#ht sans/reader

[yuckydraws]

17 Singing a Lullaby and Bear!

This was supposed to be a drabble... whoops!

(CW: Nightmares, PTSD, slightly violent episode, SH)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re jolted awake by a harsh movement next to you and a red glow filling the otherwise pitch black room.

Blinking the sleep away, you’re jostled by another thrash.

Bear’s arms are no longer looped around your waist. The gentle snoring purrs that slightly tickle your neck are no longer heard… and that large frame of his is no longer protectively curled around you.

Still fuzzy with drowsiness, you hum in confusion. Your heavy limbs take a moment to cooperate as you sit up - but the moment you turn and catch a glimpse of your poor mate, you’re wide awake.

Shit.

Bear lays on his back, blankets all sorts of tangled around his wriggling limbs. His shirt has ridden up, exposing his scarred spine and pelvis, and his claws threaten to rip holes in the fabric of it as his hand clutches at his sternum. Over his soul. His face is pinched in pain and that bright red glow seeps from his closed socket… leaking from that hole in his skull as well. His other arm proves to be the source of the thrashing, swiping clumsily at the air before flopping uselessly back onto the mattress - however, given his large size, it causes the bed to dip and shift.

The source of your rousing.

You shift to your knees, facing Bear as he continues his sleeping struggle. He’s always a really tough wake - being as heavy a sleeper as he is - but given the circumstances, you opt not to go for your usual rough shaking. Instead, you reach out, placing your hand above his on his sternum, squeezing gently.

“Sans.” You softly call out his real name. “Sans, you’re having a nightmare, you gotta wake up.”

The small pressure and gentle tones of your voice do nothing to wake him.

“Sans, it’s okay, you’re okay.” You try a little louder.

Nothing.

You make the stupid mistake of leaning above him as you apply more pressure to his hand, gently attempting a shake.

Right in the line of fire.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when his free arm swipes at the air again. You manage to move just in time to avoid getting smacked in the face, but his claws catch your shoulder, leaving shallow cuts there.

The force of it knocks you on your side and you yelp in surprise.

It happens all at once.

One moment, you’re regaining your senses, and the next a low growl fills the room. So low, you feel more than hear it. Opening your eyes, you find Bear looming over you. His light is blown wide, taking over his whole socket - the size it gets when you do something cute, or he’s digging into a delicious, hearty meal. But, instead of fuzzy at the edges, it’s sharp. Alert.

And that little pupil in the middle is but a pinprick.

He’s awake, but he’s not here. This isn’t your Bear.

Magic continues to pour out of his socket at an alarming rate, filling the air with a dangerous buzz of magic that has your hair standing on end. 

“Sans-” You try, your voice shaky.

Apparently the wrong move. He quite literally pounces, hands pushing your shoulders onto the bed, making you land on your back with a whumf. He doesn’t even have to fully hover over you, to keep you trapped.

It doesn’t take much strength for a monster of his size to keep a human like you pinned.

You don’t dare breathe as he snarls down at you, showing off those pronounced canines of his. A feature you usually find absolutely adorable on your big, gentle Bear… but it only has your heart fluttering with anxiety, now.

This… happens sometimes. With all he went through underground, the injuries he sustained, what he had to do just to keep himself and his brother alive - he’s understandably been left with PTSD. Something his injury only heightens. Usually, you aren’t alone when it happens, as his triggers tend to be things that pop up more often in public or bigger group settings. Tilly is able to pull him out of them quite quickly, and you, yourself have done the same - a time or two.

And if you don’t do something soon… you risk a bigger accident that will only leave Bear all the more devastated when he does come to. He already drew a bit of blood. He’d never forgive himself if he hurt you more (he’s already going to be a mess about these tiny cuts) and you’re not going to just sit here as he struggles.

Seeing as talking seemed to be the thing to set him off, you stay quiet and focus on taking the deep breath that your lungs so desperately need after that scare. His hands tighten on your shoulders at the movement, but he doesn’t react much more. Perhaps moving is okay, then? Just, not talking. Got it. 

Hoping you’re right about this, you slowly move your arm. You’re not able to reach up like you want to with his grip so tight on your shoulders, but you are able to rest it on one of his hands holding you down. Your eyes never leave his face, awaiting any sign that this isn’t okay. His snarl dies down as you make that gentle contact… leaving him to blankly stare at you, as if conflicted.

A blank stare isn’t great, but it’s better than outright aggression.

You’re silent as you watch him, but your advances don’t stop. Feeling that familiar scarred surface of his knuckles, you brush your thumb back and forth across them, counting the ridges as you go.

1, 2, 3, 4. 

4, 3, 2, 1.

Your breathing evens out as his grip begins to relax and his brows furrow, watching you in a confused daze.

You risk a gentle squeeze of his hand, and tense when he suddenly moves away - watching him and preparing for the worst. But, you’re pleasantly surprised by the way he sits back on his heels and just… stares down at his hands in fascination. That outpour of magic starts to dissipate as well. He’s much calmer.

That shrunken pupil lets you know it’s not quite over yet, though.

You slowly sit up, but despite your careful movements, you’re barely given a second glance. Even when you inch closer, he still searches his hands as if they’ll give him answers. Once close enough, you reach forward, allowing your hand to enter his field of vision before making any move to touch him. His light flits to your hand, but other than that, you’re given zero reaction.

