#honey chisp

[best-kirby-character-tournament]

Are you gonna start Season 2 the same way? (8 characters already on the bracket?) /genq

If so, you can use this ask as your excuse to make the list early /nf /j... unless?

:o /pos

Yes! Mod will be starting it that way! :D /gen

The list is below the cut! ^-^

Also if you wanna see the list from Season 1 it's right here :3

If you're searching for a specific character, mod would recommend using Ctrl+F to give yourself an easier search!

The Characters Officially in the Season 2 Bracket (Has at least 4 submissions or is automatically in the bracket):

Taranza

Meta Knight

Bandana Waddle Dee

King Dedede

Shadow Kirby

Dark Meta Knight

Marx

Magolor

Escargoon

Prince Fluff

Chisp (Separate from Waddle Dee! :D)

Dark Taranza

Elfilin

Daroach

Galacta Knight

Gooey

Characters With 3 Submissions (Added to the bracket to even things out a little):

Susie (Has 3 submissions)

Sirica (Has 3 submissions)

Chaos Elfilis (Has 3 submissions)

Francisca/Zan Partizanne/The Mage Sisters (Has 3 submissions)

Awoofy (Has 3 submissions)

Morpho Knight (Has 3 submissions)

Sectonia (Has 3 submissions)

Waddle Dees (specifically from the anime [Has 3 submissions])

Characters With 2 Submissions or Less:

Waddle Doo (Has 2 submissions)

Knuckle Joe's Father/Jecra (Has 2 submissions)

Garlude (Has 2 submissions)

Glunk (Has 2 submissions)

Sillydillo (Has 2 submissions)

02/Zero^2 (Has 2 submissions)

Poppy Bros Jr. (Has 2 submissions)

Knuckle Joe (Has 2 submissions)

The Meta-Knights (Has 2 submissions)

Waddle Dees (specifically from the games [Has 2 submissions])

Sailor Waddle Dee (Has 1 submission)

The Fairy Queen/Queen Ripple (Has 1 submission)

The Demon Frog (Has 1 submission)

Gryll (Has 1 submission)

Tokkori (Has 1 submission)

Lololo and Lalala (specifically from the anime [Has 1 submission])

Tiff and Tuff/Fumu and Bun (Has 1 submission)

NESP (Has 1 submission)

Fecto Elfilis (Has 1 submission)

Bugzzy (Has 1 submission)

Galactic Nova (Has 1 submission)

Necrodeus (Has 1 submission)

Landia (Has 1 submission)

Mr. Shine and Mr. Bright (Has 1 submission)

The Magolor Epilogue Final Boss (censored the name to prevent spoiling [Has 1 submission])

Beam Attack Waddle Doo (Has 1 submission)

Marx Soul (Has 1 submission)

Drawcia Soul (Has 1 submission)

Soul Forgo (Has 1 submission)

Sectonia Soul (Has 1 submission)

Star Dream Soul OS (Has 1 submission)

Void Soul (Has 1 submission)

Magolor Soul (Has 1 submission)

Batamon (Has 1 submission)

Batafire (Has 1 submission)

Drawcia (Has 1 submission)

Elline (Has 1 submission)

Claycia (Has 1 submission)

Commentator Waddle Dee (Has 1 submission)

Fecto Forgo (Has 1 submission)

Gorimondo (Has 1 submission)

Leongar and Clawroline (Has 1 submission)

Captain Waddle Doo (Has 1 submission)

Wolfwrath (Has 1 submission)

Nightmare (Has 1 submission)

eNeMeE (Nightmare specifically from the anime [Has 1 submission])

Customer Service/NME Salesman (Has 1 submission)

Yin-Yarn (Has 1 submission)

Noddy (Has 1 submission)

Adeleine and Ribbon (Has 1 submission)

Papi (Has 1 submission)

Gordo (Has 1 submission)

Tropic Woods (Has 1 submission)

Biblio (Has 1 submission)

Buttercup (Has 1 submission)

Chief Bookem (Has 1 submission)

Doron (Has 1 submission)

Gengu (Has 1 submission)

Gus (Has 1 submission)

Hana (Has 1 submission)

Honey (Has 1 submission)

Iro (Has 1 submission)

Mabel (Has 1 submission)

Mayor Len (Has 1 submission)

Melman (Has 1 submission)

Professor Curio (Has 1 submission)

Samo (Has 1 submission)

Spikehead (Has 1 submission)

Tuggle (Has 1 submission)

Yabui (Has 1 submission)

Sir Ebrum (Has 1 submission)

Lady Like (Has 1 submission)

Dark Matter Swordsman (Has 1 submission)

Rick/The Animal Friends (Has 1 submission)

Plugg (Has 1 submission)

Dyna Blade (Has 1 submission)

Characters Added to Even Out the Preliminaries:

Beanbons

The Squeakers

Dark Daroach

Shadow Dedede

[snowy-bones]

Hello I'm anon I was wondering if there's a snack hack and skitters would enjoy to receive because I wanna do a little snack basket for both of them

hi there nonni! that's so sweet of you!!! Hack tends to enjoy honey sticks but will often give his snacks to Skitters! he makes sure his little brother eats first before even thinking about himself! Skitters likes crispy snacks like popato chisps and pretzels! but any snack is good to him, he is always rather hungry!

[sweet-cake-double-love]

"First snowfall"

❄🍰❤🍎❄

@mysteriathealicorn

[xxforsaken-angelxx]

dont knoww wwhat a btl chip is

definitely read it as bbq chip the first couple times

[janeelyakiri]

What would each skellie be the deity of?

OOOOO I really like this one! 🤩 lesseeee....

