#hush!frisk

[afterartist]

Back again to feed you with my Daily (for legal reasons: not actually daily) angst :D

I shall never let Barrier happy just as Tiktok shall never let me have any quality (,:

So here’s the version with the full pics

(CW: blood, like, a lot of it)

And the actual frames for ur viewing entertainment

Also, just of note, Barrier technically counts as a Bad Sans,

He’s not part of Nightmare’s Gang but he is hunting Ink down across the Multiverse trying to get revenge for his AU (oh my gosh I just realised he’s basically just Cross- I hate this- nothing in original anymore lmao)

But yeah, he’s willing to get rid of anyone that stands in his way of his goal (though he won’t attack anyone unless necessary, his only true target is Ink)

Love that for him tho <3<3

[cherry-shipping]

ooooohh i wanna draw me and papyrus having a fun cool besties sleepover. and an additional doodle with sans like i talked about in that one post awhile ago that i cant find for like the life of me

[demo-ness]

top 2 synonyms for termination: abortion and ballgame

[shellxrls]

MDNI | 18+ content cw; suggestive/smutty

i know coriolanus snow moans obnoxiously loud and i know that when you both start to get more comfy with each other & start having hushed, giggly quickies - usually in a janitors closet overwhelmed with the smell of bleach and an assortment of other cleaning products - you have to slap a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet. in turn he’ll do the same to you - bc his face all screwed up in pleasure and teeth biting against your palm have you threatening to reveal your precarious position with laughter, crows feet crinkling as you grind yourself against him harder and amuse yourself over the fact that panem's future president is just some guy who'll start whimpering the minute you frisk his dick.

[eccentricallygothic]

|| The Farmer's Way ||

Description: With the gang gone for good, Arthur had retired and you were his reward. Or so he believed. 

Pairing: Dark!Arthur Morgan | Gender-Neutral Spouse!You. 

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Arthur Morgan or the RDR universe. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, gross stuff because that's all I think about while playing the game, age gap, groping, dirty talk, degradation, doggy style, penetration, spanking, biting/marking, sexism, wife kink but it doesn't matter what you identify as because he's gross like that so tw for sure. 

Note: Fair warning, he's a bit of a sicko and I am a mental slut. Also this is kinda my first time with gender neutral smut so I am very sorry if I got something wrong. I am willing to rectify if I did make any such mistake. 

The hot June air blew past you and pricked at your rather pampered skin. You felt a droplet of sweat trickle down your temple as you winced and shielded your face from the sun, the rays now attacking the skin of your arm instead. A grunt escaped you when you willed your feet, which were clad in some glittery pumps, to push on towards the huge barn of your family farm. A string of disgusted curses foxed their way out of your mouth when the smell of dung and hay wafted into your nostrils from the giant red wooden box that was literally radiating stinky heat. 

Your feet halted right outside the heavy double doors and you had to take a long breath to brace yourself before you entered. Your features scrunched in disdain as you tried to hold your breath, clutching the cool jug and glass that you were holding tighter as you slipped inside before the weight of the door caused it to close by itself. Clenching your jaw to focus on the task at hand, you slowly walked forwards and concentrated on your breathing to ensure you didn't inhale any of the barn filth. 

It was a fairly easy piece of work.

Give the lemonade to your husband and leave. 

Simple, right? 

No. 

Not when said husband is Arthur Morgan. 

As his fingers wrapped around your wrists to keep you from leaving after you had placed the jug and glass down, your breath hitched as you felt a bile rise in your throat from pure disgust. The dust and sweat on his fingers was gut wrenching. 

"Fixin' to leave already?" His other hand came up to tangle in one of the two silky ribbons you wore on both sides of your head in half ponytails after he had pulled you against his hard chest, the coarse hairs on his chest scratching the skin of your back. "I was missin' you so much, baby" you uneasily shifted in his hold, goosebumps rising on your skin when you felt his fingers trail up from your wrist to your forearm. "It's almost like you showed up 'cause you read my mind" you could barely suppress your gasp as your body jumped in reaction to his stubbly lips suddenly finding your ear. 

"I…" Your voice was a mere squeak and you had to concentrate to make yourself sound a bit less pathetic. "I left the food on the stove" your eyes fluttered shut before clenching as you suppressed the urge to retch at both the feeling and smell, arm folding to let your elbow press into the side of his torso. The man only hummed as his browned and dirty hands felt you up, basically frisking your barely clad body as his lips pressed rushed kisses against your neck. "A- Arthur!" You flinched when he bit down on a hickey on the junction of your neck, fingers finding your nipples through the sheer fabric of one of the many silk dresses he made you wear. 

The older man did not budge, only grunting when you probed his chest harder, hips trying to wriggle free. "The grub can wait, hush now" your limbs screamed at you to fight. Try and push him away. Hit him with something. Make a run for it. Never look back. "Mmm, baby" your eyes teared up when his other hand slipped from the ribbon to trail down your abdomen and to your nether regions. "If it was up to me, I'd keep ya bare as a jaybird 'round the clock" your jaw clenched at his words but you knew better than to hurl the heavy jug that was in front of you against his head. 

Because you had done stuff like that countless times in the beginning of your forced marriage seven months ago. 

Except, you had no idea how but your husband had somehow trained and kept a number of wolves to guard the property only God knew how. 

No one could come in and you could never leave. 

The punishments that you had been subjected to upon trying to do so were more than enough to keep you on your best behavior. 

"Oh, darlin', you taste mighty fine" you were flipped and easily backed into one of the many stables. "Now, let me try out that pretty little mouth" your eyebrows scrunched as you craned your neck backwards to get away from him. The reverberations of Arthur's chuckle buzzed through your chest as he pressed into you and left you trapped and helpless. "Ain't ya just a foolish little thing? Thinkin' you can get away from your old man?" His rough palms cupped your face as he dipped his head in, chasing your lips with his own and snickering when you tried to move. 

When you had seen this mysterious cowboy turn up to buy your family farm off of your useless brother seven months ago, you had not thought much of it. Sure, you were angry that his gambling had ended him up in so much debt that he had no choice but to sell off your family legacy, but you had bright plans with your scholarship program at a prestigious college, and you had been so ready to leave this life that you had never liked much in the first place behind for one of revolution and modernity. 

Only, when all of your documentation as well as your brother and his family disappeared the night before your final departure, the then stranger and now your husband revealed that you had been part of the deal. 

As Arthur fucked into you on your wedding night -as he had promised your brother that he would not take you before that-, the man had confessed how lovely you had looked resting on a tree branch as you chewed on your lip, completely engrossed in your book. 

You knew alcohol and the colorful powders that your brother loved to use had done his mind in, but handing you off like merchandise to a man with no regard for your orientation or taste was something you had never expected from him. Not after he had been your legal guardian for so long. 

