#he coulda sat there and ate his salad what is this

[firelise]

drake just responded...mid as usual.

1 actual jab which is the same jab he already made at kendricks relationship with his wife. For some reason he thinks "This Epstein angle was the shit i expected" is a bar. Ummm??? why would u expect that? thats weird, thats suspicious. And the rest is him saying kendrick is sensitive about drake grooming lil girls bc he says kendrick was molested as a child? How is that a diss..its getting weird. gross. someone call the judge call the prosecutor investigate whatever is going on with that dusty chicken nugget's brain something not right

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   12

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Sans feels like an asshole. Papyrus agrees that he's a dumbass. 

A/N: Sans is sorry... he's really sorry... he didn't mean to be scary...

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

Dinner in bed.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and (Y/n) looked up from her blanket cocoon of comfort. 

"s-sweetheart- ...sweetheart, 'm sorry," Sans' soft voice told her with a sigh, muffled by the door. "i want ya ta know i wasn't doin' it ta hurt ya, b- but we can talk about it when y're ready, w-whenever ya want… i- th' important thing is- fuck- ...i'm an' asshole, sweetheart, i know it- but ya can't jus'-" he took a breath, calming himself. "ya can't jus' run off inta danger blindly an' 'xpect me ta- ya- ya coulda…" He choked on whatever emotion was filling him, making it hard to talk. "ya coulda been dusted," he whispered against the wood of the door. 

He didn't know if she'd understand, he knew that 'dusted' wasn't the word humans used, and they didn't use 'fall down', either, but it didn't stop them from doing it. And his sweetheart had looked like she was on the edge of falling down when he was in there. 

He couldn't let that happen. He needed his sweetheart to stay alive, stay with him… 

"a-anyway," he said after clearing his throat, able to continue in a more normal tone. "i brought ya some dinner, ya don't haveta open th' door; i'm gonna leave it right here fer ya, an' then i'm gonna go downstairs an' leave ya be fer a bit. i- if ya need me… that's where i'll be… i-if ya need  anythin',  i'll be here- jus' gotta ask, sweetheart…" 

(Y/n) heard him walk away, slowly moving closer to the door and listening closely, not satisfied that he was gone until she heard him downstairs talking with Papyrus. 

She slowly, quietly, opened the door and brought the food in before closing and blocking the chair to it again. 

She ate the food, glad that Sans had put mostly salad and bread on her plate, saving her from much of the lasagna. 

.

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY YOU PUT SO MUCH OF THAT OTHER FOOD ON HER PLATE, SANS," Papyrus griped. "IT'S LIKE YOU'RE SAYING THAT MY FOOD ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH…"

“‘s nothin’- nothin’ like that, paps- ‘s jus’- s-she’s a human, y’know, they need, like, extra nutrients an’ minerals an' shit like that. gotta keep ‘er healthy…” Sans trailed off, a little nervous sweat beading on his skull. 

They dug in to the lasagna, Sans mostly scooting it around on his plate as he tried to push the memory of his sweetheart shaking in terror caused by him from his mind. 

“SO… WHY ISN’T SHE EATING WITH US, TONIGHT?” Papyrus asked after a few moments of silence. 

“‘cuz imma fuckin’ dumbass,” Sans murmured. 

“WELL, YOU WERE A DUMBASS YESTERDAY, AND THAT DIDN’T STOP HER…” 

“heh…” A humorless laugh left Sans’ mouth. 

It was quiet again, and in the silence, Sans heard the soft sound of a plate being set in the hall and his door closing

He stood and slouched up to the hall, taking the plate and making his way back to the sink. 

Papyrus watched his brother, his worry growing in his bones. He’d never seen Sans walk so much, except when he was very low on magic, and before he’d learned how to use his lazy shortcuts. His eyelights followed him as he made his way back to the stairs until he couldn’t see him anymore. 

Sans stopped in front of his door, stooping to set the plate in his hand down. 

