’t mad about. Disappointed maybe but not mad. It isn’t like it is Dream’s fault and Dream is really trying to get Ink and him to hang out. It isn’t Dream’s fault if Ink prefers to be near him over Blue.

Stretch hums “I guess.” He shoots him a curious look “Why do you even like him?”

Blue groans as he searches for the words “It is hard to explain? I don’t even know when I started to feel like this. At first I just admired him I guess? He was a protector. Of the multiverse at that. It was just… He was what I wanted to be. Someone who did good and protect people. And then I learned he didn’t just protect others but also made more worlds? He was just… He was just the coolest person and I admired him and then I got the chance to travel with him and Dream and I just… those feelings got so much more when I got to know him.”

Stretch snorts “How? He almost destroyed our world… Why like him still?”

Blue frowns as he rubs his arm “I guess… I guess it made him look like just any other person… someone who can make mistakes. He felt more real to me after that. It also helps he helped clean up that mess and made sure our world came back the way it was meant to be.” Blue sighs as he rubs his hands “Him and Dream… After you they were the only ones who believed I could do this thing. That I could protect people and everything.” Blue doesn’t know when exactly he started to feel what he feels for Ink.

Stretch hums before groaning “It is just… You are so out of his league!”

Blue blinks and stares at Stretch “What do you mean? He is a god! I am me.”

Stretch nods “Exactly! He needed all those godly powers and stuff to do what he does. You don’t. You are amazing all on your own Blue. You always believe the best in people and believe everyone deserves another chance. You are willing to look past mistakes, the situation with Ink even proves that. You are always willing to help others. You don’t believe in killing anyone but will protect those who need it. Blue you are an amazing person. And I just can’t see how you could like Ink and why you are afraid you aren’t good enough for him.”

Blue feels so embarrassed. It isn’t as if Stretch never compliments him. Hell he always says he is the most amazing every other day. But that felt more like… brothers just being supportive. This feels like more. Maybe just because it is about Ink?

Blue mutters “It doesn’t matter… He hasn’t wanted to hang out with me alone for ages now…” he sighs as he crosses his arms and lays them on his legs to try and relax.

Stretch frowns as he thinks “Maybe he… remembered what he did and feels guilty?”

Blue huffs as he looks to the side “He would have to choice to feel that. He needs his paints to feel… Look I knew from the start this crush was hopeless okay?” he hugs his legs closer “And it isn’t his fault he can’t feel like normal monsters can… or that he lacks a soul… I don’t blame him for any of that. That would be stupid. I know he has no interest in me like that…” it is why Blue feels so bad about Dream trying to help set them up.

Blue laughs as he rubs his socket as he feels the itch “If he likes anyone it would be Dream as Dream used to be able to make him feel things at least a little… Now however? I don’t know.” he lays his cheek on his leg.

Stretch frowns before nudging their shoulders together “Well… We can’t know either way. They are gods. Hell if we know what their reasoning is.” He smiles “Maybe he is just busy or distracted? And he accidentally blocked your number?”

Blue shrugs but lets himself lean against his taller younger brother “I guess.”

Stretch hums as he leans his skull on top of his “My point still stands. You are allowed to be disappointed.”

Blue shrinks in on himself “It is just stupid. I knew it was never going to work… Even if he felt anything for me it wouldn’t work as he is a god and I am not.” And he doesn’t want to be an outcode. He can’t give up his world and brother. He already almost lost both once before and he can’t deal with that. “It is just…” he feels sad “I just thought maybe he wanted to send some time with me… that we could just enjoy some time together as friends. But I guess even that isn’t that important to him anymore. Maybe it never was.”

Stretch leans heavily on top of him “You don’t know what he is thinking Blue. Maybe he really is just very busy with god stuff. Don’t you always say that you can’t assume what other people are thinking?”

Blue feels embarrassed but nods “I do… It is just… hard sometimes…” It just makes him feel worse for not being able to follow his own advice.

Stretch hums “Why not tell Dream? That you appreciate his help but know it isn’t going anywhere?”

Blue sighs and mutters “Because I did but Dream doesn’t believe in anything being impossible.” Stupid gods and their meddling.

Stretch laughs “I can imagine. Why not tell him it bothers bothers you?”

Blue shrugs and mutters “I don’t want to worry him. He is already dealing with a lot and well… It isn’t like a stupid hopeless crush is that bad of a situation…”

Stretch hums “I guess…” He thinks for a moment before grinning “Wanne see if we can meet up with the others? Just the six of us to explore some unsuspecting universe?”

Blue blinks and grins at Stretch “Seriously?”