But then again, he never understood your ways and thought revolution was a blasphemy. 

In your brother's world, you either did the hard work on the field or became a field worker's home runner. 

And your open disdain for the farm work had earned you the latter. 

The irony was laughable, because he probably thought he was protecting you by choosing a secure future for his baby sibling. The right thing. 

Your spark had always scared him, and so he suppressed it once and for all under the mundaneness of the farm by locking you up in his own kind of a gilded cage and handing the keys to the man who was all over you at the moment.  

'Excitement is a double edged sword. It is thrilling and promising but it can also be dangerous.' That you couldn't deny.

The thrumming in your nether regions was proof. 

Frightening, shameful, repulsive proof.

"Arthur…" You whimpered as your vision zeroed in on his rough lips that brushed against yours soon before pressing into them. 

The man moaned, rubbing his crotch against yours as he deepened the kiss by tilting his head to the side and forcing his tongue in your mouth, the taste of cigarettes and coffee making you cringe and try to move away but a tight squeeze to your ass with his coarse hand made you gasp and hence open your mouth. Then his tongue was down your throat. 

Everything was rough and dirty about him. 

You hated it.

Sometimes he purposely rubbed his filth against your clean clothes and body to add insult to injury. He would laugh as you would hold your breath and try to get away only to be trapped between his strong body and some surface. Arthur would then watch you squirm and struggle until you ran out of breath and had no choice but to inhale his scent. 

"Dang it, I can't hold back no more" Arthur was panting when he finally broke off to let you both breathe, one of his hands bolting down to his belt while the other one held you steady. "I need ya right now…" The kiss had flushed your lips and you could feel the change in size as you ran your tongue over them to accumulate some moisture. "You gonna be good and take it for me, darlin', won't ya?" And while your brain screamed at you to know better, you squeezed your legs and whined, taking deep breaths as one of your fists bunched some of his sweaty shirt in it. 

"Arthur…" A small smirk made its way on his face while he hurriedly relieved himself of all decency. He recognized that tone. 

"Now ya know better than to call me that, baby" heat spread across your cheeks as you whimpered, biting your lip before you lowered your head and reached for his hand that was pinching one of your nipples through your sheer dress. "Go on now, you know my preference" your eyes fluttered shut as you took a shaky breath, massaging the hand that was toying with your chest and arching your back. 

"... H- Hubby…" Arthur cursed under his breath like he always did whenever he got you to call him that. Then he reached out for your other hand and brought it to his erect cock, the feeling of its thick veins against your soft fingertips causing your hole to clench around air. 

"Aw, shit, darlin'" he guided your hand up and down his twitching cock. "Can ya feel it?" His body pressed against yours. "This here is what ya do to me" the tip of his organ released some hot precum and you couldn't help but shudder at the memories it triggered. 

Memories of how it felt inside you. 

Before you knew it, as always, reason was out the window before you could grab onto it and your mind had decided shame could come later. Who knew when or if you would ever make it out of here and Arthur was way too good at making you feel strange things that kept you giving into him for more.

"Please, hubby" you whispered, unable to hold back anymore as you worked your wrist to please him. "Please…"

"Please, what, baby?" He pecked your lips over and over before moving down to the corner of your mouth and then further along your jaw. "Use your words for me" his lips locked around a patch of your delicate skin as he sucked, causing you to bend your back outwards. "Get, now."

"P- Please take me…" You shuddered as the sound of his lips forming yet another bruise along the expanse of your neck grew louder and louder in the air. "Please… please…" You couldn't get yourself to utter any more obscenity than that. 

"You mean you want me to fuck you?" Your heart dropped at the bluntness of his words, the feeling of his stubbly lips curling against your skin almost making you want to retreat, but only almost. 

Besides, you couldn't leave on your accord even if you wanted to. 

Though you really didn't want to leave this barn anymore. 

Not before the ache between your legs was relieved. 

When you didn't respond verbally, Arthur clicked his tongue as he came back up to face you and reached for his hat before placing it on your head. He loved to take you like that. "Come on, darlin'. You know I ain't gon' do nothin' 'til you say it for me" but then one of his hands creeped between your legs to caress your intimate part and your legs trembled in reaction; body submitting at once. 

Taking in a deep and shaky breath, you braced yourself before mumbling out your words, hoping and praying they were enough for him because you knew as well as you knew it was day that you didn't have any more indecency in you to talk the kind of filth he could with a straight face.

"P- Please fuck me, hubby…" One of his eyebrows raised as he leaned in closer. 

"I'm sorry, what was that there?" You almost choked his cock between your fingers but you knew better than hostility. 

"I- I said…"

"You said?" 

Your jaw clenched in annoyance because you were so needy all thanks to his dirty hands and now he was not helping. 

"I said p- please fuck me, hubby" you said as clearly as you possibly could, tone almost blunt. 

He finally seemed intent. "Your wish is my command, darlin'" the man had you flipped and bent over the stable before you could even register it. 

Your gaze settled on the little pony in front of you as you felt his stiff tip prod your entrance, the foreplay having lubed his cock more than enough. Since you weren't allowed to wear underwear, the lack of it granted him easier access to you and Arthur was sliding in with a grunt a moment later, squeezing both your ass cheeks at the same time as he cursed. 

"Fuck, baby. You're the tightest little thing I've ever laid down with" your fingers gripped the stable as you jumped when he landed a spank to one of your cheeks, slowly moving through you to get you to adjust. "Shit, look at you. Such a pretty little farm wife, baby" your face scrunched up in both discomfort and sensory overload due to how sensitive you felt down there. 

"Please…" Your mouth always betrayed you in moments like these despite your best efforts to stay as quiet as possible. 

But it felt even better when you let it get the best of you and drown you completely, the vile words coming out of your own mouth adding to the pressure between your hips before stars exploded in your vision. 

"Please what, sweet little thing?" You felt his chest drape over your back as he rubbed his stubbly cheek against yours, hips starting to find a rhythm as the speed of his thrusts increased. 

"Please… more" you couldn't help but lean your face against his to withstand the sensitivity, eyes fluttering as you chewed on your bottom lip in concentration, your velvety walls sheathing his veiny cock with every push. 

Arthur's chest reverberated against your back. "Ya act like you're too good for all this, but deep down you're just a horny little hussy, ain't ya darlin'?" You whined loudly as you clenched around him, starting to move your own hips against his now. "Jus' look at you, whinin' and squeezin' 'round me in front of li'l Sally like a silly 'lil jezebel" that was what you had named the pony that stared at you with her curious eyes. "But ya love that deep down, don't ya?" Your eyebrows furrowed when his words started to crack the haze that had formed in your mind, making you lower your head to cancel him out and focus on your relief.