Macaw- IT God. You know how computer nerds make shrines to certain modems/towers for luck? Yeah he'd be that deity. Likes chisps.

Lupo- A god who protects roadtrippers, travelers of the modern era. Pray and make offerings of homemade foods to him so that no car troubles befall you.

Falcon- Protection deity, focused on lone walks at night and barhopping. He prefers offerings of money and gold, though expensive bourbon and cigars work too. He can help with financial gains too.

Jackal- Of lust and debauchery. But offers safety to those who play responsibly. Dabbles in gender fuckery as well, because fuck the gender binary. Likes jewels and wines and roses.

Jay- Literal fighting spirit. Offer tacos in an attempt to gain his favor and win whatever fight you're going into.

Fox- Of good rest, of soft things. Prefers honey and plush toys. Make these offerings to bring a warm and peaceful home specially for upcoming winters.

Crow- Strangely, of motherhood. For those who fear loss of their little ones or loss of their carrying spouse, offer soft and fancy fabrics or strong teas. Also the patron of loving, defensive parents. Offers his strength to those protecting their young.

Hound- He's a double one- He offers help in keeping beastly urges down, but also for power to unleash it and enact revenge. Depends which half you pray to- Hound for a peaceful life, or HellHound so you may spill the blood and dust of the ones who wronged you and your family. The soft side likes dog treats, 'herbal' smokes, and A1 sauce. The hungry side wants meat, fresh and still bloody.

Vulture- A forgotten deity, once of the hunt and now he hungers. Nothing satisfies him enough to bestow blessings, but he will *gladly* ruin your life if you don't bring offerings of foods and meats to him.

Hyena- Still one of the hunt, he helps keep his Brother under control. Just, sometimes if he feels you're skimping his offerings? He'll hunt YOU.

Robin- A fallen deity who demands human sacrifice in order to stave off his wrath.

Dingo- Once wrathful like his brother, he now is a deity of fatherhood. Offering blessings to fathers to be, and sometimes getting many women at his shrine hoping to find a husband as strong and loyal as himself. Takes chocolate anything as payment.

[echo--flowers--writes]

How do you think the bittys would react if one day they got a little smooch on the head by the reader because they wanted to show affection for the babes? 🥺

I'll do a little scenario for each of the cuties!~

Sansy would chuckle and accept the smooch without complaint. He's chill like that. He might even lean into you touch if he's feeling especially affectionate that day. He's crack a pun or two, but that's par for the course with this guy.

Papy... Well, Papy would attempt return the favor by smooching you on the cheek. A smooch for a smooch, that's his motto! Except... He, uhh... He doesn't have any lips... It seems tiny skeleton kiss will have to do! Be prepared for a bunch of affection and hugs after. You've opened the floodgates now human!

Edgy is, uhh... Edgy. If you haven't worked passed his spiky personality and grumpy disposition then... Good luck... You might earn yourself a few sharky bites to your fingers and some not so nice words. But, if you're close, then he'll begrudgingly accept the affection with a bright blush and grumbled complains. He loves you, really. He's just a tsundare.

BOSS DOES NOT DO 'SMOOCHS'! THEY ARE BENEATH HIM! But, if you catch him on a good day you might be able to convince him. If you can convince him he'll sigh and allow you to give him a smooch with a pat to your cheek.

Good luck getting Blue to sit still long enough to give him a smooch. Once he warms up to you he's an affection ball of energy. Your best bet is to catch him when he's sleepy. When you catch him and give him his smooch, he'll grab your cheeks and nuzzle you right back with sleepy skeleton kisses.

Lil'Bro (aka Honey) will fall into your hand dramatically. You have fatally wounded him, whatever shall he dooo??? You can either play along with the cutiepie or give him more smoochs, causing further affection injuries. What will you do?

Cookie is a special case. Once he warms up to you he will happily accept your smooches with a pat on your cheek. But if he's having an off day it might be best to be careful with your smooches, be soft with the traumatized boi.

Chisp is touch starved, no matter how well he hides it. Give him a smooch an you'll have a cuddly bitty attached to you for most of the day, especially if you have food. Give out your smooches with care.

Razzy is a dignified bitty, he gives and receives affection sparingly. He'll seem indifferent to your smooches but if you know how to read him you'll see a telltale blush speckling his bones.

Pup may seem like an aloof, quiet bitty when you first meet him but this boi is an affectionate goober once he warms up to you. He'll actively seek you out for smooches and rides on your shoulder.

This was so fun to do! Thanks for the ask!

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Joint Effort (baon)

Summary: Jeff is getting back on his feet and that’s pretty nice. He’s not so sure about Red and Sans’s version of helping, though.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationship, Humor, Marijuana Usage

Notes: I’m getting my timeline a little scattered, but man did I need something funny and cute.

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Staying in New New Home was nice.

Honestly, one of the nicest places Jeff ever lived and there was something about knowing that if he went outside for a walk at least one person was bound to wave at him, and if it was a skeleton or a Bun or even a Moldsmal, it was, well. It was nice.

Not that Jeff was walking that much, he was only just back on his feet. Blue spent a decent amount of time this morning scolding him not to overdo it, doublechecked that he had his phone and that he’d call if he needed to, and gave him a sack lunch before shooing him out the door.

Maybe it was a little overkill for a walk over to Stretch’s house, but the kindness of it made a warm glow settle in Jeff’s middle and that was a nice change from the itch of his healing stitches. It reminded him a bit of how it felt for Stretch to pull his soul out, but that memory was blurred through pain medicine. Maybe someday he could persuade Stretch to do it again, just to compare his memory to reality. But not today.