A go-ahead, you hope.

You ease your hand into one of his, feeling the slightly anxious buzz of his magic. His fingers twitch, before encasing yours with that gentleness you know your mate to have.

You smile.

Attempting another squeeze gets you a slightly delayed, returned squeeze. Gazing up at him, you find him absolutely enthralled by your affection. His light gains that bit of fuzziness again and his pupil seems to pulse as if he’s struggling to come back to you.

You can’t have that.

Leaning forward, you press the softest of kisses to his knuckles. You’re not quite sure how intent works for monsters, or if your attempts like this would even be felt - but, you push forward the feelings of worry, comfort, safety, and love.

A silent plea to return.

And finally, his light blurs as his pupil dilates, marking the end of his episode. There’s your Bear. Your Sans. Your star.

You sigh in relief as he lets out a confused rumble. You can’t help but nuzzle his knuckles as he regains his bearings. Working his jaw, he struggles to speak, frowning as he tries to recall what just happened.

“... pumpkin?” He manages to get out.

“I’m here.” You reassure him.

He sniffs the air, light shrinking in panic as he frantically searches you for injury. “b-bleeding?” He whispers, hand leaving yours as he finds that tear in your shirt sleeve. He reaches out to gingerly lift the sleeve and assess the damage.

You let him.

His frown deepens as he takes in the forming bruise and claw marks. The marks just barely drew blood, more a scratch if anything, but that does little to lessen the panic the moment he realizes he did that. As everything rushes to him, he flinches away from you, keeping his hands -his claws- as far away from you as possible.

“w-what… did i… do?” His voice is pained as he tries to remember.

“Hey, it’s okay, you didn’t mean to.” You start, keeping your voice quiet, just in case he’s dealing with a migraine on top of all this panic. His light snaps to your face, so small and weak as it warbles in his dark socket. “You were having a nightmare, and I got in the way of your thrashing. You really didn’t mean to, it’s my fault.”

His brows furrow, light flitting between you and your shoulder. He shudders and closes his sockets as you can only assume a memory washes over him.

“I’m okay.” You assure. Sure, you had a scare as you often do in these situations, but he’s back - and that’s all you needed. But, your words do little to ease him.

“hurt… you.”

“Not on purpose, and really, it’s just a scratch and a bruise. It’ll heal in a day or two.” You remind him. “I’m okay.”

You try to crawl closer to him, but he scrambles away. He settles at the foot of the bed, sitting down and hunching over as if that could shrink him in size. His skull hangs and those same claws that he swiped you with move to dig at his dead socket. 

You wince as you watch, but he doesn’t seem to even give a second thought to the pain it must cause.

“Bear.” You try.

No response.

“Sans.” You call his real name.

A twitch.

You sigh, and move again. He tenses as the mattress shifts, but you make no move to touch him. Instead you slip off the bed, ignoring the slight chill that rushes over you as you fully leave the covers. Standing in front of him, the size difference between you two becomes apparent again - even sitting and hunched, he’s still just a bit taller than you. 

He doesn’t move.

You sink to your knees in front of him, lips parting when you look up and see the tears streaming down his cheekbones. This close, you can hear the scratch of bone against bone as he claws away.

He doesn’t meet your gaze.

“Sans, please look at me.” You plead.

He slowly complies, that red light still shrunken and pulsing. It breaks your heart.

“I’m okay.” You state again, reaching out, palm up to gently cup his cheek, nudging that hand away from his socket. He lets his arm fall to his lap, shivering and leaning heavily into your touch. His sockets pinch shut and his whole body trembles. You stay strong in your affection, swiping some tears away with your thumb.

“Come lay with me.” You murmur, taking his hand in your free one. His breath hitches in a half-choked sob, meeting your gaze once more.

“...okay.” He whispers.

“Okay.” You repeat. One last swipe of your thumb across his cheek and you let your hand slip from his face, taking his other hand in yours and standing. He’s too heavy for you to actually pull him anywhere, but he lets you lead him back to a laying position. Before laying with him, you fuss about the covers, resituating them and pulling them over him. Once he’s deemed comfortable by your standards, you climb into bed next to him, facing him on your side.

Tears still spill from his sockets, you reach for his hand again.

“Sans-”

“i’m sorry.” He cries, finally breaking down. Sobs shake his big frame and he hugs himself tightly, absolutely devastated.

“Oh, my star…” You murmur worriedly, reaching out for him, and that seems to be all the invitation he needs before he crumples into your awaiting embrace. You hug him to your chest, giving him a strong, secure squeeze. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“‘m sorry.” He croaks, despite your words. 

You rest your chin on the uninjured side of his skull and leave comforting scritches along his spine.

“It’s okay.” You tell him.

You’re given yet another blubbering apology. And another, and another, and another. Each time you remind him, gently, that it’s alright. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be alright.

As his sobs start to ebb, and he finally (albeit shakily) returns your embrace - his apologies come to stop. It’s quiet, save for his occasional sniffles and the sound of fabric shifting as you continue your comforting back rub.

