#i'll be updating as i finish things : )

[forgettable-au]

W E L C O M E -------

TO THE FORGETTABLE-AU BLOG‼️

by @sunsestart also on twitter!

This is a pinned post that I'll keep updating where I'll organize everything :]

If you're a Papyrus fan you might have heard of the Papyrus is Gaster theory.

I did and even though I don't think it'll happen I like how it would compliment papyrus' backstory since he doesn't really have one. It's an interesting concept why not make an AU out of it.

THE STORY

The main story is set on the past, years before the events of undertale and will explain what exactly led Gaster to shatter across time and space and how Papyrus came to be! It will also fluctuate to the present in a post-pacifist timeline where Papyrus is figuring some stuff out.

MASTERPOST <----

Art and comics are all organized here for easier access! :D

Keep reading for more links and more info

HOW DOES THIS AU WORK? <----

Here I explain the basics of this au :D !

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS <----

DUBS

Dubbing my little comics is totally fine by me !

As long as there's proper link credit to the original post or to this blog :D (also I would love to see any dubs! so don't be afraid to mention me♡)

This post might be useful if you want to dub the comic! I talk about how Papyrus' and Wingdings' voices are different

[cactusdying]

hi tptm-ers. use with freedom...

[moodyseal]

I love your art a lot!! kinda like glossy eye candy. would you ever draw hyacinthus again or continue the winter soldier au? you convey character expressions rlly well!!

This is so sweet omg thank you 🥹💕 I'm actually in the process of outlining how I want the story in the AU to go so yeah, I'm definitely continuing it! Figuring out Hyacinthus' personality is a bit tricky because of how little we have of him in canon (and also kind of because of the whole premise of this AU) but it's coming along 🫡

Meanwhile here's a little Hyacinthus sketch for you <3

It was originally a test for a fake Hades screenshot but I ended up making Helios instead so this is what's left of that attempt lmao

[miodiodavinci]

thank you all so much for the salvador love w a a a a a a a

i bring you a warm up sketch from a few months ago as thanks dsjkfhgkjshdlkfjg

[stergeon]

> FERDINAND II.

And so your PLANT shall henceforth be known as FERDINAND II.

The thought of needing to inform FERDINAND I of his having a namesake makes you a bit ill, but you are already hard at work devising several plausible excuses for the gesture. Something about how you've named it after the one most invested in its naming, or how it is similarly prone to drooling. Yes. Yes, you will be able to deflect quite easily, should the need arise. It has nothing to do with your fondness for FERDINAND or your desire for a substitute in his imminent absence, no—again, you are not so prone to sentimentality. It's about the drool.

Well, anyway. Best to move on with your day and think about something else, lest you grow maudlin or cultivate further affection for the PLANT. May the GODDESS be merciful and never cause you to develop inclinations that could be described as paternal.

Now that your plant has received sufficient care, it is time for COFFEE. You set to making your morning brew. By CHANCE, there happens to be sufficient water remaining in the kettle for FERDINAND I to have TEA, should he wish it.

Per your TIMEPIECE, it is now a quarter to eight. You have made excellent progress on your PRE-BREAKFAST TO-DO LIST thus far: the only remaining task is to remove FERDINAND. You are starting to get rather peckish and would like to be rid of him quickly, but over the past week, you have found that extracting the man from YOUR QUARTERS is a more arduous task than it ought to be.

#007 | << | <- | -> | JOURNAL | HOW TO PLAY | ALL POSTS

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

oooo it's been a while since the last snippet :]c it's another fantasy au one where I'm! Putting! Barnaby! Through It!

a minor warnings: implied/referenced major character death <3

 No one eats dinner, and Frank won’t stop tapping his spoon against his bowl. Tok tok tok it goes, over and over again.

Poppy made a simple stew from their provisions, but only Eddie and Sally make an attempt at tasting it. Their halfhearted ‘it’s good’s don’t pierce the pressure weighing down on them all. Barnaby swears he can taste it, thick and cloying. 

Already he keeps catching himself looking for Wally. Where is- he starts to think, and then he remembers the moment Wally fell with a spear piercing his chest, and the grief rises so fast it nearly drowns him in a heartbeat. Barnaby can’t bring himself to try and hide it behind anything but a stony mask. In any other situation he might try to put some levity into the group. Cheer up the sad and empty faces staring into their meals. 

He wouldn’t be able to think of a single lighthearted thing even if he wanted to. He doesn’t.

Tok tok tok-

Shuffling from Howdy’s tent has everyone glancing over at it, and Frank’s spoon stills. Howdy briefly woke up while Poppy was cooking. All he did was sit up, look at everyone, then pitch to the side and vomit. They got him into a tent before he passed out again, mumbling something about puppets. Frank made a comment about how Howdy was supposed to be a bit out of it, not at fae-drunk levels of hazy. Eddie had muttered back a dejected apology, and after that the camp was silent until Poppy’s announcement that dinner was ready. The spoon continues tapping when the shuffling stills.