Today they were hanging out to celebrate Jeff’s return to being upright. Stretch seemed all for the bag lunch anyway, promptly stealing it and now they were sitting in the backyard together sharing the chocolate chip cookies while the nice, healthy sandwich on wheat sat wilting in the heat, sad and ignored.

The chickens wandered around the yard, occasionally inspecting their feet for possible goodies. This was nice, too, sitting in comfortable silence with a friend, sharing snacks and company.

“hey, you two.”

Swallowing back a yelp, Jeff whipped around to see Sans and Red standing behind them, lounging back against the large tree. He didn’t really know either of them well, Sans a bit better of the two since he’d helped out with the lab work that one time. But the matching grins on their faces filled him with a sense of foreboding.

Stretch seemed to agree. He slouched even more in his chair, rolling his eye lights as he reached out lazily to snuff his cigarette out in the nearby ashtray. “hey, you two back. what do you want?”

“aww, that ain’t nice, honey bun,” Red shook his head sadly. “maybe we just came to visit you and your little feathery dinosaurs for andy’s first real outing.”

“maybe. except every time you come over you have an agenda, short stack, and it better not be trying to sneak in more of your spy shit.”

“i’m here, too,” Sans pointed out. “what’s the agenda, do i need to take notes? got a pen i can borrow?”

“like you’d do anything he says? i know you, you have your own shit planned. better not let him be rubbing off on you and you can skip all the puns around that, i’ve already thought of all the good ones and the statute of limitations isn’t up.”

“rubbing ‘em out as we speak,” Sans said solemnly. “now, if you’re through your daily quota of paranoia, we brought you both a gift.”

“you can’t have any cookies.”

“we ain’t after the fucking cookies. besides the blueberry would hand some over himself if we asked and you know it.” Red nudged Sans ungently and got a sharp elbow to the ribs for his trouble. “show ‘em.”

With theatrical flare, Sans reached into his hoodie pocket and withdrew what to Jeff’s inexperienced eye looked like a joint. “ta fucking da.”

From Stretch’s brutally unimpressed expression, he probably wasn’t very excited. “seriously?”

“c’mon, please?” Sans wheedled, hands clasped together in a pantomime of pleading. “we haven’t smoked since you hooked your anchor to the edgelord.”

“yeah, because the last time my brother was ready to commit a couple murders over what we did to his sofa.”

“he got a new one! besides, can’t burn any of the good furniture if we stay out here. it’ll be fun! andy, talk to him.”

Jeff froze, looking between the twin earnestly pleading expressions (it was oddly disturbing on Red’s face) and Stretch’s skeptical one. “Um. I don’t mind if you guys want to?”

“don’t go into infomercials, kid, you ain’t so good at the ringing endorsements,” Red said dryly. “c’mon, i doubledchecked, it won’t interact bad with your meds.”

“ixnay,” Sans hissed. Stretch only sighed.

“of course you did, you shit. you know, i need to stop bitching about my brother being controlling because you’re valedictorian with an advanced degree in meddling.”

“yeah, yeah, me and those kids with the dog,” Red waved that away. ”c’mon, we could all use some chill. either smoke with us, or sansy and i’ll go back to my place and do it there.”

“give me that,” Stretch said irritably, reaching for the roll. Sans let him pluck it away. He flicked his lighter and held it to the end until it kindled, inhaling deeply. Breathed out a cloud of smoke with a faint cough, “at least if you’re here i can keep an eye on you.”

“oh, yeah, you’re great as adult supervision. i feel safer already.” Sans took it back when Stretch held it out, taking a hit of his own. He held it out to Jeff, “give this a try, andy.”

“Um, that’s okay?” Jeff said meekly. “I tried it in college, it doesn’t do much for me. I don’t want to waste it.”

“can’t hurt to take a hit then,” Red said reasonably. “give it a try. what could wrong?”

~~*~~

“He is hot as hell, though, right?” Jeff slurred out, blinking up dazedly at the bright blue of the sky.

The path of his descent to laying on the grass was only a little convoluted. Starting with his feet being suddenly too hot, so he kicked off his shoes and the grass felt so good on his bare feet he decided that laying on it would feel even better. It did, all cool, faintly prickly glory and that mingled with sweet relaxation lapping over him was a hell of a lot better than simply nice.

He was pretty sure one of the chickens was trying to preen his hair. He damn well hoped it was a chicken.

“the edgelord?” Came from next to him where Sans had joined in on his magnificent quest to the grass. Red and Stretch were occupying their own section of the lawn, solidifying it as a common goal. Sans didn’t wait for Jeff to reply, only added with lazy fervor, “fuck, yeah, he is.”

Okay, so, all of them ending up on the grass was a path Jeff could chart. This topic of conversation, not so much.

After passing the joint a couple times, —and Jeff was pretty sure he hadn’t meant to take more than one hit— the rest of the cookies had fallen quickly to their ravenous appetite. So had the sandwich and the little baggie of chisps, and somewhere in there Stretch was lamenting that Edge wasn’t home to bring them more snacks. Sans made some comment about Edge being a snack, and then—

Jeff wasn’t entirely sure what qualified as attractive to Monsters, but from his own observations of others around them, he was pretty sure when they were handing out the sexy, Edge went back for a second helping. Didn’t hurt to ask though, right?

From somewhere around his bare feet, Jeff felt the grass stir, then a bony finger poked the sole of his foot hard enough to make him yelp. “are you two discussing how hot my husband is without me?”

“nah, you’re sitting right there.”

“i didn’t think so,” Stretch sniffed. “yeah, he’s really hot, isn’t he. fuck, when he wears those jeans—“

“yeah, and those boots of his—“

“And that belt? Kind of, you know, draws the eyes down, yeah?”

