#phalanges mittens

[cuprohastes]

The planet of terrible choices

It took Dave a surprisingly long time to ask, “Why are we here”.

“Philosophically you mean?” Asked Phalanges Mitten.

Dave “The Human”, an Adult female Tsin said “Not really.”

Phalanges Mitten, adult Human male — But technically a seven-foot tall dusty purple dinosaur, for tax reasons, squinted a bit at his friend and pursed his lips.

“Well in the long term, to provide an environment for replication, because evolution doesn’t really care why or how as long as you do. Medium term, to make sure the toilets don’t back up and short term, because it’s Delicious Unexplained Crunchy Food Stick day, and we wanted lunch?”

Dave examined his all-species ‘It’s not chicken, but you can eat it’ finger. She dipped it in some Aumu sauce mixed with chives. “I mean, you’re not wrong…” she said. 

Leaving comments open to see where the conversation went was always a fun game.

“But no, I mean the station. We’re orbiting this planet right, because there’s something down there that everyone’s interested in, but not urgently. But I don’t think I ever asked why?” She said, and snarfed down the breaded mycoprotein with a frankly adorable muzzle wiggle.

“Oh.” Said Phalanges. “Well, uh, it’s of special scientific… uh. Actually, that’s a good point.”

And at this point, let’s introduce Cat Fantastic: Cat is an actual Atrix, but currently they’re about the size of a chonky iguana. Cat’s issue is that he doesn’t have a patch of chromophores on his forehead, which is the very important non-verbal part of Atrix communication.

Frankly, not having the patch trips some really severe ‘uncanny valley’ responses, and the Atrix just got over their tendency to stamp on hatchlings who are missing their display patch.

Due to Phalanges (Prior name: Dave the Human, which an astute reader would also notice is the name the Tsin is using) hanging out in the Atrix section, someone arranged for Cat to team up with Phalanges. Who and how is currently a mystery, but now Phalanges has his own ‘Little Guy’.

Which is to say, they’re hanging out together and Cat is learning the fascinating subject of fixing the station’s sewerage and reclamation system, and officially they’re a team.

Cat in this instance peeks over the edge of the table from where he’s sitting on one of the chairs munching his own lunch and says “Graaaaaaak”.

Phalanges and Dave look at him with surprise. “Really? Well, I’m glad someone looked it up.” Says Dave. “Go on then…”

A tale of cultural incompetence.

So the way Cat Fantastic tells it is like this:

At some point in the history of the planet, the inhabitants had developed nations and a couple of religions.

One in particular did very well due to the leaves of a specific type of tree: It had very broad smooth leaves which were naturally coated with an antifungal, anti-biotic wax. Which made them ideal for washing down and using as plates, or for wrapping food. Or, indeed, boiling off and making an effective topical medicine.

This gave the nation a bit of a boost. They didn’t get sick as much from spoiled food, their first aid was a bit more effective, and so on. And so over time, the practice of using leaves from plate trees led to two important results:

First, there were more people, so more plate trees were cultivated to produce more leaves.

Second, the people developed a whole set of traditions, and beliefs which codified into a religion, who’s main theme was that the people were so good and perfect that the gods had gifted them with paper plates. 

And anyone who didn’t use them, like those icky guys over by the coast, who insisted on using wood bowls smeared with leftovers, were extremely gross and obviously not in favour with the gods due to being somehow inferior.

OK, so the obvious solution is to grow more trees, clear out all this useless vegetation and only keep plants which you can eat.

And thus agriculture was born, followed shortly by the coast people being forcibly converted into leaf plate using or mysteriously all setting fire to their own huts and vanishing, what a mystery.

You should definitely not look into what’s being used as fertiliser for the plate trees.

Anyway. This nation, very pleased with their righteousness, took their brilliant way of life and slowly nibbled away at their neighbours, most of whom were still hunter-gatherers.

All was great, hail the plate tree.

And then because they’d planted a vast monoculture, and cleared out anything that wasn’t food or plate trees, they caused a massive environmental collapse. 