But you could never win with Arthur. 

"You can go on ahead and deny it all you want. But this trashy li'l hole of yours tells me all I need to know everytime, honey" his lips bluntly moved against the shell of your ear as he gathered one of your knees in his hands and pushed it up against the frame of the stable before finding its way to your nipples again, other hand gliding down to the quivering organ between your legs. 

As Arthur's hips sped up and your body started to rock back and forth against the wooden frame with each powerful thrust, the sound of skin clapping against its like filled up the smelly barn. His hat fell over your eyes and you knew you were in for a long day. 

[hadesoftheladies]

Girlhood Is Surveillance

In the imaginations of most men, oppressive policing is done by a military force or officers of a district. Men are deployed, with weapons and uniform, to enforce the will of the state. They use violent means (or the threat of violence) to intimidate. Certain words are banned by the government and uttering them risks being locked up, done away with, killed.

Yet, the most powerful, pervasive, and far-reaching form of surveillance is the reality for most girls.

Oppressed groups typically go through more surveillance than the oppressing class. They are viewed with more suspicion, afforded less allowances, and must work harder to prove themselves worthy of basic rights. The government is aggressively involved. They mandate what schools can teach, what media houses can publish, what public speakers can say.

For girls, surveillance starts before they can walk. This kind of surveillance is an extension of the surveillance her mother endures from her peers. She is dressed appropriately in pink, in bonnets, in frills and baby bows. By the time she is five, she is policed by her closest relatives. She may or may not be allowed to run shirtless like her brothers. Especially when her uncles are there. She must not wear nail polish or she must play with makeup. She must wear tutus and dresses.

This also happens to boys, but in a much different way. The reason I describe girlhood specifically as surveillance is because in a patriarchal, pornified world, the boy's body is neutral, that is, not provocative. Not insulting.

The female body, on the other hand, is semiotically significant. It is a symbol of sex, of desire, of lust (at least as a man experiences it) and thus is wicked, crude, and crass. The girl is surveilled because on the streets, in the home, by anyone who looks at her, who she is is interpreted to be provocative. In other words, her femaleness, naked or evident, is hate speech. Or impolite language. Language that polite society cannot be seen to be having. Her shoulders, knees, hands, thighs, breasts, are pornography.

This is just a fraction of the surveillance of girlhood.

As she grows up, she learns there are ways she must sit, things she must not know, things she must not say, and things she must wear. Her mother (and sometimes father) are the chief police on these things. They watch her, check her before going out, frisk her to make sure the skirt is not rising above her knees, the hijab is in place, etcetera.

On the streets, the girl learns, that she is also being watched by others. Men whistle at her as she walks to primary school. She learns how easy it is to be shamed as a girl. By teachers, strangers on the road, girls in school, boys at the playground. For having hairy legs, a crooked (normal) nose, a bare face, a face that isn't bare, too much height, too big boobs, too small boobs, thin lips or full lips, a flat butt, a butt that shows, etcetera.

She censors her womanhood when it comes. For if her brothers or father see her blood in the toilet, that is her body once again being provocative. Perhaps she becomes aware as a teenager, of the inequality and injustice. If she speaks out, she will be met with a host of police ready to put a stop to it. Her best friend will say, "Some women like looking beautiful. It is not a crime to want to be beautiful. You are judging me." Her mother will say, "Girls libidos don't matter. Sex is not for girls to enjoy, but for men." Her father will say, "Don't worry your pretty little head about things you don't understand." They will all dismiss, all shame, all hush her. They will call her ungrateful, a lesbian (which means social outcast, unnatural, inhuman, wrong), a radical, or a child throwing a tantrum. All of which are threats, whether or not they recognize them as such.

This policing system does not need the use of officers or the military much because the narrative is in society's consciousness. The people will police deviants themselves after the government tells them what the deviants look like and gives them the stakes of noncompliance. This kind of surveillance is also older than the government, if not as old as it is. It's oldness makes it that much more difficult to notice and resist.

The people who love you become the police. They will snitch on you to their peers if you do not conform. Your mother will tell your aunts and grandmother. Your father will joke about you with your brothers. Your sister will tell on you to the popular girls. And these are not the worst kind. Most girls, like every other animal, every other human being, will go the route with the most ease and the best chance at survival.

They will conform. They will cross their legs. Do their hair according to their age. Paint or not paint their nails. Wear the hijab. Wear skirts that go over the knee. Wear the pink. Curl their hair. Smear the lipstick, eyeliner, mascara. Put the powder and glitter on themselves. Wear the heels and stockings. Kiss the boy, etcetera.

And now, because they've been told how closely they're being watched, for their looks, whether their clothes are appropriate or not, whether their mothers are happy or not, whether their brothers feel threatened or disgusted by their pads or their tomboyishness or not, whether they are excelling too much in sports or academia or too little, whether they are smart or not, whether they are fat or not, whether they are acceptable or provocative or not . . . it becomes of paramount importance that they surveil themselves. Because they are in a hypervigilant state. They are in survival mode.

Girls are their own self-police. Harsh on every angle and feature. Because they have been told that people pay special attention to them everywhere they go. And to some degree, this is true. Everyone is easily insulted by femaleness, because femaleness is provocative. Please note, not femininity, femaleness. Femininity is camouflage because it signals conformity. Agreeing with the narrative that insists that the female body is the symbol for sex or motherhood. That the female body is pornography. The women that flaunt their bodies and say, "I am sexy and want you to know it!" are conforming. The women that hide their bodies and duck their heads to show meekness toward their God are conforming. None of them challenge the assertion that the female body is by-default provocative, an invitation to sex, shameful.

Now, surveillance has expanded. You see girls tilting their heads in one direction on their cameras because they believe this is their best side. They all have makeup or makeup filters. That thin their faces and enlarge their eyes. That make their lips a little fuller. They gag themselves and retch up nutrients and food in order to keep themselves safe. Obsessed with beauty and meekness because it is their livelihood. What secures them in society.

And yet . . . does it? Little girls are killed for a little hair showing from beneath their headscarf. Young women are murdered by the men whose advances were rejected. Toddlers are whistled at by grown men on the street. Teenage girls are the sex symbol of the generations in TV shows, movies, music videos. Mothers starve their girls, physically and emotionally abuse their girls, to keep them compliant. Girls have burn marks, scars, wounds from conformity. They have blistered feet and bra lines burned into their ribcage.

