#mold frisk

[scri--bble]

i dont think Frisk and Chara have the greatest bond

[buttercupart]

what a strange looking human

[acerikus]

Someone being extremely annoying in the replies of my flowey and clover gif and I'm running out of patience 😭

[nooooough]

[parniathedevil]

RESIDENTTALE'S BIRTHDAY 🎉🎂

SPEEDPAINT 👇

RESIDENTTALE'S BIRTHDAY 1th :D (speedpaint)

[serawritesthings]

AS FAR AS DREAMS GO

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x fem! reader Summary | While Arthur found sanction in his dreams, you would fret about them every night. While he longed for the sweet caress of your hands, you were unknowing, fooled by his stoic facade as your dreams only brought you nightmares. Tags |  Angsty, Arthur Morgan pining for the reader, hinting at smut, intimacy, two idiots clearly in love, some sadness ensues Word Count | 10.3k A/N | Hello, lovelies! It's my second-ever fanfic; I hope you like it! Also, I got carried away, so it’s quite long (sorry)… It's loosely based on the mission with Uncle when you rob a wagon, but I have my spin on it. It’ll work more with the story this way. If you want, it can fit in with my recent fanfic about Arthur, but maybe set earlier in their “relationship.” ;D THANKS FOR READING!♡ Part two

Arthur felt you in his sleep last night. 

He remembered the caress of your fingers on his icy skin, leaving scorching traces of blazing fire in its wake as your hearts collided and molded into his deepest longing. Like a strange mirror, it portrayed you as you always were: tender and loving, fiery but forgiving. But it wasn’t you; instead, it was a thought of you. Like when walking down the street and catching a glance of a person that seemed familiar, but with another look, was someone else entirely. Only in his dream-filled sleep could he allow himself the sweet torture of your presence, for in those moments, he didn’t have to think of the consequences his thoughts would bring. His dreams of you overtook his mind, whether he was willing or not. For in his mind, you had carved a path so profound that it would be etched into his senses until his last breath, clouding his sanity, never again being able to differentiate dreams from reality.

Oh, how you held him in your embrace. It made him long for the sun to disappear under the horizon once more when the warm springs of light found him in the chilly dawn. He could still feel traces of your touch in the short period between sleep and consciousness. For a brief moment, it made him question whether it was a dream or if his deepest desire had come true. You were his.

But he would wake up and find that the warmth he held in his hands had dissipated, like hot ash falling between his fingers, making Arthur attempt to dig up what remained of you from the ground. He was left aching with no relief, cold and shuddering in the chilly morning, standing over the remains of your ghost. It was like his heart had been burned with it, only coming alive once more when you returned to him at midnight.

But for you, dreams had trouble finding you at night, if they even found you at all. You could never escape reality to find sanction in the warm blanket of imagination. When dreams did reach you, memories replaced fantasy and washed over like cold, freezing water. You would fret and worry, tossing around wishing you could melt into the sheets and float to where you could become someone else. There was a time when the dreams would bring you solace, whether it was a conjecture of old memories or what your younger self would conjure up. But that was a long time ago, and you find that the older you get, those dreams drift further away. So, you had nowhere to escape, nothing to ease the hardship that daytime brought. So, sleeping is just a blink of an eye nowadays to make the night pass faster.

After a sleepless night, you sat by a tree overlooking the vast landscape. It’s quiet between the trees this morning. It brought a sense of calm to the otherwise quite hectic place. Although chilly, the wind carried a frisk waft, clearing your head. You enjoyed these mornings and often found yourself awake before the others. It’s a habit you picked up through the years, though a younger you would complain about having to rise that early in the morning. It felt like the world was entirely your own. It is even calmer in times like this, where the residents consist mainly of women when the men are out. It brought a sense of comfort to you, for they were the ones that had been kind and welcoming to you. Unfortunately, your time alone didn’t last long, for you have learned that people rose relatively early here. But the time you did get for yourself gave you a chance to ponder the time that had passed up until now.

Sean, a peculiar man, had recently been brought back from being held captive by bounty hunters soon to be transported up the Upper Montana River to a federal prison. You had immensely worried for him, finding his presence over the last few months to lighten your sometimes rather gloomy mood with his ridiculous shenanigans. Some had been unsure if going back for him posed as a good idea, but the thought of leaving him behind saddened you and many others. Somehow, you had managed to convince Arthur to lend a hand, with considerable help from Javier You knew Arthur cared for Sean, even though he’d probably rather die before admitting it.

When you first got wrapped up with these people, you admit that Arthur scared the living daylight out of you. There was a certain air around him that exuded strength and authority, never stopping short of resorting to violence. You were no stranger to what kind of man he was, what they were; neither were you of their business, but you were apprehensive of them more often than not. The womenfolk had told you countless times that Arthur could be immensely ruthless when needed and had done things that would leave your blood running cold. And you didn’t doubt them. Behind those calculating eyes and quiet demeanor lay a long life of violence and hardship. You were sure of it.

That’s why you felt stuck when it came to him. Despite all this, he was a kind man. However, he didn’t speak much when it concerned you. More so, he worked hard, and you rarely spotted him in camp. Freezing your guts out in those mountains was the longest time you had seen his face consistently. You couldn’t do more than respect him, and although apprehensive around him, you had found yourself doing it less because of his dangerous aura and more because he made chills run down your back and a warmth spread in your stomach like wildfire when he set his eyes on you. It wasn’t a fire that spread fast, destroying everything in its path and bringing misery. Instead, a fire dispersed like slow poison, mingling with your blood as it flowed through your body, claiming you bit by bit until you surrendered to its ever-so-prolonged heat.

“I heard you begged for the boys to come get me!” Time had flown by quickly, and soon, you heard the clanking of pots and the sound of steel against the wood. Sean had suddenly spoke up as he neared you, his Irish accent lacing his words heavily. Although you had missed him and didn’t want to leave him to an insufferable fate, you hadn’t forgotten his teasing. He knew very well he was exaggerating, but he wouldn’t let go of the chance to bury you in his flamboyant personality.

“That’s quite the exaggeration, Sean.” A small smile spread on your lips. “Don’t make me regret standing in favor of your return.” A snort left the red-headed man at your words. Pursing your lips, you put your gaze on him as he stood beside your seated form with his arms crossed, gazing out onto the open landscape of Horseshoe Overlook.

“Ah, how I missed ya big words and harmless threats.” You could hear a few snickers at his statement from the people gathering around the campfire. A blush covered your cheeks. You had a reputation for sounding smart sometimes, and people did not stop at anything to tease you, especially the man in front of you.

 “Did ya miss me?” A cheeky grin grew on his punchable face as he raised his eyebrows, expectantly leaning closer to you.

A scoff left your lips, but you didn’t have time to answer him as the sound of hooves drew near. A certain dread always filled you at the sound. Even though you knew it most likely was someone returning to camp, you could never be too sure what state they would be in. You often worked alongside Ms. Grimshaw to help when someone got hurt, having extensive knowledge of tending to wounds and other bodily harm. It worried you, for the possibility of not being able to help someone would someday appear. Like that poor man, Davey. Luckily, you had managed to take care of Marston well enough. But he did look awful these days with that scar adorning his face; there was no denying that.

You and Sean looked up as the horses raced through the path among the trees that led to your whereabouts. You could see Dutch among them, with Arthur and Hosea. Scowls were apparent on their faces as their loud voices broke the solitude in the air, seeming to argue viciously about something.

“What’s that about?” You questioned the man beside you. “God knows, but I’d stay outta it if I were you.” He gave you a knowing look and slouched away to bother someone else. Your curiosity was piqued, but you let it be for now, raising to help Mary-Beth wash some foul shirts she was struggling with—damned Reverend.

The day continued, mindless chatter filling the space between you and the girls as you worked under Ms. Grimshaw’s sharp, watchful eyes. She had been in a terrible mood today, so her reign was relentless.  

“Do you think she would be mad if we threw the clothes from the cliff edge?” A grumpy Tilly spoke up, her hands relentless as she scrubbed the fabric that never seemed to get cleaner. Sadly, it only became filthier the more she worked on it. Karen laughed as she raised her eyebrows, a mocking expression on her face. “Oh no, that won’t do for great Ms. Grimshaw. She would probably throw you right along with it.” Their laughter cut through the air, contagious as you smiled at their exchange, glancing up to see if Ms. Grimshaw had her eyes on you. But instead, your eyes found a pair of blue ones staring at you when you looked up—the brief moment left you unsure where to put your gaze after the contact broke. 

You cleared your throat as you spoke quietly. “Grimshaw means well.” They groaned at you, rolling their eyes. “Sure, Miss Righteous.” They laughed again as you joined them. Before you could hinder yourself, your eyes gazed up at Arthur again, finding him staring at you again; a particular fervency lay deep within them. However, he directed his eyes away from you hastily, like you caught him doing something he shouldn’t have. Seemingly tense, the man grabs a match from his pocket, lighting its phosphorus tip from his booth’s worn leather soles. When he took a drag, he peeked at you again, his head bowed, hiding under his worn hat. 

Dutch and Hosea were in a heated discussion, with Arthur listening in languidly. It probably related to what had transpired before they returned to camp. Although more collected now, there was still a tension in the air. By your observations, they were the “three main men” around here. They had been holding together most of their lives, naturally giving them authority over the gang. When they talked, you listened. Simple as that.

You touched your face discreetly, wondering if you had gotten soot from tending the fire on your cheeks again. What else could be the reason for Arthur’s stare? How embarrassing that would be. He made you somewhat uncertain already; you couldn’t possibly handle his mocking adding to that.

“I wonder what they’re talking about?” The question you asked left the girls perking their heads up and gazing at you before following your gaze, looking at the men arguing. “Yeah, it seems pretty serious,” Mary-Beth said, curious about their exchange. They had been going at it for quite a while now as evening drew closer. You observed them with intrigue. That’s when Hosea’s eyes planted on you, beckoning you over with his finger. He looked cunning as he settled leisurely in his chair, content. You gazed questingly at the girls as they shrugged their shoulders, looking as confused as you.

Dusting off your skirt, you rose from the small barrel you used as a makeshift chair and approached the men. You gave them an unsure smile, still confused, wondering what they could want to bring you into their apparent disagreement. 

“Well, we have a perfect actress with us, gentlemen. I’m sure she could charm our seemingly formidable friends.” Hosea patted your arms as your feet shifted under you when he spoke up. What could they possibly be talking about? Dutch was gazing at you indescribably as Arthur stared at the table. His arms crossed, not meeting your gaze.

“Well, her damsel in distress act has saved us before.” A low chuckle left Dutch as he drummed his fingers on the wooden table.

“May I ask what you’re talking about?” As the question left you, you could see Arthur raise his head to watch you. His expression was blank, but his eyes seemed sullen, the smoke from his cigarette filling the air as he took a drag. 

“Uncle’s received a tip of a supply wagon passing through carrying a payroll, lookin’ to be unguarded. They want you to help us.” His voice was quiet as he observed you, his accent thick. You had helped them on some jobs before, although only smaller ones since you weren’t as acquainted with the work as the others. You mainly had accompanied Hosea on his schemes, finding that both of you had quite the same proficiency in depicting a role. Although you had taken up some theatrics when you were a small child, you had never imagined you would use them to deceive people. You found Hosea to be a spiritful figure despite his age. When thinking about it, he reminded you immensely of your father. He was too stubborn to let himself grow old, and his spark for living and refusal to take on the habits of an older man made him seem immortal to you. But he wasn’t, which became evident to you the older you had gotten.

“Of course, if I can be of help.” You offered them a small smile, surprised they decided on you, not someone else. It didn’t seem scary for you; you would, of course, be accompanied. And they knew what they were doing, which had become apparent to you since they always managed to get out of trouble. Compared to some of the things they did, stealing from a wagon seemed mild. And with Arthur accompanying, you knew you would feel completely safe.