Due to the insistence of e.g. introducing a fast-growing, water hungry plant to a biome that couldn’t really support it they caused desertification.

They wiped out many ‘pest’ species and flora that was pretty important to the smooth running of the ecosphere, causing further collapse.

“Ah.” Said Dave. “Yes, I can see where this is going.” She added and nodded to the planet, which was not a healthy colour.

“Speaking from experience, turning your planet to dust is a real embuggerance.”

Phalanges nodded sympathetically. The Tsin had discovered space robotic space flight and, within thirty years, developed orbital bombardment. Then someone had determined that those guys over there needed to be taught a lesson.

And that’s how the Tsin spent the last half millennium living in bunkers and trying to restore a working biosphere from whatever their ancestors had managed to preserve.

It’s also the reason the Tsin are having an issue with genetic bottlenecks.

Phalanges nodded in agreement. Humans had done a number on their biosphere, but the remediation had been more or less working, albeit slowly and fitfully when the Wallandernook showed up and sold them a janky old spacefolder, and it’s hyperefficient energy conversion engine.

“So they, what, tried to outrun their environmental collapse by invading more land?”

“Graaak”

“Ha, called it…”

The People had indeed pushed further to plant more plate trees and acquire more Prisoners-With-Jobs to look after the farms, temples and so on.

By the late stages they’d even begun to realise that the leaves were the issue and that one could make replacements out of pressed fibre, or eventually, basic plastics.

Which of course were both problematic in themselves, and also deeply heretical to traditionalists.

And now, the planet was a nutrient poor world with a massive monoculture, slowly speciating from the original plate trees, with massive deserts and dessicated plantations, and a crumbled array of civilisations.

The cities and towns abandoned by the people who’d slowly gone back to hunting and gathering and slowly fading away.

And above it all, a station filled with people from other worlds who’d banded together to discover what history was left, and document it.

“Wow.” Said Phalanges, lunch long since finished. “Sounds exactly like the sort of thing Humans would do.”

“And Tsin” said Dave.

“Graak.” Said Cat.

“OK, but Atrix are different.” Said Dave. “Everyone knows you guys don’t use plates.”

[spookuzm]

3d killer :3

Killer.

(Green means taken/WIP)

[timeofjuly]

And Four Papyri in a Pear Tree

Chapter 1 - Smooth Operator

Summary: Rus takes you ice skating for the first time and despite some initial wobbliness, only one of you ends up on your ass.

Notes: The first chapter of And Four Papyri in a Pear Tree, my four-part holiday series focusing on festive-themed dates with Rus, Edge, Stretch, and Papyrus.

Tags: Reader/swapfell Papyrus, ice skating, fluff, established relationship.

Read it on AO3 or read it below the cut!

“lookin’ a little wobbly there, baby doll,” Rus teases, looking unfairly steady on his skates. Behind him, a vast expanse of glistening ice stretches out under the open sky, reflecting the soft glow of twinkling lights that adorn the perimeter of the skating rink. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of freshly fallen snow and the rhythmic sound of blades gliding over the smooth surface.

Your own skates slide perilously against the ice, your legs clenched tight to stop your knees from slipping out from underneath you.

“Nuh-uh,” you say, willing your fingers to loosen their grip on the barrier. “I’ve just got knives attached to my feet, what’s scary about that?  It’s not like ice is slippery or anything.”

Rus chuckles. “c’mon, don’t’cha trust me? if you’re that scared, it’s not too late for me to get you a penguin.”

As if summoned by the cruel forces of comedic timing, a small child breezes past the two of you pushing said skating aid. They seem entirely at ease and as you watch, they remove their hands from the penguin with an elated whoop.

“Look, no hands!” they call out, presumably to a parent.

Your resolve, which has previously been a gelatinous mass quivering at the pit of your belly, hardens. Like hell you’re being shown up by a kid. “Nope,” you say to Rus, “I’m good.”

