#or reapertale characters

[wickjump]

okay so i’m not much a fan of there being other dreams and nightmares out there in the mv for whatever reason. but like.

it’s rare for aus to just have one version like dreamtale seems to. and i get its nim being from another world yadda yadda but what if. what if there are multiple dreamtales out there, with “routes” like other aus. the negative route being where nightmare eats the apple, and the positive one being where he doesn’t.

and in the negative route, nightmare is supposed to remain in dreamtale. he’s not supposed to leave, rather rule over the land and be alone, either with dream killing him or dying after 500 years. but neither of them are supposed to leave. but in the dreamtale we know in love, there was a flaw. similar to error, similar to ink, similar to core or fatal error. and nightmare managed to escape, as did eventually dream.

this would also mean that there are positive routes to dreamtale where dream and nightmare live happily. because they’re too positive, nightmare doesn’t go to them. and dream didn’t realize they existed. but imagine being dream, and finding a world like your own, a world that is your own. one you didn’t think existed, you thought you were the only one. and in this world, you’re happy, your brother is alive, he’s happy. or maybe finding your world before the apple incident, and you know this is a bad route. but you know just as much that the one you’re working with (ink) would not be happy with you changing the script.

would he break that rule and hope ink didn’t notice? would he sit and watch, because his memory was so blurry at the time, thinking about what he could’ve done different? would he go to a timeline far back enough that there was no worries, to reminisce on the time he and his brother were kids, yet between the smiles he can notice the bruises he didn’t when he was a young child, and he starts to feel sick to his stomach, because he should have known, and now he can’t do anything about it.

if we go a more fanon route, where nightmare isn’t satan incarnate and is passive except darker morally, how would he react? how would he feel, knowing that there was an easier route to this, where he could’ve stayed happy, that he didn’t need to do what he did. would he regret it? or if corrupted and passive are separate entities, and passive is just a ghost following him around, would he go to other dreamtales per passive’s request?

he gets the mtt treatment whenever they visit a pacifist classic timeline lmfao

[fl00mie]

headcanon generatorrr

and full :b

ink sans by @/comyet science sans by au community (?) geno and fresh sans by @/loverofpiggies reaper sans by @/renrink epic sans by @/yugogeer012 dust sans by @/ask-dusttale horror sans by Sour-Apple-Studios swap sans by popcornpr1nce fatal_error by @xedramon

[frogs-stealing-sleep]

Reaper Sans! I know the fandom (I am not exempt from this) makes him goofy and that's funny and silly! But bro is still the god of death so! Why not make him look like it

[quinn-cosm]

Two Frisks from #Roseverse !

And I am slowly getting back to my undertale phase lol

[aeliem]

entry for @moccasins's dtiys

thank you for giving me an excuse to draw a really funky night sky

timelapse under the cut

[vrnicky]

Here they are! I owe you guys the full body lol

Anyways, information about them!

Reapertale Sans- Azrael

Really quiet and serious personality, an introvert except when it's about books, he's more than open to talk about them. Meanwhile he has a serious and upset expression, he isn't angry and is actually really calm. He just likes his space.

Reapertale Papyrus- Deus

He's really relaxed, quiet and serious, kind of an introvert except he doesn't mind interacting with other people or crowds, of course he just prefers to be alone with his books. In comparison to Azrael, he's not too serious, he's more open to talk than him.

And if you forgot their jobs:

Both of them work in their library with restored books from their au! Deus is the owner of the library and the one keeping everything in order, Azrael is the translator of the books and in charge of the front desk.

Reblogs appreciated!

[andizoidart]

Reaper: I love you-!

Error: I don’t even know who you are.

———————————————————————

A lil bit of destructivedeath for everyone, I listened to Mary on a cross on repeat while drawing this-

Hope you all like it!

Reaper was created by renrink Error was created by loverofpiggies

(Reblogs are greatly appreciated)

[panel one: Reaper sans is stood facing 3/4ths his left, gripping his scythe with his left hand facing up and his right hand facing down. His expression is desperate and conflicted, posture slightly folded in on himself, right knee up to shield himself slightly, folding his robe. He is surrounded by colorless strings, both in the background and attached to his scythe. The text is written in blue as follows: “Geno, Please! I won’t fight you-” “I love you too much!”] [panel two: Error sans is facing 3/4ths his right, hunched forward as his coat and scarf flare up and forward with his position. His expression is distasteful and enraged, fingers extended fully with the strings connecting from his sockets to them attached. He is surrounded by his strings behind himself. The text is written in red as follows: “IF YOU HAD EVER LOVED ME” “YOU WOULD KNOW MY NAME.”]

[moccasins]

reaper rant lmaooo

its been a while since i read the reapertale comic, so some of this info might be wrong lol

i find reapers fandom personality to be kinda funny, and i do like some of the changes, but i wish people would still reference the comic more. like, i wish people would talk about his depression!! the fact that i'm pretty sure he wishes he could die, but he IS death. so he can't. and he finds that eternally frustrating.

or that he hates his job because he's been shunned and seen as a monster by everyone he knows except his brother.

the biggest thing however? one that i've never seen a single soul mention? he doesn't like mortals. he thinks they're stupid. in one scene in the comic reaper is telling life, his toriel, about a story where he reaped a humans soul and the humans partner tried to journey the underworld to find their lovers soul only to also end up dead. he laughs and kinda mocks them because he thinks it was stupid.toriel responds with smth like "reaper. listen. if i dissapeared one day and you couldn't find me. what would you do to get me back?" and the look on his face. he looked.. conflicted. after that he made a joke and left, but he then leaned against a wall out of sight because he found himself terrified. he realized he would do absolutely anything to bring life back. and that scared him. being as impulsive and emotion driven as a mortal is something he genuinely doesn't understand. he's never lost anyone. sure he's had a rough life, but he's never had a mortal life. he can't understand why they feel what they feel and that scares him. the mere idea of acting on impulse makes him run.