“s-sweetheart,” he called softly. “i- i brought ya some dessert… ‘s from th’ store, papyrus brought it back…” He hesitated, taking a few breaths before leaning his skull against the door, wishing he could just make her feel how sorry he was, and that he hadn’t meant to scare her or harm her through the door. 

He took another deep breath and let it out before pulling away and basically dragging himself back to the table. 

“WHAT HAPPENED, SANS?” Papyrus asked after a few more silent moments. 

“told ya; ‘m a fuckin’ dumbass…” Sans muttered as he scooped another bite onto his fork. 

Papyrus didn’t know what to say to that, so there was silence as he tried to find some words to express himself correctly. 

There was a soft sound on the stairs, one that they wouldn’t have heard if it wasn’t so quiet, and it made a near silent trail to the kitchen. 

Sans ducked his head guiltily as he heard the sound of clothing rustling as his sweetheart made her way to the sink, sure he could feel her wary gaze on him the entire time. 

Papyrus’s eyelights stuck to her like glue as she moved, sockets creasing as he squinted a little. 

He opened his mouth, about to say something, but Sans shook his head, looking up at him and quietly pleading, “boss…”

Papyrus closed his mouth with a click of his teeth and let out a breath, going back to his lasagna. 

(Y/n) walked back out through the doorway, and Papyrus waited until they heard the soft sound of Sans’ door closing again before he spoke, “YOU PUT THE COLLAR ON HER AFTER ALL.” 

It wasn’t a question. The strap of leather was plain to see, especially with the way that shirt hung off of her shoulder. 

Sans winced again. 

“You’ll Be Making Her Safer,” his brother told him quietly, knowing how much he hated the collar, and how serious whatever had happened to make him put it on her had to have been. 

.

Dinner had long since been over, and (Y/n) was still alone in Sans’ room, sitting on the bed, trying to do whatever she could to get the stupid collar off of her. But nothing was working. 

She tried everything, and nothing worked. 

She tugged at it long into the evening, hearing whatever show the two had been watching on the tv downstairs turn off and after a few moments, Papyrus’ door close. 

She felt her body stiffen, hearing another set of footsteps coming toward the door, hesitating in the hall… and then a dull whump as something hit the floor. 

Suddenly, she felt like she had to use the bathroom. 

Because she suddenly couldn’t leave the room, most likely. It was always the one thing you couldn’t do that ended up being the one thing you somehow needed to do most, like having an itch on your nose after being told you can’t touch anything. 

She sighed and violently wiggled her hips, feeling an urgency to use the bathroom, now. 

Fiiiiiine, she mentally cursed, getting up and going to the door. 

She quietly opened the door and made her way out, seeing Sans sitting hunched over next to the door. She quickly moved away from him, not wanting to be too close, and hurried to the bathroom, but caught the way his skull turned away from her, seemingly in shame. 

He hadn’t moved by the time she got back, but she could see the glow of his eyelights reflecting off of the wall. 

She faked more courage than she had and walked past him into the room, closing the door and sticking the chair against it again. 

She sat on the bed, watching the door for a bit. 

He really seemed like he felt guilty… sorry, even… but then, why didn’t he just take the fucking collar off of her?! 

Well… not like she’d given him much chance to get close enough to her… For good reason!

She sighed, conflicted. 

Finally, she decided what to do. 

 Sans let his skull rest against the wall uncomfortably. 

He deserved this. 

He deserved more than this for scaring his sweetheart so badly… 

The door next to him cracked open, and he heard quick movement back across the floor to his bed. 

After a moment, his skull turned, his sockets opening to see that the door was still cracked. 

Was his sweetheart telling him that it was ok to come in? That she’d calmed down enough to see him? 

Sans slowly climbed up, going into his room and looking over at where she was laying in a huddled pile on the bed, surrounded by his blanket. 

That was fine. He didn’t need a blanket to sleep anyway, and if it made her feel better, he’d give it to her. 

Sans kicked off his shoes and quietly climbed onto his bed, laying down so he could stare at his sweetheart, silently apologizing. 

After a few minutes, the rising movement of the blanket grew regular, and he thought she was asleep. 

His sweet, wonderful, sweetheart. 