You aren’t, though. You’re nervous. You probably shouldn’t have watched that video about the top ten career-ending ice hockey accidents last night. Ah, hindsight. At least you’re wearing a thick scarf; hopefully that’ll protect your neck from any errant skating blades.

“if you’re sure,” he says. In contrast to the pitiful display you’re putting on, Rus looks completely at home on the ice. More graceful than he is on solid ground, even, though that’s not necessarily that high of a bar. There’s a natural ease to him like this, a confidence that you’ve only caught snatches of before.

“i’m ready whenever you are,” he says. His thick woollen sweater reads FESTIVE GUY and is a particularly fetching shade of eggplant.  His cheeks are faintly lilac from the cold that nips through the air, his long, delicate hands encased in cosy mittens.

Those mittened hands are held out to you now. Anxiety flickers in your chest but then you look at him again, at how steady he is, how the long lines of his body are looser and more relaxed than you’ve ever seen them outside of the safety of privacy, and that gives you all the bravery you need.

You take his hands, the chill of the rink being chased away through your gloves. Your fingers curl between his phalanges in a grip that would surely be bruising if he had flesh. As you step further onto the ice, you wobble perilously, struggling to find your balance. Your ankles feel heavy and clumsy, your feet dead weight. How do people make this look so easy? You’ve never felt so unwieldy in your life.

“you’re okay,” he says, holding you steady. “that’s perfect.”

The standards for perfect must be low.

You’re too busy concentrating on not falling on your ass – no, hands and knees, the video you watched in preparation for this said that letting your arms absorb the impact is the safest way to fall – so you can’t articulate that thought into an appropriately clever remark, so you just settle on responding with a dubious look.

His grip tightens reassuringly – you feel like he’s holding all of your weight at this point - and he begins guiding you across the smooth surface. He’s making it look so easy, skating backwards with practiced, smooth motions. You feel like a newborn giraffe in comparison, if someone was to sneak into the zoo, strap knife-blades to its hooves, and set it out onto the ice.

"first lesson: find your centre of gravity," he says, his voice low and encouraging. "keep your knees slightly bent, and let the skates do the work."

“What does that even mean?” you say, a little panicked, but you quickly mimic his stance. It’s awkward at first – you’re ready to tip face-first into him at any moment, but with enough gradual, tiny adjustments, you start to feel a little steadier. The tempo of the music playing over the rink's speakers helps you keep your movements rhythmic, and you find yourself feeling more and more confident.

“there you go,” he says. Despite yourself, warmth floods your chest at the praise.

“I feel like you’re doing all the work, not me or the skates,” you say. “How the hell are you so good at this? I’ve seen you trip over your own bone constructs.”

He lets go of one of your hands to press a wounded hand to his chest and you flail in its absence, letting out a startled eep.

“hey, i am beauty and i am grace. ’specially compared to you right now.”

He snatches your hand back before you can really panic, but as you recover, you realise that you probably weren’t in any danger of falling anyway. One, you trust that Rus would catch you and two, you’re feeling a little steadier on your skates now. Maybe you’re getting the hang of this! The Zamboni isn’t going to run you over after all.

“Aw, you don’t think I’m pretty?” You affect an exaggerated pout.

He laughs, but his cheeks tinge purple. “’course i think you’re pretty. you’re my cute little baby squirrel, slippin’ around on the ice. like in ice age.”

“… thank you?”

“you’re welcome, scrat.”

Eh. You can live with that. Dude has tenacity you can appreciate.

Besides, all this teasing is distracting you from looking down at your own feet and throwing yourself off-balance. Rus continues to glide you around the rink and the sounds of the other skaters seem to fall away, leaving just the two of you and the sounds of your skates sliding against the ice. You gently lap around, each pass making you feel more and more comfortable.

“Still, there’s got to be a reason you’re so good at this,” you press. “There’s not some secret winter Olympics Underground I don’t know about, right?”

He snorts. “hah. nah, nothing like that. not much time for organised sports when everyone’s tryin’ to avoid being dusted. i just did a lot of skating on my own, back when i was in stripes,” he says, and though the tone is off handed, you get the sense that this is far more significant than his voice is letting on. “spent a lot of hours out on the ice. with enough practice, angel eyes, anyone’d pick it up. even you.”