Stretch grins and shrugs “Paps and I haven’t bothered Edge into relaxing for a while. It will be good for that stick in the mud.” He grins.

Blue blinks before nodding “Yes.”

Stretch grins as he pulls out his phone and starts texting “You get dressed. I will start up the machine.” And he blinks out of view.

Blue goes to his room and gets dressed. His hands pausing on which bandana to wear. His hand hovers over the grey one with beautiful blue details. He had gotten that in a present the year before and Blue never figured out who gave it to him. He had hoped that… well it doesn’t matter now. Blue quickly grabs his normal blue bandana and rushes down to meet up with his brother.

Stretch grins as he holds up his phone “I got confirmation from everyone that everyone is down. Sans is setting up the coordinates for us already and Edge is bringing snacks.”

Blue smiles as he wiggles in place. It will be nice to just enjoy some time with his dear friends. Just to take his mind of his hopeless love life.

Hell maybe he, Edge and Paps can go clubbing! That has been a while and will be nice to relax and let go a bit.

The machine starts up and a beautiful green portal opens. Stretch and him step through to enjoy a day out.

*-------------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[sparklingpax]

quick metalhawk I doodled from memory! for my inking class hw!! :)))) 💞🌟✨💖

[myreitha]

So my friend @charminglyantiquated shared a story-game with me that she's working on for @elsewhereuniversity and I became kiiinnnddadaa obsessed so for Christmas I had to make a little surprise for her about for the next letter I sent her.

Without giving spoilers, the narrative features an origami swan with writing on the back, and a special ring and I was like "I CAN DO SOMETHING WITH THAT".

So I did. Pls enjoy my beautiful origami that's hiding SECRETS.

[Image Description 1: A photo of an origami swan. The swan is made of fancy paper with gold detailing, but hiding in the underside of the wing can be seen some handwriting Image Description 2: On the backside of the unfolded swan is a number of quickly scratched notes in different handwritings and annotations in black ink as well as a drawing of a simple ring. There's also faded writing in blue ink that can't be read. One note points to the faded ink and reads "Looks like there might be something up here?" Pointing at the ring is a back and forth between different handwritings "Why a ring?", "Who's is it?", "no idea", "do we need to know?". The last writting at the bottom of the paper is in all caps and reads "These secrets are by season sealed, Only by winter's bite revealed." and had written comments point it it reading "riddle from Canyon, no idea where they got it" and "this is important??" End Description.]

Riddle solution and revealed text and under the cut

The blue writing was written with a temperature-sensitive ink, which was revealed by making it cold - in this case, she stuck it in the freezer, which is exactly what I did when I tested the ink on the paper. The poem is about the central problem of the narrative :)

[Image ID 3: Another look at the back of the paper, now with small, neat cursive writing revealed in blue ink. A poem has been revealed written above and around the ring, and mysterious symbols written on the inside of the ring. The poem reads: "In time of love and trust betrayed, The Queen in birch and sleep had laid. For ruling Knight had little known, that grudges left unchecked had grown. A worthy soul the crows had found, To bring Spring Queen back to her crown. Now revels sing of Queen’s old songs, the friend of crows you find is gone. Replaced by neighbor, form eschewed, Their fate, you find, is up to you. Choose well, dear friend, which path you take, Soon all will know the story you make." End Description.]

[tracle0]

Snippet Sunday VIII

I think it's the eighth Sunday...? Maybe maybe! Here's some prophet story I wrote freshly for you (yes, you!)

A hand raised to his chest, trying to find the mutilation that had forced his ribs to poke out like ageing farmhouse fencing. His skin was sealed, unblemished under his fingers; sticky from his blood, but otherwise untouched. An identical inspection around his throat found the same. No hole for pathetic, fleshy pleas to wheeze through. All fixed. All perfect.

“You saved me,” he finally whispered, eyes wide and awed. “You – you didn’t have to, but you…?”

The Blight – previously quiet, considerate, letting him get to terms with the gift of his life – curled in his head, content. You’ve done me well, it said simply. I don’t want to lose you yet.

He probed carefully at his skull, hair sliding between his fingers. He could see where shards of his skull had been ejected, pick them up and inspect them, but he found no hollows in his head, no blemishes. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I… thank you.”

Your brother is almost here.

Cain blinked, the brief memory of something – a squirrel? – flashing through his mind, before he shook it away, focused. “We should go, then,” he said, starting to stand. The ground glimmered. His surroundings groaned and sobbed, the forgotten guards whimpering and wheezing, the fury surrendering them to shock and agony. “To Body?”

It hesitated. As he started to walk past a pair of guards, one pinned down by the other, bloodied and bruised, it drew his attention down to the ground, to a discarded knife next to the freed, fighting pair. See if you can slow him down, it suggested idly.