and what happens when life dies in the comic? he loses it. he can't handle it. he's never experienced something like this before. he kills everything.

but his emotions are so strong that he just... wipes all life off the face of the earth within seconds. and then.. he shuts down. i wish we could see more of that in the utmv. could you imagine what it would be like to have a being so powerful they can destroy worlds in seconds and they can't entirely control it? people would be tip toeing around him, constantly trying not to make his emotions explode

could you imagine how much of a jerk he'd be to everyone? he wouldn't care about them. they're all pathetic mortals (yes. ink and error are mortals, sorry but i'm staying as close to canon as possible. dream and nightmare would be the equivelent of demigods, i think. powerful, but killable). they don't understand being a god. but he doesn't understand being a mortal.

this has so much potential you don't understand. i don't want reaper acting like a perfect angel. he's kind of a jerk. that's just a fact. so embrace that. he could kill everything with a single thought but he doesn't because he just doesn't give a crap about mortal affairs. they come to him like "reaper! we need your help!! nightmares killing so many people!! help us save the multiverse!!!" and he'd be like "nah. you mortals got yourself into this, you can get yourselves out."

he's kinda selfish. show that.

show him eventually coming out of his shell and finding that he actually wants to help people because he likes them. show the terror that comes with that realization. the realization that he has friends. and he loves them. how would he deal with that? what would he do then?

or!!! afterdeath!!!!! stars, could you imagine how he'd react when he realizes he's fallen in love with a mortal of all things? mortals have lifespans. they grow old. they change. they die. he wouldn't immediately flirt with geno, he would run. he would run and never come back until curiosity got the better of him. and slowly geno would break down his walls and he's terrified because the real world is scary.

reaper is sheltered, to an extent. i just wish people would show that more.

[d3ad-ratz]

Reaper sans

Did this guy completely from memory. I was Curious what i would come up with when i drew him without a reference. All i knew is he had a bit of blue on him. And i know his design most likely doesn't include roses but the fan comics i used to see of him he seemed flirty so i thought roses would fit him well

[tendokilla]

GRAHHHH ART!!!!

(they are madly in love)

SO LIKE none of you have a single idea of who the fuck is on-screen so allow me to quickly rant. CARD SANS!!! his name is actually Risk but he's been nicknamed Card for the longest part of his development. anyway

Card has a very unstable memory and there's only a period of time before he quite literally forgets everyone he knows, including the literal love of his life who is the god of death himself. he tries multiple methods to avoid forgetting him (like drawing him, writing his name on his walls) but fails most of the time and so Reaper must always gift him roses so Card continues to fall in love with him and recover his memories. very cool huh!! spanish. so here's a short translation because im feeling ranty today:

> It took me a while, but I finally realized how happy I truly am. I met someone who loves me beyond my frayed memory, beyond the danger of loving an empty mind. Finally, I can think beyond the cage that shelters my soul... or what's left of it. Death protects me; maybe not in the way I wanted, but in the way I needed.

> Now, more than ever, I appreciate every single moment I spend with you. Every time you give me flowers, I'd love to say I'll remember them forever. But I know I won't. And that's why I celebrate every kiss with tears of joy and pain. Like it's the last.

[mel-sheep]

[Day 27: Kisses]

[Esp] Muchos besitos para su Bae, para él y más besitos mortales para sus fans. 💀 //

[Eng] Lot of kisses for his Bae, for him and extra deathly kisses for his fans 💀

[frogs-stealing-sleep]

After death love! Lovely doodles

[kokonattsu-tokui]

Reaper x Passive!Nightmare

Hi! Here is my very first fanfic' OS published on Tumblr! I wrote this for a Discord event where you had to place the sentence 'Maybe in another life' in your story.

This is a Reaper x Passive!Nightmare. At first, it should have been a Reaper x Reader... but I had way too much imagination!

This OS is on my Wattpad account (French) too. It will become a long fanfiction. In fact, this text below is just the first chapter. But it can be read with no problem!

Considering that one is immortal and the other is six-

No. There is NO romance.

Reaper!Sans from Reapertale belongs to @/renrink.

Passive!Nightmare from Dreamtale belongs to @/jokublog.

Trigger Warning: Death, weapon, heavy blood, harassment and suicide mentions, injuries, cuss word, mental health(?). It contains some headcanons of mine. May be a bit long!

Enjoy your reading!

Maybe in another life

Sans, better known as the sorrowful nickname ‘Reaper’, detested his job. And that, for several reasons.

Firstly, he was a God of Death. Nevertheless, as it did not seem enough to assign him this horrible work as soon as he was created, he must necessarily be different from his brother. Papyrus was also a God of Death… But the painless death: he was only appearing to pure beings or those accepting their destiny from the outset. Those who were dying peacefully, having peace of mind and light-hearted. Sans, him, had to reap the souls of people who had committed atrocious crimes, whether they repented, whether they regretted... or not. In any case, they were all refusing their death. And were really impolite, mischievous or contemptuous.

Do not get him wrong, he loved his brother. Incidentally, he was wishing him never to know the agonizing aspect of their domain. At least... to never experience it.

Secondly, death knows no rest. He always had to go to such places, at such moments, to such people. He had to listen to the last prayers, the last words, the tears, the harrowing cries of the dying person or their entourage. The evidence being that, even the most corrupt of living beings could have a family, people who care about them.

Thus, Reaper was accomplishing his thankless task. And as the days, months and years passed, he lived simple, complicated situations, some giving him a rough ride, preposterous or frustrating… He was preferring some to others, without actually beginning to truly like his morbid duty.