He lets go of your hand again, this time to boop your nose. When he takes it again, his grip is far looser, and you find that you’re staying upright of your own volition. Part of you is tempted to let go completely and see what you can do on your own now that you’ve got the basics down, but fuck, the enjoyment you’re getting from holding his hand is overriding your competitive spirit.

He’s also still towing you around and you have no idea how to actually make yourself go, but little details.

“There’s not much ice or snow from where I’m from, so I never learnt,” you say. “We’d get this gross, dirty sleet sometimes in the winter, but not much else. I used to be so jealous of kids who got to have white Christmases. Did Black teach you to do this?”

Fondness colours his features. “yeah, he did. he was good like that. not many of the other kids liked to go out onto the ice, so i think he thought that if i stayed out there, they wouldn’t pick on me. when i got older, it was a good way to get away from everything for a while.”

You imagine a younger Black taking an even younger Rus by the hands and leading him out onto the ice, guiding him in the way he’s guiding you now. You wonder what being picked on as a kid looked like in their universe, that cruel, brutal place. You doubt that it amounted to simple teasing.

Your chest aches at the thought, but you quash it down. Today is a day for good things; you’re not going to dwell on a past you have no way of changing.

“You must’ve learnt some pretty cool tricks, then,” you say, pushing levity into your tone.

The words chase away the hint of melancholy that had been lurking on his skull. He grins at you, lazy and languid and confident, and says, “oh, sugar plum, you have no idea.”

The two of you both glide to a stop on the side of the rink. You let go of his hands and grasp back onto the barrier. You feel safe now to stay standing without his assistance.

“Go on, then,” you say, angling your chin towards the ice. “Impress me.”

He takes the ice, his movements fluid and confident. The chilly air echoes with the scrape of blades against the smooth surface, and he shoots you a mischievous grin. With each stride, he gains momentum, twirling effortlessly with a grace that makes you dizzy. Your breath catches as he executes a flawless spin, his body a whirl of controlled motion. The ice seems to respond to his every command, and he carves intricate patterns with finesse.

With a final, daring leap, he lands with a flourish, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. The ice seems to shimmer in approval of his performance.

As he skates back to your side, there's a glint of anticipation in his eyes, silently asking if he managed to impress.

And in that moment, under the twinkling lights of the ice rink, you can't help but feel the warmth of his efforts.

Fuck, you’re getting mushy. You can’t find it in you to be upset about that, though.

“well?” he says.

Your applause is muffled by your gloves, but the intent is the same. “That was amazing! Do you reckon I could learn to go that fast today? Oh, or even backwards? Both at the same time seems a little ambitious.”

“maybe just a little,” he says, cheeks flushed from your praise. “we can work on it, though. just getting you to go under your own power today is a good goal. that you’re standin’ with no support now is impressive on its own.”

You look down at yourself and then at your arms and huh, would you look at that. Granted, you’re not moving yet, but you’re getting there!

You cast your eyes back out onto the ring to see the small child from earlier gliding around the ice, skating aid now discarded. You point a gloved finger towards them.

“Do you think I could at least go faster than that kid today?” you say.

Rus looks amused but doesn’t question your choice of a benchmark. “maybe, but don’t stress if you can’t. you’re doing really good for your first time on the ice,” he says. “i don’t want you fallin’ and cracking your head open because you bite off more than you can chew. don’t worry, we can come back for more practice. if you want. it’s okay if you, don’t, though, i -.”

“We are definitely coming back,” you say. You’re determined to at least learn one trick before the holidays are over. “You’re stuck with me now, coach.”

“does that mean you’ll get one of those leotards?”

“If you wear one too, sure,” you agree. “Maybe we can get matching ones.”

He takes your hands again and starts pulling you around the ice, slow and deliberate. You do your best to match his movements. The two of you make another slow lap and though you’re too focussed to be chatty, the silence doesn’t feel awkward. He gives you the occasional helpful, if teasing, pointer and your confidence continues to grow.