“... Are you okay?” You ask, now that he’s seemed to have calmed. Hoping that, perhaps he can focus a little more on himself, now. He’s been through a lot tonight and you know tomorrow will bring him a lot of exhaustion because of it. These episodes always leave him with a long recovery period.

He’s quiet, at first.

You don’t rush him, or ask again. You know he heard you.

“... no.” He finally answers, leaning into you a bit more. 

You expected that, but it doesn’t help the way your soul aches for him, wanting to chase away this hurt, this struggle, for him.

But you know you can’t.

You can, however, be here.

“Want me to keep talking?” You ask, knowing it’s not always a welcomed thing, especially when he may have a headache.

There’s another beat of silence, before you feel him nod against you.

“Okay, star.” You murmur, still keeping your voice soft regardless. At a bit of a loss for what to talk about, and feeling your own exhaustion creeping up on you, you begin humming. It’s a simple, comforting tune you know by heart. Not exactly talking, but the way he begins to relax against you, tells you this is a welcomed move.

You part your lips and begin to sing the lyrics softly.

He sighs, and while he’s seemed too scared to be all that confident in his touch, he manages to give you an appreciative squeeze. After a few verses, you notice those cute whuffle-like snores of his start up. Finishing the song, you switch back to humming until sleep claims you, as well.

Tomorrow may be rough… but for now? You and Bear will get some much needed rest.

[orbital-inclination]

HE MISSPOKE, BADLY

[soul-shenanigans]

Can I try Horror's hat? It seems big, so probably won't fit my head, but I want to try-

there you go buddy-

[yeosin-n]

Omg ur so wonderful!!! I was wondering if we could give horror some chocolate? (And if he's up for it maybe even a hug... Or a kiss) please? I love ur stuff btw!!!!

I ALMOST FORGOT HOW HOT HORROR IS he’s so fun to draw

[kaygee-doodles]

:O The boys getting turned into cats for magical reasons, do they behave differently as cats or are they pretty much the same?

Horror is the cat that's always trying to convince you that you forgot to feed them. He's starving. He hasn't eaten in YEARS. (In fact, he had eaten 20 minutes ago)

Nightmare is a smol, angry, fluffy thing that wakes you up in the middle of the night by staring intensely at you.

Killer is a chaos goblin. Nothing on a flat surface is safe.

Dust is the solar-powered cat, seemingly immobile in a sunbeam during the day, mysteriously showing up around the house at night (didn't you see him in the room you JUST left? What's he doing on the couch? How did he get there?)

Error is the cat you never see. You know he's around...somewhere. But he doesn't come out unless you are very chill, very still, and the vibes are good. When he stars align, he may decide to deign you with his presence.

[aka-indulgence]

Imminent Threat: Baby Pictures Confirmed!

I was bitten by the inspiration bug and I do love this idea a lot, heheh…

Wanna see what happens if HT!Sans catches a glimpse of your baby pictures?

(HT!Sans x Female!Reader)

(No warnings just be prepared for silly, fluff, and cute (aggression))

——————

Sans twiddles his thumbs, watching you leave with the dishes into the kitchen. Your parents had forbidden him from doing the dishes.

“You made us this wonderful meal! It’s her turn on the chores anyway,”

“What! I come home to see you and you’re just making me do chores?”

“Yes! It’s to catch up on all the chores you missed these past few months! Hahahah!”

He turned to you and whispered a pathetic little “sorry,” but you waved him off.

“It’s ok, I’m used to it. Might as well treat them since I can’t cook like you, right? Keep them company.”

So here he was, sitting on the table, feeling like he was going to expel the meal he just ate, watching your parents wipe their lips with tissue like they were about to interrogate him.

“So, how’s living with (Y/n) like?”

“good.” no no. too fast. talk more. “she…… she’s nice.”

nice? is that all i have to say about her?

“Ah. That’s good to hear,” your dad replies, taking a sip of tea from a mug.

…

i guess if i said the other things i thought of her, they’d probably want to take her away from me.

“Hey, I hope she’s more active than how she used to be. She used to stay home for days, and we’d have to remind her to go outside and get some sun!” Your mom chortles, and Sans rubs the back of his neck.

“a… actually… she’s the one that wants to leave the house now. i don’t… like leaving. the house is nicer.” Sans forces a grin, but he can’t tell if it’s coming off as awkward or spine-chillingly horrifying.

He can’t gauge how your parents reacted. Your dad smirked, and your mom tilted her head. What does that mean? Do they not approve? Sans usually prides himself in being able to read people like a book- even after the head injury. But his skull is full of thoughts.

“I imagine you’d have to stay at home to hone that cooking skill, then?” Your mom offered, “that stew was amazing! The blend of herbs and spices, the broth wasn’t too thick or thin, and the meat was cooked to perfection…”

Your dad chuckles. “I don’t know about cooking as much as my wife does, but I’ll tell you what, that’s one hell of a stew you’ve got. You could probably start a restaurant,”

“heh… heh you think?” His grin turns more genuine as his cheeks turn a tinge of dark blue.

“How did you learn to cook so well, Sans? Did you go to culinary school?” Your mom pries.