[mareliini]

getting groceries

[eyeball-creatures-boyfriend]

havent been drawing a lot proper but its like free therapy drawing these while listening to tma :)))

[kiivg]

.Fashion.

[madbard]

Sanctity

A Killer Sans story.

Every child dreamed of the Angel.

When Sans was young, he had imagined it as a skeleton, beaming with all the radiance of the stolen sun. Each evening, he kneeled beside his father and whispered the poetic words of prophecy, voice faltering at first, then growing steady as the tale of the Angel settled firmly into his skull. Later, he would kneel with his brother while his father vanished into the lab. Each night, he dreamed of the moment when the Angel would tear down the barrier, at last letting the bright and deadly sunshine in.

Everything could be attributed to the Angel. If a monster was successful, it was because they had a place in the prophecy, an important role which would contribute to their eventual freedom. If a monster fell down, it was because they had failed, somehow. They were not the Angel’s chosen and would never be free.

(Did Sans have a place in that prophecy? If he was chosen, then why was he so fragile? Why would it be so difficult for him to make it to that future? Sans had asked his father that one night, after their prayer. Nothing would ever break that silence.)

When Gaster’s final experiment went up in flames, Sans imagined it made a light brighter than the sun. He imagined its light was like the palm of the Angel, taking his father with it – or casting him, finally, into the infinite darkness of the earth. He spread his father’s ashes on the remnants of the lab and then, as an afterthought, on his younger brother’s scarf. He laughed at the funeral, quietly. He shook the chill hands of fear and doubt from his soul. He had faith.

(Some monsters whispered that the prophecy had been interpreted incorrectly. They whispered that the Angel would indeed free them – that their dust would one day mix with the river and thus find its way to the ocean. Sans ignored them as best he could.)

When Sans was young, he had imagined the Angel as a skeleton. But lounging at his post one day in early adulthood, he was surprised to see it take the guise of a child. He was even more surprised when no one else seemed to see it for what it truly was. It turned to him, looked him in the eyes. Then raised a single finger to its lips.

Sans followed the Angel. He watched it navigate through each encounter with kindness and grace. He watched it befriend his brother, the captain of the guard, the royal scientist, and even the king. He watched it destroy the barrier and finally baptize his people in the all-destroying light of the sun. He felt its eyes upon him, and in that moment knew the gaze of something truly unlike himself. Come and see, those eyes said. He saw the prophecy come true.

He stood with his brother in the light of the Angel, the light of the long-awaited sun. For a moment, he thought himself in heaven.

Then he woke in hell.

That first time, he didn’t even see the Angel arrive in Snowdin. His eyelights flickered slowly as he wandered the icy streets in a daze. The air was still, and thick with a scent he refused to recognize. They had escaped, hadn’t they? After years of prayer and service, monsterkind was finally free. His mouth curved around a quiet, desperate prayer. This had to be a dream…

Just outside of Snowdin, he found his brother’s scarf.

Funny, how these things worked. Sans’ first impulse was to find the Angel. Something had gone wrong, certainly – something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. But he had seen the Angel treat his brother with kindness. It would have protected him… right?

Perhaps he already knew…

“Sans.”

Sans spun around, gripping Papyrus’ scarf. The Angel stood behind him, eyes almost as wide as its smile. A silver knife glinted in its grip. His whispered prayer froze as his eyes went dark. He stood still.

“what happened?”

“Nothing much. And everything.” The Angel stepped forward. “Give that to me.”

“where’s papyrus?”

“Free.” The Angel took another step forward, and Sans felt a chill creep up his spine. “You remember being free, don’t you?”

“i…”

“Don’t you want to be free again?” This time, Sans didn’t have time to respond. Its knife had already slashed through his chest.

The second time, Sans woke in the early hours of the morning. He took a shortcut into the woods, stepping onto the abandoned path which led to the hidden door. Even so, he didn’t quite understand. Even so, he didn’t quite believe. Fear made a nest in his ribcage.

This time, the Angel killed him first, separating his head from his shoulders, and Sans woke up back at home.

If a monster fell down, it was because they had failed, somehow. Sans fell again and again. Each time he died, the Angel would say something different, something new. It spoke of the sun’s rays, the way they warmed at first then burned and bleached and ruined. It spoke of the sins of the surface, the suffering of the Underground. It spoke of an endless loop, from which they would never be free. “Better to end it now,” the Angel whispered, wiping blood from its blade as Sans crumpled to the ground.

The loop continued endlessly. Bit by bit, Sans stopped praying.