The sound that came from Jeff’s left made him frown, trying to turn his wobbly head that way to see how a wounded animal managed to get into Stretch’s backyard. But the only thing there was Red and rather than enjoying the feel of the grass, he looked like he might be attempting to bite out a chunk of the ground.

“can we please not talk about how hot my baby bro is?” Red said, and wow. Jeff never took him for the begging type. “let’s talk about how hot someone else’s honey is. you!”

Jeff froze when Red pointed at him accusingly.

“Me? Oh! Oh, yeah, Antwan is hot,” Jeff agreed eagerly, sighing happily as his mental picture of Edge was overlaid with Antwan. Both of them obviously took far more than their fair share of sexy on their buffet plates, letting it spill over onto everything else like salad dressing seeping into the mac and cheese. Hmmm, maybe he could keep them on his thought player side by side, Edge and Antwan—

His introspection was interrupted by a loud scoff from Red. “we know he’s hot, we can see. how is he in the sack, now, that’s a real question.”

“Um.” There were many answers to that question in varying stages of pornographic, each battling with his dwindling common sense to be said first.

“you can’t ask him that!” Stretch scolded and gave Red a rough shove with his own bony bare foot. Jeff’s swelling relief at being rescued was immediately punctured as he went on. “i’m his best friend, i get to ask. how is he in the sack?”

“Uhmm…he’s…good?” Jeff tried but as answers went, no one seemed very satisfied with it. ”Really good?”

“that’s how you describe a mediocre summer action flick, not getting laid,” Red complained.

“don’t pick on him!” Stretch said, loyal even in his disappointment. “don’t feel bad, andy, edge is good in the sack, too.”

“doesn’t anyone want to know how good my boyfriend is in the sack?” Sans asked.

“no!”

“you ain’t even got a boyfriend, you shit.”

“Yeah, okay. Is he hot?”

Before Sans could answer, a pair of boots came up beside Jeff’s head. He stared in awe at the glory of them. They were nice boots, familiar boots, and Jeff reached out to rub a thumb over the dark, shiny leather. To his disappointment, they moved out of his reach and Jeff sighed sadly, absently looking up the long, long legs, up, up…oh.

Edge was looking down at them, arms crossed over his chest and that look should be patented under Severely Disappointed.

“What are you idiots doing?” It was a question, but Jeff had his suspicions that Edge already knew.

“babe!” Stretch said gleefully and made an attempt to sit up. It failed somewhere around the point of pushing up on his elbows and he sank back to the grass. “you’re home! we’re just…uh…” That laser of disapproval looked like it cut through the cloud of his high and dawning realization washed over Stretch’s face. He made a hasty attempt to change tactics. “hey. uh. love you?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“which one will make you less mad?”

“Neither, brat.” But he moved to kneel next to him, a gloved hand gently smoothing over Stretch’s skull. He made a happy little sound, not unlike the chickens, and leaned into that touch. “I’m not angry. You seem relaxed.”

“yeah,” Stretch sighed. The way he tipped his head into Edge’s petting made Jeff unsuccessfully stifle a giggle. “and we kept it outside!”

“Smoking anything in my house is unwise,” Edge agreed.

Sans leaned up with marginally more success than Stretch, holding up the joint. “you want a hit?”

“No, thank you,” Edge said dryly. “Try not to light anything on fire this time. Do you all want a snack?”

From his wince, they were maybe a little too enthusiastic with their response. But Edge only nodded, his thumb skirting over the curve of Stretch‘s skull a last time before he climbed back to his feet, and Jeff watched in bemusement as both Stretch and Sans lifted their heads to watch Edge walk away.

Or at least Sans tried. For some reason his head dropped back to the grass with a muttered, “ouch! stop it asshole, i ain’t lookin’!”

The door closed and Jeff whispered as softly as he could to Stretch. “I thought he’d be mad.”

Apparently, his whispers were currently set to high. Stretch only flapped a hand vaguely at the house. “nah, he’s cool. also, he can hear you, he opened the kitchen window. gotta be a mamma bear.”

Sans’s voice managed to be somehow vague and still rich with his own brand of disappointment. “aww, so we have to stop talking about how hot he is?”

The loud sound of dishes crashing made a round of wincing go through them all.

Stretch waited for the last of the clatter to fade. “only if you want something to eat.”

“i’ll think about it…ouch! okay, okay, i’m done!”

Jeff shook his head when Sans held out the joint to him again. Whatever snack Edge was making, he wanted some, too, and if the price was ending any chatter about how hot Edge was, eh.

Better to not take the chance.

-finis-

[redeyedryu]

Cross Dimensional Problems

Chapter 2 - Hmmm... | [Ao3]  | 1 | x |  » |

Hey look! Another chapter! And it hasn't even been a day! Amazing, I know. Who knows when the next one'll come though.

Summary:  What if I told you that your whole existence is nothing more than a creation meant to entertain people?

What if I told you that you're not even the original, that you're just some recolored imitation?

So. This is apparently a thing that's happening. And you’re pretty sure it really is because those slaps to the face didn't exactly feel pleasant. Neither did the pinches. Your company is probably questioning your state of mind after that display and honestly? That's fair because you're currently doing the same thing.

The proverbial “they” say you can't feel pain in a dream but what if your brain is just really good at playing pretend? It'd make more sense than this—sitting on a thread bare, obnoxious green sofa that doesn't make you think of a very certain event in a very certain game. The skeletons kind of drive that point hard enough, you don't need more reminders, thank you.

Someone clears their …throat? Whatever, the sound is made and it draws your attention, your eyes drifting to one skeleton in particular out of the three—the Classic™ one.

“heya,” he says and oh boy, that is a really deep voice. Very nice, very rumbly. You could listen to it for hours, you think. “what’re uh… what’re ya doin’ down here, bud?”