“S’not a good idea.” The words that left Arthur made you furrow your brows. What could be the reason for his doubt? Some parts of you understood that you might not be as proficient as the other women, but as you mentioned, playing the damsel in distress was right up your alley. And you already felt as if you were a burden around here.

He avoided your offended look as he continued, pointing his finger at Hosea. “I ain’t lettin’ h-anyone get hurt just cause Uncle got told a tip from some sad, half-witted lowlife! Now, I ain’t against looking up the lead, but we handle it without the theatrics an’ all, Hosea.” 

You were about to speak up, but Dutch did before you could. “It would give you the advantage to have someone stop the wagon; that way, you have the man unguarded and on the ground.” He gave you a look-over. You leaned slightly away from his calculating gaze, his squinting eyes examining you.

 “Yeah, that’ll do; let Uncle prove his worth this time. Bring Bill and Charles with ya.” With that said, he stood up from his chair and nodded at you with a beaming grin, and sauntered off. Wonder what Molly saw in him. Often, you found him to lean towards arrogancy, the way he let everyone else do his dirty work. But they all seemed to listen to him, which meant what he did gave some positive outcome. 

“Trust me, Arthur, she’ll do good. And she might make up for your dumbness.” As Hosea’s chuckling figure slowly disappeared, you gazed curiously at Arthur, who was scoffing, staring after the man. 

“I know how to handle myself, Arthur. And I know you know that too.”

“Sure.” He dragged out the word, voice mirroring his now grumpy mood.

“So?” You raised your eyebrows. He gave you a questioning look. “What’s the matter?” You asked. 

He let out a long breath. “It ain’t safe. A random tip could be risky. It probably means someone else heard ’bout it, too, if the man was willing to give up the information. Likewise, it could be a setup. We don’t know, do we?” You leaned on the table before him, placing your hand to stead his bouncing knee. You knew what he meant. But every mission was risky, especially these days when you had law coming at you from what appeared to be every direction. Despite this, you had to do it to survive, and you wanted to show them you were capable.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find out.” Your voice was mild, an undertone of understanding lacing your words. Even if it were Uncle’s idea, it would fall on Arthur either way if things went wrong, as it always did. And you knew he cared, even though he never showed it. Or think he didn’t show it.

He was about to speak, but a loud voice broke through your conversation. “Gotten over me that fast, has she? Already moving on to the gang’s grouch? I’m hurt. Here I walked around thinkin’ you missed me!” You gave Arthur a last look, squeezing his knee to gaze at Sean as he dramatically held his hands to his heart. Laughing at his antics, you stood up. “I’m not sure anyone missed you when you were gone, right Arthur?” You strolled off with the Irish man following you, not noticing the wistful, prolonged stare the blue-eyed man had set on you since you touched his knee with your delicate hand, the feeling of your skin leaving a fire trail he couldn’t douse.

-

“That’s it, Ada.” The grey coat of the Andulasian was silky under your palm as you graced her sun-warmed coat, giving her a carrot you stole from Pearson’s wagon as you distracted him with your mindless chatter the following evening. Her ears perked up at your soft voice, munching. She nickered contentedly as her mane blew under the frisk breeze that wafted around you.

“You know, you should’ve settled for a faster horse instead of an Andalusian. She’ll slow you down.” A gruff voice broke out in the otherwise calm spot as the sound of spurs clanking was accompanied by heavy footsteps. You looked up at the man, noting how he leaned lazily against the empty hitching post and put his hands on his belt. It surprised you, it did. He didn’t usually instigate a conversation with you.

“She’s fast enough, my Ada. And she’s family now, so.” You voiced your thoughts softly, hearing his statement from many others when Arthur, Dutch, and Micha returned to the desolated mining town with two horses and a crying Sadie up in Colter. The horse piqued your interest when you set your eyes on her, and Arthur kindly let you keep her for the time being, planning on selling her when they got the chance. Your disagreement was apparent, and not putting up much of a fight; he let you keep her. Hosea, too, opposed it when he saw the mare, but your stubbornness made him laugh. I’ll let you figure it out on your own then, he had told you.

“Well, at least we’ll know you’re safe if you get attacked by a snake.” A low chuckle left Arthur, still finding you’re choice of a companion foolish. 

“Oh, are you making jokes now?” You looked at him as he straightened and strode towards you. “Cause if you are, it’s not very funny.” You backed away slightly, not used to him being so close. He put his gloved hand on Ada’s soft coat and patted her softly. A waft of smoke reached your nose as he stood next to you, coupled with the smell of a man who did hard labor. But amidst that, there was something else, something warmer and manlier. “Well, she’s real pretty, that’s for sure.” His gaze went down to you before he directed his gaze, fastening the tie strap you didn’t secure well enough.

You rarely saw Arthur with his hat off, his hair usually peaking out from under the well-worn leather. But he didn’t wear it this morning, and you wondered why. It blew softly in the wind, a slight beard adorning his face. It fit him well, adding to his roguish appearance. He was pretty handsome.

You didn’t realize you were observing him as he focused on your not-so-good job putting on the saddle. He didn’t seem as on edge as usual, the constant frown gone and replaced with a serene expression. Arthur didn’t look as frightening this way when he was relaxed, although his advantage in height and bulky form made up for it. 

“Be careful today, yeah?” He gave you a curt nod when you replied that you would, walking over to his horse. You saw Charles walking in your direction, greeting you with a smile when he got close. 

“We should head off as soon as possible; I’m worried we might miss the wagon.” His voice was calm, as it tended to be often. Sometimes, it felt like Charles was a shadow as he kept quiet, primarily to himself. He rarely got into trouble and handled things with a clear mind. You could but only like him, finding his solitude comforting and much like your own. 

When Bill and Uncle appeared, you hoisted yourself into the saddle, giving Ada a soft pat before setting her in motion. Uncle had told you it was just up the road from camp, near the crossroads where an old, ruined church remained. “You ride first and hitch up the horse in the trees behind the church. We will stop near the crossroads to look for the wagon passing through as you get them to stop and get down on the ground.” Arthur said calmly, pointedly looking at you. 

As you rode off, Arthur stared after you as you disappeared between the trees. The worry had settled in his stomach when Hosea brought up the idea for you to tag along. He wasn’t opposed to you doing your share in the gang, but bringing you on such a spontaneous mission made him uneasy.

“She’ll be fine, Arthur, and we’ll have our eyes on her the whole time.” Charles’s hushed voice dragged him out of his thoughts as he secured his gun on the saddle. Even though Charles seemed calm, a slight worry still tainted his words. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s just…” 

“I understand.” They sat in their saddles, heading out after Uncle’s lead. 

“You know, after this, you will realize how much I do for this gang. Looking up this lead has not been an easy feat, gentlemen.” He looked proud in his seat, bringing his hands up like he already had secured the money. “Sure, Uncle, drinking and talking to some bum who just might be lying to you is exactly what this gang needs right now.” Uncle just scoffed at Arthur. 

“You know, you should be nicer to me, Arthur, and you will be after you realize this will bring us a well-deserved fortune.”

“Yeah? And what are you going to spend it on? More booze?”

-

The church where you said goodbye to Ada was no short of run-down. Missing planks, bottles with an unnamed liquid inside, and cigarettes everywhere made you wonder what kind of people sought shelter here. You didn’t have trouble finding it because it wasn’t too far from camp like you were told. Trying not to think about leaving Ada in such an environment, you wandered towards the road you were told they would pass through. 

‘

You hid behind a tree, shielding you from anyone coming down the path. You hoped Uncle was correct; otherwise, things could go south fast. No stranger would let a hurt woman linger on the road; likewise, they wouldn’t let her stumble to the seat with a hurt leg, meaning you would get the driver on the ground. Simple but effective. You only hoped Uncle had been correct, that this would be easy. 

Taking Karen’s advice to loosen a few buttons on your shirt, you revealed some of your cleavage. Make him more willing, quoting her words. The skin now exposed glows in the sunlight from the light layer of sweat coating your skin from the heat. You smile to yourself. This’ll do just fine. You run your hands on the ground to dirty up your skirt like you had been crawling in the dirt. You didn’t want to think about how hard it would be to get it out of the fabric since you likely had to clean it.

Peaking up from the tree, you could spot Arthur, Uncle, Bill, and Charles from a distance, gazing upon your spot as masks adorned their faces. Who were they trying to fool? They looked ominous where they sat on their horses. God, if the driver got the slightest look at them, he would run the other way, and the operation would be over. You felt your hands grow clammy at the suspense as your shoulders tensed, sitting on the ground as you leaned against the tree. 

You took your face in your hands, massaging your temple. “Okay, wagon approaches; I frantically run out from the woods, screaming at the driver to help. He stops and steps down on the ground to ask me what’s going on, hopefully worried. I tell him I’m getting chased by a maniac, and the others will handle the rest.” You breathed out as your heart beat wildly, voicing your plan aloud. “Easy peasy, right?”

That’s when you heard it, the crunch of the wheels rolling in the ground in the distance growing louder. Taking a deep breath, you ruffled your hair slightly and leaped out from the tree, running towards the road like satan himself was after you.

“Mister, please!” Your voice shrieked out, startling the man. With an exasperated expression, you stumbled down after tripping on your skirt, getting dirtier from the mud covering the path. Holding your hand on your leg, you gazed up at the men above you who looked at you alarmed. His face was adorned with small eyes and wrinkles that depicted his old age as he had to squint to see you. It made you question why such an old man drove a fortune alone but pushed the thoughts away. “You have to help me!”

“Miss, what’s happened to ya?” Immediately, he slowed the horses, stepping down from the wagon to inspect the predicament before him. He looked friendly, just like his tone was kind, and worry filled his eyes as he jogged towards you. Kind, but foolish.

“Some men trailed me, oh some god-awful men trailed me, and when I cut through the woods with my horse, she freaked out and bucked me off!” Panic settled in your voice as you looked pleadingly at the man holding your shoulder. “Please, mister, my leg hurts awfully bad; I think it’s broken.” Tears filled your voice, choking up the words leaving your mouth. His hands found your shoulders as he kneeled. “Come here, Miss. We’ll get you home, yeah?” You nodded at him with pleading eyes.

The air around you was calm, and the wind blew softly, contrasting your shrill voice in the early morning as he helped you stand up. With your weight on his shoulders, he didn’t even have the time to turn around before the cold metal of a pistol met the back of his head.

The pistol cocked. Frozen beside you, the hands supporting you grew still as the blood on his face drained, eyes staring into yours like he could see Arthur behind him in the reflection of your eyes.

“Let’s not do that. Why don’t you step away from the woman and throw your gun on the ground?” Arthur’s cold but calm demeanor frightened even you, looking different from the man you were used to. “Real slow now.” His eyes found yours, staring from under his hat as he spoke. A chill went down your spine, now understanding why he had a reputation for coming off as frightening. Behind him, Charles was rummaging through the wagon as Uncle and Bill stood behind him on their horses, acting as lookouts as their rifles were pointed at the man beside you. 

“Listen, I work for Kerosene and Tar, Leviticus Cornwall, alright?” His voice was shaking, but he still tried to scare the men. Bold. You could hear Bill curse in the distance, the name familiar to them. Judging from their reaction, it wasn’t good news, and the anxiety rose in you like wildfire again as you tried to get away from the man holding you, his presence now suffocating.

“Hey, step away from her old man.” Arthurs’s voice grew firmer as the words rumbled in his chest, pushing the gun tighter against his temple when the man grabbed your shoulders harder. When you turned your head towards the elderly man, he looked as frightened as you, shocked by how the situation had transpired.