The loop continued endlessly. He began to fight back.

The loop continued endlessly. The angel’s words changed.

“Do you know the difference between an angel and a god?” the Angel asked once, after Sans dodged its blade. Sweat dripped down his skull, and the air seemed to frost his ribcage as he gasped for breath.

“sorry. i god no idea.” The knife whistled past his ear, and a hushed “angel’s sake” escaped his mouth before he growled and swallowed the word.

“I’ll give you a hint.” It attacked once more, and this time it didn’t miss. It walked over to his dissolving form and whispered to him. “An angel is a servant. A god serves no one.” It stepped back. He died.

This time, the Angel approached him with an altogether different kind of smile.

“But what is a god without an angel?”

Sans said no in every way he could imagine. Loop after loop, death after death. He joked and danced around the question. He sent another attack. At his lowest, he pretended he hadn’t heard.

“Angels live forever.”

“when everyone else is dead?”

“Angels are never alone.”

“i wouldn’t be alone if it wasn’t for you.”

“Angels are powerful. They are beautiful and loved.”

“heh, that’s kind of a loaded comment, isn’t it?”

“Angels know their purpose.”

“what would a lazybones like me want with a purpose?”

“Gods are tireless. I can keep going forever, and nothing will ever change.”

“…”

“You were made to serve me.”

The funny thing about prayer? Repetition makes it meaningless. There is performance to it, certainly. There is what prayer symbolizes, there is the essential power of routine. But once the words become instinctive, the meaning can’t help but diminish. After enough repetition, prayer becomes little more than muscle memory for the weary. And when the weary recite it, how then can they hope to see God?

Sans kneeled in the hallway, bones aching, magic all but spent. Somewhere before this moment lay the memory of the sun, the way he had rested in its blinding light. Even before that, the echoes of evenings spent in prayer with his father, torn carpet barely cushioning his bones. Those memories were lost now, or buried. So many deaths – had there truly been anything before this? Could there ever be anything after? Sans didn’t know. Eventually, he no longer cared.

“and if i said yes?”

It paused and stared at him. A chuckle started low in its throat, stopped just behind its teeth. Sans wished he could feel a twinge of anger or fear at the sound. He just felt tired.

“Just for one round. Just to try something new.”

“somehow i don’t believe you.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that makes a difference.” The god stepped forward, knife glinting in its hand. Sans closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow. Instead, he felt the warm handle slide into his skeletal grip. “Go forth, my angel. Do as your god commands.”

There was a momentary darkness. He woke at the foot of his bed, hands folded. Eyes dark.

When Sans was young, he had imagined the Angel as a skeletal figure. After maturing, he discarded that image as a figment of childhood’s vivid ego. For a moment in time, doesn’t every child worship a god that looks like them?

Sans was not a god. Through the snow, the water and the flame, he became the angel of death. The flash of his knife answered prayers, scattered dust in the river that it may one day reach the ocean. He remained by his god, always. He watched, as if outside himself, as his knife found the faithful and the faithless alike. He watched his brother die.

“That prayer, in his final moments – you know, before he forgave and spared you. Didn’t you teach him that?”

“…”

“Aw, don’t be like that. It’s hypocritical when you’re the one that killed him.”

“shut up.”

“Ooh.” The god smiled and leaned forward. “But it’s new, isn’t it? Isn’t it better?”

“no. no, it isn’t.”

“Hm.” The god nodded. “Do it again.”

The funny thing about prayer? Its meaning is only found through repetition. Sans scoured through the Underground again and again, knife faltering at first, then growing steady as the path of the Angel settled firmly into his skull. He made a sacrament of death, and his god glutted itself on the dust in his path. He became something truly unlike himself – did that now make him holy?

Holy enough, he decided, waking among flowers with his soul burning bright outside his body, a strange tarry fluid dripping from his eyes. Holy enough for this.

It seemed to know what he was planning. At least, it didn’t look surprised when he brandished his weapon. Nor did it fight back. It only spoke. “You know, you were nothing before me. And you will be nothing after.”

How easy, to kill a god. In the end, how stupidly simple. The Angel laughed as he killed his god with its own gleaming knife, and it laughed too, bright blood staining its teeth.

“i killed you.” The Angel giggled. “does that make me god now?” The god lay still. Its chest had stopped moving a long time ago. The Angel finished his prayer anyway. He had to be certain. “actually, nah, not sure i like that… hey, i’ll figure it out.” The Angel rose to his feet, staggered a bit, then bowed his head. “go to hell.”