“oh… no actually, i learnt it all myself,” Sans explains, “back in the underground we didn’t have much to go on but we didn’t want to eat something completely tasteless so i learnt how to make things taste good with what we had…”

Sans realizes too late that maybe he brought up the underground a bit too casually, because all of a sudden your mom looks stricken with guilt, and your dad looks awfully uncomfortable.

“O-oh, I’m so sorry Sans, I didn’t mean to…”

“no no. i-i brought it up, you don’t have to apologize,”

Is he smiling too much? Should he be frowning? Wait hold on he’s looking at your mom too much, he should look at your dad now. Oh he’s looking away…

Why was he so bad at this? He’s relied on looking scary and stopping everyone from trying to talk to him. B-but he likes your parents, they’re nice, some of the few humans that actually look past his scary face and see him as… sort of harmless?

Your dad broke the silence.

“Yes, I’ve always tried to make the most of my meals. Like when I have crumbs I’d toss them near the anthill we used to have in the backyard. Hahah, one time when (Y/n) was very little she saw me throw breadcrumbs and asked me what I was doing. I told her I was feeding the ants, and she must have been really impressed with that idea… because,”

Your dad got into a fit of giggles, and Sans perks up.

“Tch… hih! Because the next day I found her standing in front of the anthill… with bread on top of it. Whole wheat, whole bread slice. I asked her what she was doing! And she said ‘I’m feeding the ants!’ She looked so proud I had to take a picture of her! I think I have it on my phone,”

Sans mouth opens. He all but quaked in his chair, having to physically restrain from grabbing your dad’s phone.

“m-m…” Sans coughs trying to regain composure, “may i see it,”

“On it, just… give me a sec…” Sans watched as your dad scrolled and scrolled, until…

“Found it,”

He turned his phone around.

There you were, no older than 3, in a little bucket hat, sleeveless shirt and shorts, with tiny flip flops. You had a bright, sunshine smile on your face, and humorously… a slice of bread sitting amidst the grass and dirt just a foot or two away from you.

Sans’ eyelights shrinks, his grin gone. Carefully, he takes the phone out of your dad’s hands and zooms in on your face. You had dimples in your cheeks, and they… they looked so plump like little squishballs. Your eyes were round and sparkled in the sun. His hands shook.

He must’ve looked unhinged.

“What do you think?” Your mom asked.

“sh…… she’s so small……” Sans breaths, then swallows, turning to your dad. “d… d’you… do you have more…?”

Your dad snorts, his arms crossed. “‘Do you have more’ he says,” he scoffs. “Kid, we have an entire baby album.”

****

You tuned out of the conversation in the kitchen, earphones plugging your ears, a tried and true ‘dish washing’ playlist playing as your background music. It was a nice break. You’re happy to see your parents again, but they can be a bit overbearing at times… ask Sans odd questions about monsters, sometimes mention how tiny you look next to your boyfriend (which had Sans hiding his face… they thought he was offended but he was mortified, worried your parents were hinting at how he was like with you in private).

Though you certainly didn’t miss doing chores back home, you did see it as a bit of a reprieve.

But then over the music, you heard laughter… loud laughter. It didn’t sound like your dad. And Sans doesn’t usually laugh that hard. It started soft at first but it got louder and louder, until you were sure that was Sans. What were they doing to him? It almost sounded like they found his most ticklish bone and was torturing him with him.

A laugh startled you so bad you almost dropped a clean plate onto the floor. You took off an earphone just in time for your mom to walk in.

“Hi dear, this is your dad’s, he’s finished his tea. You don’t have to wash it if you don’t want to…”

“Yea, ok-” you say, distracted and looking over your mom’s shoulder as if you could see what was causing all the ruckus. “What is happening???”

“Oh,” your mom laughed, “Sans is such a sweet, delightful monster. Your dad’s showing him your baby pictures-”

“Excuse me my WHAT?!!”

You threw the gloves onto the sink counter, washed your hands hastily, and yanked the other earphone off, tossing them haphazardly into a pocket. Tripping over your feet to sprint into the room, though you realize you’re too late.

Sans is vibrating on the sofa, having migrated from the table it seems. His eyelight was blown wide, the widest you’ve seen it, glued to the open book in front of him. Your dad flipped a page, looking unaware of the murderous skeleton next to him.

“And here… oh this was on a trip to the beach. She’d gotten scared of water because of a wave too big had brought her out from shore and her legs couldn’t reach the sand. It wasn’t out to sea or anything, but when you’re that small it must’ve been scary. But the hotel had a pool and I couldn’t have my daughter stay afraid of water… this was after a fun session of swimming in floaties and being swung into the pool.”

“ah… HAHAHAH! bright… orange…!”

It was clear to you now. Sans wasn’t laughing from something funny. He was overjoyed. So overjoyed he can’t contain it in himself that he just bursts with it. His eyelights warbled. They looked like hearts shimmering under a running river.

You grabbed your head in despair. “No, no no- what have you done!”

Your dad had looked up immediately, while Sans’ didn’t, holding onto the album. Though… his grin had twisted into something dark.

Dad took a photo out, the one he was just explaining: a picture of you laughing in orange floaties, floral swimwear, carried by your dad in a clear blue pool, looking up at the camera. The sides of the picture were slightly yellow.