He was preferring to precisely reap this fragile link between the soul and the body, without an ounce of bitterness. He was rarely granting five more minutes of life to those he was calling 'patients'. After all, his own were clearly not meriting it. This situation was bearable, he was managing it well and it was making his work easier, since the soul was transferred to the afterlife without a problem. Ironically, it was also the one happening the least.

Of course, there were always the other moments more... problematic. More recurrent.

If he had not been able to be present in time to reap the thread of life himself, then it would break by itself. And the complications were beginning because he had to persuade the soul to follow him or manage to catch it. Peace once dead, what a joke!

A whole plan of negotiation was then being put in place, composed of sweet words and anger contained on one side; and fury, fear and despair on the other. Reaper had to make use of all his self-control to convince the soul to finally give up. Several times, he almost lost his temper because a second lost trying to catch a single person, was letting the other dying people of the Multiverse reap themselves and repeat the same actions.

He had to literally chase, run after those spirits sometimes fleeing or hiding from him. However, never for very long: Reaper could feel their presence. He was Death itself, after all.

And there were other situations that were rarer but a lot more arduous… Like those people who, even after the reaping, were not realizing that they were henceforth intangible forever. They were more prone to become Doppelgänger, Poltergeist or any other dangerous supernatural entity in the grip of strong and negative emotions. Especially when they were finally becoming aware of their condition. And Reaper refused that, he did not want to deal with that kind of thing anymore.

He did not even want to think about the souls of Determination or any other strange type that were making him travel for nothing: they were refusing death and even him, could do nothing about it as long as their veritable time had not come. He could ignore them, yet, what was infuriating was that he just did not know how to tell the difference between these ‘false’ deaths and the ‘real’ ones. Those damned souls were dying well and truly but were refusing to accept that fact... and were coming back to life.

Alas, if his instinct as a reaper was indicating to him a Universe where he was required, hence, he had to go there. You never know. Those were the special cases he was encountering every so often.

All of this was wearying him continually. And even if, as a divine creature he did not feel physical pain or tiredness, his morale, which was already not being set fair, was always suffering a blow. Few were finally accepting their destiny after a word, following him obediently without shying away, accepting his scythe on their being or the touch of his hand. Geno had even attacked him several times.

These are the kinds of complaints that were going through Reaper’s head, as he was pursuing a spirit for the umpteenth time. His dark thoughts were whirling, assailing him and angering him as he was letting his body handle the maniac. He sighed with relief when he finally grabbed the child by the hand, sealing them forever in the afterlife. This alternative version of Chara will have given him a hard time… Certainly, he thought, the Frisk and Chara were definitely the worst to reap.

He furrowed his eyebrow arches and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the migraine showing up. He teleported himself to his next patient's house, who was supposed to come to him in two minutes. Enjoying his brief respite, the skeleton went into the kitchen and discreetly filled his cup of black coffee still lukewarm. Swallowing the liquid in no time at all, he felt much better. Fortunately, the coffee was helping him to hold on. Even though he knew he was drinking it to excess, the bitter taste was giving him a sensation of a semblance of life. But what he appreciated was the warmth of the beverage that was bringing him a vague impression of melancholy. A feeling of nostalgic plenitude was then spreading throughout his entire being during a few precious seconds.

Reaper washed his container and put it away under his tunic, making his work tool appear. A door opened on the go, the bullet flew, and his client collapsed on the ground. His scythe fell without hesitation as his wings unfolded, ready to take him to his next destination…

»——•——«

Reaper rarely met his brother.

Each of them could feel the presence of the other and know exactly where he was in the Multiverse. This was due to a magical bond whose reason for its existence remained unclear to them. Perhaps because of their status of God? Or a brother characteristic that Gaster had wanted to give them? They were not too concerned about it; it was convenient for them. The loneliness and horror of their work would have already driven them crazy.

Anyhow, their reunion would only be meaning one thing: several people with different states of mind were at death's door, or had already passed away. Many reasons could be the cause: a war, an accident, a disastrous weather event, misfortune… Generally, the two skeletons would only glance at each other in dismay or encouragement. Everything depended on the situation, which could be horrible, unbearable to observe.

Sometimes, the Gods of Death were both finding themselves in front of a confusing case. As surprising as it may seem, they realized that there were people whose death could not take part in their destiny. Like this strange gray child. Ink and Geno were also among those immortals. They were not gods. But it was close enough. They were the only living beings that Reaper could touch without turning them into dust.

It also happened that, from time to time, Core would join him or Papyrus to keep them company. Even though this walking mystery never stayed very long. The last breath, the sweetest it can be, has nothing amusing to observe even for an omnipotent being. Especially close up.

It was ironic. Death finding itself in a dead end. Where it even was no longer the point of no return. Becoming just a formality, sometimes inconceivable, sometimes forgotten or even foiled.

So, when Reaper perceived that he had to go to Dreamtale, the same place where he was currently feeling his brother’s presence, he sighed deeply. What was it going to be this time? The annoyance was already beginning to engulf him. He was already not liking what he was doing, why make his task even more complicated?

Chin up! Perhaps they will simply be in the same Alternative Universe but at completely opposite locations. In addition, he remembered that this world was rather pleasant and sweet and not much else. Well... it was hardly a bed of roses either. He had not been able to visit much to really get an idea, only the few dwellings where he had reaped a few lives. But he still remembered Dream perfectly.

The child who was almost always arriving in time with his golden apples to prevent the death of a person; this one yelling at him, with impetuosity and wickedness. It was clear that the poor boy was being exploited by these ingrates given his Guardian status. His brother Nightmare was not being outdone. Also a victim of harassment without Dream knowing anything about it, it was going as far as death threats.