What is an angel without a god? From then on, the Angel drifted from world to world. He recited prayer as he always did, utterly divorced from meaning. His knife brought whatever his victims chose, and he learned to see the afterlife in their dimming eyes – the reflection of paradise or punishment, a final acknowledgment of the waiting dark. He laughed in the moment before a creature crumpled to dust – something about it made his soul sting, sharply. It made him feel alive.

Sometimes the Angel would glance over his shoulder, searching for his god’s approval. When he caught himself doing this, his posture would stiffen suddenly, and he would cease his prayer. In those rare moments, a victim might escape. In that way, news spread through the multiverse of his arrival – though ‘Angel’ was not the word they used.

Even to the multiverse’s darkest corners, the Angel slowly became known, and this filled certain people with a cool excitement. Gods watched on and wondered where his allegiance might fall. But this Angel had little patience for deities.

“Aren’t you just fantastic!” The Angel paused, then straightened, turning through the snow of decimated universe to face a small, skeletal figure, dressed in a stained scarf and splattered with ink. “A Sans who no longer believes in anything, but still sees himself as the Angel! A Sans for whom death has become prayer, because prayer never led to anything but death. Odd, definitely – I’d guess your creator was feeling pretty ambitious when they made you…” The skeleton tilted their head. “I’m not sure they succeeded.”

“who are you?”

“Ink! God of Creation. You see, I helped make this universe, so… whoa there, let’s not be too hasty!’ The Angel had raised his knife and taken a smooth step forward.

“god, you say?”

“Hm. Maybe I shouldn’t have said – wow, you’re quick!” Ink swung a massive brush through the air and the Angel’s knife skittered across the brushstroke’s obsidian surface. “Look, sloppy or not I think you came from a place of real excitement and love! I’d like to –”

Ink never finished his sentence. Blinking, the Angel darted around the obsidian shield and raised his knife to stab this god in the chest. He managed to spill a vial of red paint, so much like blood that he smirked, believing for a moment that he had already won. Retribution was brutal and swift.

The Angel no longer felt fear. His god had cured him of that, through the endless resets. Still, Ink’s rapid-fire attacks quickly had him on the defensive, constantly dodging and side-stepping to avoid strike after inky dark strike from the god’s strange weapon. Each time he brandished his knife, he was ambushed by a new attack from a new direction, all coinciding on his form as he struggled to fight back, struggled to survive.

Was this the true power of a god? Something cold settled in the Angel’s soul, causing it to fizzle. He began to seriously consider retreat.

But to where?

The Angel tried to step into another world, but Ink was on him the moment his portal closed, taking advantage of the snow’s blinding afterimage to dig a painted blade into his back. It was dark here, and cold – far colder than Snowdin ever had been. Another blow, and the Angel’s soul shuddered again. This time, he felt fear.

Was this it? Was this where he died?

Another blow.

Perhaps this was right. Perhaps this was what he deserved…

Another blow and sparks flew from his soul, igniting terror and pain. This time the Angel screamed. This time, his mouth shaped a word he’d sworn to never say again.

“ANGEL!!!”

Ink lunged forward, but before his final blow could land something warm and strong gripped the Angel’s ankle and dragged him into the infinite darkness of the earth.

When the Angel woke, he imagined for a moment that he was dead. His sockets could not focus because there was nothing to focus on – the world seemed to have vanished into a brilliant white expanse. He lay there, soul burning, weeping black, emotionless tears. A minute? A year? If the figure hadn’t spoken, the Angel might have lain there forever.

“Greetings, little angel. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The Angel leapt to his feet. Across from him stood a strange, dark figure. At first, he might have guessed that it was a skeleton – but a tarry black fluid not unlike the Angel’s tears covered every bit of the monster’s body, leaving only a single teal light to stare into his sockets. The Angel might not have recognized Ink’s power, but he could feel this monster’s strength – could feel it in the way the very air seemed to bristle against his presence. This was no mortal. This was beyond anything the Angel had seen.

“what have you heard?”

“In general? Ah, little one, that would require some time.” A fluid black tentacle slipped from the creature’s spine and wrapped around the Angel’s shoulders, immobilizing him. The Angel was still. “But you were asking what I had heard about you. So I will oblige. I have heard that you are a harbinger of death. Some have gone so far as to call you an angel, but I know better than that. After all, what is an angel without a god?”

“i already killed my god. i don’t need another.”

“I do not desire your worship. Besides, there is a title which suits me far better than god.”

“what do you want?”

“A fighter. Someone with little respect for the likes of Dream and Ink, who would aid me in destroying my enemies.”

“you want me to kill gods for you? i would do that anyway.”

“Well then, little god-killer. I have a place for you, if you’ll take it.”

“…and if i say no?”