The government is not inactive, either. It does not punish femicides. It mandates forced birth. It regulates population by regulating the human female, rather than the male that has been left to run amock. Who starts these pregnancies and is responsible for any statistic for violence in the general population. It ensures that women need men to survive the economy. It ensures that women are successfully sold and bought for the economy. The pimps need their money, after all. And the president needs the pimps. The oligarchs need their workers, too. Workers need mothers to create them and wives to sustain them. Girlhood is the governments business.

A girl will blame herself for how her boyfriend treats her, for being raped. She will then, instead of looking at the world, at the perpetrator, will police herself and other girls around her even more aggressively. Violently.

Surveillance is most powerful when privacy is destroyed and the person made into a data point to be exploited. Girls do not have privacy, for their private parts are taboo discussions in public life. They are offensive discourse and so must be suppressed and regulated.

Girlhood is living under the most extreme and powerful form of surveillance, where everyone is the girl-police, including the girl herself.

[punsmaster69]

28/MAR/20XX

"Are we all set, do you think?"

"pretty sure."

she pats the seat next to her and lifts up the blanket, prompting me to join her and frisk.

"Then we are just waiting on Flowey."

on cue, flowey wheels into the room dragging a bag of miscellaneous junk food behind him.

"oh, thanks for bringing me this."

i take the bag from him.

"HEY?!?"

"Give me that back, you smiling trashbag!!"

"come get it, bud."

"Sans..."

toriel starts.

a vine immediately shot forward to curl around my arm, and suddenly a very angry flower child was wrangling the bag out of my hand by force.

with my other hand, i grab the petalled assailant and hold him in the air. he has the bag in his mouth like an animal.

". . ."

"you got it back not-so-fair or square..."

"buuut, i guess you can keep it."

toriel holds out her hand for flowey to transfer onto.

"Pre-movie entertainment..."

frisk mumbles, pressing a button on the remote.

"E-nnoyance-ment, more like."

toriel makes a face.

"That."

"That is not even close to a word..."

"to be fair, you got what he meant by it. i'd say it works."

"I am not sure you should encourage an entirely false vocabulary."

"Why are you defending it. YOU are the E-nnoyance-ment, Sans."

"can't say no to coming up with gibberish."

"Even you admit that it is nonsense, then-"

hand in the air, frisk mashes the volume button until it's too loud to continue a conversation. once we're all silent, they turn it back down.

"Thank you for your cooperation. Now shut the heck up with the fighting. Watch the movie."

——

"Quit your damn crunching, boy."

poking flowey in the face.

he scowls and smacks their hand away.

"Language, Frisk."

"Sorry."

"But for the love of all that is holy, Flowey, shut up."

a few moments go by. a somewhat quiet scene begins in the movie, and flowey begins crunching on his snacks as loudly as possible once again.

"𝘍𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘺. Please."

frisk glares at him.

"I will literally deck you."

"Is simply allowing you to have snacks going to become an issue?"

flowey stops crunching.

"That only punishes me!!"

"Frisk had snacks too, did they not?"

they crinkled a bag of empty gummies.

"𝘿𝙞𝙙."

"wow."

"you guys are missing the entire scene."

"Shhhhhh."

toriel hushes them, and they listen for at least a little bit.

——

"To your room."

"This is Flowey's-!"

"DON'T BLAME IT ON ME!!!"

"You were 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 fighting equally."

"Go. I do not want to hear a peep from either of you until you have worked things out."

angry grumbling as the frisk and flowey respectively shuffle and wheel away.

"..."

"been a while since you had to do that."

frisk had started stealing some of flowey's snacks and whatnot, which he of course blew up over. and, uh. they escalated from there and got sent away.

"I understand if you do not want to stick around any longer."

"i would, but i kinda did promise paps i'd play a game with him when he got home."

"which, uhh..."

i check the time.

"means i've got about fifteen minutes."

"Oh!"

"Do not let me hold you, then."

"update me on 'em, okay?"

i gesture down the hall and she nods.

"Certainly. I am sure they will resolve things."

"seeya, lady."

"Goodbye, Sans."

lightly, i bonk my head against hers before disappearing behind her couch and stepping out in front of ours.

i toss myself onto the couch and wait for papyrus.

——

"OVER THAT?"

"yep."

"AGH. I HAVE BEEN WORKING WITH FLOWERY ON CONFLICT RESOLVEMENT, TOO."

"resolution."

"HE WAS DOING SO WELL!!"

"hard to resolve a fight if you started it."

"I'LL... HAVE TO TALK WITH HIM ABOUT THAT AS WELL, I SUPPOSE."

papyrus clicks the buttons on his controller rhythmically as he works on building something.

" 'THAT'. WHAT WOULD YOU CALL IT?"

"probably incitement or something."

"THOUGHT AS MUCH."

"....."

he stares at his building on the screen.

"WHERE IS THE GOLD?"

"I CAN'T PROPERLY RECREATE MY BATTLE BODY WITHOUT IT."

"still by your previous self-statue, i think."

"INDEED IT IS!!"

"OH, AND THERE'S THE TOOL YOU WERE LOOKING FOR A WHILE AGO."

"oh, sick."

——

it's almost midnight, and i haven't heard a peep from tori until now.

all she sent was a photo of frisk and flowey asleep beside each other over some papers on the floor, with a lot of random doodles and words on the scattered pages.

dunno what happened there, but if whatever it was made 'em stop fighting for long enough to fall asleep then i'd say it worked.

[denieatsart]

MORE DADMARE

I'm coming up with the backstories rn because Killer and Dust obviously didn't murder their whole aus as small children ( Frisk and Chara hush )

Killer was part of a DT experiment

Horror lost the part of his skull in his au's half-collapse

Dust ... still a WIP . He's very shy tho :)

Ask any of them anything pls questions help me make lore lmao /nf

[carlyraejepsans]

fave songs from each of your undertale playlists/mixes GO!

well, i didn't know if you meany favorite song as in the one i like objectively the most, or the best one for the character so i thought I'd do the latter!

sansmix: Pinch me - Barenaked Ladies

alphys: ... Disco! in the Panic Room - Bug Hunter

flowey/asriel.... ooh that's a tough one. it's gonna be a tie between Beekeeper - Keaton Henson, and Daffodil - Florence + The Machine

chara: That's Okay - The Hush Sound (i need to find more songs for this mix. it's a bit bland rn)

papyrus: POLLYANNA (I BELIEVE IN YOU) - Catherine Warwick

frisk: I'm Going To Go Back There Someday

aand that's about it. i have other playlists for other characters but they're still so small I'd rather keep em private. hope this suffices!

[theveryconfusedartistsart-blog]

Flowey's Funniest Home F Ups

(Contains MAJOR spoilers for my fics, Growing Pains 1 and 2) Basically, little scenes from throughout story where Flowey accidentally does something stupid and it ends up biting him in the metaphorical ass (BUT it's more funny than depressing)

Interestingly, I noticed there were more of these types of scenes in GP 2 than in the first one, he gets VERY humbled in a more physical comedy sort of way.