Reaper gritted his teeth while scything his last soul in the world he was in, his thoughts bringing themselves up again. Now that he was thinking about it… what if it was for them that he had to go to Dreamtale? Those little ones have been surrounded by scoundrels since their creation. The probability was much too high, their short life had been a hell…

Even as a seemingly ubiquitous entity, Reaper could not see or anticipate how his patients were leaving the world of the living. He knew they were doing it, he was coming to them and that was it. However, this time, there was no doubt for him. Everything was coinciding and he was not stupid.

One was taking his own life, accepting the arrival of Papyrus. The other’s life was hanging by a thread, certainly praying for Reaper never to appear.

Shaking his head to avoid imagining this before time, the reaper teleported with a snap of his fingers, ready to put up with the miserable and unjust ending of two innocent children.

»——•——«

Reaper had always been used to predict the worst. Whether he was right or wrong, it did not matter. The outcome always remained the same.

However, when he appeared near this tree with bicolored fruits, his orbits darkened. He was feeling a heavy ambiance around him. It had everything like a ruthless war. The azure sky had made way for an oppressive blood-red one, the glowing red clouds casting a shadow over the earth. The air seemed to have cooled… a cold biting the heart, piercing it like thousands of thorns. What had occurred to the happiness? Vanished. There was nothing left but an atmosphere giving nausea, causing pain and fury to lose the head.

From the Tree of Feelings, there remained only a dried out trunk and branches, the apples entirely pitch black dangling in misfortune. Negativity was reigning supreme from this point forward, having seized this wooden throne coldly receiving it; this new queen overthrowing the balance and the peace with positivity. Murderous intentions, paranoia, depression became its mercenaries. Silence, manipulation, wickedness became its henchmen. And at the foot of it, the unintentional initiator of this coup d'état. A six-year-old skeleton, horrified, holding an ebony stained apple in his hand.

Sans felt his soul pound in his ribcage. He tensed, his hand clenching his robe at the place of the very culmination of his being. Ah… He was feeling unwell. He was feeling swooning... His vision grew darker, he could almost see a veil blindfolding him, his pupils fading. His thoughts let themselves be overwhelmed by an infernal black like a dreadful cumulonimbus. The tornado in his mind was on the increase, crushing every ounce of his reason, knocking over any capacity for judgment. His sadness transformed into grief, his anger turned into rage, his contempt changed into disgust. His body began to tremble violently, his head struck by a throbbing pain. The storm residing inside of him was growing, trying to become a hurricane.

The God of Death was ready to explode. Too much, it was way too much! Biting his tongue until the pain invaded his mouth, he grasped his head with both hands, his fingers sinking into his skull as he was bending over. His erratic breathing erratic, his soul beating faster and faster… Everything was nothing but fog and darkness. He had to free himself, he had to let this hell out! He would feel so good, so better!

One of Reaper’s frightening powers was the creation of black holes. He used them only to catch the souls fleeing from him. But it could happen that in the middle of rage, the blackness consumed him. Then, the inexorable attraction of the celestial body was destroying everything in its path. And that was exactly what was happening. A dark aura began to surround him. And all these voices echoing louder and louder in his mind kept whispering in a hypocritical way the same sentence to him: What is the use in trying to fight...?

The angel of death was falling into the throes of despair and nothing and nobody could prevent it from doing so.

“Sans! Sans! Can you hear me, Sans? Focus on my voice!”

The hooded skeleton felt two warm hands grab his cheeks, forcing him to raise his head. His empty eye sockets met his brother’s worried pupils. Sans could hear the cries of people dying around him, distinguishing blurred movements behind Papyrus who was forcing him to divert his attention only on him. The chaos was still vituperating inside of him, trying to tear him away from that life-saving touch.

In all of this shambles, Reaper had almost forgotten the person who mattered the most to him, the only one who could stop him.

“There, that’s good. Look at me, Sans. Breathe slowly. It will be okay, it happens to everyone to feel overwhelmed.” Papyrus continued in a calm voice. “You feel it too. There is still a glimmer of hope somewhere. All is not lost, don’t worry. Focus on that tiny positivity. I’m here.”

Sans suddenly grabbed hold of this one's wrists, squeezing them tightly as trying to find an anchor point somewhere in the physical world. He was not even aware that he had stopped breathing, submerged by the waves of negativity. He shut his eyes, complying with what the other god was asking of him. Slowly, his grip loosened, his own pupils reappeared. As if a light radiating from Papyrus was piercing through his clouds of qualms, dispelling his intrusive thoughts.

The divine being completely regained consciousness, hit by reality like a slap in the face. It was at that moment that he realized the heavy silence that had fallen on Dreamtale. Everything seemed devastated, abandoned, in mourning. The ferrous smell of the blood was merging with putrid lingering odors capable of turning any stomach. The soil was being permeated by a liquid as black as the abyss and emitting foul effluviums. The scarlet blood was still dripping from the bodies sliced in half with an impressive macabre sharpness. A statue resembling Dream was laying on the ground, next to a rotten trunk.

Shivers were sent down his spine as he was seeing this sudden change from this pacifist Alternative Universe to the post-apocalyptic world. No more living beings, only corpses littering the ground and zombies wandering aimlessly. The unique manifestation of life that he could feel was situated deep inside of this Dream of stone. The souls were screaming each one more so than the other, running away, crying, trying to hold their loved ones in their arms without success. This vision tugged at his heartstrings. Then, the annoyance and resignation took hold of him. Reaper hated his work.

“What happened?” he murmured, still disturbed by what he had just experienced.