“Hey, Arthur, I got the money!” Charle’s satisfied voice made you both look up, but as you did, the sight of horses charging towards you in the distance made your eyes widen. Your breath stuck in your throat at the picture, your pulse rising as you struggled to control your quivering palms.

“Aw, shit. Uncle!” Arthurs voiced his annoyance at the downturn of the situation as he hit the elderly man with his gun, his body falling limp beside you as he held his head in his hands. Shocked, you looked at his squirming body as he writhed on the ground. Before you could shake away the shock that nailed your feet shut, you felt a pair of arms shake your petrified form.

“Get your head straight girl!” Amidst the loud sound of hooves filling your ears from every direction, Arthur shouted at you as he grabbed the horn on the saddle and hopped onto his horse. Sitting tall, he placed his arms under yours so he could lift you. Now seated before him, the sudden motion made your head spin as the world around you stayed a constant blur.

“Bill! We’ll split up, make it harder for them to track us. You go with Charles and Uncle to the left, and we’ll go straight! Stay out of camp for awhile!” His shouting brought you back to reality, the sound of bullets heading towards you growing louder the clearer your head got. Bill shouted in agreement as he cursed loudly and took off hastily, rifle in his hands as the three escaped the scene. Making a clicking noise, Arthur urged the horse to move, the force pushing your body forward from the sudden speed. The severity of the situation dawned on you when you glanced back at the riders following you. Your heart beat heavily against your chest; the number of men chasing after you could only be likened to a whole army. 

“There’s so many!” The wind wisped your hair around you as you flew through the country. You glanced back at Arthur. “Yeah, I know! But I think the others got the worst of it!” His statement did nothing to calm your racing nerves as bullets rushed past you. Boadicea’s muscles moved fervently under you as Arthur spurred her on. Fast didn’t seem like fast enough. The pace painted the world blurry as you 

rode on for a long time, the skies beginning to turn dark.

After a long while following the road, Arthur steered off it and up a hill into a tightly grown forest. “I think we’re losing them!” Your voice flew in the air as the wind in your ears whistled when you looked back. Almost stumbling on a rock, you both flew forward as Arthur’s heavy weight fell on you momentarily. A choked sound left your throat as the air left you, and you heard him curse out a sorry behind you. Recovering quickly, Boadicea picked up the pace once again as you gazed behind you, trying to see if they had gained on you.

Why in the world were there so many? Maybe Arthur was right, and it was a setup. After a while, the sound of hooves slowly grew distant, the only noise being your heavy breaths intermingling as you felt the adrenalin still run through your veins. 

“Shit, Arthur. What the hell was that?”

“That is why you don’t trust Uncle’s shit plans!” His voice was sharp like glass as he realized he was right like he usually was. “Foolish-minded fools, the lot of ’em!” He voiced his thoughts angrily. He was tense behind you, every move filled with a raging fury as he swiftly urged the horse forward.

“What do we do now?” You voiced your concerns worryingly. You had no idea where you were; the place was unfamiliar. It had grown chilly as the sun disappeared from the blue sky, the cold wind now apparent as the danger dissipated, and your body grew aware. 

“We find somewhere to hide until the next morning; they’ll probably be out looking for us, seeing as they think we have their money.” You hoped the others were well, even though you weren’t entirely too happy with how things had transpired. If Arthur wasn’t lying, they got the worst of it. You wanted to voice your concerns but decided to keep it to yourself for the time being; not entirely too sure that’s what he wanted to hear right now.

“I know a place where we can hide. It’ll be cold, but we’ll be safe. For now.” Unbeknownst to you, he glanced down at your shivering form. 

After a while, you could feel your breath calm down enough for you to relax slightly. Although you were still sitting up tensely, aware of the position you were in. Arthur was a big man, towering behind you, almost embracing you as his arms held the reigns at your sides. The warmth radiating from him was immense, and the softness of his scout jacket softened the impact of your back to his chest as the horse galloped. It did make you somewhat uncomfortable being that close to the man, but as time passed and the colder the air got, you found yourself sheepishly leaning backward to stop the chills running through your body. You hoped he wouldn’t mention it or, worse, push you away from him. 

The top of your head only reached his jaw when you glanced up at him, leaning your head back slightly. He was focused on the road ahead; eyes squinted angrily as he still grumbled bitterly under his breath. The corners of your mouth raised slightly before you curled your lips under your teeth, turning to look forward. He really was a grump sometimes.

Leaning forward, you ran your fingers through Boadicea’s mane as you patted her neck to try to calm your nerves. “You know, I’ve never been good at riding horses, so thank god you’re with me. No coordination whatsoever.” You laughed, trying to distract yourself from being chased through the now-dark country. Even though you couldn’t see them anymore, they were probably still on your lead. “We should be lucky we didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere. When we stumbled over that rock, I thought we were don-”

“That’s the place over there.” His gruff voice interrupted your nervous blabbering.

Your head perked up at his mention. It wasn’t much to cheer for, run-down seeming like a compliment compared to this place. Although still standing, it looked like it would fall apart if someone as much as touched it. But it had a door, and the windows were barred, protecting it from the winds rummaging through the landscape. I guess that counts for something.

“You sure they won’t find us here?” A gust of smoke from the cold surrounded you when you spoke. Logically, if they had followed your direction, they would probably have gone rummaging through every abandoned house they encountered on the way. The only answer you got was a grunt, and you almost rolled your eyes at him. What splendid company you would have for the rest of the night. Although, he had been right about the whole ordeal, so it wasn’t hard for you to see where he came from. If your previous thought had been correct, all of this would fall on Arthur. With him being in higher authority in the gang, he also held more responsibility and had to make sure the plans went along smoothly.

As you approached the cabin hastily, he stopped the horse in a quick motion, the dirt flying in the air as it surrounded you both. Hopping down from the saddle, he patted Boadicea gently on the neck. “Come ‘ere.” His hands went around your waist as he hoisted you down from the tall animal, fingers squeezing subtly around your waist as he steadied you on the ground, avoiding your gaze. 

“Why don’t you hitch her up by the door? I’ll have a quick look in the cabin.” As he pointed to Boadicea, you gave him a curt nod as you did what he asked. “Will she be alright out here all night?” You blurted out as you fastened the rope against one of the planks in the fence surrounding the cabin’s front porch. A distant reassurance from Arthur could be heard as he ensured you would be alone and undisturbed. Giving the animal one last pat, you stepped up the wooden stairs, wrapping your arms around you. Since the sun had disappeared from the sky, it was dark inside, and your eyes found it troubling to adapt since the moon didn’t light up the room. 

The house was eerie. Furniture still adorned the chipped, wooden planks with thick dust covering the various surfaces. The air was cold, with the smell of wood mingling with the ever-so-slightly scent of moldy food left on the plates. It looked like the people that had been living here had just walked away during their dinner.

“I wonder who lived here.” you thought out loud. Your voice was barely a whisper like the people were still sleeping upstairs. Although muted by the carpet, the floorboards creaked when you stepped inside, the fabric now muddy from your shoes. Arthur was shaking the planks nailed to the windows from the inside, making sure they would stay in their place

“Come on. I’ll keep a lookout for a while, see if I can hear them passing by. Get some rest.” He pointed you toward a botched chair in the corner. It didn’t look like the most comfortable chair, but it would have to do for the night. Not that you had a choice anyway.

“Are you sure? I can accompany you if you want.” Your words grew warm at his selfness, looking at him with a prolonged gaze as he reached to take off his jacket. He held it towards you and, as he secured his hat, bowed his head as he headed out the door.

“Nah, get some rest, alright?” You were left in the darkness as the door closed, trembling from the shivers racking through you with the heavy jacket hanging from your grasp.

-

What the hell was he thinking? He daydreamed about you like he had every right to imagine you that way when you rode with him. Hell, you would probably spit in his face if you knew that most of his thoughts involved you. What a sad man you are, Arthur Morgan, thinking you could ever get your hands on her. Pure and warm, that’s what you were. You were too good. Your care extended further than his ever had, treating him like he deserved your kindness. Deserved you. He kept his distance from you, only speaking to you when necessary to try to make you understand that he wasn’t a good man—but being as close to you as he had during the ride shut off his brain entirely.

The guilt ran through him as he sat on the porch, leaning against the door. Being in the same space as you proved to be too much for him now, the smell of your hair still clouding his mind. Shit, it was impossible to keep you out of his mind. Raising from the coldness of the ground, he swept his hands over his face, leaning his arms to rest against the fence as he observed into the distance. The place was surrounded by trees, somewhat deep in the woods, quite far from the path. He hoped it was far enough, not wanting to put you in more danger than he already had. 

Irritation was still running through him at the outcome of the situation. He knew this would happen. At least they got away with the money. But if Cornwall’s men managed to get ahold of Bill, Uncle, and Charles, it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t feel up for a rescue mission right now; they had far more complicated things to think about.

-

As you sat in the chair for a while, wrapped in the oversized jacket Arthur lent you, your eyes became familiar with your surroundings. Finally, you could breathe out, although the stress from the predicament you just got yourself into raced through your body, making it hard for you to rest. It was dark and cold, and you missed the comforts of falling asleep in your bedroll at the lookout, surrounded by the women’s quiet whispering. Although, you felt safe enough knowing Arthur was outside in case anyone would stumble upon you two. 

There was a large table in the middle of the room where Arthur had placed his satchel and some benches adorning the walls by the stove. A fireplace was by one of the walls with various portraits perched on it, along with some candles and other trinkets. Yawning, you stepped up from the seat, wrapping the jacket tighter around you as you stepped towards the wall, examining the portraits. You wondered who they were as you ran your nimble fingers over the dusty surface, a stoic face now starting to show. You laughed slightly under your breath; the man looked downright horrified as the woman beside him smiled warmly. Was that his wife? You turned the frame, squinting so you could read the writing. 

“Ms.Hevett with son, Mr.Hevett.” Hmm, they both appeared to be very old. Mamas-boy maybe? You giggled again, putting your hand over your mouth to dull the sound. Returning the portrait, you glanced around. Oh, maybe Arthur had a match to light the candle! Well, of course, he had a match; he smoked every chance he got.

You tiptoed towards the door as it creaked when you pushed it open quietly. You called out for Arthur gently, seeing him leaning on the fence. His head turned to yours, alarmed, looking behind you as his hand rested on the gun in his holster. “You alright?” The words flew out from his mouth as he tensed, walking towards you. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wondered if you have a match.” He looked at you for a moment, then furrowed his brows as he grabbed the edge of the door. “A match? Why? You don’t smoke.” 

You glanced sheepishly at him now, realizing you might be bothering him. “Well, there’s a candle in there, and I just, I, would be more comfortable if it wasn’t so dark. That’s all.” He scoffed slightly at your words. “You supposed to be sleepin’; what does it matter if it’s dark?” He asked you in disbelief. You only pursed your lips, staring at him as the moonlight reflected on his face. A sigh left him as he beckoned you inside, giving one last glance around the outside of the cabin. 

“This candle right here. If only we had some firewood, we could also warm the place. See, there’s a fireplace! I imagine the house was cozy when it wasn’t run-down.” You babbled as he followed behind you, reaching for a match in his bag. As he did at camp yesterday, he lights the match at the sole of his boot. Immediately, it casts the room in a warm blanket. It didn’t feel so eerily anymore, and the flame flickered around you softly.

He raised his brows as he spoke. “First, you want me to light this damned candle, and now you want me to go chop us up some wood?” He sounded more amused than his earlier cranky mood, but still, you looked at him unamused. “It was just an observation, alright?”

He chuckled lightly as he looked at you, observing you for a few seconds before speaking up. “You okay to sleep now?” His rough voice spoke the words as he motioned to leave again.

“Um, sure. Arthur, did you know a mother and her son had been living here? It said so on the portrait. I wonder what happened to them?” The words left you hurriedly, looking to say something to make him stay with you for a while longer. It was hard to explain, but you felt safer with him. In here. With you. 