Growing Pains 1, Chapter 2

Flowey summoned up a spikier vine to guard him, to which the girl nimbly backed up from before she could run face first into it.

“Apologize first!” Flowey snapped back.

“Apologize for WHAT?” she argued, she too was beginning to look like she was about to cry, mainly out of frustration.

But apparently wasn’t as frustrated as much as Flowey was as he lost his patience and slammed a basketball hard into the side of her head, she immediately fell to the grass.  .   .  .

 He stopped everything when she didn’t get up fast enough; noticing her eyes were closed, he stared carefully, fear twisting inside of him. .  . 

The fear rose when the others quickly became aware of the scene, he could see the anxiety in their eyes, the hushed whispers between them as they stared at the scene. .  . 

 He was beginning to call it quits as the sickening dread spread through him and worsened, if the others found out that he killed a human or severely hurt one they’d probably lock him back in the Underground or… worse.

All he wanted was to teach these brats a lesson they’d never forget, not kill them. . .

Then! To his relief, the girl suddenly groaned and rubbed at her head and shot up back to her feet.

“Done napping?” he quipped, quickly brushing the incident off as if it were nothing.

____________________

Growing Pains 1, Chapter 2

“You have to talk to me, you can’t ignore me forever. We live together for fudge sake!” They said, talking to his back while he was pretending to be busy playing his zombie game.

“…,”

“Look I’m sorry for outing you to mom, but you know she deserved to know you were alive, dad too, besides, you know they were eventually going to find out anyway, I know you try to hide it, but you still sort of look like yourself, I know that doesn’t make any sense but- it’s true,”

“…,”

“If you’re a grumpy jerkwad who beats up people with basketballs say nothing,”

Finally, Flowey shot around inside his flower pot to look at them so hard he nearly knocked himself over, his face seething with anger, “ME?! YOU THINK I’M THE JERK?! I TOLD YOU I DID IT FOR YOU!”

_____________________

Growing Pains 1, Chapter 2

His bad mood was getting worse and worse “what are you TALKING ABOUT?! I’ve told you, I don’t HAVE a soul- WHICH MEANS I CAN’T CARE ABOUT ANYONE! This is a stupid pointless conversation! Don’t you understand that taking me a therapist isn’t going to work?! I bet you’re just doing this to make you feel better about yourself!”

Toriel remained calm though, if anything, she seemed almost intrigued “but if you do not have a soul, then why did you want ‘revenge’ on the other children that bullied Frisk?”

But stubbornly, Flowey was no longer listening, “LALALALALALALALALALA!!! I’m not talking about this anymore! This whole thing you call a ‘conversation’ is as stupid and idiotic as you are, you OLD. UGLY. HAG!!”  

 “ASRIEL!” Frisk gasped loudly in disbelief, glaring at him in disgust.

____________________________

Growing Pains 1, Chapter 3

Once Frisk was finished they finally looked back at Flowey, whom had been distracting himself by making tiny airplanes out of the sticky notes, catching him in the act of aiming a plane at them, one eye squinting in concentration.

The little teenager cracked an amused grin as the airplane flew off and immediately began to crash way too soon, falling to the floor between the two.

Flowey’s face went deadpan serious, “look at what you did.”

Frisk didn’t fight the giggles that came out, and it forced Flowey to break character and crack a shy smile.

_____________________________

Growing Pains 1, Chapter 21

Frisk sighed glumly, "I miss the Shopkeeper, she's so nice and pretty, mom, we should really go back for a visit sometime,"

"Of course Frisk, oh and that reminds me, Flowey, when will you visit the Underground again? It's been so long since you left, don't you miss it at all?" Toriel asked.

Flowey licked a bit of marshmallow from the side of his cheek, "nope! Hahaha."

Toriel paused at his answer, leaning forward to get a clear, careful look into his eyes "...dear… just how many s'mores have you had?" she asked with a skeptical frown.

"Just one, I think I need- s'more!" Flowey replied with a giggly toothy grin.

Toriel and a few others giggled, but Papyrus gasped, "YOU NEVER MAKE PUNS, WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU MY FRIEND?" and then, as he looked closer, he noticed a small plastic bag that Flowey was hiding behind a blanket close by, and with a quick snatch, he held it up in the air.

It was the second bag of backup marshmallows, and by the looks of it, Flowey had managed to eat half the bag while no one was looking.

"lots of marshmallow by the look of it," Sans quipped.

"Golly, not my marshstash!" Flowey said in a sudden surprise, but was unable to hold the frown and started laughing hard; the second pun causing Frisk to finally crack and join him in his laughter, unable to resist his silly behavior.

"Oh Flowey no! You know what too much sugar does to you! You are going to regret this later when that headache hits mister," Toriel lectured.

(Later that night…)

The downside to it was that he was unable to sleep due to the headache that was rearing its ugly head, he opted for closing his eyes and focusing on the gentle sounds outside, the slight shifts of everyone's slowing movement, quiet conversations he couldn't quite make out, the peaceful crickets, hushed giggles coming from Alphys that insinuated she was probably texting Undyne. . .

____________________

Growing Pains 1, Chapter 13

Frisk sighed, groaning to themselves "I should have just surprised you, I don't know what I'm thinking. Ugh, I feel so baaaaaad,"

"Go back to bed,"

"Read your book,"

"I don't feel like it,"

"Alice in Wonderland is a good book. Keep. Reading. It."

"Ugh,"

"You want to keep talking don't you?"

"Ugh," he did, but he really wasn't going to admit it.

On the other end of the line, he heard Toriel say something in a stern voice, causing Frisk to abruptly start talking again.

"Oh-! Never mind, queen of the house wants me to go back to bed too, like mother, like son… well, love you, talk to you later,"

"Love you too,"

There was a sharp pause over the phone. . .

________________________

Growing Pains 2, Chapter 2

He sat there for a moment, completely enchanted until he finally noticed he was staring and that Frisk hadn’t noticed he was there yet- oh, jeez, was this creepy? He hadn’t meant to spy!

He was quick to make himself known.

“Howdy I-,” he began but took a misstep with his roots and fell face-first into the carpet “ggghh, damnitall,”

Maybe too quick. 

Frisk jumped to their feet, brush still in hand as they hurried over to him, kneeling down in worry, ready to help as he worked to push himself back up.

“I literally just bathed,” he grumbled, rubbing at his face in annoyance.

________________

Growing Pains 2, Chapter 2

Toriel had taken Frisk out to do some clothes shopping, leaving the teen home alone and unchaperoned.