Papyrus told him everything. How Nightmare had contaminated all the apples with negativity, explaining to him why Reaper had been affected so sorely by this transformation that eliminated any positive emotion from this world. How Dream had been jostled and trampled mercilessly. How Nightmare was prepared to let himself die by taking a severe beating by the inhabitants. How the God of Death had been ready to extend a hand to him in order to reassure him once he had done so.

Yet, the skeleton dressed in purple had clinged to life. And this change definitely forbade Papyrus to reap his life to his greatest displeasure. He felt helpless, he could only collect one soul from this place: a terminally ill lady that Dream was supposed to save with the last golden apple.

The brother had bit into a black apple, before eating all the others. This, while enduring incomparable suffering as the corruption was trickling from his body. As his bones were breaking, as they could not contain all the evil that was rushing in. He repeated word for word the last wish of a broken being.

He narrated everything to him, without omitting anything, with a distressed face. Papyrus was the personification of Death. But he was still Papyrus. He could not bear the suffering of others. Soon, the child disappeared, drowned in this blackish mass with a fetid smell and deadly tentacles. The screaming, the killing, the desolation.... In the matter of a few minutes only, a whole world had been condemned. In the matter of a few seconds, a pure soul had been soiled with sins.

Sans remained silent during this time, his face wearing an indescribable expression. Papyrus had released his face, standing by his side but no longer daring to look at the scenery that was giving him retching. And once his story was over, he waited for some reaction from the smallest of the skeletons.

Snorting sarcastically, this one gave a faint abstruse smile. In the distance, he could make out the souls of the unfortunate wretches, slowly becoming aware of their state or being contaminated by negativity, changing into ghostly entities and malicious spirits. If he took care of it now, he could stop things from getting more difficult. Ah, life… What a joke in bad taste! He, who had expected to discover two corpses near the Tree of Feelings, was now finding himself hunting spectral monsters. He finally opened his mouth, looking into his brother’s eyes.

“He… It just goes to show… A rotten apple spoils the barrel.” he said nonchalantly.

Papyrus stayed frozen at his sentence, giving him a disapproving look, his mind trying to assimilate what he had just heard. By the time he reacted, Sans had already pulled out his scythe, ready to go to work, snickering slightly at the face of his brother. It was doing him good to joke or make small talk with him. He was feeling his worries were going away just for a brief instant.

“Sans!” exclaimed the tall and outraged skeleton, crossing his arms like a mother scolding her child. “Seriously?!”

Of course, that comment was inappropriate in that situation. But the god knew Reaper well. When he was behaving like that, it was to conceal his angst. A way of announcing that his brother could not care less... when it was absolutely the opposite. Never was Sans speaking to him about what was going on inside his head. Never has he confided in him. They had all eternity ahead of them but Papyrus knew nothing would ever change.

The latter sighed before showing a worried expression again, deciding to change the subject to not get the reaper's back up. He cast a glance at the scowling and hissing apparitions across Dreamtale, wandering around like lost souls, spewing out a slimy and repugnant liquid. And suddenly, he felt the vital need -a way of speaking- to go to another Universe. Here he was again, in connection with a soul. It was bad timing but death never took a vacation.

“Duty calls. Will it be all right, alone?” wanted to assure Papyrus, a little guilty of having to leave Sans dealing with the consequences of the acts of one unfortunate soul.

Oh, he knew he would have no problem defeating them. But death waits for nothing and no one and every lost second counts. This disorder had probably already delayed his brother’s collection of souls.

“Don’t worry, bro. It's not the end of the world. They’re shabby, I’ll crush them to a pulp easily!” Reaper replied with a wink.

The concerned one only displayed a deadpan expression before raising his eyes to heaven, containing his annoyance at these jokes which he did not really appreciate. The off-beat humor, the misfortune of others, the self-deprecation, the polemical subjects…not for him! He waved one last time at his counterpart, wishing him good luck; then he opened a portal and crossed it, taking him away.

Sans, from now, was all alone in this reddish and seedy immensity. Shrugging his shoulders, he stared at a paranormal creature whose potency had increased tenfold by exposing itself to the evil enveloping the world. This concentration of goo was so powerful… it could ravage an entire Multiverse. With a single snap of his finger, he made a Gaster Blaster appear and fired without an ounce of remorse at what was once an ordinary living being. The deflagration and the light beam drew the attention of the other monsters, uttering shrieks before setting on the man with the scythe, feeling the danger emanating from it.

“I’m dying to drink a cup of coffee.” Death gnashed his teeth, his right eye shining with burning magic.

His cold eyes looked at his enemies defiantly. Taking a run-up, wings spreading like a shadow above them, he was ready to call the tune, his tunic twirling at his every move. His sharp blade rose, marking the tempo of a long music score. His Gaster Blaster will constitute the orchestra, his black holes will resonate the last note.

Once again, the angel of death will play that silent melody which was the eternal rest.

»——•——«

A sigh was heard when his weapon cut through the viscosity of the last evil spirit. His scythe vanished and his wings folded back as he was stretching out, his head tilting back to observe the carmine sky. Reaper was slightly tired and out of breath. His ribcage was moving up and down at the rhythm of his irregular respiration, his mouth catching gulps of air useless to his body. If he could feel the heat, he would have all the symptoms of past physical effort. A sardonic laugh escaped him at this observation.

He was a God of Death, an immortal and invincible being. Time had no impact on him, he was even flouting its law. He did not, in reality, need to eat, drink, or sleep. His touch was deadly, his weapons pitiless and the end, ineluctable. Now, at the slightest use of his magic, he was weakening and had to rest? What a quirk of fate!

His reaper instinct called him to order. Again. He had to continue his endless journey. Chasing souls, reaping, visiting the underworld from time to time. He had to forget this Alternative Universe like so many others. He clenched his jaw. He had enough. But the strings of fate were keeping him obediently under its control, like a puppet. He had to obey or it would be chaos. And everything would be his fault. Again.