“Do you remember this, poppy? It’s weird to think you were ever scared of water now… it’s hard to stop you from swimming, nowadays,”

You can’t help but smile in your heart a little. It brought back happy memories of travelling with your parents when you were little.

Unfortunately, there are far more pressing matters at the moment.

“No, wait, dad… what did you do?”

“What?”

“You… you showed Sans my baby pictures?”

“Baby and toddler pictures,” your dad corrected. “Also there’s no need to be embarrassed, I feel like it’s a right of passage to have your baby pictures shown to your significant other by your parents.”

“No, I’m not embarrassed,” you shake your hands helplessly, “it’s just… Sans is gonna kill me,”

There was an incident, almost a year ago now. You were shuffling through some things you found in a box you never unpacked… at the bottom you found a polaroid of you rolled up in a baby blue blanket and, admittedly, looking pretty darned cute.

You showed it to Sans, innocently. It’s cute, you can admit it, and you knew Sans would appreciate it.

Oh how naive you were.

He held the picture, stared at it. Was at a loss for words, though he kept trying to form them helplessly, bringing it close to his face like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Then he muttered.

“b… baby…… b… baby…”

Then he went crazy. Picking you up, not listening to your protests- usually when Sans gets in a cuddly mood he ignores your complaints but that time, it was like he really couldn’t hear you. His pupil was blown wide and constantly shifted from heart to circle. He squashed you in bed, smooshed your cheeks, kissed you until you were gasping for breath- you don’t even think it’s a sexual thing, he was just overcome with cute aggression!

It wasn’t a one time thing either. Carelessly, you’d leave the picture propped up on the window as a cute memento aesthetic… thing, maybe, but every time Sans looked at the picture too long, he’d get into his violent cuddly moods and kidnap you to the bedroom to squish you. Eventually you had to hide it to avoid inducing anymore ‘cute-induced murderous rage’ in him.

And your parents just opened pandora’s box for you.

Your brows furrow in worry as Sans looks up from the album to you, his eyelight tightening into just a fraction of what it was before, zeroing in on you. His grin was wide and deranged. He chuckled, a low, threatening sound.

“heh heh… i’m going to crush you.”

[frozrowan]

After reading @llamagoddessofficial Kraken husband scenario, I had this image in my mind that I had to draw ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

Even kraken Skull tries to keep his s/o save from himself, she still go outside at night against warnings and she end up finding Skull near the cliff leading to ocean🌊

[deerylife]

Kitty beanie KITTY BEANIE!!

[cloudyskydreams]

Haii!! I love your works and was wondering if I could request underfell sans and horrortale sans (if horrortale is okay) with a goth reader? Nothing in particular really! (Sorry if this is bad English isn't my first language 😅)

Hi thanks for requesting! This request came in perfect timing I had actually just decided today I was gonna start writing the HorrorTale bros as I finally feel I have a decent grasp of how I want their personalities! Also your English was great and I could understand perfectly, thanks so much for requesting hope you enjoy!

Undertale:Sans

•Upon first meeting he isn't phased he's a little intrigued and definitely lays the dark and gothic puns on heavy hoping to get a reaction.

•He thinks the makeup style is interesting and likes seeing what you can pull off with the limited colour palette.

•He also thinks some of the dances are pretty goofy and some are sexy. He loves watching you dance around to your music though. Please do and he might get you to try and teach him some of the ones he thinks are goofy.

•He doesn't mind the music it's not his favorite genre but he won't complain when it's on. Overtime he actually finds a few favorite songs and mumbles along to the lyrics when they're played.

•He loves walking around in public when you're all dressed up. This walking smoking hot dark and mysterious person and then there's him in house slippers and a hoodie that hasn't been washed in weeks. Definitely makes the scary dog privilege joke quite a bit.

HorrorTale: Axe

•Upon first meeting he's super quiet and doesn't talk much as he's a tad anxious around new people but your style makes you stick out to him so he starts to remember you faster.

•He digs the makeup style thinks it's the perfect mix of sexy and spooky. He likes to watch you put it on as it's sort of soothing to him and he thinks the process is neat.

•Loves goth music, the instruments normally used in it are pleasing to his non-existent ears and he really likes when you play some. He's sensitive to certain sounds and certain music gives him headaches.

•He likes the outfit style too and likes to help you pick out accessories and outfits if you want his opinion on such, he's a quiet guy so it's mostly gonna be three word sentences occasionally but you can trust him to be honest about his opinion.

•Out in public you're a power couple walking down the street both dark and mysterious looking. The weak of heart steer clear of you guys when you're out and about having fun that's for sure.

[n01r-kn1ght]

It’s finally finished-

Anyway, sans x anomaly y/n but their an alien instead

It actually turned out pretty good inmyopinion and it’s interesting to see how different the drawings look between the time I took

Anyway, this was heavily inspired by I Really Want to Stay at Your House from Cyberpunk Edgerunners

As well as @htsan ‘s human sans

Also background on its own cause I’m really proud of it

[rowanmutt-afterdark]

CRYING SOBBING SCREAMING!!!! /p

Thank you again to the wonderful @lemonyskulls for bringing the Replanting Roots crew to life for me! I commissioned them and I am IN LOVE with how much detail they put into the art. They went above and beyond my expectations. Please go and him some love and support! He deserves it with the amazing talent that he has.