Everything was going fine until he found himself feeling peckish.

That in itself was also fine, heating up two… no, three simple easy to make frozen burritos, the big problem was a few minutes later after he finished his food and attempted to crawl back down the table when he lost his bearings and slipped off, falling down onto the hard floor below.

Usually, he was good and did well when it came to falling, he was lightweight so it was rare for him to get hurt from doing so, but this fall in particular hurt, a lot, maybe it was because of all of the extra burrito weight that he was holding inside himself or… the weird angle he’d fallen in, or… maybe it was from the armrest of the chair he’d smacked into on the way down.

 All he knew was that his head and left eye hurt and that he was dizzy and angry that no one was there to help him when he finally needed it.

He groaned in pain, he had felt worse, much worse than this, still, though, he was hurt and he was embarrassed he had fallen so unceremoniously.

…Maybe it was a good thing that no one had been here to see it happen.

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Growing Pains 2, Chapter 9

“Alright, as much I love chatting with crazy women, it’s time to get going, c’mon Frisk,” Flowey said quickly, hastily hopping out of the boat.

“I share the same feelings, I love talking to the local crazy women here, we usually get together and talk about annoying teenage boys who don’t know how to hold their tongues when they should,” Vise retorted.

 Frisk smiled nervously, “sorry about him again, I guess we’ll see you later?”

Vise nodded to Frisk, “you will, but not too soon,”

“Oh, okay, well thank you for the boat ride!” Frisk said and hopped off, running to join Flowey who already started rolling away.

And as they got a better view of him, they started giggling.

“What is it?” he asked, still slightly annoyed.

Frisk bit their bottom lip to stop themselves from letting out any more giggles, they then took out their phone, and with an easy ‘click!’, they snapped a picture of him.

They then showed him the picture, revealing that somehow, Vise had placed her orange on top of Flowey’s head, it was strangely a cute look for him.

Flowey gasped, reaching up to snatch the orange from off his head, and scoffed in annoyed amusement.

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Growing Pains 2, Chapter 11

It was then, up ahead in the distance on the road, he caught the glimpse of all too familiar car, Toriel’s car-

Instantly panicking and his mind running faster by the millisecond, he turned and left, running off the pathway and speeding into the grass, making a beeline toward the nearby overgrown bushes that towered over the both of them.

“What’s wrong? Where are we going?” Frisk asked with concern.

But he didn’t get to answer them as he made another turn, but it was too sharp and too fast-

-and due to the combination of physics and gravity-

-It threw Frisk off of him and straight into the bush, practically disappearing- except for their hat, which was grabbed by a branch.

“Agh! Holy crap!” he heard them shout in distress.

____________

(Growing Pains 2, The Entirety of Chapters 22 & 23)

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Growing Pains 2, Chapter 25

Sunday, the same kid came back, catching Flowey in the middle of shooting bees. 

“HAHAHA!” Flowey laughed as one exploded.

“You’re not supposed to do that, my teacher says the bees are dying out,”

“Heh, I hope so!” he said, then shot another, “I hate bees with a passion,”

“They’re helping to keep the earth alive, please don’t do that!” the kid said, getting upset.

Flowey looked over at the kid, “I’ll stop when they leave ME ALONE!”

At this, the kid backed up, “wait here… I can get you something, just please stop hurting them,” then ran off.

“Huh?” Flowey said, confused, “what are you going to get?”

“BUG REPELLENT!” the kid shouted back.

Flowey watched as the kid proceeded to get on a parked bike and fly off, disappearing from view.

Flowey then screamed in terror as a bee landed on his cheek, and he swatted it away and then proceed to shoot it dead, glaring down at the corpse with disgust.

After a few minutes, the kid came back, urgently spraying the bug repellent all around Flowey.

Once they were done, they handed it to him.

“Please don’t hurt anymore bees,” they said simply and ran off.

At this, Flowey only sighed, staring down at the bottle, reading the label and ingredients out of boredom, then proceeded to squeeze the trigger, accidentally spraying himself directly in the eyes and swearing obscenities in pain.

_________________________

Growing Pains 2, Chapter 25

Then, Flowey screamed and jerked back in fear as the loud sound of thunder instantaneously pierced into his brain, and then he jumped in the distance, lightning struck… catching a tree on fire.

He stared at the sight as the shock quickly faded, it was too far away to be an issue to him.

But he decided to take it as a sign, he needed to leave, now, before he was burned too.

At this decision, Flowey slid off the jungle gym, tunneling into the ground, going south. 

But after fifteen minutes, he heard the strangest sound coming from above… it almost sounded like… rushing water?

That was odd.

There shouldn’t be water in this area…

In his curiosity, Flowey began to climb to the surface, but as he did, he was abruptly grabbed and swept away by a strong current of rushing water, quickly solving his curiosity.

_______________________

Growing Pains 2, Chapter 30

Four hours later…

Flowey was currently mixing Frisk’s cake in a mixing bowl, humming nervously as he eyed the coo-coo clock on the wall.

Then he screamed as he accidentally splattered the mix onto his face and eyes, dropping the bowl in a panic-

[underfell-misery]

THE FALL

It was cold.

Too cold.

Too cold to make sense, and the ground was too hard to add any comfort to the fall. The air was frigid yet dry, leaving an uncomfortable feeling weighing on the humans shoulders as they regained their breath, which had previously been knocked out of them. It all felt so heavy. The musky smell, the cold, dense air, the hard stone floor; none of this was of any comfort. Was this heaven? Had they died? No. No, heaven wasn’t this cold- this empty. Was it perhaps hell? It sure felt like it. Maybe that was the consequence to such an action, climbing up that mountain with no intention to go back down it. Maybe this was all punishment. But as Frisk regained the air in their lungs, slowly calming down from the adrenaline rush from the fall, they heard a faint melody echoing around the stoney cavern.

They gathered their thoughts, trying to calm themself down and make sure they were alright. No broken bones or punctured lungs, it was a miracle. Or, maybe it was a curse. Frisk hadn’t decided that yet, hoping that the dry, empty cave they’d fallen into was just a bad first impression. Slowly and carefully sitting up, the human patted themselves down once again, somehow only feeling sore from the fall.

“….. how… did I…” they whispered, before hearing a loud

“PSSSSSSST!!!”

Their head whipped around in the direction of the obnoxious noise- only to see nothing. Nothing but the cave- and a small flower that seemed to be growing from a crack in the ground. Seeing that sign of life seemed to calm their nerves just a bit, almost forgetting their situation and the disturbing noise they’d hea-

“pSSSSStttTT!!!! Over here!!!” Said something in a whisper shout. Frisk eagerly looked around, but saw nothing new. Were they going mad? Did they hit their head that hard? Maybe they weren’t so fine after all- were they concussed?