You purse your lips and squint your eyes, fingers pinching and pulling and scratching at the suede fabric of the couch you are sat on. It’s wedged off to the side of the safety hazard that is the sparking boiler-thing, just near enough for you to have dazedly stumbled over to.

“Hallucinating, I think,” you eventually reply as you continue to fidget. The fingers of one hand slip and you accidentally stab the side of your thigh with a particularly sharp nail. You don't so much as react to the stabbing pain. “Or maybe I'm actually having some kind of mental break?”

You watch (see: blatantly ogle) as the skeleton’s expression shifts, his sockets pinching as his brow furrows, as that perpetual grin of his dips at the corners. He pulls his shoulders in a shrug, that iconic blue hoodie of his bunching and creasing with the motion.

You never did get around to ordering one of those. Too bad, it looks really comfy.

“gonna be honest, kid,” that deep, soothing bass breaks through the wandering of your mind. “wasn't expecting to see a human down here.”

“Didn’t really expect to be down here,” you shoot back. You let loose a heavy sigh, pushing air through your nose as you slouch and violently throw yourself back against the couch. Your arms flail as you rant, “There’re bags of popato chisps and Grillby’s takeout bags and talking skeletons and couches from video games and nothing is making any sense! ” An arm lays across your face, shielding your eyes, as the opposite lays bent above your head.

There’s an awkward stretch of silence, though you're pretty sure you hear the ruffling of fabric, the sktch of someone’s shoes coasting along the filthy floor. And then,

“uh… what?”

Your arms shoot up, fingers splayed, and you glare at the ceiling as you shout,” Video games, Sans! Video games!!” You pull yourself back into a proper seated position and meet the eyes (eye sockets??) of the vanilla bean. Oh. Huh. He’s doing that pitch black eye socket thing. Looks like the edgy bastard behind him is doing it too. Maybe the tall one is as well. You can't tell with Papyrus types--sometimes they have eyelights, sometimes they don't. Oh well.

“What?” Your brows furrow and you purse your lips as you tell them to, “Stop doing that eye-thing at me.”

They don't listen, of course. Just continue to creepily, silently stare at you.

“Stop it!” you demand, and in an effort to get them to cease and desist, bring your hands together in a rather forceful clap. You have to bite your lip to keep from laughing at the way they jolt at the noise.

Sans clears his non-existent throat again, then he shuffles in place, before finally, “how’d ya know my name, kid?”

You quirk a brow.

“What? You're telling me most people wouldn't recognize the brother of monsterkind’s mascot?” Hey, look at that, he really does sweat blue magic. Neat. “Aren't there only like two skeletons in all of existence? Your alternate copies don't count.”

Op. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say ‘cause the voided eye sockets are back again.

“Hey, no! You stop that!” You snap your fingers several times in quick succession and thankfully, it seems to work.

”I mean… Y’all are on the surface, right? This is a post-pacifist ending timeline, right? It usually is in these kind of scenarios.”

And before the sweating Sans so much as squeaks, you hear a rumbling growl, see a blur of reds and black, and then you’re being pinned to the sofa. Underfell Sans is literally right up in your grill, his snarling, sharp-toothed face mere inches from yours.

“th’ fuck kinda shit’re you spoutin’, ya sack a’ shit?”

Oh. This is awkward. Not to mention uncomfortable. He’s practically kabedon’d you, arms on either side of your head, a sneakered foot precariously positioned between your legs.

Kinky.

His voice is pretty nice, too; a deep bass like his vanilla counterpart, though there’s an edge to it that the blue-clad skeleton’s clearly lacks. You think you could listen to this guy's voice for hours too.

You sink into the couch a bit, entirely unimpressed, and shift your weight to the side, bringing up a hand to push against his arm, and slide to the side, out from under him. Your nonchalance seems to catch him off guard as he just stares, befuddled, as you casually extricate yourself, resettling against the arm of the couch.

“C’mon,” you start, gaze shifting from Underfell, to Undertale, to Underswap, “you're smarter than that. You can pick up on the context clues, can't you?”

“the machine…” Your gaze shifts back to the tall, lanky skeleton still standing towards the back as he speaks. His voice is definitely somewhere in the tenor range, though it’s a bit raspy. It's nice, but nowhere near as smooth, broadcasting quality as Sans's is. “you're from an alternate timeline.”

He sounds so convinced, so sure of his deduction. You? Not so much.

“Mmm… something like that? I guess?”

The edgy skeleton beside you shifts, lowers his arms from the couch and instead just… lets himself flop into the cushions. The action causes you to jostle slightly.

“whadda ya mean, ‘summin’ like that’?” he all but growls, scowling at you.

“I mean what I mean. It's something like that but not quite? Because uh…” You drag your eyes from one skeleton to the next and then back again before shifting your gaze to the left and right. Man, this place is an absolute pigsty. “Because hmmm….”

Sans, the Classic™ one, chooses that moment to re-engage with the conversation. He lets loose a world weary sigh and plops onto the other end of the couch, sandwiching his Underfell variant between the two of you.

“‘hmmm’?” he prompts.

“Yes, hmmm,” you respond, face scrunching up in thought. Well, the cat’s pretty much out of the bag (not that it was ever really in one to begin with) so. What’ve you got to lose?

“It's a game,” you begin and you don't miss the way they all seem to snap to attention. “Undertale, by the way. That's what it's called. Came out a few years ago. Actually just had its what… fourth anniversary the other week?”

Underswap Papyrus, likely envious of everyone else sitting but him, comes over to the couch and props himself against the opposite arm. “so… what. we’re just a buncha video game characters to you?” He appears to be frowning as he fishes a honey sucker from his hoodie pouch pocket and wedges the treat between his teeth.