Tok tok tok-

Since Eddie and Sally saying that dinner is good, there hasn’t been a noise beyond the occasional sniffle. It’s a good thing Julie isn’t trying her stew - it must be disgustingly salty from all the tears dripping into it. 

Tok tok tok-

Barnaby sighs through his nose and puts his bowl down, sick of looking at everyone’s misery. He would say that he’s going to go sleep, but he has a feeling that none of them are getting a wink tonight. 

Tok tok-

Before he can stand, Frank blurts, “We shouldn’t have attacked it. It was a mistake.”

“Please don’t,” Julie begs.

“There’s no need to rub salt in the wound,” Sally says firmly, her stew starting to sizzle from the rising heat in her hands.

“Not right now, Frank,” Eddie mutters. 

Frank visibly bristles, and he launches to his feet. “I refuse to pretend not to have seen what I did! The truth is a terrible thing, but someone needs to say it. Wally lied to us.”

“Frank…” Barnaby warns.

“We shouldn’t have attacked the demon,” Frank barrels on, ignoring him, “because there was no need to. It didn’t eat Wally until the end because the demon is his patron. Wally was never a wizard at all, he was a warlock-”

Barnaby lunges with a deep bark that echoes against the trees. The crickets symphony falls silent. Frank trips backwards over his seat, staring up with wide eyes as Barnaby stalks around the fire, growling. Eddie and Sally slowly stand, inching between him and Frank. 

Barnaby stops, snout bunched and canines bared. He jabs a claw at Frank. “Don’t you ever say that again. Ever.”

Frank’s mouth flaps uselessly for a moment. When he speaks, it comes out as a whisper, “I’m-”

“If you end that with right instead of sorry, I’ll make damn sure that you are.”

Frank wisely keeps his mouth shut. The crickets continue chirping.

Barnaby glares at him until Frank looks away. Barnaby straightens his vest with a sharp tug and strides away from the fire, towards his and- his tent. Just his, now. Murmuring breaks out at his back. He yanks the flap open, grabs his pipe and herb pouch, and heads towards the forest. He pauses only to listen by Howdy’s tent, waiting to hear proof of life before continuing on.

Once he can’t see the firelight anymore, Barnaby chooses a random tree and sits heavily in front of it. Rough bark digs into his back through his vest. A night bird hoots overhead. Crickets continue to make their music, but Barnaby wishes they would shut up for good. 

Light from the full moon pours through the branches to provide just enough light to see by. Barnaby holds up his pipe and quickly puts it to the side to take off a grimy glove. The heart-pad and blue fur underneath contrasts vibrantly with the dust-grayed rest of him. After a moment he removes the other glove, wincing as the leather drags over his injured knuckles. He turns his paw over and scowls at the dirty black edges of the red-raw scrapes. He should have punched harder. He hopes it scars, even though he knows it won’t.

The gloves themselves are scuffed up, but not beyond use. Barnaby folds them into his pocket and gets to work lighting his pipe. He packs it and instinctively opens his mouth to ask Wally to light it for him. The words die on his tongue as he turns only to see dark forest. Empty woods save for the tiny blue lights of night wisps floating on the breeze. 

Barnaby stares into the darkness with yawning dread. He keeps looking. How long will it take him to stop? How long until Wally’s face starts to smudge in his memories, until his voice is gone and Barnaby doesn’t even remember what his smile looked like? How long until Barnaby only thinks of him in passing? 

He doesn’t want to reach that point. He desperately does. 

Will it hurt more or less? Does it matter? He wants it to ache until he dies.

Barnaby frantically fishes his sparkrune out of the herb pouch - only there for emergencies, when Wally or Sally isn’t there to light it for him. It will wear down to a nub within the month. He strikes his thumb claw against it, and sparks fly expertly into the bowl of his pipe. It takes a moment to catch. Barnaby lifts the bit to his lips and takes a drag before enough smoke forms for a lungful. 

Maybe he should have grabbed the stronger stuff. If he breathes enough of it, maybe he’d be able to see Wally. 

But Barnaby doesn’t get up in the end. He sits against the base of a tree and hugs himself, the pipe’s intermittent glow betraying the shine in his eyes.

[clusterrune]

My Experience being diagnosed with bpd.

for me it was a relief to finaly have an answer, something to explain my thought process and behaviours, as well as confirmation for something i highly suspected.

the unfortunate thing is that i got diagnosed when i had a breakdown that scared me so bad i admitted myself to the psych ward behind my parents backs, having such a bad experience at the ward that being in that same hospital anywhere away from the er or first floor gives me panic attacks.

i went back to the er after my body shut down, my mom having to support me heavily as my body refused to cooperate and let me walk, they lent me a wheelchair and i was stuck in the er overnight till the afternoon the next day. when they finally got us in and did tests on me they couldn't see what was wrong physically but saw i had a bpd diagnosis so the psychiatrist there sat me down with my mom, gave us a booklet on bpd and told us it must have just been such intense stress from my bpd symptoms that my body couldnt take it.