He shook his head. The dismal village was standing in front of him, the harrowing silence of the place was driving him mad. No breath of wind, no bird’s song. He felt that there were only two survivors left. One turned into stone, the other was several kilometers from the village. Which was surprising. Maybe that person was immune to this corruption. Feeling uneasy, Sans prepared to say farewell to Dreamtale and teleport elsewhere.

That was when he heard it.

Sobbing, hiccups, a reedy, muffled little voice whining. Was it Dream? Had he freed himself from the spell? No. His new soul was in a lethargic state. But then, who? A ghost he would have forgotten in all likelihood? If he did, why could he not detect it?

Turning to face the hill where once stood the majestic tree, Sans put his hood back in place, starting to walk slowly towards the origin of the noises. Once he reached the top, he could not help but be surprised. Lying on the ground near the decaying roots, the statue of Dream, facing down, was covered with dust and was a sorry sight. The few remaining puddles of negativity had melted and dried around him. Notwithstanding, that was not what Reaper was looking at.

Nightmare.

On his knees, being in floods of tears on his petrified brother. He was embracing him, the pearls of water drenching the rock. His white cheeks were now puffy, letting his tears flow endlessly, that were going to soak his nice purple clothes. The circlet on his head, formerly of a brilliant gold, was from now quite morose, almost ocher. His little hands were grabbing onto the only one who had always mattered to him. He was trying to nuzzle against the cold and uncomfortable back of the Guardian of Positivity, trying to find the reassurance that he had lost through his own fault…

“Sorry! Dream, I apologize! I’m sorry! Forgive me!” he was sobbing, apologizing again and over again, his breathing jerky.

It was obvious that the little skeleton was tormented by guilt. He had never wanted this. And this heart-rending vision left a bitter taste to the God of Death. He will never experience this cruel pain in the loss of a loved one. On the other hand, just the thought of losing Papyrus was making his heart beat violently. He comprehended this attachment and all the hardship and happiness that it could bring.

“Wake up! Please, don’t leave me!” Nightmare was running out of breath, begging. “I’ll play with you! I’ll read you stories, I’ll keep teaching you to read! I’ll do anything for you, so wake up!”

The boy was being subjected to the worst torture, even after he had passed away. The psychological and physical suffering he had to endure since his birth was by far one of the worst that Reaper had ever seen during his reaping. Good grief, what the hell did fate want to do with him? Could it not leave these poor children alone?!

Without thinking, on an impulsive thought of wanting to console the child, Sans took a step forward. He stopped immediately, lowering his head, staring at his foot as if it was not belonging to him. But what exactly was he thinking? His assignment was to send the dead to the afterlife, not to help them heal from their torments! At the slightest touch, this tormented soul would perish and be finally freed. Yes, that was what he had to discreetly do.

He looked up. His eyes caught Nightmare’s open wide eyes, rooted to the spot, completely frightened. His body was trembling all over, his hands never ceasing to clasp his brother in a protective way.

“Damn it…” the god muttered.

“W-Who are you?!” cried desperately the child in purple clothes, clinging a little more to Dream.

Reaper rarely hesitated about how to proceed. The times he did, it did not end well. But at that very moment, he was lost. Moreover, although the child looked tangible, his translucent body suggested that he was now a spirit. So logically, he had to reach the kingdom of the dead. But if that was the case, where was his body? He had like... disappeared.

If only he had not had a nervous breakdown during the previous events, he or Papyrus could have seen what was going on behind them! There he was now, in front of a saddened ghost whose soul and body were nowhere to be found and his presence imperceptible! He was finding himself with a new special case on his hands! Reaper was irritated by his own behavior.

He was lost in his thoughts, his tense expression and his empty gaze alarming a little more Nightmare. All of a sudden, he felt his soul establish a connection with the latter. The Guardian of Negativity had its essence held somewhere in the Multiverse. What Sans was seeing was only an unstable and wounded illusion, ejected from its own body. The shadow of a specter. His instinct was from this point forward, yelling at him that he had one more patient. So, he had to accomplish his mortuary duty.

He clenched his fists. In one jump, one hit, it could be done. No complications, no time lost. Sans was not fond of empathy. It was a troublesome and hurtful feeling. If he had lacked it, he could have fiddled with his scythe without ever feeling anything for the deceased.

Despite that, the angel of death did not want the true end of the little one to be achieved in such a brutal manner. He had already had enough roughness in his short life. Overdoing it until the end would be just intolerable. He had to brush him or better, convince him to take his hand.

The personification of Death advanced toward his patient.

“Don’t come any closer!” shouted the apparition, leaping up to place himself in front of Dream.

With his arms outstretched to protect his loved one, Nightmare was staring fiercely at Reaper. It was obvious that he was tetanized by fear. His body was trembling and yet, he was drawing deep in his courage to maintain his gaze, sniffing from time to time. The tears had still not dried. Did he even know who he was dealing with? No, of course not. He was only six years old. And even the books he had read were just tales for babies. But he was smart. He must have understood, deep down inside.

“Relax. I won’t touch your brother.” Reaper reassured him with a placid smile.

To avoid provoking him, the hooded one stopped at a good distance from the skeleton child; who did not drop his guard for all that. Argh… How come Papyrus could find patience and witty remarks so easily? He had absolutely nothing in mind to appease the boy with the moon circlet. His black orbits were probably not inspiring trust to him. Perhaps, he had also seen his 'massive cleaning' just a few seconds ago. In any case, he could only acknowledge his bravery. What a pity that he would only show it when Dream’s safety was compromised, and not his.