“Mmmmmmm… no. Not exactly. Sans—the original one—” and you point to the blue-clad skeleton, “is technically the only video game character. Which by the way, congratulations on making it into Smash, even if it’s just as a costume.”

Sans’s expression twists in confusion, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his skull as he responds, voice slightly higher pitched, “…thanks?” He has no idea what you’re talking about.

“You’re welcome. But as I was saying, Sans is the original, the main branch, as I’m sure you’re all familiar with that particular analogy. You,” and you point to the Papyrus, who quirks a brow, “and you,” you point to the scowling, sharp-toothed Sans whose scowl only tightens in response, “are from AUs—Alternate Universes created by fans curious about different takes on canon. Underswap and Underfell, respectively.”

It occurs to you, then, that maybe you should go at this a little lighter, maybe don’t be so blunt about everything… but. Well… you don’t really know how else to lay this down. You’ll apologize about any existential crises you induce later, you guess—asking for forgiveness over permission and all that. Besides, it’s not like you asked for this situation to unfold, either; it’s not like you know what the hell is going on. You’re pretty much in the same boat as these jokers.

The skeleton seated beside you growls (he likes to do that a lot, doesn’t he?) and twists to face you, the little lights in his eye sockets burning red hot.

“s’what? we’re s’posed t’believe yer a human from sum kinna reality where we ain’t even real? jus’ summin made up fer yer own sick entertainment?”

You recoil at the sheer animosity in his voice, back sinking into the worn padding of the couch’s arm. It’s a miracle you don’t just tumble over the side of the thing, honestly, with how far you pull away.

“Uh… I mean. No? You’re free to believe whatever you want but it’s not like I just decided to break into some random dingy basement in my lounge clothes for shits and giggles.”

He just stares at you, his scowl tightening, his sockets creasing and his face just absolutely scrunching in anger before he’s just. Gone. Poof! Shortcutted right the fuck outta here.

Well.

That was a thing that happened.

You can empathize with the guy to a certain degree but well. You don’t exactly want to spend too much energy thinking about things. Not right now. Like a lot of things in your life, you’ll deal with it later.

Brushing that exchange aside, you find yourself releasing a lot of pent up tension you hadn’t realized you were holding onto (in your shoulders, your neck, back, even your jaw ) and address the two remaining skeletons still sat with you. Sans doesn’t appear to be sweating anymore, though he does look like he’s thinking something over. Underswap Papyrus is much the same, though he’s taken to fiddling with the stick of his honey sucker.

“So hey,” you start, effectively drawing their attention, “got any popato chisps?”

You want to know if they taste any different from regular potato chips.

[smokeovt]

.

..

...

....

.....

......

it’s like that awkward lurch in your soul when you put your foot down and your mind, your body, everything is expecting and prepared to go up a step that isn’t actually there.  honey catches himself before he stumbles, blinking dumbly at the sidewalk.

what the hell was that?  he’s stone-cold sober, just walking back home with his brother after going to the convenience store down the block for snacks, but...the world just bent and warped itself into this screaming legion of colors and fractals────he heard it.  saw it.

❛ PAPYRUS? ❜

his head snaps up to see his brother looking back at him with mild concern.  ❛ ARE YOU ALRIGHT? ❜

honey, out of habit, just smiles.  ❛ yeah, bro. ❜

❛ ARE YOU SURE? ❜

❛ of course i’m sure.  why do you ask? ❜

❛ WELL, YOU SUDDENLY JUST STOPPED IN YOUR TRACKS, DROPPED YOUR BAGS, AND STARED OFF INTO SPACE!  IT WAS WEIRD!!  DEFINITELY NOT TRADITIONAL PAPYRUS BEHAVIOR. ❜

looking again at his feet corroborates sans’ account.  it’s not like he was carrying anything of consequence────just some chisps chips and other indulgent convenience store junk food items while sans carried the drinks (because muscles).  but he didn’t make the decision to drop them, wasn’t even...aware he was doing anything.

did he just black out or something??

❛ it’s nothing────i just realized that hershey’s kisses are actually bigger chocolate chips and it blew my mind. ❜

❛ YOU SERIOUSLY NEVER MADE THAT CONNECTION UNTIL THIS VERY MOMENT??  YOU’VE GOT A FEW WIRES CROSSED, LITTLE BROTHER! ❜

sans laughs goodnaturedly and honey goes along with it, stooping down to pick the bags back up.  they resume their trek back to the apartment.  as for the weird...episode, for lack of a better term...if it happens again, maybe he’ll mention it to undyne.

❛ you never know what things i’m cableble of missing. ❜

❛ OH NO. ❜

❛ i’m just warning you so you won’t be shocked when it happens again. ❜

❛ ENOUGH!! ❜

[erraticauthor]

Golden Girl, popato chisps, and The Insomniac

An explanation:  So the groupchat I’m in gets some pretty weird names, and I jokingly mentioned how we all sounded like third-rate superheroes, and thus this story was born.  I’m not a structured person, so who knows when I’ll get to writing chapter 2, though. 

Pale wisps of moonlight filtered through the blinds of the window in the back corner of the room, illuminating a floating cloud of dust that had recently been disturbed.  Pacing across the room and launching more debris into the air with their rapid movements, The Insomniac let out a breathy sigh.

Something was wrong.  They could feel it -- a bubbly sensation just below their skin, like an itch, making them jittery and afraid.  Mind racing, The Insomniac thought back to the events of the previous week, searching through memories of math homework, Academy lunches, and sleepless nights for any sort of clue to explain their current state.  But nothing stood out to them-- no big event or mental breakdown had occurred-- everything had gone as it always had, in a colorless blur of days heavy with schoolwork.  And yet something was very, very wrong.