Sans’ hand reached out and his phalanges touched her, gently stroking over her a few times before he pulled it back to himself, staying on one side of the bed. He wasn’t going to cause her any other worry, and if that meant staying an arm’s length away for the night, he would. 

A/N: Welp. We're getting to the part where Sweetheart starts talking a bit next chapter, but starts talking a lot soon. So prepare for such terrible spelling... it gave me shiver just looking at it. and also, do a favor and let me know if you're going to want translations? So I can set those up beforehand... examples so you can make an informed decision: Whahy w...t'r Ikh do Oh, hey, also, I have another Undertale story (a reverse harem with multiple universes of skelles) and posted a chapter of it, too! It’s on Ao3. It’s on chapter 4. See how much I get behind on here from stupid editing problems? Ugh.

@tephi101  @lilypalmer1987  @pingu89  @gifsbysimplysonia  @omnomsauruswrites<3U!  @keldachick  @Randomfandompenguin  @mannls  @screeching-student-unknown  @lizfawn  @ya-lyublu-tebya  @their-bibliophile  @the-fifth-marauder03  (let me know if y’all wanna be taken off, btw, since it’s not marvel lol)

[pinkiepiebones]

Cardinal Copia conversing with his pet rats

This one went long but I wanted to explore Copia as a character so-

—-

Cats. The church loved cats. Cats were allowed to come and go as they pleased. Cat doors were carved into the ancient solid doors. Cats lounged on the rafters with ghouls. Cats roamed the halls, and cats wound around the legs of clergy members. Cats batted at the vestments of the Papas during sermons.

Copia, freshly minted a Cardinal, rubbed his eyes with his gloved hands. It wasn’t that he was allergic to them. They just... Okay, so maybe his eyes got watery. And maybe he sneezed. But it wasn’t an allergy. He told himself this as he ran a lint roller over his cassock. How did a Satanic church attract so many white-furred cats? He tossed the lint roller back onto the dresser and slumped into his chair. The promotion meant a slightly nicer room, and though he was grateful for it and all the church had done for him in his life, he found it odd they couldn’t replace his chair. He shifted to try to find a more comfortable position and heard the wood splinter.

“Oh, come on” he groaned, and stood. He flipped the chair over to find one of the legs had a series of cuts - no, bite marks. Copia pulled a glove off with his teeth and ran a bare finger over the marks. “We got so many cats here, what coulda done this” he mused. 

In a very dignified manner the Cardinal set the chair back down, then dropped to his hands and knees, and began crawling around his room, looking for the perpetrator. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you” he cooed, “I’m not gonna toss you out to the cats. Hell, I’ll bring you food. That chair’s gotta taste terrible. C’mon little one, Copia’s your friend...” 

As if being convinced by his words, a rat slowly emerged from a crack in the wall. Copia moved closer, turning his head so he could get a better look with his good eye. The rat was a scrawny, pitiful looking thing, black fur dusty with neglect, drooping whiskers, and a nasty cut on it’s head. The Cardinal sat on the floor and offered his hand. “Come here little guy, we’re gonna get you fixed up, eh? You look like you could use a friend. I wouldn’t mind having one myself.” The rat sniffed at the offered bare hand and carefully climbed on. Copia was amazed, and stricken at how light the rodent was. 

Copia gently placed the rat on his bed and moved back to his dresser. He began shifting though his clothes and books. “It’s not cheese, but- Ah, here we go!” He produced a chocolate bar from the drawer and gave the rat a sheepish grin. “Sometimes I just don’t want to make the journey down to the kitchen...” He unwrapped the bar and broke a small section off and placed it on the bed next to the rat. The rat looked at him, then the food. “No trickery, buddy. I wanna help you. I like you. You’re a good listener.” Copia snickered at his stupid joke and the rat ate ravenously.