“You are somewhere between life and death, a kind of in-between.” Reaper began in a voice that wanted to appear gentle. “Your brother will be fine; he’s having a nap. He’ll wake up. But you, if you stay… you’ll suffer. This world will consume you. Come with me. Where I'm taking you, peace is finally waiting for you.” He finished by holding out his hand in a benevolent gesture.

“I don’t want to. I want to stay!” protested Nightmare shaking his head.

“I’m afraid that's not possible, kiddo.” Sans replied in a bittersweet tone, restraining himself from being sarcastic.

There was no exception to the rule. After all, it was the much talked about common trait among all his patients. They were all refusing to accept their death. This was all the more so as natural for a person who only survived six years. The little boy had not even begun to live, that he already had to leave us, to part with his twin. It was breaking his heart but he could not afford to let a spirit wander, especially in a condemned Universe. He took a step forward, his wings shuddering with an unpleasant shiver.

“I can’t go! P-Please, leave us alone! I won't do it again, I promise!” cried out Nightmare, tears in his eyes. “I must take care of my brother! I must stay with him!”

His crying was showering his face once more and he had a runny nose. He could not hold back his emotions, he, who had to hide so much before. Dream was all he had left. Even the villagers did not succeed in taking him away from him. The God of Death clicked his tongue, his gaze averting the being in front of him. He was torn between affliction and the obligation to end this. The weight of these new remorse would add to the others and haunt him forever.

“Please! I want to stay with Dream!”

With a somber and contrite face, the god escaped from the eyes of Nightmare. It only took him half a second to reappear next to the little boy. His crow wings had majestically spread, the iridescent feathers hiding the sinister cinnabar ether. Their shadow singularly had a soothing aura, like a warm blanket enveloping the two brothers. The look of Sans softened, his smile becoming melancholic.

In a single second, he is within easy reach. Death never waits.

The skeleton child began to turn his head, his pupils expressing stupefaction and despair. But he did not have time to react.

Death never gives any chance.

“Sorry, kiddo. Maybe in another life…” whispered the adult, his hand tenderly placing itself on the top of the child’s head.

Death is forever inevitable.

And always and forever, Reaper will loathe his work.

[ratsoh-writes]

Happy birthday @rainbowut !!!! Here’s your reaper boy. This is probably the first only time I’ll ever draw reaper sans lol

And without the birthday message ;)

[forever-eternal]

Some more of Alternate Fenris: Like I said before, if you want to give them a nickname-- feel free!

Outertale

This Sans is an astrologist and rocket scientist, though he doesn’t share a heart condition as bad as his counterparts he still isn’t allowed to have coffee. Coffee cake, which is Papyrus’ specialty and favorite thing to make, is an amazing substitute and in many more flavor combos than the drink. This Fenris believes gravity is a social construct and floats around half the time, no matter what form she’s in. The humans trapped on the asteroid belt have evolved to not need air to breathe.

Dancetale

Flexibility training allows Fenris’ focus on complex aerial and acrobatic dancing, but will breakdance with Sans and perform fast-paced Latin dances with Papyrus for fun. This Fenris is more focused than she is mean, though her bluntness can still be read as rude by those who don’t know her.

Reapertale

With adopted brothers being Reapers, the Gods of Death, Fenris is the Spirit of Redemption and Retribution. Sometimes seen in dark forests as an abnormally large, white wolf that seems to glow faintly in the dark. More usually seen as a shoeless, hooded figure with a Double-Bladed Axe.

Mobtale

Part of a crime family. Sans is a member of the Upper Circle known as The Judge, while Papyrus is a lower rank referred to as Guard Bones. Fenris manipulates the housing market by buying/building and selling towns in a select area, selecting someone to be ‘Mayor’, and using their money to add onto and upgrade the town (think that song ‘Nook, Line, and Sinker’ by Stupendium). The town’s all depend on how much money the Mayor collects and gives to her. This puts all the blame on ‘Mayor’ instead of herself, even if the residents are the ones who didn’t pay anything.

Some of her towns are great places to live, others are not. It all depends on how much the residents are willing to pay for upgrades and upkeep. When the ‘Mayor’s get rowdy, she has her brother and the Family to back her up.

Oceantale

The Fontman Family have been pirates for generations, born and raised on the open seas. It was only a matter of time for them to find a selkie, a young Harp Seal Selkie. Despite the fact that she’s full grown, this Fenris retains her white fur when she’s decided to go about as a seal. Her love language is gifting shells and other pretty things she finds in the ocean, and these item have only grown more valuable the longer she lives on the ship. She has never heard of a hairbrush.

Instead of a werewolf, she becomes a seal with walrus tusks, nearly the size of a humpback whale.

Storyshift

Princess Fenris is the youngest of the Fontman Royal Family. One of her brothers, Prince Papyrus, vanished when she was still super young. Her oldest brother, King Sans, is incredibly protective of his remaining sibling. This Fenris is a bit younger than most of her alternates, about 17, and is very sheltered. Despite this, she is still incredibly curious and is often in places she shouldn’t be.

[canvas-madness-txc]

I Made a Promise to the Moon

[Reapertale Papyrus x Moon Deity Reader]

A lot can happen in a lifetime. But your life was not like any other, seeing as you didn't have one anymore. It had not hurt, a slip into a new world. A new beginning.

Your eyes slowly closed as you began slipping out of your conscious and your soul began to fade. The world was so quiet... so peaceful...

You blinked and sat up. A void surrounded you. You looked around, trying to take it all in but it was to surreal. A voice had called out to you.

"HELLO!"

You spun around.

"Who... who are you," you asked.

The figure who had called out to you stepped closer to you. They pulled off the hood from their cloak. You studied their face. A grinning skull looked at you.