You pointed towards the portrait. He glanced at you shortly before stepping back into the room. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been here a few times.” His answer was short.

“Oh.”

The air was stuffy, and the tension grew thick as you looked at each other. Neither of you knew what to say since Arthur always seemed to get tongue-tied around you, and you were unsure of how to converse with him. You draped the jacket even closer, staring at the floorboards.

“Ya still cold?” He startled you slightly, your head perking up at his words. “Umm, yeah, a little, but the jacket’s helping… so.” He nodded at you, grabbing the belt with his hands, tightening his lips together, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked like he was expecting you to say something, waiting for the words to leave your mouth.

“Oh, sorry, you’re probably cold as well. Here you can have it back.” You stepped towards him, the jacket slipping off your shoulder. 

“No, no. You take it, I’m used to it, alright?” His words were kind and selfless, and you felt terrible for not bringing your own jacket. Of course, he was cold; it was freezing in here. Knowing he cared enough for you to put your comfort before his own made your heart beat slightly faster. 

Once again, he went to exit the door and leave you in the empty house, but the moment he opened it, the words left you before you could stop them.

“Will you stay in here?” It was silent as the raindrops started to fall outside, pattering on the roof as the tension grew suffocatingly thick. Glancing at you with his head bowed, he cleared his throat. 

“It’s just I’ll feel safer with you in here. That’s all.” Feeling the need to explain your sudden outburst, you felt a blush rise at the humiliating situation. He probably thought you were childish, finding your words annoying and demanding.

Giving you a curt nod, he closed the door behind him, pushed one of the side tables against the door, and locked it.

“It won’t rain in, so don’t worry. Now,” He leaned back on the chair by the table in the middle of the room, putting one leg over his other to lean the ankle against it, taking his gun out of the holster and cleaning the dirty metal. “Get some sleep. We’ll set out in the morning.”

You listened to him this time and sat on the chair, bringing your legs up towards your chest as you closed your eyes. You knew it would. be hard for sleep to find you, but you still gave it a chance. 

-

You were wrong; you were able to sleep. But it didn’t last you very long, for the cold had seeped through both skin and bones, leaving you with tremors running through your already shaking body. You could still hear the thunder in the distance and the heavy rain splattering against the wooden roof. You opened your eyes, finding another pair staring right at you. You felt your stomach turn, the display of emotions running deep in his eyes as he observed you. His legs were spread wide where he sat, keeping sight of both you and the door in case someone barged through. The flickering of the faint light hit his eyes, painting his otherwise blue eyes a darker tone. It felt like a dream.

“Alright, that’s enough.” A heavy sigh left the man as he stood up. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he walked over to you. Grabbing under your arms, he lifted you as he sat on the chair. Gently, he placed you on his lap, with your head resting on his neck and legs draped over his thighs. 

“Jesus, woman, you’re freezing.” As he talked lowly, you could feel his voice rumble in his chest, the feeling soothing against you.

Oh, darn it, he was warm. How could he be so warm? No thoughts except warming your freezing frame made you wrap your arms around his waist, the thick jacket covering both of you. You felt his hands run over your arms, trying to warm you up as you moved against him, relishing in the heat from his body as you nuzzled your cheeks in the crook of his neck.

And finally, you fell asleep. 

-

“Arthur.” Jolting awake, Arthur’s eyes widened in the candle-lit room. His whole body tensed up as he gazed down at you, alarmed. 

Seemingly unhurt, a worried expression was on your beautiful face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked you. Shushing him, you placed your hand on his bicep carefully. 

“You were mumbling in your sleep. Is everything alright?” Your eyes were tired but warm as he blinked down at you, now noticing his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you towards him. “Yeah, ’m alright.” His words were low, choked at the sight of you staring this tenderly at him. This was a dream, he told himself.

As his arms relaxed around you slightly, you wrapped yours tighter around his neck. He was so suffocating, his scent surrounding you from every direction as you basked in its grasp. His eyes were intense, the now sullen look he always carried vulnerable, as the folds around his eyes evened out. It still felt like you were in a dream, and you longed for it never to end. Good dreams never found you, but now you had it in your hands as the comforting blanket cloaked around you like Arthur was wrapped around your scorching body.

No words were spoken as you gasped slightly, nimble hands stroking up his arms as the broadness stretched against his shirt. His cheek was warm when you placed your trembling fingers on his scruff, tracing small figures as you observed the scar on his jaw and the slight bend of his nose from getting it dislocated often. As you grazed his skin, your eyes never left him, even when he closed them to revel in your touch. Being this close to him was comforting; the contact was foreign to you but something you had longed for. Feeling wanted by him was what you wanted your dreams to turn into for the longest time. And it finally did.

The world around you grew quiet; only your breathing was audible as his chest moved under you, heavy intakes of breath raking through him. Letting your gaze fall to his lips, yours parted slightly. Through hazy eyes, you closed the small distance between you. A warm surge spread through you as his chapped lips met yours, his slight beard tickling your skin. A low moan escaped at the contact, and your heart burst at the seams, the fire flaring and oozing with each movement. You always wondered what pressing your lips against his would be like, his stoic character making it feel like your wishes were miles away. But now you knew, and it felt better than you imagined. His hands were still around your waist, holding you tightly as you felt all the excitement overflowing in your veins at his apparent contentment of your actions.  

You snuggled into him, holding his cheeks and caressing them with your thumb. Slowly, you leaned your head back, feeling dizzy from the emotions clouding your brain. He followed you as you pulled away, almost as if you hauled him towards you like tied with a lasso. His breath warmed your skin as his lips were placed in the conjecture of your neck as he leaned against you. As you giggled slightly from the tickling sensation, he breathlessly chuckled as he left wet trails up to the space under your ear, caressing the small of your back with his large hands. His gloved hand against the fabric of your blouse felt enticing, your back arching due to his touch, your upper body now pressed flush against him. You held his head close as your hands were buried in his thick hair. His lips found yours again, shifting against you fervently as he moved with more vigor. 

Of course, it was a dream, Arthur thought to himself. It bled into every nightly thought he has had of you now for the longest time. Your scent reached his nostrils. It was so sweet, so you. Small arms were wrapped around him, and your legs were now glued at either side of his thighs as your soft lips touched the skin under his ears in a silent kiss. Shivers wracked through his body as he ran his coarse hand alongside your waist, the soft woolen fabric hugging the curve of your waist tightly. Small gasps emitted from you as your hands ran up his stomach to his chest, planting small, tender packs against the slightly sunburnt skin, looking up at him through hooded eyes. Sinful, that’s how you looked. 

He lifted you slightly, capturing your soft lips in his. The sweet caress of your skin against his felt divine, the wet noise of your tongues finding each other mingling with the sound of the rain outside. As the jacket slid down your shoulder, the man was left staring at the soft curve of your round breasts, revealed from the unbuttoned cotton of your blouse, the slight hardness of your nipples showing through the fabric.

“Arthur”

“Mmh.” He was too far gone now, but he kept assuring himself he was dreaming. You would have never put your hands on him if he wasn’t. He had noticed how you huddled closer to him from the cold when you rode on the horse, your figure nestling against his, curves snug against him. Did you do it on purpose? Were you aware of what you were doing to him? He was still trying to recover from what transpired in his head when you escaped the riders. No, not from the bullets seeking to pierce his flesh, but your bottom. Your soft, tantalizing rear. It had been flush against him as you leaned forward earlier, the round hips taunting him temptingly, almost as if they begged for his hands to caress the soft curves that stretched the fabric that covered it. Damned skirt. What he would have done to push it up your legs and reveal the tender flesh hidden beneath them. Your slit bare against the saddle’s leather as you squirmed, jiggling your cheeks like you were begging Arthur to give in to your desire. Shit. He shouldn’t have been thinking about you like that, not when you were right before him.

Leaning forward slightly, you ran your fingers through Boadicea’s mane as you patted her neck. You spoke, but the words that left your mouth turned into nonsense in his clouded head. 

He had given you some nonsensical answer as he stared down at you through hazy eyes as your hips moved in sync with the horse’s motion, words flexed mindlessly out of his mouth as his restraint seemed non-existent. Your terms of cheerful disbelief grew distant as heat traveled through his body at his unholy thoughts, mouth too dry to give you a coherent answer. His hands moving on the reigns, trying to keep them from indulging your softness against him so he could feel the tremendous friction he was sure would send him straight to heaven. Christ, you riding on a horse should be illegal.

But now you were here, with him, and he had your soft body in his grasp. The tension from his earlier thoughts became apparent, his hands moving on their own as they familiarized themselves with your curves that felt so real. Too real.

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your button as he hastily lifts you. Automatically, your legs seek ahold of his waist, arms around his neck. He moved quickly over the floor as the lightning lit up the room from the cracks in the door, laying you down on the table and leaning down to cover your body with his. He was so close to you now, feeling every part of him press against you—every aspect. 

Snap!

Frozen in place, wide eyes adorn your face from the sudden sound. Arthur was still above you as he sharpened his ears, finding it difficult to hear since the rain hit the ground loudly outside. The snap had been just outdoor, like someone stepping on a branch. Panicked, you tried to find a reasonable explanation: an animal, a branch falling, or maybe Boadicea had moved.

Slowly, Arthur raised his body from yours, leaving you flustered and scared on the table. With a frightened stare, you looked at him as he raised his finger to his mouth, slowly stepping away so the wooden planks wouldn’t creek. Leaning against the door’s side, his hand rested on his pistol. Stay still. His eyes told you to do as he said, and so you did. It’s not like you were able to anyway, your muscles petrified. They had found you. The worst outcome filled your mind; what would they do to you if they got the upper hand? Turn you in, or worse, put a bullet between your eyes?

The loud noise of the door slamming open made you shoot your eyes toward it, finding Arthur standing in the doorway with his pistol pointed out into the dark.

“Aw, shit.” His throaty voice was laced with disbelief, making you lift your head from the table. Your laugh filled the space as the back of your head hit the table with a loud clang, eyes squeezed shut from the sight in front of you. It had seemed like Boadicea had found a friend, the stallion standing still from the sudden intrusion and ran away in haste. “C’mon, get outta here!” The surprised man cursed after the horse, beckoning it out as your hands found your face. The adrenaline still racing through you made your hands shake as the hilarity of the situation made you speechless. Placing your hand on your racing heart, you sat up as the old cutlery clinked underneath you, hearing Arthur’s loud, angry steps hit the porch steps. 

Standing before you, he sighed at your amusement, but you could see a slight smile worm its way underneath his frown. Although it quickly disappeared as he gazed at you before him. Right.

What in the world were you thinking? Now clear-minded, the intimacy you had shared entered your mind. Shame rose in you as your cheeks blazed, taking ahold of your blouse to cover your exposed state.

“Um…” You didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence before he cut you off. Hastily, he grabbed his rifle on the table and the pouch in harsh movements, making sure not to touch you before he went towards the door with big steps.

“It’s soon morning. Stay here until then; we’ll leave in a while.”

After the door slammed shut, the quietness was deafening. Now alone, you could see the slightest bit of light entering the cracks in the walls, but it didn’t ease the heaviness in your chest. It hadn’t been a dream, you thought to yourself. Every minute had been actual: his coarse hands, desperate lips, and body heat. If you closed your eyes and focused enough, you could still feel the traces of fingers over your clothing as his smell reached your nose once again, like he had united with the ghosts of this house and now haunted you. Taunting you. Why had he reacted so yet touched you so fiercely? You felt a pang in your chest at the thought, not understanding. 