Shaking their head in a weak attempt to clear their thoughts away, The Insomniac stepped aside from the window.  The tenseness of their shoulders told them that they needed a distraction.  Something that would at least lessen the growing anxiety tightening its grasp around their lungs.  Impulsively, The Insomniac grabbed their phone off of the night table that sat below the window, taking a moment to revel in the familiar weight of the object in their hands.  With the tap of a button the screen lit up, making The Insomniac squint at the sudden display of light.  Another unhappy sigh escaped their lips as the number 4:47 glared back at them.  Hour by hour, minute by minute The Insomniac had watched the agonizingly slow crawl of the numbers, sleepless through them all.  With only an hour left left before they were expected to be up and facing the sun, The Insomniac doubted they’d get any sleep at all tonight.  It was a common enough occurrence for them.

Shuffling to their bed, The Insomniac drew a blanket over themselves, and took a seat, red eyes floating carelessly about their room.  Silence clung to the air like honey, thick and cloyingly sweet as it seeped, slow and heavy into everything The Insomniac owned.  Stuffed animals seated atop mountains of books sat unmoving, soulless eyes staring back at the teen with their own type of deathly silence.  It was moments like these where The Insomniac felt as if they were frozen in time.  Moments where the lack of movement and sound, the lack of life around them weighed on their conscious, bringing them to what felt like the edge of insanity, or perhaps the edge of loneliness, as they found themself questioning whether they too were truly lifeless.

Another click of the button. 4:54 now.  A melancholic smile made its way onto The Insomniac’s face.  It had felt like hours since they’d last checked the clock, and yet only seven minutes had passed.  Depression had a funny way of working like that-- like having your head trapped underwater, all noises blocked out by the crashing of waves against your skull, as water sloshes into your ears, drowning your brain and suspending all thoughts.  And all the while your lungs struggle to find air where there is only water, and the darkness is creeping into your vision, ready to take you back to the beginning of it all until finally you just -- shut down.  Gone to the world, and unaware of anything around you.  A living doll, with the same lifeless eyes as the rest of them.

The Insomniac just wanted to sleep now.  Something unknown was still wrong, and now thoughts born under the icy darkness of the night came flooding over them.  Sleep was a better option than tears, but it was far less likely.  The Insomniac was tired-- they always were, but it was the type of tired where one’s limbs feel heavy enough to drag them down, the mind whispering candy sweet please to just give up and lay down, to forget everything-- the past, the present, the future.  It was not the type of tired that would allow their head to hit the pillow and dream of sugar plum fairies.  It was not the type of tired that could be cured by under an hour of sleep.  They were tired.

Time, however, cared nothing for their problems, and with each passing second brought another day at the Academy closer.  The Academy.  A building of weathered bricks with hallways long enough to get lost in, a place where your mind might wander and never return, where the stone itself seemed to sap away all will and brightness of spirit.  Just thinking about it sent waves of fresh anxiety rolling within The Insomniac, pounding across their ribcage.  The flyers sang praises of the Academy, elevating it in the minds of the people until it was holy in appearance-- the best place to send children to learn societal customs and skill to save and to harm.  It was a place where freedom went to die.  Even jails, with their barred windows and leaky ceilings infected with mold were more hospitable.  Jails don’t hold the same influence that the Academy does-- a slippery vine that sprouts within the mind, growing with passing year as it twists and curls around bone and organ until you’re no longer the one in control.

It is a parasite.

The Insomniac’s lips tighten into a thin line, a coffee like taste prominent in their mouth.  The analogy wasn’t fair, their own bitter pride supplying easier to digest words to their brain that what was ultimately the truth.

They didn’t belong at the Academy and so therefore it must be a hellish landscape where everyone suffers.  It was a childish way of thinking, but it soothed The Insomniac more than they cared to admit.  Golden Girl and popato chisps, The Insomniac’s two closest friends, fit into the Academy like birds fit into spring-- thriving and smiling the whole way.  Jealousy was not a new emotion to The Insomniac, they craved the level of intelligence that popato chisps held, and the art of conversation that Golden Girl was so gifted at, but it was a difficult emotion to suppress.  There was always something The Insomniac desired for themself, always full of want, want, want.  They want to be warm, a person whose skin wasn’t cool to the touch.  They wanted to be able to smile, for once to be free of terror and truly comfortable.  They wanted to fit in as seamlessly as GG and pc.

There were things The Insomniac was-- cold, analytical, disconnected-- but there were far more that they weren’t.  Brilliant and kind hearted were qualities they could never find within themself, yet radiated off of Golden Girl and popato chisps.  Where the two were soft, The Insomniac was hard, a collection of mismatches lines poorly threaded together, the seams threatening to tear open.  Where the two were close, The Insomniac was distant, a third wheel stuck orbiting around a friendship as stunning as a night star, leeching off of borrowed warmth from something they were not a part of.  Perhaps the real parasite was The Insomniac themself.

But what else was to be expected of them?  Born to a man of supervillain blood, evil was quite literally inside The Insomniac’s veins, multiplying with every breath they took.  Graduation was slowly tip-toeing in on them all and they were expected to declare a side-- be a hero, or a villain.  It was designed to be a matter-of-fact choice, whatever your parents before you were, you too would be.  If you chose differently you were cast aside, thrown to the sharks, an outsider to your own friends and family.  Graduation was simply the illusion of choice.  Different was always ridiculed, always beaten away with harsh words or physical strikes.

Different was why The Insomniac’s father hated them.