~Two Months Later~

“Amico!” Copia crowed happily as he entered his room. Amico looked up from his shredded tissue bed. He gave his glossy fur a quick brushing with his paws and headed down the system of ladders that led from his nest to Copia’s desk. Copia beamed and scritched the rat’s ears. “Amico, I got Employee of the Month again! You know what that means...” The rat squealed happily as Copia set an elaborate takeout salad on the desk. “I went for more fruits this time, I remember you saying you wanted to try mango, right?” He plucked a piece of the fruit out of the leafy greens and placed it in Amico’s food dish. “You tuck in to that, I got to tell you about my day before I start. Okay, so the Papa, not the guy I work for, but the one that sings in the band- you remember him, right? So anyway-” Amico beamed at his talkative human. 

[woozletania]

There’s a raccoon in my tower, part 5

Over a picnic meal Tony gets a look at what Rocket’s been building in his lab.

Tony had never seen someone so small eat so much in such a short time.  Rocket ate with his little clawed hands and fangs, sniffing at then tearing into one dish after another.  Most of a roast chicken, a bowl of potato salad, a dish of cherries and a stick of garlic bread disappeared into the little raccoon before he drank half a bottle of water, burped loudly, then went right back to eating.

Occasionally he nosed at something and rather than ripping into it he slid the dish to Nebula.  That ended up being the applesauce, a jar of grape jam and a Tupperware dish of tuna salad.  Nebula ate sparingly of each, taking no more food than a child and much less than the hungry raccoon.  It wasn't hard to guess why.  There was so little flesh left among her cybernetics that there couldn't be room for much of a digestive system or need for one.

Thor ate more than Rocket but weighed at least five times as much. He also grinned and belched in reply whenever Rocket did, making sure to outdo his little friend in volume.  Tony and Pepper together ate less than the Thunder god.   That gave Tony time to peer around the room.  Rocket was too busy eating to do more than shoot him the occasional suspicious glance.

In the background of it all was the music.  Always the music.  No one commented on it but throughout the meal the Zune on the workbench fed sound to hidden speakers.  Tony suspected it was Quill's, for the age of the songs smacked of the rogue's retro mindset.  Footloose was right in line with Fleetwood Mac, Norman Greenbaum, David Bowie, the Jackson Five, ELO, Cat Stevens and more.  It wasn't loud but it was always there.

Almost everything in sight had the handmade look he'd come to associate with Rocket.  How one little raccoon could build so much in just a few months escaped him.  There was some automation, like the assembly line stamping out parts. Maybe some of the equipment was similarly machine made.

Racks of tools, half-built weapons, stacks of parts all had a look of clutter that he knew was an illusion.  A master craftsman leaves each item just where he wants it to be. He imagined the response if someone tidied up.  "Don't touch my stuff." The mantra of the technician.

There was something he assumed was a recycling system the little raccoon presumably made so he wouldn't need to connect to the building's water and sewer lines.  Much more interesting was the hulking shape looming in the shadows nearby. Thor was interested in it too but wouldn't stop eating to look it over. Tony was not so shy but when he went to stand Thor put his hand on his knee.

"Afterwards," the thunder god murmured. They went back to eating and to pretending not to notice when Nebula reached out to pet Rocket in between bites.  Tony never imagined the bitter cyborg and angry raccoon being friends until he saw how they treated each other.  Each cared about the other and showed by action what they'd never admit out loud.

Pepper couldn't resist reaching out to pet him as well but held back and  when Rocket shot her a glare and bared his fangs.  It seemed not everyone got to pet the raccoon.

When Rocket had eaten most of the contents of Thor's picnic basket the raccoon belched again and sat back, his belly noticeably rounder than before.  He must have put away a quarter his body weight in one sitting.  It didn't escape anyone that only a famished man - or raccoon - ate like that.

"The deal was that you were to eat, Rocket," was the first thing out of Thor's mouth when they were all done feasting.  "You don't eat like a well fed person."

"I do eat," the raccoon snapped.  "Look!" He pointed at a pile of empty foam food containers in the corner.  "They put food in when I send stuff out, I eat it."

Thor looked the raccoon over, unconvinced.  "You do look a little better.  But when was the last time you sent something out?"