Opening your eyes, you buttoned your blouse in shame and put your hands on your cheeks as you lifted yourself off the table. It was still chilly in the room but not as bad as the night before. Mindlessly, you wandered over the space, sat in the chair where Arthurs’s jacket lay, and brought your knees up to your chest, hugging it tight with your arms. The blissful moment you had together faded, the warm touches dimmed into cold, malicious blows to your heart as the hope of finally having a pleasant dream vanished, the moment turning into an all too familiar nightmare.

[carlyraejepsans]

Rate UT characters on likely they are to eat spoiled food

premise: as monster food does not spoil, this speculation is based on how i think they'd treat human food in the post pacifist ending

frisk. trash burger. enough said. (also i hc that they grew up on the streets, so... not a lot of chances to be picky with your food.)

sans. second most likely. there's milk in the fridge bought specifically for him to drink out of the carton whenever frisk's or papyrus' friends come to visit, like a stereotypical disney channel older brother (he loves being annoying on purpose). it's been there for a month. he's still not done with it. it's probably rancid. enjoyer of food and lover of even shittier food. mr worst burger on the menu. he is ESPECIALLY gross about food and he is gross about it on purpose, he will peel an apple for papyrus and then take a bite out of it before cutting him a slice. and then call him a wuss when he acts disgusted. ("stop being a baby bones, we have the same germs anyway" "NO WE DON'T. *YOU* HAVE GERMS! AND I DON'T WANT ANY OF THEM!!" "why? they're pedigreed" "OUGH!?!!"). he mostly uses it as a chance to make a gag (or a lack of gagging, lol) but his strong stomach did also come in handy in the early days of papyrus' interest in cooking

mettaton, of sequins-and-glue hamburgers fame. he's technically tied for 2nd place with sans, but i put him in third because i feel like sans does it on purpose, for mettaton it's more like... a side effect of starting life off as a ghost. few people question it since he's a robot now.

alphys. she doesn't go out of her way to do it, but she buys her snacks in industrial pallet-fuls to reduce social interactions to a minimum, so by the time she reaches the last 3 or 4 packets of blue takis, they're well past their expiration date. not that it stops her. now, this wouldn't happen on the surface because she gets better and has a solid support system, but if monster food could spoil back when she was going Through it with the amalgamates, i feel like she'd either be too depressed or tired to care and eat it, or she'd tumble into a "g-god. you can't even take care of your own f-food. is there anything you can't fuck up" self-deprecation spiral and lose her appetite altogether

flowey. did it to see what would happen. nothing did. never did it again. tbh I just don't think he eats much of anything, spoiled or not.

undyne. getting into the "wouldn't eat spoiled food" tier. she actually thinks it's really gross but papyrus tricks her into doing it by challenging her machismo. she gets SO sick from it. they do this aprox 3 times a month. rinse and repeat

asgore. he's a gardener, and i can see him working in a community garden on the surface, so he'd have access to a lot of fresh produce, for both himself and to give away. however, if some of it were to go bad, he'd probably cut off the affected bit and eat the rest so it doesn't go to waste.

toriel. she is SUPER careful about expiration dates and mold and checks to make sure all she owns is still safe to eat almost weekly. this level of care, however, is mostly meant for other people, not herself, but she would really rather not eat anything that's gone bad. same reasoning as alphys', IF monster food could spoil when she was still in the RUINs, i could technically see her biting the bullet, if only because 1) she was also heavily depressed and struggling to take care of herself, though i think she might sooner skip out on the meal altogether, rather than eat something spoiled, and 2) the awkward stares from the other monsters in the RUINs supermarket might not be something she's willing to deal with on any given day.

papyrus. he would NOT. no way. master of cleaning, germophobe extraordinaire papyrus (well, not really, but he plays the part). if toriel is meticulous, papyrus is obsessive. there better not be a SINGLE spot on his food. and no lines or plaid patterns either!! he WILL wash it untill it goes away. with soap probably. canonically a picky eater to begin with (his picks are just weird as balls). can should and WILL get on sans' ass about his unhealthy eating habits, and that includes eating food that's gone bad.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

No, actually, you get the Kralsei "incest" rant now, I've decided.

The ship being considered incest or incest-adjacent is largely a result of several assumptions that are being made about Ralsei, and to a lesser extent about Kris as well. For this to work, you have to assume the following:

Ralsei is modeled primarily on Asriel

All Boss Monsters of a certain age look identical to one another and are related to one another

Kris had absolutely no hand in Ralsei's creation

Kris is heavily uncomfortable with Ralsei's existence

The entire implied romantic undertones of Ralsei's feelings towards Kris were designed to be incestuous from the start

In order, I shall deconstruct and debunk these. Very long post below the read more, you have been warned.

While it is true that Ralsei does share some superficial similarities with Asriel, he's actually much, MUCH more similar to Kris in many ways. All he shares with Asriel is an anagrammed name and a passing likeness. They're not similar in terms of personality, and that goes regardless of which Asriel we're even talking about. Many people associate Ralsei with Undertale's incarnation of Asriel, who doesn't even exist in the same universe. Any similarities between the two are inferred entirely by the player, aided and abetted by the game making these subtle hints that they're "connected" in some way. Yeah, about as connected as Undertale is to Deltarune. To take this a step further, consider Kris and Frisk. No-one is conflating these two, not in a million years. And yet look, they share an anagrammed name and a passing likeness, so they're basically the same person, aren't they? I mean, we both control them through the SOUL, and they're both protagonists of games made by Toby Fox, so if anything they're more similar to each other than Ralsei is to Asriel. But of course, that's utterly absurd, and we all know it. *

I refer you once again to the humans. And before you tell me "they all obviously look different to each other" - and of course I'm not saying they're not different when they obviously are - consider how a monster might look at these humans if you placed them side-by-side. Pale-ish skin, brown hair, no obvious gender markers, similar height profiles. Any monster who's not intimately familiar with any of the humans in question might perhaps confuse them. And so it is with us and Boss Monsters. Just because Ralsei and Asriel share certain characteristics common to ALL boss monsters does not make them the same, or even similar, to each other. You only have to look at the sprites for the two side-by-side to see that there are plenty of differences between them. And as for Deltarune's Asriel? We haven't even seen this guy, we have NO idea what he looks like. We're just making assumptions again based on incomplete information. And if we assume that all boss monsters are related in some way due to how similar they might appear, then what does that make Toriel and Asgore, two boss monsters who have canonically produced offspring in both continuities? I don't need to say it, do I? *

It should be clarified here that I don't just mean Kris consciously made Ralsei at any point, either as an imaginary friend or monster-sona or what-have-you, but that Ralsei's creation as a darkner is somehow linked to how Kris saw themself/wished to be seen in their childhood. The most obvious piece of evidence supporting this is the horned headband that Toriel mentions at the end of Chapter 1. It's heavily implied that Kris would wear it so that they could be the same as their adoptive family, before they supposedly lost it somewhere down the line. It's not too much of a leap in logic to infer from this that Ralsei was created from that headband, at least in part. That said, there are certain aspects of Ralsei that don't exactly fit this neat mold, and I am willing to concede this point if it turns out that the headband thing is a massive misdirect. Nonetheless, I would say that the evidence we currently have to hand points more resolutely towards Ralsei being an aspect of Kris than of him being an aspect of Asriel. *

So I'm just going to say it: WE DON'T KNOW. Because Kris is our protagonist and POV character, it's incredibly easy to forget that we know next-to-nothing about the inner workings of their mind. They have no dialogue except what we tell them to say, and anything we CAN say about them is inferred from how other characters respond to their tone of voice. Of course, we can infer that Kris doesn't fully consider Ralsei a good friend based on his tea healing 60HP, but that on its own doesn't really tell us anything of much substance because you can't exactly cross-reference those numbers against a handy chart or anything - it's all context-dependent. We do at least know that they are comfortable enough around Ralsei to play the odd prank on him, which we know is something they used to do a lot of with Noelle and Asriel, two people they were close to growing up. They will, of their own volition, interpret our instruction to "take a bite" of Ralsei's dummy's clothes to make it look like they're kissing it on the cheek. I don't think that's something you would do with somebody who freaked you out on an existential level, or somebody who reminded you of your brother. Again, I am willing to concede this point should it turn out my interpretation of these clues is incorrect. *

Ask yourself this: What would Kralsei being incest - or incest-adjacent, or pseudo-incest, or whatever - contribute to the characters of Kris and Ralsei, to our relationship to them as players, or to the narrative or wider themes of Deltarune as a whole? I'll tell you - nothing whatsoever. The most such an interpretation can EVER say is that we as players are so easily manipulated by window-dressing and flattery that we will, knowingly or otherwise, romantically pair two characters together who are related in some way, shape or form. And let's say that this IS the intent behind their dynamic - all it amounts to, all it can ever amount to, is a great bit gotcha from Toby Fox himself. Haha, I tricked you into shipping two characters who are secretly related, isn't that fucked up of you? Somehow, I don't think that was his intention with this, it seems such a petty and small-minded thing for somebody who we know is capable of creating moving, thought-provoking, horrifying and beautiful stories. He's better than that. It turns the entire thing into a glorified skill-check: are YOU smart enough to identify that you're being encouraged to engage in incest-shipping, or are you a dumbass who only sees what's presented to you and doesn't ask questions about it? Contrary to popular belief, we're not all 5-D chess grandmasters, and shockingly not everybody is going to interpret the clues in this way. All it does is make people who DO earnestly ship Kralsei feel bad for something the game WAS ENCOURAGING THEM TO DO. Which would be fine if we were playing, say, Spec Ops: The Line, which is very much built around that conceit. And hey, if you wanna feel shitty about shipping two characters together in an extremely unhealthy and harmful manner, Snowgrave is right there. The difference here is that the weird route is A) completely optional, B) difficult if not impossible to accidentally trigger, C) completely derails the game's story and emotional beats, and D) doesn't rely on the shock value of surprise incest to carry it. Snowgrave actually has something INTERESTING to say about the nature of former friends, forced romance, a player's control over a protagonist and how people can be manipulated to do horrendous things by proxy. All the incest interpretation of Kralsei has to offer is that... it's incest, and you're a bit yucky for partaking in it. I'll wrap up this point by saying: incest is a very emotive topic and produces visceral emotional reactions in a lot of people. It's very clever that people have looked critically at Kralsei and observed the possibility, the interpretation, that this could be what's happening, but if the aim in doing so was to promote debate and analysis on the topic, I'm afraid it's only succeeded in doing the exact opposite, causing people to disengage from it entirely. And I strongly believe that's going to severely harm the state of discourse going into Deltarune's future chapters, because how are you going to talk about the game and what it's trying to say if you keep dodging a major part of it for fear of being thought of as pro-incest? It sucks if you're invested in the ship because no-one wants to discuss it, it sucks if you're NOT invested in the ship because it's not likely going to just evaporate come chapter 3, it sucks for everybody.

Now, having said all of that, I am not here to convince you that Kralsei is the truth and the life and what-have-you - you can read any of my other essays on the topic if you want to be preached to in that manner. You're valid and based for not liking Kralsei for any reason, and I wholeheartedly respect your opinion. All I'm trying to say here is that, calling it incest because "Ralsei is/looks like Asriel" or "Kris hates Ralsei" or whatever doesn't do anything for anyone. There are plenty of valid reasons not to like the ship, I just don't think that this is one of them.

Rant over, have a lovely day :D

[zuzuelectricbugaloo]

Tête-à-Tête: Deux

Rating: Teen

Pairing: None, though Cross and Epic’s relationship is left romantically ambiguous

Synopsis: Nightmare takes the first shot, striking at Epic’s deepest loves and insecurities

CW: Referenced Epictale characters’ deaths

Word Count: 1, 085

Part 1, Part 2 of A Guardian, A Scientist, and A Parlay

With that solid shake, they let their hands return to their sides. Nightmare’s form rippled, his body melting and shifting from blobs moving from one direction the next before it stopped at one mold of a body.