The blanket around The Insomniac shifted and dropped from their shoulders as they raised a hand to their face, letting their fingers run along the more delicate bones.  Their face was short but thin, holding a pixie-like charm.  Their eyes were a stormy gray, holding a slight bluish tint that highlighted the sunken black and purple bags that were now a permanent fixture on their face, making their skin look sallow and caved in.  Their hair was neither masculine nor feminine, the sides shaved in an undercut with the top slightly longer and curling in all directions, untamable.  But what was most striking was the whiteness of their dyed hair, which drowned out all of their color, making The Insomniac look like the specter they felt they were.

The Insomniac was genderless, and it showed in their appearance.  Baggy clothes and worn down tennis sneakers that displayed no curves or heavy muscles, and a voice like red wine, both sweet and deep, yet dry with their years of piled up exhaustion.

Their father was not a fan of this, to say the least.  He never raised a hand to them, but rather raised his voice.  Quick, stabbing shouts and digs at The Insomniac’s appearance, their sexuality, their very existence.  Words stocked full of bigotry and ideas that should’ve been buried in the past, but somehow still survived like cockroaches.  He was a man of metallic rage and repulsion.  He was what The Insomniac was supposed to grow up to act like-- a mirror of the future.  He was everything they hated.

Red eyes began to burn once again, but The Insomniac knew that no tears would come.  They hadn’t cried in years, their emotions kept under too tight a lock and key.  Tears were a weakness they had learned to hide to avoid another onslaught of insults hurled their way.

The pain, however, lingered, making The Insomniac sick to their stomach as they curled into a ball, hiding beneath the blanket as if it could shield them from the barrage of intrusive thoughts.  Phone still in hand, they contemplated sending a text to the groupchat with GG and pc-- a cry for help, something to keep their own thoughts at bay, even for a couple of moments.  Logically it was simple enough, just open the chat and sent the word “help.”  They’d understand what that meant, they would save The Insomniac.  Nothing would ever change if The Insomniac stayed silent.  But silence was a habit they hadn’t broken, and deep down they knew tonight would not be the night that they did.  To ask for help would be an admission of weakness, and The Insomniac had not built all their walls to remain the powerless doe-eyed child they were in all the aging photographs that lined the halls of their house.  The only person they could continually rely on was themself, and they did as they always had, and began building another wall to lock away to the pain, to be forgotten, or dealt with at another time.

Problems were endless, like ant infestations during summer-- you could fine one in the kitchen sink, another on the ceiling, or even one crawling along the hairs of your arm, making you panic as you try and swat it off, suddenly imaging dozens of phantom ants all over your skin.  But you can never find the source, if you block off one entrance, they’ll always find another.  The Insomniac decided it was best to ignore the ants on their skin for now, as they knew that they themself were the source of those problems.  They just hadn’t closed off the right pieces of themself yet.

Far more insidious were the problems out of sight.  Those were the ants that one would never catch glimpse of, but knew existed because the food in the pantry would be demolished, leaving only only a few sad crumbs that were deemed unworthy.  Lurking, they were the problems that could destroy everything.  And so The Insomniac had found that they’d come full circle.  Muscles still tight, they found that what they were hoping to be a distraction had turned into an emotional breakdown that only make them feel worse, drained and empty, like a husk.

But apathy was fine with them-- if they felt nothing, then nothing could truly hurt anymore.  Like a drug, it was the only thing The Insomniac was addicted to.  Staring blankly at the ceiling, body unmoving, it was the closest they ever got to real sleep, to not existing for at least a small amount of time.

A sharp buzzing came from the phone in The Insomniac’s hand, a default jingle shattering the silence of the room with mediocre music.  Surprised, The Insomniac jolted upright and clicked the alarm off. 6:10.  It was time to get up.

They paused for only a moment to collect all the pieces of themself that had broken off during the night, before they threw the blanket off themself.

The morning passed as it always had, with skipping breakfast, and shoving homework into their backpack last minute.  Another day at the Academy, and invisible to the eye, The Insomniac could still feel that something was very, very, wrong.

[echo--flowers--writes]

I saw that one ask about the bitties and cuddling so I just HAD to ask- how would the others want to cuddle?? 🥺 (You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to!! I love your stories though 💕)

(Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying! 💖💖💖)

-The rest of the bitties aren't as shy with their cuddles as their tsundare counterparts. The more affectionate bitties actually follow you to bed or pop is once your finished getting ready for bed.

-Sansy will start out sleeping in the most inconvenient places, since, ya know, he's probably already asleep by the time bedtime rolls around. You might find he's taken over your favorite pillow or stretched out across the blankets. Once you lay down though... Well... Think of your favorite asshole cat that loves to sleep across your forehead. Yep, that's this jokester. He'll move to your side if your truly uncomfortable though.

-Papy is always down for cuddles! He's favorite spot to rest is on your stomach with your hand on top of him. It makes him feel warm and secure!

-Blue is a helicopter when he sleeps. He usually start out snuggled up against your cheek, then you might find him on your collar bone, or curled up in your palm, or even sprawled out across your thighs. This little guy is a wild card!

-Honey very much likes to sleep across your thigh. It's soft and warm and under the covers, what's not to love? If that makes you uncomfortable then he'll move to his second favorite spot, your tummy.

-Cookie is a more solitary sleeper. But! If you had a bad day or if he's feeling affectionate then he'll curl up on you pillow by your ear so he can play in your hair.

-Chisp's favorite spot to curl up is on your collarbone, just under your chin. From here he can feel your heartbeat, plus it's a super soft and warm place to sleep.

-Pup is a super cuddly guy, so chances are he's already hanging out in his favorite sleeping spot...on your shoulder. Then again, he's also a helicopter sleeper so there's no telling where you'll find him in the morning.