Horrortale Paps- Cedar

Horrortale Sans- Hickory

Fellswap Sans- Sable

Fellswap Papyrus- Whiskey

Horrortale belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios

Fellswap Red belongs to Ziznine

Again thank you so so SO much Lemon! I am beyond happy with the results!

I will be posting the next update within a few days for Replanting Roots over on AO3.

[savi-our]

Anti-Harem with OP Mage MC pt. 3 ft. Horrortale

Its 3 am- This... this is over 3k words.... I'm both cooking and cooked apparently bc this is even longer and more detailed than the last part, I honestly dont know what came over me. The ending is a bit rushed and im posting this half asleep and barely able to make sense of whether or not any of this is actually good but i wanted to post it before going off to sleep - i do hope you enjoy it though, even if by this point im not sure you can call it an anti harem... maybe ill explore that bit more in the next part.... (p.s. i would love love looove to hear you guy's thoughts on what ive cooked up here so please leave a comment if youre inclined to <3)

Part 1 Part 2

It had been a few weeks since the attack on the monster settlement and your work kept you busy. Black and Mutt had both been a welcome new change as far as your experience in monsters went, the three of you seemed to grow closer by the day - sharing the mutual burdens of your job whenever you had any amount of free time. You and Black formed a good professional relationship, often sharing insights on the progress of monster integration into the world outside, and Mutt - albeit avoidant, seemed to develop an interest in watching you whenever he thought you wouldn't notice. He even sometimes visited you whenever his brother had been busy, coming to your office to slump on your couch and waste away his free time, scrolling through his phone and trying not to get caught staring at you while you filed away paperwork.

It was on a particularly early morning that you had arrived at your office, still dazed from your lack of sleep when a new case appeared at your desk. You rarely did personal requests, but this one you could hardly refuse as it had come from one of the joint rulers of the Underground. 

Queen Toriel summoned you, and you listened as she told you her concerns about a particular percentage of her population having an especially difficult time with the integration process. You picked up on the finer details of her request - unspoken words to her plea.

You were aware of the spatial anomaly that had caused the particular brand of chaos that was currently plaguing Monsterkind, a rift that had caused a collision of alternates and pulled them all here. It was a guarded secret among the higher ranking officials, the details shared only to those who were known to be trusted - or to those who were smart enough to see beyond the fragile lie. You were both you supposed, the Archmage themselves requested your insight into the matter, and you offered to consult wherever you could. It didn't surprise you that the Queen turned to you for assistance - involved as you were in the matter.

You agreed to her request, you could hardly refuse considering the high brand on the paperwork, the signature of the Archmage looped in finer print at the corner of the page. You left promptly, assigning a trusted associate of yours to man the office while you were gone, unfortunately the urgency of your task bid no time to waste so you left without notifying the two skeletons that had seemed to be stuck in your orbit as of late, but that was the nature of things when you had such a demanding position.

You were relocated into the depths of the Underground, a rather lavish apartment greeting you in the shadow of the castle of the royal families, but you had little time to waste, the faster you got to work the smoother the integration process would be.

You met with those currently overseeing the progress of the whole thing, a joint department consisting of monsters, humans and mages - social workers, professors, doctors, therapists and volunteers - all with ample experience concerning the more particular quirks that came with joining cultures and assessing risks where there were any. Your status would do you more harm than good here - you realize early on, advised by the royal court to take a more personal approach as you shed down your heavy coats and branded insignias - monsters in the underground were still rather wary of mages, especially ones as infamous as you. You took on the faux position of a well renowned inspector, and set yourself to figuring out what the problem was and how best to solve it.

It was there that you met them, two new yet rather familiar faces that were introduced to you as the spokespersons for the rebuffed population, Twilight and Dusk by name. 

Twilight was large, even by monster standards, a lean silhouette that towered over any others in the room with a set of jagged teeth and a weathered look to his eyes. His appearance however, seemed to be rather misleading. He was friendly, overly so, extending his hand to you in his introduction as he shook yours with a controlled precision, his crooked grin lifted, delighted to meet a new face among the many who were already so familiar over his long stay in the program. He was chatty, friendly even, a social butterfly that delighted in telling you about the many state of affairs that flitted about the establishment. There were some quirks however… every now and again he confused words, voiced idioms that you could hardly make sense of - something about frisbees. He had ticks, nervous habits and moments of sudden cautious anxiety that brought concerns to your mind, there were times where he seemed almost manic, a rattling in his bones as he flitted about the room as if trying to burn off excess magic, trying to keep his hands and mind occupied.

Then there was Dusk. Like his brother he was considerably larger than the average monster. He was bulkier, bigger, an imposing presence in the room that set even your nerves on edge. He seemed dangerous, more than any of the other monsters you've come across, something in your mind whispered caution as you introduced yourself. The best word you could use to describe Dusk was heavy, both literally and metaphorically. He dragged his words as if he practically pulled them from the depths of his mind, his movements were slow, weighed almost by some unforeseen force you could not comprehend, and every now and again he lost focus, a single red eyelight dilated and staring promptly into nothing. His mind was both sharp and slow at the same time, he often shared insights that were surprising in their outside perspective, he commented on things that others had passed by in their expertise - drawing attention to underlying issues that had been overlooked due to the fact that nobody had really thought of them as issues before he made comment. He had a finer eye for detail, but at the same time there were moments where he'd lose his train of thought, a byproduct of his severe head wound no doubt, words forgotten on the tip of his tongue - moments like those seemed frustrate him quite badly, his fingers pulled on his one blank eye socket in quiet irritation. On his better days he'd make offhanded puns that were rather dark in theme - cannibalism seemed to be a favorite of his. On his bad days his voice turned cold, words sharp as his grin pulled on his face almost maniacally, he was tense, guarded like a cornered dog ready to bare teeth.