"Are you the Grim Reaper?" You could barely keep back the shock. Though your tone was unclear, your voice rang through the void. Taking a deep breath, you stared into the face of your new companion. His grin faltered slightly and he shrugged.

"SORT OF... THERE ARE TWO DEATH GODS. "

"What...?"

"WELL I AM THE GOD OF PEACFUL DEATH. MY BROTHER, SANS, IS THE GOD OF PAINFUL DEATH!"

You tilted your head. Sighing, you deciding to see how everything would go.

"Oh... What's your name then," you questioned. He immediately perked up.

"MY NAME IS PAPYRUS! AND WHAT WOULD YOUR NAME BE, HUMAN?"

"Y/N," you replied as you rose to your feet. As you did, you noticed that Papyrus had his hand out for you.

"WELL, Y/N, IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO GET TO THE UNDERWORLD." Papyrus smiled calmly, gesturing for you to take his hand. In spite of some fears in the back of your mind, you felt safe with him. You slipped your hand into his and followed him as he took you to the afterlife.

The afterlife was peaceful. Mainly containing the SOULS of those long departed. In the short periods where you and Papyrus could chat, the two of you managed to become close. There wasn't anything that came to your mind that could ruin this everlasting tranquility.

Until, Queen Toriel died.

Life was crumbling as its embodiment died. The gods were in chaos and corruption spread through the worlds. Sans was enraged and could barely be calmed. The SOULS of living and dead were in entropy. Escape was futile.

Your legs began to give way as your struggled to lose the corruption. It held onto you, throwing you down by your legs and spread through you. A blurry figure made their way towards you.

Papyrus

Slowly smiling, you reached for his hand as he knelt by you. There was despair in his eyelights as he saw your condition.

"NO..."

You rasped out words of comfort, that it was going to be alright...

That you loved him...

As the corruption spread you looked up. The moon was out. Strange for the afterlife. There it was changing phases, mingled with the stars and blanketed by darkness. It was beautiful. It was the last thing you noticed before the world went quiet.

Then you stirred. Kneeling beside you was a skeleton. He was different than Papyrus and Sans. For starters, he had cracks on his face and holes in his hands. He was also adorned with a black robe and a cape that resembled the universe.

"AH, YOU ARE AWAKE," he started.

You quickly looked around.

"What happened!? Where am I? Did I die... again?..."

He brought you to your feet and began to explain.

"I SUPPOSE YOU KNOW ABOUT THE DREADED ANOMOLY OF BROKEN FATE AND THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN." He looked over to you. You nodded in response.

"WELL, I HAD SEEN HOW YOU HAVE INTERACTED WITH PAPYRUS." At his name you perked up.

"You know him?"

"I AM HIS CREATOR, OR FATHER IF YOU WILL. WELL, THAT'S WHAT HE THINKS OF ME," the mystery man replied.

"Oh, well who are you?"

"EXCUSE MY RUDENESS, THE WORLD CHANGING AS WE SPEAK AND I'VE GOTTEN AHEAD OF MYSELF. MY NAME IS W.D. GASTER AND I WOULD LIKE TO OFFER A SUGGESTION."

You waited for him to continue.

"I AM THE GOD OF MAGIC AND ALONG WITH ASGORE [skies/ ruler god] AND GERSON [wisdom] I HAVE THE ABILITY TO CREATE NEW GODS. AND IF I COULD DO SO, YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO RESIDE IN THE WORLD OF GODS."

"All because I have become friends with your son?" Something did not seem to make sense.

"ALTHOUGH YOU BARELY KNOW ME, I CAN ASSURE YOU I QUITE CARE FOR MY FELLOW GODS," he replied with a small smirk. You decided to give in.

"Okay, but as what?"

"THAT WOULD BE THE MOON."

"But the gods were made from stars?"

"NOT ALL. THE GODS OF DEATH WERE CREATED FROM DARKNESS. THOUGH, I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT MATTERS. ALL PARTS OF THE UNIVERSE MUST COME TOGETHER TO SHOW ITS TRUE GLORY. STARS CAN'T SHINE WITHOUT DARKNESS, THE MOON RELIES ON LIGHT FROM THS SUN FOR ITS BEAUTY," he explained. You began to feel elated as you accepted his offer. The world went quiet yet again.

Your eyes opened to Papyrus holding your face in his hands. Tears streamed down his face and he stunned when you woke up. Sitting upright, you felt different and looked different.

You were dressed in a long robe of black, white and silver. A cape was spread around you, a gradient joined with the phases of the moon. At your side, a staff showing the new moon. You looked at your staff, then to Papyrus. He seemed fidgety. You sat in silence. Finally, he spoke up.

"Y/N... I KNOW THIS IS ALL SO SUDDEN, BUT I FEEL I MUST CONFESS MY TRUE FEELINGS NOW RATHER THAN LOSE YOU AGAIN. ... THE TRUTH IS, AS WE BEGAN BEING CLOSER I THINK I HAD DEVELOPED FEELINGS FOR YOU. AND I HAD PROMISED MYSELF THAT ONE DAY I WOULD TELL YOU, BUT THEN I LOST YOU. NYEH, IT'S STRANGE HOW THINGS CAN CHANGE SO FAST," he said with a pained grin. You couldn't help smiling. Slowly it came to you that your did feel the same. Without a moments consideration, you pulled your lips to his cheekbone. He sat stunned as you pulled yourself away.

"S-SO YOU FINALLY REVEAL YOUR TRUE FEELINGS AS WELL! FINE! THEN I SHALL TAKE YOU ON A DATE ONCE THIS IS ALL OVER!" He quickly pulled his cloak hood over his face to hide his embarrassment to which you giggled. The world was quiet, not because it was empty, but because all that needed to be said and done was in the past. It was time to focus on the future with a new beginnings in the realm of gods.