i always thought it would be something like my spine defect to cause me a complete loss of mobility but knowing now that if i dont regularly take medication to manage my bpd and stress levels my body will decide on its own its had enough and stop responding.

losing my mobility slowly was scary enough, bpd symptoms giving me episodes of full immobility was terrifying. while im glad i had an explanation for it, i still wish they'd properly told me about the bpd diagnosis before when i was there self admited.

had i known any time earlier, i would have been able to better set boundaries and look after myself, recognize what didnt help me and what my symptoms and behaviours were and prevent such terrifying episodes from ever happening.

it was a relief when the psychiatrist i saw at the ward mentioned it off hand because i had suspected it already and that confirmation made my concerns feel even slightly validated. that was probably the only positive that came from that visit.

it wasnt what started my research on bpd but it sure as hell influenced me delving way deeper into it, and after one too many bad stressors and reactions to stress, i am still trying to do more research to help myself and others cope better and better understand ourselves.

hopefully my book "understanding borderlines" can do that.

[gravitywonagain]

Fresh Powder in the Pine Trees Masterlist

Welcome to Cloud Recesses

Junior's Club

Insult to Injury

Jack of All Trades: Ski Patrol - Hot Chocolate - Rentals

Shotski

Mountain Immortal

Follow Me Under the Rope

Teach Me

Chairlift Confessional

The Nurse is NOT a Drug Dealer

House Party

Sake and Cider at Sunrise

Ski/Skate Week

Hot Tub Burn Out

Cabin in the Woods

Sluffed Off

Gaper Day

The Long Chair: Gusu Express - Phoenix Mountain Express

Blizzards During Blizzards

Alpenglow Winter Series Presents: Xiao Xingchen

Meeting the Boss (Reprise)

Naked Run

Post Season:

On the Flats

Helicopters

Two Weddings in the Mountains

Halloween Snow

[triglycercule]

im on vacation how can i make this about the murder time trio. mtt fresh out of a flight and the minute that they leave the airport dust stops horror and killer for the smoke break. because being around a smoker is like that. and while horror is dying and coughing from the cigarette smoke and killer is pretend coughing to make dust feel terrible theyre both simultaneously roasting the shit out of dust for being such an addict smoker. cancer speedrun GO says horror. refreshing his signature smell says killer. dust just glares at them and blows smoke in their face (horror literally takes damage he's at 0.7 HP)

[emotionalsupportsoccerball]

Here's the thing

[newtness532]

i know that graduating one semester later is not that big of a deal and i haven't made any plans about what comes next so it doesnt even make a difference. so why does it feel just so terrible

[quatregats]

Still debating whether or not I want to try for a second draft of the Hornblower time loop fic or just do some basic edits and throw it into the world as fanfic was intended to be published

[sentientcave]

For the last couple of weeks I've been trying to get this Price/ex-wife fic finished. Instead of doing that I have:

Worked on a Gaz/Price/OC fic

Worked on Lucky Bunny (Poly141 but we're in a Gaz/Ghost/Reader threesome right now)

Handwritten most of chapter 7 of Retirement Party (and started typing it today)

Made several new graphics for various projects

Started a brand new story that I am now 4k into because @dragonnarrative-writes was sharing work from their slasher series and I'm impressionable and love it when she yells at me

Come up with 2 new Farah fics I want to write

Someone needs to spray me with water every time I try to work on something else I'm so close to the end I can taste it

[megullumverrr]

silly wip

[joyful-soul-collector]

Idk who needs to hear this but if you really like a fanfic someone has written, please don't do these things:

don't read through the whole fic and only ever comment at the very end with just "update please"

don't dump all of your trauma in the comments and talk about how this story literally stopped you from committing suicide. Talking about how the story helped you and that you've been through similar experiences is fine, but please do not tell me the story singlehandedly stopped you from killing yourself.

please do not describe said attempt to kill yourself in detail in the comments directly addressing the author. Just don't do that please.

PLEASE DO NOT EVER IMPLY THAT IF THE AUTHOR DOESN'T UPDATE THE STORY, YOU'RE GOING TO KILL YOURSELF. DON'T DO THAT. PLEASE DO NOT EVER DO THAT. NEVER NEVER NEVER NEVER DO THAT.

-sincerely an author who had that happen to him just now and has had things like that happen before (though to a less extreme degree)

[changelingbaby]

summary:

“You did not just drink that,” he croaked, trying not to look as visibly distressed as he thought he did. Arthur put the bottle back on the table, looking entirely unbothered. Clotpole .

“Yeah. Why? Was it secretly poison?” Arthur grinned, and Merlin thought for a second that perhaps he, too, just liked causing problems. For Merlin, specifically. He clearly delighted in bringing his manservant pain.

or, Merlin accidentally gives Arthur a love potion. Arthur has spent so long repressing his feelings for Merlin that it appears to have no effect whatsoever.