It had taken you some time to get situated in your new environment, you spent your days meeting with the other monsters who shared similar ailments to both Twilight and Dusk, consulting with the people directly responsible for their integration process and finding correlations between things that worked best and those that didn't work at all. A common pattern in all of those monsters became clear days after your assignment, the heightened cases of sudden anxiety and panic attacks. It was odd to you for some reason, it wouldn't be unnatural for this particular batch of alternates to suffer from such things, considering what you knew they had gone through back in their own reality, but something about it seemed odd.

You investigated your suspicions further, repeatedly meeting monsters and doctors alike, questioning them about the intricacies of their ailments, trying to garner light on the plausible cause for the widespread issue. Twilight seemed eager to help you, he often accompanied you in your search for more information, more knowledge, and his assistance proved quite useful - when you questioned him as to why he seemed so willing to assist you, he responded with an abashed admission - a want to help the monsters who were struggling most finally see the light of day, to taste the fresh air of the outside world, they had been stuck underground for too long. He often stayed with you after hours, organizing papers and research as you delved into the mystery with a hyper focused obsessiveness. You found you always became like this, obsessive over things you could not define or explain, it was that part of you that had helped you rise in power as fast as you had, starved for answers, eager to explore and redefine the things unknown to you- it was almost nostalgic in a way.

 Twilight had a talent for filling blanks in your knowledge, unfamiliar territory as this was he often offered you more insight in the particularities of monster illnesses and behavioral patterns that you were not privy to. You often asked him for clarifications and added depth to your research and he provided them eagerly - either through his own knowledge or systematically organized interviews and research papers that were color coordinated and alphabetized neatly on your desk. He had a knack for organization that one, but you couldn't help but notice how his expression soured whenever he had to bend to lift a particularly heavy box of files off the floor - he tried to hide it, face turned away and the occasional popping of bones concealed by the clear of his throat, but you noticed. You tentatively questioned him about it one late evening, not wishing to pry more than he was comfortable with. He seemed embarrassed by your attentiveness but didn't deny it, hands clasped and pulling on his long fingers in a nervous habit. He revealed to you that the current brand of healing magic and medicine could do very little for his deteriorated state, the effect was not potent enough or so it seemed. The fact didn't sit right with you, and you decided in your mind that you could multitask.

Your research prolonged, and your frustrations grew as the answer to your questions evaded you. You began to spend more time in your office than in your pristine afforded apartment, head buried in books and rushed consultations between experts in the department. Your obsessiveness seemed to grow, and with it your attention to your health lessened, overtaken by a constant hunger for answers. That hunger seemed to replace your baser instincts however, and one particularly busy day the consequences of your declining attention to your physical state seemed to catch up with you.

 You had been on your way to another scheduled meeting with an on site surgeon, carrying a closed file with a hurried pace, you were far too absorbed in your head to notice the shake of your own fingers, or the way the corners of your vision blurred. You were so absorbed in fact, that you didn't even notice the sudden approach of Dusk from the hall across from you. You had ran right into him, nose buried in the plush of his sweater as you had your senses knocked right out of you. The contact didn't even phase him, and he had caught you by the forearm to steady you. You had apologized, noting how it was unlike you to be so distracted in your surroundings. He hadn’t seemed to mind, his large eyelight coming to a soft focus on the point of contact with your arm. 

The force of your run in with him had knocked the file you were carrying onto the ground however, and as you leaned down in your hurry to grab it the world around you spun. You lost your bearings, and your vision turned to black as you fainted, vaguely aware of the pull of someone's arms around you.

You had woken up in one of the medical rooms, an IV in your arm and a growing headache in the corner of your mind. Dusk was there too, hunched in an office chair that was far too small for his hulking frame, you would have laughed - if you hadn't felt like shit at the time that is. Your movement seemed to wake him from his zoning out, and he had leveled you with a look that you couldn't readily discern - something of a mix between worry, scrutiny and confusion. The doctor on hand had walked in to check up on you, cautioning you to pay better attention to your health, you had felt like a child, embarrassed with your own state. Dusk had sat silent next to your bed while you were being discharged, and as you stood to leave with an order to go home and get some rest from the doctor, he stood with you.

The skeleton escorted you home, a silent but unmistakable presence at your side and as you were ready to thank him and say your goodbyes at your door, he had asked you when you had last gotten something to eat - you couldn't give him a straight answer. 

He had pushed his way inside your temporary home then, and you questioned him in your confusion as he opened your fridge to find it mostly empty, he clicked his tongue, a low growling hum from the pit of his ribs as he pushed you down on your couch with a stern order to ‘wait here’

He blinked out of existence then, returning after a while with a greasy bag of food and he urged you to eat, pushing the bag in your lap despite your urge of protests. You complied, silently eating under the watchful eye of his softly dilated gaze.