“well, how’s your first time on the ice shapin’ up so far?” he asks you after another lap. “everything you were hoping for?” The words are joking, but you can see his sincerity.

Your chest feels all warm and soft and suddenly, you don’t feel the chill of the ice at all. You steel yourself and use your handhold to pull yourself closer to him, slowing your pace, and then let go of his hands altogether, bringing one now free hand to cup the side of his skull. Your gloved fingers splay across his zygomatic arch.

He nuzzles into your palm, sockets drooping.

“Good,” you say. Your voice is soft. “Really, really good.”

“i – heh.” He ducks his head, but he can’t hide the colour that flushes his skull.

In an attempt to recover gracefully, he takes a misstep, his skates catching an edge. Before you both know it, he's tripping over his own feet, arms flailing in an attempt to regain balance.

To no avail. He crashes down into the ice, bony ass first. You narrowly avoid getting taken down with him.

“Oh my god,” you say, unable to stifle the laughter that bubbles up your throat. “Are you okay?”

Rus attempts to clamber to his feet, trying – and failing – to get his legs back underneath him. With each slip back onto the ice, the vivid mauve dusting his cheeks deepens further.

Eventually, he rights himself, skull blazing purple. “’m fine. that was exactly what i was going for. grand finale. ta-da.” The words are said with accompanying jazz-hands.

Still laughing, you pluck one of his hands from the air and pull yourself towards him.

“Real smooth,” you say. “Come on, you charmer. I want to have another go.”

[zelphin124]

//Teaser//

  Dutu roams the snowy forest of the mountains, he wore winter clothes of a thick and fur hood jacket and wore mittens of soft fabric. He looked around with caution as his body shakes a bit due to the cold temperatures, his one glowing purple eyelight looks around. He chuckles a little as he watches small creatures playing in the snow and hopping, he crouches down and traces his phalanges across a small creatures head. He smiled softly as the flowers above his head began to glow orange in joy, he shivers when he felt the temperature rise

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧ I'm excited to see what you do!

[wickedsrest-rp]

Welcome to our weekly round-up! We do these every week to provide plot drops, highlight starters posted that week, and share other information about the setting. Anyone is welcome to use these bullet points in starters, plots, anons etc. Also let us know if you want us to include one of your setting-related plots in here for next week by sending us a bullet point!

What’s new in town?:

Wicked’s Rest is celebrating the winter season with its Frost Bites Festival! Check out our ongoing seasonal event for a winter market, ugly sweaters, teleporting reindeer, Krampus, and so much more.

La Sauce seems... festive? While the tar's new red coloring might be suspected by some to be blood, all of Deersprings will smell it for what it actually is: delicious marinara sauce. Local Italian restaurants are thrilled. Tourists are horrified.

It's been quiet at the Old Factory lately, so the weird, strangled howls coming from it recently are catching peoples' attention. There's a rumor that one of the screaming moose might be stuck in there. It's actually a slightly lost drekavac!

Some pixies have grown bolder after robbing a bank. They stole a bunch of fireworks from people who wanted to set them off to celebrate the New Year. That's probably fine.

Starters:

Daiyu wants to know the locations of some rodents wearing festive hats... so they can be removed, surely.

Marcus got krunk on some eggnog and woke up on a stranger's roof. Have you seen his wallet?

Cassius has a bone to pick with his Christmas decorations.

Mack is visiting California and relishing the warmer climate.

Emilio is in the market for some gently used blankets. Or not gently, he probably won't care.

Ray is having a hair emergency. Please help.

Sam wants to know your New Years plans!

Elias is afraid of some tiny reindeer trying to break in. ... should he be? They're tiny.

Alistair has got some extra pickling brine on hand.... and some extra phalanges.

Leila wants to know about your ugly sweater contest prizes. And no, she wasn't screaming earlier.

Metzli is enjoying themself this New Years... and wants to know what the flavor profile of your enjoyment is, too!