A familiar one, as lines settled in and the fluidity cleared to reveal the form of Epic’s best and dearest friend.

“Cross” dropped his chin in his open fist and propped his elbow up. His eyes lower and he places his other hand on the table invitingly, ivory eyelights flickering cyan (teal?) as he smiles, fond and crooked just like Cross would.

But Epic knows this isn’t Cross, and watches in careful neutrality as Nightmare takes the first shot.

“So, tell me,” apart from the sultry lilt to his tenor, Nightmare mimicked Cross’s cadence perfectly, even matching him pitch for pitch. “How does it feel, dude, to constantly live with the fact that you failed your dearest friend? That you let me die and lose everything important to me.”

Nightmare’s forlorn melancholy is betrayed by the way his mouth lifts at the corners. “My memories, my sense of self, my family, my worth. I lost everything, falling into an endless pit of despair that I dragged the multiverse into while you were gallivanting off in the Omega Timeline making new friends.”

“That’s not how it—”

“Cross’s” mouth quivered, tears welling in his sockets. “How could you abandon me like that?”

It’s not Cross. Epic knows this. And still the guilt simmers low in his nonexistent gut, burning him from the inside. To hear Cross’s voice, so broken and betrayed, it hurt. His Soul aches hearing it, a dark voice in the back of his mind murmuring if that was truly how Cross felt.

Even though Epic at the time didn’t know what happened to Cross, didn’t know how to find him or if he could, or how he’d still apologized and his bruh brushed it off. He couldn’t help but always worry if Cross truly meant it.

And Nightmare played those insecurities and fears like a well worn instrument, plucking his strings one by one until he fell apart.

“Do I mean nothing to you, Epic?”

His Soul weeps. Of course not! How could you be nothing, when you mean everything?

“Cross” sobs into his hands, tears flowing and melting away with his body as Nightmare shifts once more.

His Soul crumbles with him. He hated seeing Cross cry, wanted to wipe away his tears and kiss his tear-stained sockets and nuzzle his jaw and hold him close

Epic tries so, so hard, but he always, always falls.

“And it’s not only Cross that you’ve failed, is it, Epic?”

The form of the Frisk he once knew appeared, eyes hidden by their bangs. “You let your Gaster kill me,” they murmured.

Another pang in his Soul for the loss of such a young, innocent life.

He’d gotten there too late.

Chara replaced them. “You let him possess me, used my body to fight you.”

Another child he couldn’t save.

“You should’ve died.” They accuse. “You did die.”

He always did.

“You died, and he killed Papyrus next.”

They condensed and grew until they towered over Epic as Gaster. “And let me live once more.”

“If it weren’t for your oh so precious friend,” Gaster’s eyes narrowed in displeasure. “Destroying the barrier and stealing our AU’s code, you’d still be dead.”

Ha, as if that bothered him. Dying was easy for Epic. It was living, wanting to and enjoying being alive, that was hard. “Got me there.”

Everything was…murky, after that. He remembered the AU resetting because of Cross’s Determination. How Gaster still had his own body but he and Papyrus kept the Eyes, Chara and Frisk were nowhere to be found, and Epic…

Epic made and lost a best friend in one. He lived in the Omega Timeline after, while his brother chose to stay in their AU, befriended Color and Delta, and never once stopped thinking about his best friend. Cross had disappeared from what he now knew was an Overwrite, all his memories of their friendship gone, and Epic was left with memories of what was and will never be again.

But what Nightmare didn’t know was that Epic understood people would always change. That Cross and he would always be the bestest of friends. Epic didn’t love Cross any less and never would. Cross still had the same crooked grin, the same laugh, the same fire in his eyes and heart made of the unfathomable and infinitesimal galaxies Epic adored.

Epic was more than happy to create new memories with Cross as long as he could still hold his hand in his and watch the same silly shows together or laugh over the tacos Cross had made. As long as he could still cradle his face and tell him how much he meant to him and watch Cross light up with the loveliest lilac blush that made Epic’s Soul sing.

Epic may have failed over and over again, but as long as he had people to love he’d never stop trying to amend for his failures nor stop trying to keep what’s most precious to him safe and happy. Epic was useless – he couldn’t save them or help them when they needed him. He knew this.

But that didn’t mean he’d ever stop loving them, or ever stop reminding them how they are loved and wanted in his life and what made it worth living.

A skeleton with a black bandana decorated in the royal rune beams at him in his mind’s eye, calling his name and waving at him to join the rest of their friends.

His Soul warms and it’s enough to push away the ice and claw out of the dark hole he’d been thrown in. He’s fallen into it plenty of times. This isn’t the first time he’d fallen nor would it be the last he dug himself out.

Evidently his affirmed resolve and reminiscences must’ve disgusted Nightmare. “Gaster” vanished with a low, curdled sneer, as Nightmare took his place once more.

“Nothing to say, Epic?” Nightmare goaded. “Not even going to try to defend yourself?”

It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts, his chest still tight with regret. But when he puts it all away as he does, saving it for later, for when it’s safer to fall apart, he will. Now, he’s got a part to play.

It's curtain call, and he was born to perform.

[gazsluckyhat]

Sarah's House *TW* - from this chapter on

Six - Chest Hair

Masterlist

Hey guys! I know I said there'd be consistent updates but apparently my brain doesn't work like that. Chapter six is a lot of talking and some sad things. But its getting good. Get a little banter in this one. I hope you guys enjoy!

Price knew he shouldn't take the mission. The outcome seemed obvious, or so he thought. Until he wasn't anymore.

or

Like calls to like. Or something of the sort.

Ghost and Gaz have the table set and ready when Sarah makes it downstairs. The food smells amazing and her stomach growls as she walks in, both boys looking over at her. Ghost finds her hand, pulling her to him and kissing her head before pushing her towards a seat.

"Good to know you're hungry." She nods towards Gaz. Starving. She doesn't say it. Doesn't want to admit how hungry she really was. Had wanted to steal the MRE Johnny had offered her on the flight, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Made something simple, easy on your belly we hope." Gaz has such pretty hands, she notices when he sets her plate down. His fingers aren't too small or big, just right and long. Manicured nails showing just how much he actually cared for himself. She wonders what else those pretty fingers were capable of. Shooting? Fighting? Strangling? Fingering? Would he shove them down her throat to shush her while forcing the other ones inside her?

It's not until a hand touches her thigh that she realizes she was staring, or daydreaming. She shoos the thoughts away with the idea they're wildly inappropriate. These men saved her and have agreed to get her back on her feet, nothing more. What she's feeling is normal, she tells herself. Most woman saved like she was develop attraction towards their heroes, but she should not act on it. Plus, she doesn’t even know if her vagina works anymore. Hadn't been used since before she'd went missing. Even then finishing was rare. No, she needed to focus on herself and not the increasing need to frisk the men sitting around her.

"Do you like it?" Ghost and Jesus, everyone else are watching her. She looks down and actually looks at the food. Pasta. Alfredo with what looks like chicken and broccoli. It looks like what she imagines Heaven will look like. She takes a fork full and tastes it. Fuck me. It tastes like what she imagines Gaz tastes' like. Fucking Heaven. She moans, doesn't mean to but the food is euphoric. She hasn't had anything decent in two years. Slop and molded food that only kept her alive and never fed.

"I'll take 'at as a yes." The men are all smiling. Watching her eat being the first step in a long recovery.

Sarah listens to the boys talk as she eats. Her dad chiming in with facts and stories. She finished her first bowl and got another, just listening and watching the people around her. How normal it was. Conversations not pertaining to murders, rape, or torture. How it felt to sit and eat and not be gawked at or have things thrown at you. What it was like to not have food used as a bargaining chip. She enjoyed food before. Loved to try new things. Sushi, BBQ, pasta, anything. The only reason she was as small as she was, was because of her training. Russia had ruined it. Took away the love and smothered it. She ate only because her body screamed for it. Had done horrible nasty things for scraps. Allowed herself to fade to the black and whatever happen, happen. She'd forgotten what it was like to be human. To talk and eat and relax. Relaxing was still far away but this, this was nice. She was safe, fed, clothed, and happy. Maybe happy? Wasn't sure what that was anymore.

"Do you remember Rabbit?" Head snaps up as she hears her pet name. Cheeks flaming as she realizes she's missed the whole conversation.

"Hop away did we?" Price is smiling, no anger or malice in her voice. He's asking her if she's okay without making it a spectacle. She gives a quick nod and looked down to take a bite. Failure. It's loud and in her ear. She jumps, head whipping around to face nothing. She doesn't clock the eyes on her. No, she's too focused on the loud sounds in her head. Whore. It's across the room. Shape dark and standing taller than her. Face clouded in mist, swirling around. It's speaking to her. Useless. She crinkles her napkin. Worthless. Scoots her chair out. Traitor. Standing she goes to run. The thing closer now. Russian garbage. Used like the whore you are. She's running before it finishes it's sentence. Footsteps pounding behind her, she goes to hide in her room. Sobbing she's in the closet in seconds. Hit's the back and crawls into the corner. The clothes concealing her from view. Hands over her ears she rolls herself into a ball. The voices in her head getting louder and louder. Someone's banging on her cell door. The guards are trying to get in. They're gonna hurt her, tear her clothes again and try to touch her. Her team is gonna find her though, no man left behind. They'd promised.

"Sarah!" Her name is strange agaisnt her ears. She curls tighter and sobs louder. There's a loud noise and some light. They've found her. They're gonna kill her. Sarah is screaming, loud and hoarse.

"Flower, c'mre." Hands are coming towards her, rough and calloused. Hands that have held a gun. Sarah screams louder, begging for help. Feet kicking as she attempts to crawl away. Her side still aching from the last guard.

"Price!" The person behind the one trying to grab her is built just like the one below. The light behind him casting a shadow. She's praying her team finds her soon, terror racing through her veins.

"Move, she can't see our faces." The shadow is gone and suddenly she sees her tormentor. Brown eyes. She knows those eyes. Dean. She reaches out to him. Tears soaking through her uniform.

"You found me." Why is her voice so gruff? And she's wrapping her arms around his neck. Clinging to the man she'd spent years bunked beside. "You saved me." She's being picked up, carried to safety.

"We found you. You're safe, flower." Flower? No, raven. Her name is raven, Dean came up with it. She's set on something soft and pulls back confused. The face she sees is not Dean's, no but it is familiar. Flower. Someone else calls her that. Someone with a skull mask. Her fingers touch the baklava. She catches those eyes again and notices the difference in them to Dean's. Instead of gold she sees chocolate. Deep and smooth. Those eyes did save her, they carried her away from the horrible pain. Her lip quivers and shes shaking.

"Ghost?" Voice so low he almost misses it. Hands on her face he nods. She leans into those hands.

"Right 'ere. Haven't left you." He can see the tension in her bones. She's wound so tight she could snap. She looks over his shoulder to the other boys watching, her father in front.

"I'm - so-rry." She hiccups. Ghost is shushing her, hands holding her to him.

"No, don't do 'at." He throws a look over his shoulder and her dad is there in a instant.

"Rabbit?" She nods. Doesn't know what to say. Refuses to tell him what happened. Instead she points to the bed.

"I wa-an-na sl-e-ep." It's broken but more than she'd said in years. Her father nods and kisses her head before rushing off down the hall. She catches the boys and tears well in her eyes again. She makes grabby hands and Gaz and Johnny join Ghost's side. Sarah holding each of their hands as she leans on Ghost's chest, breathing slowing down. She tenses for a second when she feels the dip in the bed, before instantly relaxing when Price's scent hits her nose. She's safe like this, boxed in by the only four men who'd not hurt her. Who'd only ever offered kindness and safety.

"You need to sleep, lovie. We can talk about tonight in the morning." Price is rubbing her hair, she can feel the exhaustion taking root as the adrenaline fades out. He's right, she's picking up that he usually might be. But she doesn't wanna be alone. She's been alone for two years. So she tugs on the hands and looks up.