From then on Dusk began to visit your office on a regular basis, bringing both you and Twilight regular meals and spending his time lounging in one of the bigger chairs available at the time, idly flipping through books. His presence seemed to anchor you, and often he knocked you out of your hyper focused state with a random pun or an offhand comment about the weather. It worked, your urgency had stilled to a healthy normal, mind clearer as both brothers had now taken to paying a keen interest in your physical condition. You still remembered the frantic lecture Twilight had given you after your little trip to the emergency room. He had begun to limit your time in the office after that, setting a healthy time table with a balanced schedule for both rest and work.

The growing connection between the three of you was plain as day, and as days passed you began to find the answers you were so desperately looking for. It was a regular day in the office when you finally solved the mystery - a calm afternoon spent in a comfortable conversation with the brothers over a cup of tea and some snacks Twilight had graciously shared. You had been brainstorming with the brothers, shooting off your theories for plausible causes when Dusk piped in with something that caught your attention. 

You almost dropped the cup of tea you had been idly cradling in your hand. Jumping up to your feet in a newly discovered frenzy, you rifled through a box of files that had been offhandedly pushed to the side, and as you flipped through a particular heavy file about dietary needs it was then that it hit you, something so simple and so overlooked - of course Dusk would have been the one to point it out. Your grin was almost manic in its excitement as the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place, and you turned to the brothers that had gathered behind you in their confusion. You pulled each of them down by their faces, placing a loud smack of your lips on both of their foreheads and watched their faces glow warm as you called them both a genius. You rushed out of the office, missing exchanged looks of embarrassment - eager to share and confirm your discovery.

It was simple really, so easy to miss in all the confusion of the spatial rift and the ongoing process of integration. It was the food that was making the monsters so sick and riddled with anxiety. Coming from a reality here there had been a significant shortage of food - the first response of the healthier populace had been to feed them, feed them as much as they wanted to eat, it was natural really. Except monster food - magical in nature had high levels of energy, too high for a population of monsters that had been previously so deprived of sustenance. It made their magic run rampant, fluctuate in its intensity with high highs and even lower lows. It was the same in humans, eating too much after starving made the patient sick and would effectively do more harm than good. The answer was right there all along, and you cursed yourself at not seeing it sooner.

Things moved quickly after that, you wasted no time to form a plan of order for a change in provisions, something less straining, human food imbued with magical properties was the natural choice. It would take time for the monster's conditions to stabilize, but after a few days on the new program you began seeing positive results. You had reported your success to the royal family and Toriel had once again summoned you for a showing of your solution. If things went as predicted, the rebuffed population would soon show results of steady improvement, they would finally be prime and ready for the further relocation process.

The queen had thanked you for your service and had shown you a rather unexpected act of kindness in doing so, inviting you over to her rooms for a private tea party where you both conversed not like high mage and ruler, but as two troubled souls with the weight of the world on each of your shoulders. It was pleasant, if not a bit awkward on your part, but Toriel seemed to have a knack for making someone feel welcome.

It was a couple of days before your departure that you had invited the skeleton brothers to your apartment for a celebration dinner, you had surprised them with a meal of your own making. Expertly following the guide of their new diet you had imbued it with your own magic, the fact seemed to fluster the brothers for some reason, but they were unwilling to comment as to the reason why. 

The evening trailed off in shared conversation, and as the hour grew late, the mood slightly sombered, it seemed like both Twilight and Dusk had something they had been meaning to confess for a while now, but it had never seemed like the right time. You had a feeling you knew what it was about - they weren't aware of just how much you knew about their past -you had been pretending to be a high ranking inspector after all, a secret as big as alternate realities wouldn't be handed off to someone as low down the hierarchy as that.

It was then that they opened up to you, a cautious whispered admission of their past sins, sins bred out of desperation and grief. In a moment of your own vulnerability you told them you knew, you knew and understood. You reassured them that it didn't change your opinion of them, you shared gentle words of encouragement, soft admissions of your own grief filled memories. 

You would not judge them for their past, because you saw in them a desperate wish for a better life, a fragile hope that they could learn to become monsters capable of loving themselves. 

Perhaps it was wrong, out of all the people in the world it was you who were the greatest threat to their continued existence. You realized you held their fragile future in your scarred hands, and decided to trust in the goodness in their souls.

[orbital-inclination]

*Ht!Sans wishes you a happy belated valentine’s day. and tries to ask you out on a date shhhh

(And a couple more under the cut~)

[kalid0]

Last of : "htsan" sans × you week challenge

Day 7: I LOVE/love you.

Thanks @htsan for such a fun art challenge! I had so much fun this week doing this and what better way to celebrate the anniversary of sans being crowded tumblr sexy man lol!

[hashileio]

i just wanna bury my face in the skeletiddies like....is that too much to ask...

made a slightly more generic (bald) version so you too can enjoy burying your face 

[kaygee-doodles]

what would happen if the boys saw reader getting harassed by someone?

Murder.

Well. The tactical application of pants-wetting fear.

Then Murder