“Then I shall leave you in the first universe that opens up beneath our feet. You will be free to cause whatever destruction you wish. But if you choose to follow me – oh, you will see and experience far greater things than you could ever imagine.”

“somehow i don’t believe you.”

“Very well. You may return to your dreary existence. But you are limited when you fight alone. You will be more powerful at my side.” The figure extended a tarry hand. “I am not like the other gods. I have no need for angels. But you aren’t exactly an angel anymore… are you?”

The god killer stared at the dark figure, stared at his extended, toxic hand. The dead grass beneath his knees felt like torn carpet. He remembered a different hand, a hollow palm. Prayer was simpler then. The words didn’t yet matter, not like his father’s cool hand on his skull, not like his brother’s chirping voice. The angel wasn’t present in that space. It was only them.

His soul flickered.

“no.” Killer rose to his feet, meeting those deadly teal eyelights. Viscous black fluid burned into his hand. “i’m not.”

The prophecy was fulfilled. The Angel was dead. And for the first time, a prayer was granted.

End credits music:

[sunnydayaoe]

Back on my bullshit [Wing AU]

[sforzesco]

this is fine.jpg

[tanuki-ticks]

In the Autumn we become anew

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Starcrossed

Here we go! the next Drabble :D @spotaus

As the poll ended it gave me two options and I wanted to write a Cross POV. So. Starcrossed :D

First: here Prev: here Next: here

Timewise?

We are about... a Month and like three weeks in. So a month of Nightmare being alone. Three weeks of him being with the gang. about a small week after Killer soul-adopting Nightmare (with Dust adopting Nightmare in the first week as the madlad he is).

Okay? We good timeline wise? okay.

As always, unedited and unbeta'ed. This is not ever going to change unless i one day decide to make a full story of these drabbles and add extra stuff and change the chapters up.

Anyway!

*------------------------*

Cross rubs his face as he continues to walk "Dust."

Dust just hums to let him know he heard.

Cross shoots him a look "He has legs. he can walk." with he, Cross obviously means Nightmare.

Dust doesn't even look at Cross or look in anyway surprised by that sentence. Instead he just keeps walking as he holds Nightmare in his arms "I know."

Cross stares at him but Dust doesn't continue to speak.

He groans "So why isn't he walking?!"

Dust shrugs and instead bounces Nightmare up a bit to enable Dust to have a more secure and stable hold on Nightmare.

Nightmare for his part does not look bothered as he just relaxes against Dust as he looks back over Dust's shoulder and watches other people go about their day.

Cross rubs his face "honestly what is the deal with you and carrying him?"

Dust shoots him an amused look "I want to."

Cross throws his arms and hands out "That can't be the only reason!"

Dust shrugs "Don't need more reasons."

Cross glares at the ground as they continue walking. He looks up and points at a store "This one?"

Dust looks at it and shakes his skull.

Cross groans loudly "What is wrong wit this one?!"

Dust raises a brow "Wrong style."

Cross crosses, heh, his arms as he glances at Dust "You know. this whole clothes shopping thing would be a lot easier if you actually picked a store to enter."

Dust shrugs again "Not good enough." and he gently bonks his skull against Nightmare's.

Cross can't believe this is the same Dust that got his own clothes by walking into the frist store he saw and grabbing the first set of clothes he saw. before calling it a day. Dust's wardrobe was hardly ever actually his size.

Now? The first store was too low quality; then not the right colours; then wrong materials; then too bland; then too sexy, with this one Cross had agreed and questioned why they would need a shirt for a six year old with the words 'lady killer' on them; then to tight and restrictive; and now just 'not good enough'.

When Cross agreed to help Dust get Nightmare new clothes instead of breaking and entering a place wiht Killer he had hoped it would be the less stressful option.

Cross rubs his face "Wiht you being this picky he is never going to get clothes that fit him."

Dust shrugs again and seems fully unbothered. Which may just be because Nightmare primarily still wears his stuff.

Cross doesn't get it. well he kinda does. Babybones are cute nad he also notices the need to take care of him but. It is Nightmare! It is a matter of time before he is an adult again and then none of this will have mattered! Or maybe they will have and then what? How would he recover from this?!

It is best to remind himself that this may be Nightmare and he may be six but Nightmare will one day become that powerful and formidable monster again and so to keep treating him with the respect he deserves!

They walk silently through the twon for a moment and Cross can see that Nightmare is dozing in Dust's hold. completely content and trusting.

Cross shoots a look at Dust. "I just don't get it...."

Dust blinks nad looks over "What?"

Cross feels himself grow warm with embarrassment. He hadn't meant to say it out loud and he says as much.