"Not alo-ne." Gaz is tugging her hand away in a second, her eyes going wide and breathing picking up. He's leaving. Tears well up in her eyes until he takes her chin and shakes his head.

"Need to get ready for bed if I'm laying with you." She smiles as he kisses her head watching as he pulls away and goes to change.

"You wanna change too?" Ghost is turning her face up.

"Pl-e-ase."

"Course." He's in her closet right after leaving her to sit with Johnny and Price. Price who is still rubbing her hair, and shit, she could fall asleep like this.

"Gaz wins this round 'aye?" Johnny is joking, his need to always make people happy even in the worst of times. Sarah doesn't agree and instead tugs him closer.

"You t-oo-o." Her cheeks are crimson even asking. The idea taboo but she can't sleep alone. Not yet, not when she can still feel the cold of her cell in her bones. Johnny nods, because of course, he'd do anything she asks. "Cha-nge?" Johnny nods before he too exits. Ghost comes back with a pretty purple set that looks like a dream. Price gets up to leave.

"I'll leave you to it." Turns to say goodnight and she's already stripping. He freezes, not because she's naked but because she's naked. It's the first time he's seeing her clean and treated. Her wounds and scars on full display. He catches sight of a nasty scar on her side. He doesn't mean to stare, doesn't even know hes walked closer until he's brushing his fingertips agaisnt the scar. She freezes for a split second before looking at him, gauging his reaction. She expects disgust or pity, but instead finds anger? She leans away and he finally notices her face. Shame. "No, never. You 'ave nothin to be shamed about? No ones angry at 'ya. We're mad at what happened, at the people who did it. Never you." Ghost slips the shirt over her head and pushes her into Price who hugs her. Squeezes her and places a kiss on her head.

"Get some sleep. Long day tomorrow." She nods and nuzzles into Ghost's black hoodie. Gaz is back, slipping in behind her and grabbing her arm. She allows him to pull her into the bed, slipping under the blanket and making room for Johnny. Johnny who is only in a thin pair of sleep pants. Sarah looks away, hoping he doesn't notice her red cheeks.

"Better watch out, Johnny snores." She giggles and she curls into Gaz, grateful for the warmth. Johnny scoffs as he scoots close to her and slips a arm over her hips.

"Speak for yourself." Gaz laughs and Sarah can feel the vibrations in his chest. Its calming somehow. Johnny kisses her head and nuzzles into her back, his breath warming her neck. Its comfortable, being touched like this. She knows she doesn't have to worry about them hurting her. They actually care for her and wanna see her thrive. And here wrapped in both of them she knows she's safe. She can sleep and not worry about waking up to hands around her throat or thighs. This is relaxing, she realizes. Wrapped up and warm. Both boys breathing evenly and holding her. She slips off thinking how this is her version of home.

Johnny does in fact snore. Extremely loudly at that. But she's fully rested, the sun dim through the curtains. Gaz is gone, must have gotten up earlier. She curls closer to Johnny, his warmth on the verge of easing her back to sleep. And she would've too, if Johnny hadn't slung his arm over her chest and squeezed, nuzzling into her back. It cuts off her air supply and she has to slap at Johnny. Clawing at the fat of his arm, pinching him.

"So-oap." He moves a bit. "So-o-oap!" A little louder. "Soap!" That's it. He's up in a instant. Eyes finding her and helping her sit up.

"What is it lassie?" She giggles a little. He's cute. Mohawk a mess, dried drool on his chin and sleep in his eyes. "What?"

"Cute." She squeeze's his cheek for added effect. "Yo-ur lo-ou-d. Squi-sh-ed me." Johnny blushes. Sarah smiles and snuggles into his chest, nudging his arms out of her way. The light hair tickling her cheek. She sits there and listens to his heartbeat. The rhythmic thump, thump, thump quieting the voices. Johnny rubs her hair as he hums some old song his mum used to sing to him. Sits there for as long as she wants, her touch calming his nerves. Easing away the terror he felt last night.

"Oi! You're awake." Gaz is still in sleep clothes but looks wide awake. He climbs in beside her and kisses her head that is still pressed to his friends chest. "Sleep good?" She hums in response.

"Sn-ore l-ou-d." He chuckles and smacks Johnny's arm.

"Told ya' mate." Johnny is grumbling.

"Can't 'elp it!" Sarah chuckles and pry's herself off him. Her eyes staring into the sparkling blue of Johnny's. She rubs her nose agaisnt his, causing him to shiver and nip at her own.

"C'mere. You're dad made French toast." She happily climbed out of the bed and into Gaz's waiting arms. Mention of her dads favorite breakfast food causing her stomach to growl.

Breakfast is simple and no one asks questions about last night. Letting her eat and wake up. Ghost gives her a cup of coffee, gawking as she dumps sugar and milk in it. Grumbling about "coffee is black" and "already too fukin' sweet". She just giggles and sit back beside Price and her dad. Almost moaning once again when the toast first touches her tongue. Memories of Sunday mornings and laughter bubbling up. Tears come to her eyes when she first takes a sip of coffee. The warmth is brings reminding her of her mom, the coffee she'd make her every morning. She take a second, closes her eyes and lets herself actually feel. The ache from losing her and from not having her when she needs her the most. Price catches it, catches everything really. It is his job after all. He takes her knee under the table. Three light taps to let her know its okay. That she's okay. And she taps back. Giving him a smile when she opens her eyes. Thankful for his understanding.

"I'm gonna head back home today." She stares at her father. Shock in her eyes. Maybe a little hurt too.

"Why?" Ghost grunts it out, going between looking at him and watch Sarah for a reaction. All she does is a slight dip in her shoulders.

"I can do more from there then I can here. Last night was proof I'm not capable of properly helping. And I feel I'm only in the way here." She looks away. Out the back door and into the forest. The sun shining bright. She wants to feel the warmth. So she promptly gets up and walks out the door. Letting it shut behind her. There's a lawn chair not to far from the patio in front of a fire pit. She sits down and brings her knees to her chin. Turning her head up she closes her eyes and just basks in the warmth. The sunshine bright even agaisnt her closed eyes. She evens her breathing and tightens her hold on her legs. The burning in her throat the sign tears are coming. She can feel the person before they speak, but doesn't open her eyes. Knowing if she does she's gonna break.

"Your mom was sick before you were born." He doesn't try and touch her. Just speaks. "Her childhood was rough and her time in the Marines gave her enough problems. I didn't quite understand until it was too late. She'd disappear in her head for weeks at a time. Found her with a razor a couple times, nothing too serious. She stopped after a while, though she was getting better. You were born and she seemed so happy.  We both were. You were the light of our lives. Around your second birthday it got bad again. She would go to bed and just lay there. I'd find you in your crib, playing with the air. I tried to talk to her and help but it just didn't work. When you were two years old you walked in on her cutting words into her arms. I went to look for you and found you crying at her feet, your little hands bloody. You were asking her why she was doing it. I took you and cleaned you up, put you to bed. Then I went and called nine-one-one. She was gone for two days before coming back. I tried to get her help. But I wasn't enough. I lost your mother because of that, and I refuse to lose you for the same reason." Sarah chokes back a sob, allowing herself to fall into her fathers arm and cry.

"Mis-s her." He rubs her head, nodding with her.

"I do too. But she loved you. She may have had her problems but you brought her so much joy." She breaks harder at that. "I can't wait until you come home. But I know you are safe here. I trust you with these men more than you being home. They care for you, I can see it. I love you and want for you to be happy."

"Lo-ve y-ou dad." She knows when he's leaving, feels herself being handed off. Smells Price's musk and cries even harder. Knowing he was leaving to keep her safe.

"C'mere sweet girl. I've got ya'." She clutches onto him, sobbing into his chest as he rubs her hair and whispers in her ear.

[grouptale-bits]

It’s interesting that it’s file 2 that was loaded… in canon, it’s implied that file 0 is Chara’s, 1-6 belonged the fallen humans, 8 is Flowey’s and 9 is Frisk’s. (7 is a mystery, but some theorize it belongs/belonged to one of the amalgamates)

…I guess that since they all fell at once and Flowey somehow already exists that makes file 1 Flowey’s and file 2 (presumably) Frisk’s?

Honestly now that I think of it… would the amalgamates even exist in this au? There presumably aren’t any human souls lying around for alphys to extract determination from. But then that raises the question of how Flowey exists…

YAAY This gives me a excuse to briefly explain the state of the save systems in group tale. Let’s set a few things before we go further

Remember this is a alternative universe so while I try to stick pretty close to game lore I do mold things to create the grouptale lore

Frisks soul represents determination in this universe because honestly it’s just fits the story I’m telling way easier then unknown red soul

-

Saves are inspired by the ones in deltarune. There can be multiple save files at the same time. But the difference is multiple files CANNOT be used at once nor can others be controlled.

So in the underground, anyone with the most determination can have a save file. For a time Flowey was that person. But now that frisk fell floweys save was overwritten by frisks as soon as they fell

file 1 here was back in the beginning of the ruins

And we’ll see file 2 in the next segment

THIS however doesn’t means floweys saves are totally erased. just inaccessible for the time being

—

Ok Lore dump over

[scri--bble]

Undermold chara and frisk doodles

[gracefireheart]

Wanted to add more to my Gravity Falls x Pokemon AU, which is moreso about what pokemon certain characters / creatures in Gravity Falls are. Not every character / creature is here, just some of them. But I might just edit this post and add more if I see fit :')

Anyways, let's get to it.

The Gnomes

Species: Falinks

Ability: Defiant

Moveset: Bulk Up | First Impression | Rock Smash | Focus Energy

Extra info: -The head Falink- also known as the brass- is of course Jeff. -Unlike regular Falinks where there's five troopers following the brass, this one can have up to a hundred troopers, maybe even more. -The Shmebulock [family?] are the shiny variant of [a single] Falinks. -If this AU followed the canon timeline, then stuff would have to be changed when it comes to them and Mabel (and Gideon).

The [Real] Gobblewonker

Species: [Mega] Gyarados

Ability: Mold Breaker

Moveset: Scary Face | Trash | Crunch | Aqua Tail

Extra info: -Although it has some resemblance of a regular Gyarados, it is actually a Mega Gyarados that is unable to transform back to it's regular form. -If this AU followed the canon timeline, then Fiddleford "Old Man" McGucket would end up making a mechanical Gyarados to try and get his son's attention.

The Ghosts of Ma and Pa

Species: Ma - Mismagius Pa - [shiny] Mismagius

Ability: Levitate [Both]

Moveset: Ma - Phantom Force | Confuse Ray | Spite | Psybeam Pa - Phantom Force | Mystical Fire | Spite | Mean look

Extra info: -After Ma and Pa passed away, they were turned into a couple of Mismagius. They continue to haunt the store as usual.

The Manotaurs

Species: A mix of Paldean, Blaze Breed, and Aqua Breed Tauros

Ability: Either Anger Point or Intimidate

Moveset: There's so many of them, so who knows

Extra info: -Chutzpar is a Paldean Tauros, while Leaderaur is a shiny Blaze Breed Tauros.

The Multibear

Species: Ursaluna [Bloodmoon Form]

Ability: Mind's Eye

Moveset: Leer | Headlong Rush | Hammer Arm | Play Nice

Extra info: -Sadly doesn't have multiple heads like the normal Multibear. -Still loves "Disco Girl" by BABBA.

The Gremloblin

Species: [shiny] Mimikyu

Ability: Disguise

Moveset: Hone Claws | Play Rough | Shadow Claw | Wood Hammer

Extra info: -May not be big and intimidating like the Gremloblin, but Mimikyu have killed some people from terror if they tried to look at it's true appearance.