“Eh dumb dumb!! Down here ya’ clown!!!” Said the voice, high pitched but clearly impatient and annoyed. Finally, Frisk looked back down at the cracks in the stone, suddenly finding that the small flower, that provided a feeling of peace only moments before,

had a face.

A face, a voice, and could fluently move and shift

“A… A flower…” Frisk whispered to themself, clearly in shock. The flower in question, however, didnt seem to have much patience or empathy for the human, opting instead to a form of mockery.

“Yeah yeah yeah… Not just a flower. Flowey, the name is Flowey. Now that we’ve gotten a nice, sappy introduction out of the way, can you wrap that thick head around this? You’re in danger. Lots of danger. Why the hell would you go up that mountain??? What human is stupid enough-“

“….. Flowey? Your… name is Flowey…?” Said Frisk, in a hushed voice, head still spinning and heart still pumping loud enough to drown out most noise. Flowey perked up, clearly taken aback by the question, whether out of the stupidity of it, or genuinely not prepared for it, the surprise quickly turned to annoyance.

“Yes. Now, are you listening or not??” Said the flower in a clearly frustrated tone.

“I-I…. I’m sorry I’m just… not fully… am I.. really still alive…? Did I hit my head that hard…?” Frisk stammered, unsure of their own situation. This couldn’t be real, a talking flower…

“HEY!!! I’m REAL you dingus!!! We don’t have much time- you need to listen! We need to get out of here, YOU need to get out of here!!” Flowey spat. “Now hurry up and get that brain of yours-“ The soft melody that had been haunting the cave was slowly getting louder, bringing both Frisk and Flowey’s attention to it. “Damn- I’m telling you, Human, we don’t have much time. She’ll be here any minute. Now you don’t have to trust me fully yet, but I need you to hide me. I might be your only chance at survivin this place. Everyone, every monster here is gonna be after your soul, an you look too weak to fight back with much force.” Frisk’s expression hardened, even if this flower was in their head, that was still hurtful.

“Hey, that’s… not exactly nice…” Frisk mumbled, rubbing the back of their head, subconsciously checking for blood. Flowey chuffed in amusement, much to Frisk’s dismay.

“…. Nice. Nice…. What’s your name, kid?” Said Flowey with a hiss in his tone.

“….. My…. My name is Frisk.” Frisk wasn’t exactly sure if they should tell this figment of a possible concussion their name, but if there was a chance all of this WAS real… They needed to trust someone, and this… rude flower seemed to be their best bet for now. Frisk had always seen the best in people, always hoping and believing for a better person deep down, even if they didn’t show it. They could tell Flowey was scared, and as much as he said they needed him, they believed Flowey might need them just as bad.

“Ah, well, ‘Frisk’…. Us monsters down here can’t afford to be ‘nice’. Down here, there’s no safety. No one is friends, you make allies and hope they don’t stab you in the back before you can. Down here it’s-“

“Hello?” Called out a voice, the melody stopping as the tender voice echoed throughout the cavern. “Has someone fallen….?”

“Shit!” Whispered Flowey, clearly panicked. “Listen to me, put me in your pocket, your shirt, your shoe, anything! Just don’t let her see me!” Frisk, although reluctant for a moment, did as told, carefully but quickly uprooting the plant, stuffing them in their pocket. Just as they did, the source of the voice appeared from an old, stone archway that Frisk was now just noticing.

“A… child…?” Murmured the voice, slowly entering into the view of the light from above. Frisk couldn’t believe what they saw. An 8 or 9 foot beast, closely resembling that of a farm goat, but with rougher, matted fur. They were draped in an old robe that was tattered and torn at the edged, and its dark red and black colors had faded over a clearly prolonged period of time. Small horns protruding from its head, with long dropping ears resting on each shoulder. Its eyes were a bright red, yet the scalera a wicked yellow tint. The voice, although melodic and tender, had a noticeable rasp to it, hinting at damage to the vocal cords. The raggedy state of this beats left Frisk wondering about the story that led to such an appearance. “Oh my… what an introduction, looking so unkempt…” Chuckled the monster nervously. “Though, given your own appearance, I believe you do not mind.” Disregarding the slight jab to their own state of fashion, Frisk finally stood up. “My child, I am Toriel. Guardian of the Ruins. Where you have fallen, there is no way back from, and the world down here is full of dangerous monsters that wish to harm you. But do not be afraid, for I, Toriel, will guide you back to my home, where you will be safe and taken care of.” She said sweetly, tilting her head. “What is your name, dear?” She said, lowering a paw for Frisk to grab.

“F… Frisk, ma’am…” Said the human, albeit timidly. The goat monster smiled warmly, and even brighter when Frisk took her hand, though instead of holding on, only shaking it.

“Oh, ‘ma’am’! What manners you have… Ah, Frisk, what a lovely name. Well, Frisk, we don’t have much time to lose.” She said, reluctantly drawing her hand back to her side, realizing Frisk had no intention of holding it to follow her. “We must begin our journey. Follow me down this path when you are ready, my child.” She said, before exiting through the old archway. Frisk let out a breath, realizing at full force that all of this was real. he felt the monsters paw and heard her voice too clearly for it not to be. They slowly pulled Flowey back out, who sputtered and coughed.

“JESUS CHRIST I COULD BARELY BREATHE IN THERE!!” Flowey whisper-shouted, face red with anger and embarrassment at having to be stuffed in a child’s pocket to hide from a goat.

“Is that who you were afraid of…? She seems… so kind… I think she can really help me, I think she can even help us get out of here, Flowey!” Frisk said, already fond of Toriel.

“Trust me, she’s not. That woman is nuts squared. Don’t put too must faith in her, Toriel isn’t going to let you leave.” Flowey said with a hiss. “I’ve… seen this play out before. You aren’t the first to fall down here, and you aren’t the first to fall for her warmth. She’s bad news, along with every other god-forsaken monster down in this hell hole.” Frisk frowned upon hearing that.

“I’m sure it can’t be THAT bad, most people can be good at heart if they try.” Frisk said confidently, smiling and truly believing what they said.

“… Well… we aren’t people. Monsters down here don’t care if you’re sweet or ‘believe in them’.” Flowey said with a sigh as Frisk started to place him in their pocket with much more care this time, where he could poke his head out if need be. “Frisk, down here…” he started,

“It’s kill, or be killed.”

[zirkkun]

For the undertale ask game: hush puppy, starfeit, and glamburger!

[Hush Puppy] Have you seen any playthroughs? Who did you watch play?