Dust rolls his eye lights and waits with a raised brow.

Cross grumbles but tries to explain "How can you... treat him like a babybones that easily?"

Dust tilts his skull and glances down at Nightmare before looking back at Cross "Because he is one." the way Dust says it implies it is the obvious answer.

Cross groans as he tries to explain more "But he used to be big and an adult. Or at least look like one? How can you jsut... switch to seeing him as a babybones?"

Dust tilts his skull adn snorts "easy. people change. people you watched grow up or grow older, do you still treat them like kids even though they are adults. because you knew them as kids?"

Cross blinks nad speaks "This is different?"

Dust shakes his skull "I don't agree. it is the same concept. just slightly different. he used to be a child. magic gave him the body and brain of an adult. but his soul was sitll a child and once the magic was gone he is a child again. So you treat him as a child."

Cross frowns as looks to the side "What if he becomes on adult again?"

Dust starts to grin "I mean. that is usually how growing up works."

Cross knows he is blushing again and glares "You know what i meant."

Dust chuckles and shrugs "The same still implies. We will just be lucky we managed to skip the teenage years with him."

Cross wasn't sure what he expected as answer but maybe he should have seen something like this coming. Dust was after all all for this parentship thing they have going on right now... and Dust is a very smart and logical person. Of course he managed to find comparisons to normal day life and managed to accept it more easily. Hell Dust probably has even more examples ready to use if Cross asks for it.

It is still just... difficult to accept for him. Cross will need more time. Luckily none of them seem to mind him lagging behind in this case. Killer had also taken longer than Dust to accept the situation fully, but Killer managed to work it out.

Horror is much chiller about what is going on. He didn't seem surprised at Dust's reaction and even less at Killer joining the 'parent-camp' with Dust.

Maybe there is just something wrong with him... it wouldn't be the first time...

Cross sighs as they stop by the plaza and manage to just see the house that Horror and Killer should be robbing. "well, either way we are soon out of time and will have been unsuccessful" great. the one thing they had to do was get Nightmare a spare outfit. They didn't even need to try shoes and-

Dust freezes "fuck."

Cross turns "what is wrong?" as he says it he sees Dust eye the plaza around them, all while he ducks further and further behind the fountain as Nightmare shakes.

Dust looks around the plaza "Stars. All three." he glares "empty... can't make a break for it using the crowd as cover..."

and a teleport would be too loud and will clue them in on them being here. Fuck indeed.

Cross sneaks a look and sees the three skeletons talk and converse casually. the rattling from Nightmare is a sign of pure fear and Cross feels himself grow worried even as he texts Horror and Killer about their emergency.

How... how would they react to Nightmare being a child? Dream had already made it clear that he thought Nightmare was corrupted and none of his brother had remained. What would he do if he saw Nightmare?

Best case scenerio would be him kidnaping Nightmare and locking him away... Worst case just... dusting him. Make sure Nightmare never becomes the powerful being he can be.

Cross notices that they have been seen as Dream looks shocked while Blue waves and starts to shout "Hey! DUst and Cross!" Cross acts as if he didn't hear or noticed them.

Cross stares at Dust "What do we do-"

and Dust just, undoes his own hoody. he pulls it over his head and even ignores the red scarf that falls to the ground next to Nightmare- wait when did Dust put Nightmare down.

Dust puts the hoody on Nightmare with one smooth motion and pulls the hoody up, he next uses the strings to make it tight and tests to make sure it doesn't come off easily.

Dust stares at Nightmare as he quickly puts on the scarf again "You just keep your face and skull against my shoulder and neck okay? Don't glance, don't react. Just act shy or asleep. Nothing will get you." and Dust picks him up again. Nightmare, without a single word, pushes his face into the soft scarf and together with the large hoody there is nothing visible that could be used to indentify him.

Holy shit that is so smart-

"Hey you two! We didn't expect to see you just hanging- what... is that?!" Blue looks beyond excited as he stares at the tiny bundle that is Nightmare. Cross feels his anxiety and panic turn hotter into a raging fire. Dont. get. near. him.

Dust just shoots Blue a look and speaks in a quiet voice "sh. quiet."

Blue gives a sheepish look and speaks much softer "oh. I am sorry. The kiddo is tired?" Dust just nods.

Cross sees his change and nods as well "We were taking a quick break but were going to leave again." he can see Killer and Horror look through the window of the house they are robbing and sees them see their situation.

Blue looks sad but nods "Yeah. I get that-"

Ink interrupts him "How did you two get a child?!"

Dream looks suspicious but doesn't say anything.

Fuck, he can probably feel Nightmare's fear doesn't he? and he wouldn't know it is fear directed at the Stars... Oh no.