The Shapeshifter "Shifty"

Species: Ditto

Ability: Imposter

Moveset: Transform

Extra info: -Although it used to look just like a regular Ditto when it had hatched from it's egg, it's appearance nowadays- after years of transforming into all sorts of different pokemon- looks like an amalgamation of different pokemon with a gooey, purple-ish pink outer layer.

The Ghost of Archibald Corduroy

Species: [shiny] Trevenant

Ability: Frisk

Moveset: Forest's Curse | Horn Leech | Hex | Will-O-Wisp

Extra info: -While Archibald was turned into a Trevenant after his death- and had gotten tied to the Northwest Manor- the rest of the lumberjacks were turned into Phantumps that aimlessly roam around the forest.

Celestabellebethabelle [and the other Unicorns]

Species: Galarian Rapidash

Ability: Pastel Veil

Moveset: Stomp | Dazzling Gleam | Fairy Wind | Heal Pulse

Extra info: -Says she's the last of her kind, it's very much a lie. -To check if someone is "pure of heart," she uses Heal Pulse on the person's chest. Once again, just a lie.

Bill Cipher

Species: An Ultra Beast

Typing: Psychic / Fire

Ability: Beast Boost [Boosts his Special Attack]

Moveset: Hyperspace Fury | Psychic | Cosmic Power | Sacred Fire

Extra info: -Wants Ford to build a machine that will open up an Ultra Wormhole. Says it has all the secrets of the universe, but in reality, it let's him and his other Ultra Beast buddies through to Earth so they can party and create more chaos than ever before. *Zanthar could be Stakataka, Teeth or Paci-Fire could be Guzzlord, Pyronica could be Pheromosa or Blacephalon, Lavalamp could be Buzzwole or Celesteela, 8 Ball could be Xurkitree, and Amorphous Shape could be Kartana. Unsure what Kryptos, Hectorgon, Keyhole, and the Eyebats could be if not anything original. -There won't be any romantic (or sexual) tension between him and Ford in this AU. Sorry, but I ain't touching that with a ten foot pole.

The Axolotl

Species: Mew

Ability: Synchronize

Moveset: Life Dew | Imprison | Psychic | Transform

Extra info: -It's appearance will look more like a mix between an axolotl and Mew, replacing Mew's ears with frills and whatnot. -It will also be a hell of a lot bigger than a regular Mew, which is usually just 0.4m / 1'04".

Other notable characters / creatures I'm unsure what pokemon to make them / what to do with:

The Timebaby - It's between having him be a very big, probably shiny Celebi, or make baby-fied version of Palkia.

The Summerween Trickster - There's a few pokemon he could potentially be, such as Dusknoir, [mega or not] Banette, perhaps Spiritomb, maybe even Cofagrigus, and so on. Idk.

Mermando - If this AU followed the canon timeline, I probably wouldn't have Mermando be a pokemon, maybe instead be a human that were raised by some water type pokemon.

The Zombies - I honestly have no clue ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The Lilliputtians - If this AU followed the canon timeline, then uhhh... Idk? Maybe Gimmighoul?

The Love God - He would probably be just a regular trainer that has some sort of pokemon that's really good at making people or pokemon fall in love (or hate eachother). Only people with other people, and then pokemon with other pokemon, istg 🚶

Darlene [and the Spider People] - Darlene's probably just a trainer -with questionable morals- who has some spider pokemon (Ariados, Galvantula, Araquanid, and Spidops) that likes eating pokemon more than regular pokemon food.

[havinganormalone]

Independent Sex Toy Creators

Since Etsy is being a little bitch and banning sex toys, I wanted to make a reference list of independent sex toy creators. This is by no means exhaustive- literally thousands of sellers are getting screwed by this nonsensical puritanical bullshit- this is merely creators that caught my eye as people I might want to spend money on at a future date. I will be avoiding Etsy for even sfw purchases in the future, since this policy is out of hand and is going to disproportionately impact queer, trans creators. Because that is the way these things always work. Anyways, here's a list of artisans I don't want to lose.

Fantasticocks: Makes monster dildos, ftm strokers, eggs, and other goodies. I have bought from here, and am always in love with the pours- offers UV reactive stuff. Ohio based.

Odyssey Toys: They make some THICK boys. Firm grinders you can strap to things, inflatable knots, plugs. A lot of tentacles and a more old school swords and sorcery feel. UK based.

Chillow Fantasy: Makers of the Penis Fly Trap. Silly, memey sex toys. Michigan based.

Kreature Toys: They sale dildos that have a suction hole for fuck machines. Monster dildos. Michigan based.

Kinky Kreatures: Monster dildos. Sells knot sheaths and grinder gloves, as well as more standard toys. Australia based.

Frisk Toys: Ejaculating dildos. UK based.

Love Smiths: Monster toys, from dildos to butt plugs, with a wide variety of creative strokers. France based.

Okova: Sells tail plugs, including things like devil tails, horse tails, fox tails, etc. A very white variety, from whimsical to realistic, with good quality fur. Ukraine based.

Where is Willy: Specialist shop for FTM packers/strokers. Has strap on harnesses. Also has a line of binders in the works. Poland based.

TranZWear: Packers and stand to pee devices, medial grade materials, an emphasis more on utility than sex. Also sells binders, boxers for packing, and pumps. California based.

Xenocat Artifacts: Alien inspired toys, like double knotted dildos or tentacles. Also has furry explicit body pillows. Bought from them at a furry convention and the person in the pup hood working the booth was helpful and actually bothered to ask my pronouns, something that almost never happens to me (people assume I am she/her).

Primal Hardwere: Has sheaths, inflating dildos, and molds for gelatin eggs. More old school leather culture feel. US based. They made my favorite toy, a glow in the dark knotted sheath.

Tails of Fantasy: Tail plugs on a branch that is designed to have a more realistic placement than your typical tail plug. Also sells collars and ears. New York based.

Naughty Indulgence: Cheaper end sex toys and glass toys. Veteran owned.

BonBDSM: Silicone tail plugs, hoods, furred harnesses, medical fetish play. Thailand based.

FetFashions: Sells clothing that says things like Breed Me, Daddy, Slut, etc. The sort of thing etsy is trying to ban, so it's good to know a place that will do this.

These might be safe under the new TOS, as they are non-insertable BDSM gear, but at this point avoid shopping on Etsy whenever possible.

LeatherBond: Floggers, whips, restraints, all boasting made from real leather.

The Latex Store: Sells latex penis sheaths as well as some inflatable gags and other latex clothing.

Wruff Stuff: Animal hoods- of the puphood variety, but with a much wider selection, including pig, dragon, fox. Made of a neoprene material. I own one, it is more breathable than leather, and the design draws the eye. UK based.

Creative Kink: Paddles, canes, knives- both dull and sharpened. Pennsylvanian based.

Once again, this list is by no means exhaustive, and is mostly meant for my own personal reference. However, if you have a sex toy creator and you want to promote their stuff, feel free to drop a reference in the reblogs.

[coolingrosa]

Hi omg hi I don't know if this is too long sorry I'm gonna rant but: Ur RoseVerse is literally so inspiring u urself are literally so insanely inspiring. I'm sugarcoating it when I say what you're doing in RoseVerse is revolutionary for this community, I love every single bit of it so much, and you've inspired me to expand and change things for the better with my own upcoming utmv series for an original multiverse. Haha ok now on to an actual question: Was Killer aware of the Multiverse before Nightmare brought him in? It kind of seems like it since at one point he complains about how Nightmare tells him about the date/time, like it's obvious how you don't use a mortal system for it, or how when they first met Killer was all like "I know you're a killer, you're a bad person" etc etc.

Hello!! This is one of the sweetest messages I’ve ever gotten, and please don’t ever apologize for the length! I LIVE for asks ns every time I get one, no matter the size, I get giddy. Messages like this motivate me to push through the monster that is chapter four! (I’m trying my best to get it out fast, but that thing is 20k words rn and only at the climax, so it’s gonna take a little bit longer! But I swear to you all you’re gonna love it! I’ve been putting my college writing classes to work, and I’m already preparing the accompanying animatics to go along with it!)

I’m so glad my work can inspire you to create and make wonderful things, as I believe that the Undertale multiverse is something so fun to mold into whatever you want. My friend Null, the official VA for Orchid Frisk (who will be used in memes and promotional material), has equally amazing multiverse and the ideas spanning in that is awesome.

Don’t ever give up on your creation, as I’m sure it’s going to be other people’s comfort someday too. People out there may read your fics on a bad day and feel utterly warm. I had that with FTFOS, and now I, glad to hear I can do that with others with my own content.

As For Your Question….

Killer was unaware that the theories of a multiverse existing was true. He had heard his father speak about it, and also dug into some of the studies he did, but he never got to have the standard lab experience most Sans’s do since he was so young. Therefore, he never got to dive too deep into the findings and make his own theories. However, Killer isn’t stupid. He’s only seen as the least smart in the gang because he is the youngest with the least experience in school. The others have college level knowledge while he only has highschool, so naturally, he’s unable to be as aware as the others. He is incredibly emotionally smart and perceptive, tho. He plays his own game that will be covered more in chapter four, and once Nightmare brought him in, he could put two and two together that Nightmare being gentle towards a mass murderer didn’t bode well for his own past. People like that don’t look such dark individuals in the eyes with confidence unless they have blood on their hands too.

As for the time and date, Killer was more annoyed that they didn’t HAVE that system. He understands why they don’t, and it makes sense given what they have to work with, but he’s still peeved about it because he’s peeved about EVERYTHING at fifteen LOL! He’s bored out of his skull and a rebel teenager! Give him at least a solid clock to track his days for Fate’s sake!

[the-white-soul]

*Flowey curls around Frisk's shoulders like a scarf as they walk. Once they reach Jack, he listens until the soldiers leave before speaking up.*

Heehee... I'm surprised you're back on your feet so quickly, chief. And I thought you's come crawling back to me for forgiveness after I spared you. But I guess that's too much to ask. So instead I took your little Chara~ *Flowey smirks slyly.* They're in hostage right now.

*Chara is they/them in my story obviously but Jack is being a dick so don't get mad at me or correct me*

'(Jack) "Pfft, like we'd believe you monsters."

(Frisk) "I'm not a monster."

(Jack) "You're a collaborator. You're a monster in my eyes."

(Frisk) "I feel so honored. Also, what's your favorite color?"

(Jack) "*Learned a bit to whisper into Frisk's ear* Why?"

(Frisk) "Mine is greyish brownish red. Weird right?"

(Jack) "*Started breathing intently* Get me 30 of my guards."

(Guard) "But sir, you are obviously being tricked by Chara."

(Jack) "No, Chara still loves me! That sweet beautiful pure child has been corrupted by you hasn't she? That's why she acted so strange."

(Frisk) "*Whispered to Flowey* Try not to laugh. *Spoke louder to Jack* Yes, that dick cried for your help and we forced them onto our side!"

(Guard) "But that makes literally no sense. Why was she revived? Why did she still hate you when she was free?"

(Jack) "You're a collaborator too! *Shot the guard 14 times until he died* Anyone else a collaborator? *no one said a word*That's what I thought. *Went back to talking about Chara* My daughter was the brightest part of my life. She should've been molded in my image. I made sure she never used those damn *almost puked* they/them pronouns and these behemoths took that all away from her! *Spat on them* How dare you?"

(Frisk) "If you do one thing like that again we'll keep your daughter locked in a room forever!"

(Jack) "*Whispered to himself* Thank god! This is the best day ever! My sweet little girl does care about me! Aw, I can't wait till she's mine ones more! *Said to Frisk* I'll follow you. Just please don't hurt my baby!"

(Frisk) "Alright. But you can only do this alone."

*All the other guards want to scream at Jack so hard but none have the strength to*

(Jack) "I'll come with you."

(Frisk) "Good"