"I dunno," Rocket said. "Haven't had as much stuff lately.  Nothing works on Thanos.  I sent out everything I know how ta make and he's still alive." He slouched where he sat.  "Nothing works on that guy."

Thor opened his mouth but Tony stuck his foot in.  "How do you know how to make all this, Rocket?"

Rocket laughed harshly.  "The usual way someone like me learns.  Head stuffed full of Uplift processors and a helmet clamped on my head feeding in what they want me ta know.  They wanted a soldier who could build and repair his own gear.  So they built one.  Or a prototype of one anyway. Other stuff I picked up after I escaped."

Tony winced.  It was as bad as he's expected.  "Well, if you want a job, I'm hiring.  Or if you'd just meet with me and a few others to do an info exchange."

"Got everything I need right here," Rocket said.  "I just gotta figure out something Thanos isn't immune to.  I collapsed a planet and took chunks out a two more and he's still alive.  Nothing works on the blue bastard."

Thor steered the conversation back on track.  "Pepper, do you know how often Rocket has sent things out recently?"

"About every two or three days," she said.  "I should have realized that was a problem.  I'm sorry Thor, we've been so busy."

"New rule, Rocket," Thor said firmly.  "You're going to let them send food in every day. You're not going to get lost in your work and starve again if I have anything to say about it."

"Fine," Rocket said after a jaw-cracking yawn.  "Whatever.  You gonna go so I can get back ta work?"

"In a minute," Tony interjected.  "What's with the power armor?"

They turned to look at the Hulkbuster-sized figure in the shadows.  As usual the lighting was dim to favor the nocturnal raccoon but it could be nothing but a power suit, and the Rocket-sized compartment in the front left no doubt who the pilot would be.

"Eh," Rocket shrugged.  "If I can't kill him with a bomb maybe I can at least get a few punches in.  From that footage Potts sent me he likes a good fight." He yawned again, visibly struggling to stay awake after the heavy meal and who knows how much missed sleep.  "He coulda killed you ten different ways with the Stones but he went hand ta hand.  Likes to fight." He supported his muzzle on his hands as he stared at the hovering screens with drooping eyelids  "I'll get him..."

Tony had been in his place.  Sometimes the need to invent kept him up for days.  Rocket was running on determination and rage but he didn't have Jarvis or Friday to make sure he ate or slept.  Thor was worried Rocket would wither away at his workbench and he was right to do so.  Even now, after what Tony knew were several food-laden visits, Rocket was skinnier than he probably should be.

Rocket was so exhausted he only muttered a protest when Thor picked him up and slid him into the padded pet bed.  The thunder god gestured with his chin and they filed out lest they wake the little mechanic from his much needed rest.  Tony lingered by the power armor but barely had time for a look before Thor chased him out.  Each waited until they were past the entry corridor - surely loaded with cameras and microphones - to speak.  When the ever-present music was finally cut off by the closing doors Pepper spoke up.

"He's like a little kid," Pepper said sadly.  "A hurt little kid trying not to think about what he lost."

"A very dangerous, very angry little kid," Tony agreed.  

“There's nothing more dangerous than a man who has nothing left to lose,” Thor said somberly.

Pepper and Thor shared a brief exchange but he missed it.  Something was nagging at him.  Something about the power armor.

"...only family he ever had," Nebula was saying as he awoke from his thoughts. "And Groot was his son in all but name."

"Nebula," he said, and the blue cyborg fixed him with a look.  "Did you see the purple conduits built into that power suit?"

She shrugged.  "Yes.  Jump drive. Personal teleporters aren't unheard-of but they are rare.  Maybe he thinks it'll surprise my father.  Why?"

"I don't know," Tony said. "Something about it bugs me.  Did you get any scans, Friday?"

"No sir," said the voice from the ceiling.  "A damping field was in place, probably for your benefit.  I did get some video and snapshots through your chest unit, though."

"All right," Tony said. "Mock up what you can in Lab Two.  I'll be by in a bit."

"Is there a problem, Stark?"

"I don't know yet, Thor.  Maybe."

Tony was being cautious.  In his heart he knew something was very wrong.  He just didn't know what it was yet.