Dust raises a brow and doesn't even bother to answer as he starts to take a few steps back, away from the Stars. Cross cna see that Horror is climbing down the side of the house as Killer glares at the Stars.

Ink gasps "I knew it! You two kidnaped a child!" he holds out his hands "Hand the child back and we will find their parents!"

Dust growls as he steps further back.

Cross panics and answers without thinking "We didn't steal him! He is Dust's you idiots!"

dead. silence.

The three Stars look shocked at Cross and Cross can actually see both Horror and Killer also stare at him in shock.

Ink snorts "Really? and who is the other parent?"

Cross huffs "First off, you don't nessesarily need two parents to make a child, learn basic monster biology first before making claims. second, obviously it is" think think think think think just say something! "me." NO NOT THAT!

The silence of before is NOTHING compared to the silence now. Cross is actually sure he can hear a pin drop in one of the stores around them at the moment.

No one moves and it doesn't help that Cross can see both Dust and Nightmare shoot him incredulously glances.

Oh please someone shoot him because Horror even pauses his own climb to shoot him a raised eye brow while Killer is ACTUALLY wiggling his eye brows at him.

Just end him. Please his mind did not work with him. He had just been thinking so much about how everyone had been treating Ngihtmare and how he saw the situation.

Dream is the one who coughs and looks to the side awkwardly "oh. wow. euh... congrats? I didn't realise you two were... you know... an item." please please please please shut up. "and a babybones as well! Wow! That is... unbelieveable!"

Blue nods "Yeah! No one knew!"

Cross still can't find the words and is actually afraid of what he will say next. Dust however shrugs and has managed to pull his face back in his normal bored look "prefer privacy. it is no ones business." and he raises a brow at them.

Blue smiles brightly "of course! We won't tell others. stars knows everyone wants a quiet moment nowadays..."

Dream nods before quickly changing the subject "right! We were just curious what you two were doing out and-" he looks horrifed "Oh stars... you two are on a date! A fmaily date! and we crushed it and interrupted it and we are so sorry!"

Cross suddenly understands why Chara and Gaster would use the reset and overwrite power. please just let him change this moment to have been anything else. please.

Dust hums and shrugs. Not really answering any question.

Dream still looks embarrassed "anyway! we... euh... well... were wondering what you were doing. Now we know that that is great! euh... So... my brother just... doesn't mind this?"

Any embarrassement disappears. Hot rage in his body. Cross glares as his crosses his arms.

Dream sputters but continues "you know... be is so against positivity... and this... this is a beautiful and wonderful thing! Doesn't he...isn't he..." he smiles sheepish.

Cross glares "no. He doesn't. In matter of fact. He is very fine with the situation at hand. very willing to help in a way he can." Cross isn't even lying. While Nightmare doesn't like having been changed back he isn't diffficult anymore and more than happy to stick with Dust, and them all, now. Nightmare is also not fussy when out and about on missions and aside from being grumpy he is a perfect good babybones.

Dust nods "you should stop talking about people you know nothing about." he looks at Cross "lets go. he is tired."

Cross nods and sees Horror sign at Killer to get down as well. Killer shrugs and just lets himself fall from the third floor right into Horror's arms. The two disappear into some side street.

Cross nods and looks at Dust "you first." Cross will just walk behind Dust and make sure the Stars don't get any glimbs near the end.

Dust nods and turns easily as he walks away, Cross can see how Dust changes the hand mid turn and Nightmare sinks a little lower. Making it that his skull doesn't even peak over Dust's shoulder.

They walk away in silence and take many turns to get some distance. As soon as Cross is sure the Stars can't hear or see them he says so. Which causes Dust to nod before sprinting, Cross is quick to follow.

They reach the edge of town in record time and Cross glances back "okay. we are good. we are fine... we got out."

Dsut nods before looking at him very amused "we made a babybones?"

Cross feels himself grow warm for so many reasons as he sputters "I panicked! I am sorry I implied we were- that we did!" he hides his face.

Dust chuckles and pats his shoulder "It is fine."

Cross relaxes and smiles in thanks.

Dust raises a brow "Killer will never let you live this down."

Cross groans "just end me."

Dust hums "I don't know. I don't think killing the other parent of my child works in my favour." he grins so goddamnit amused.

Cross is never going to hear the end of this.

*-----------------*

First: here Prev: here Next: here

Cross was so close to soul-adopting Nightmare but then the Stars interrupted and Cross panicked.

Also, important. Noticed how Cross only apologised for implying he and Dust made the babybones together? But not that he is a parent? Cross is getting there. It will just take him a while.