Noooot really. I watch Shayy on YouTube do speedruns, though! I've been leaning less and less away from watching long series and stuff on YouTube in recent years, though, it just doesn't interest me. At best I look for compilations, but I don't recall watching any UT ones other than Game Grumps 😂

[Starfait] What would you have whispered to an Echo flower?

No idea. I never really thought about it. I think I just prefer listening to them. Cause, if they're gonna repeat what I say, I'm just gonna be embarrassed if I hear anything I say said back to me...

[Glamburger] If you were Frisk/Chara, would you have had the courage to pose for the show? Think of the ratings!!!

No, I'm sorry 😭😭 I would have failed my beloved Mettaton I know but I have the worst stage fright. Hopefully he can profit off of my tears an anxiety instead????

[og post]

[spirit-ask]

I’m sure you will think of something fae!

What do I do, Frisk? If I could I would call Miss. Hana, but I don't have her number.

You must also take into consideration that Miss. Hana won't remember you.

Oh, right... And the only number on here is Toriel's.

The younger one seemed interested in hearing about the Queen. It might be your only option, but it may also be the best option.

Fae's shaky finger pushed the call button and then switched it to speaker phone.

"I-I'm calling the Queen right now! Just please listen!" Fae called out from behind the wall of magic. She hoped that they would listen to her.

Ring Ring Ring

Please pick up...

Ring Ri-

"Hello, my child. What is it?" The motherly voice bounced off of the magical wall and reverberated in Fae's head.

"Ah- um-" Fae had failed to think about what she would say, "I'm in a bit of trouble..."

"What kind of trouble, little one? I cannot do much through the phone, but I am willing to talk you through it." Hearing Toriel's voice did a lot to calm Fae's nerves.

"W-well, I've been trapped by magic... And they are calling the guard..." Fae begins to explain.

"Oh, my dear, that is... I am not sure what I can do for you..." Toriel's voice saddened. A shaky sigh could be heard on the other end of the call.

A hushed voice is heard from the other side of the magic wall, "Is that the Queen? What is she like?"

"Y-yes! It is!" Fae blurts out.

"Please, not so loud child," Toriel instructed, "I was in hiding for a reason. I do not wish for others to know where I am."

"Wow~!" The little pig monster's voice was elated, "ISHI! ISHI! The Queen is on the phone!"

There was a pause.

Fae took this opportunity to explain what little plan she had. "You can just tell them that I have your permission to walk to New Home. Please! You don't have to tell them where you are. I won't tell either."

Another sigh from the phone. "Alright, dear, it is at least worth trying."

[ask-dcf]

I think a bit of Sans is needed for this. It's a beautiful day right on, birds are singing, flowers are blooming... on days like these, humans like us... Should be helping the one we love.

*Shift!Chara holds up knife at Frisk*

*A GIANT STATIC HAND REACHES TO CLAW SHIFT!CHARA*

*She teleports away at a distance… Frisk looks up to see Chara walking over to them*

*Chara puts a finger off Frisk’s lips to hush them*

*She pets their head*

*Data!Chara looks back at Shift!Chara then at Frisk*

*Data!Chara turns towards Shift!Chara. Dark electricity and static claws out*

*The two Chara’s face eachother ready to fight again*

[skymantle]

i don't nearly have enough songs to make a full playlist for them / one of these isn't even on spotify but rotate the dreemurr siblings in your mind to these songs okay?

san fermin - the woods (asriel perspective) the hush sound - it's okay (about chara) radical face - martyr (both. maybe even add frisk in there too)

[the-writing-mobster]

The Most Dangerous Game — Teaser Snippet 🔪

.

.

.

She passed close enough to the witness as he continued to spew his story, picking up bits and pieces from what he said in hushed intonation to Detective Salinas. 

“I was just… I was on my monthly hike through the Ebbot Mountain range… and immediately just… you know, marker fifteen. Something wasn't right.” 

Why on a hiking trail? He'd wanted someone to find it. 

Once she'd snuck past the detectives and Forensics team she let out a brief sigh, turning on her heels as the forest canopy engulfed her and muffled her breathing. 

She sucked in a long sigh as she pulled her cellphone out, holding it up above her head to check for a signal. Two bars… should be enough! 

A pained smile graced her face as she scrolled through her contacts and hit send. 

She hoped it wasn't too early… 

“Mm… Good morning,” croaked the warm voice from the other line. Her pained smile cracked into a brilliant grin and she glanced over her shoulder. 

“Good morning my Prince!” she whispered, a little joke about his last name. Soon to be her last name. A blissful glisten in her eyes at the idea. 

A soft, gentle chuckle carried itself through the static and her heart fluttered. She could listen to that laugh forever… 

“Hmm… if I recall correctly… shouldn't you be working? Or… have they already taken the body away?” She nodded slowly and her smile flickered at the stark reminder. 

“They're about to… I wanted to see what you thought.”

“You've gotta stop telling me this stuff, honey, you'll get us in trouble,” he teased. Frisk giggled quietly and shook her head. 

“But, babyyyy, you're my biggest helper! The suspect—” He hummed his intrigue at her leading question and she hummed back, “— Super meticulous. Cleaned up her body and then put makeup on her,” she explained. Ibrahim gave a knowing grunt. 

“Look into Carol Bundy and Clark,” he mentioned and she groaned at the reminder of that specific case. 

“Yes, the murder couple who killed those runaway girls… put makeup on a severed head and… yeah. This is more in line with the other Bundy. Bite marks. Everywhere. And they're monster bites. Have to be.” Ibrahim tisked at the idea and she knew without him having to say anything he had the first thought she did upon learning that. 

“I know.” 

“Fox News is gonna have a field day with this.” She rolled her eyes at the idea and grunted. 

“And somehow, conspiracy theorists will still find a way to blame the Jews,” she snarked. Ibrahim snickered before giving a sigh. 

“So. Bite marks. Makeup. Meticulous footprints. Sounds like a control freak.” 

“That's what Marsden said, although he worded it more like the guy would go into a cleaning frenzy given the opportunity.” 

Ibrahim laughed at that and Frisk chuckled along. 

The shadows in the trees were long from the morning sun. Pine needles just a bit too cramped. Frisk brought her hand to rub her neck as she continued to listen to Ibrahim's voice. A soothing distraction from the claustrophobia that loomed over and around her.  

“Yeah, he also pointed out that he brought her into coyote country. Some half assed attempt at pinning the bites on the coyotes I guess. Lazy. Contradicts the profile to be honest,” she muttered once the jokes had passed. 

“No it doesn't. Not really.” 

She furrowed her brow and swayed on her heels. “What do you mean?” she asked. 

“He doesn't think the coyotes are a cover. It might be some kind of… metaphor for how he sees himself.” Her eyes sparkled at the words. Of course. 

“A predator.” 

“Exactly.”  

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