Parker has a mitten problem and could use some help without sarcasm

[jmbringitonworld]

Fransweek 2022, Day 1: Holding Hands

I need to preface this by stating that this piece takes place within my larger Dusttale fic, When The Dust Settles, so if you want some context, go check that fic out (but be warned, it's really angsty at times, and touches upon some very heavy themes, like PTSD and trauma recovery). But if not then, in short, this takes place after a Rebellious Pacifist run of Dusttale (based mostly on Evan Streblow's Dusttale fangame). Chara has been deleted, Frisk Reset and did a final Pacifist run, and Sans returned to normal (mostly). In regards to my other fic, this piece takes place a bit after Frisk has moved in with the skelebros.

_____________________________________________

Ever since Frisk had moved in with the skeleton brothers, things had been looking up for the three of them. With the two best friends living in such close proximity of each other, Sans and Frisk were in considerably higher spirits, and were improving steadily each day. Their bond stronger than ever, the two continued to support each other, as they tried to learn how to move forward with their lives and heal from their traumatic experiences Underground. Papyrus, having been kept in the dark regarding the horrific events which transpired between his brother, his human friend, and Chara, remained unaware of the scars which lingered on Sans and Frisk’s hearts and minds. However, despite his naivety and sometimes childish personality, he was not completely oblivious, and had long since realised that all was not well for the pair. Knowing that the two would never reveal the truth to him, or to anyone else, he nevertheless strived to aid them as best he could, offering his not-so-silent support and remaining a bright and dependable presence in their lives.

Even so, regardless of how much life had improved for Sans and Frisk, their troubles were not yet fully behind them, and they were occasionally reminded that, no matter how far they’d come since their early days after finally putting an end to the vicious cycle of killing and being killed, they still had a long way to go before they could truly put the past behind them. One such occasion occurred one ordinary, seemingly innocuous morning, a few weeks after Frisk had come to live with them.

Stepping into the kitchen, Frisk could tell instantly that something was bothering Sans. His grin was slightly strained, his shoulders a little hunched, and, tellingly, he had shed his jacket and mittens. His tense posture relaxed minutely when he spotted her, his noticeably smaller, dimmer eyelights immediately flicking to rove over her form, in his customary check of her general well-being, before they settled on her eyes, a desperate, pleading look on his face. Ah. It seemed Sans had had a rough night. Without a second thought, Frisk gave in to her best friend’s silent plea for comfort and swiftly took a seat next to him at the table, bringing her chair closer to his, and deftly, yet very subtly, grabbing one shaking, skeletal hand in hers underneath the table, firmly entwining their fingers. She gave his hand a tight squeeze, which Sans feebly returned, then started rubbing her thumb soothingly along his phalanges and metacarpals. With a purposefully casual air, she then cheerfully greeted Papyrus, who appeared to be engrossed in the label on a packet of pancake mix.

“Morning, Papyrus! What are you looking at?”

“HM? OH, GOOD MORNING FRISK!” Papyrus briefly looked up to shoot a bright grin and wave at his human friend, before turning back to frown at the packet in his hand. “QUEEN TORIEL INFORMED ME OF YOUR PREFERENCE FOR SUGARY FOODS AT BREAKFAST, SO I THOUGHT I WOULD TRY MY EXPERT HAND AT PREPARING SOME PANCAKES FOR YOU TODAY, INSTEAD OF OUR USUAL SPAGHETTI. I WOULD’VE PREPARED SOME FOR YOU FROM SCRATCH, BUT DR. ALPHYS INSISTED I TRY SOME PANCAKE MIX FIRST. SHE SAYS A TRUE CHEF NEEDS TO GET USED TO COOKING WITH PRE-PREPARED INGREDIENTS FIRST, BEFORE DOING THE WHOLE RECIPE THEMSELVES. I’M NOT SO SURE MYSELF, BUT IF ALPHYS SAYS SO, THEN IT MUST BE TRUE!”

“Absolutely,” Frisk smiled warmly at the taller skeleton, silently thanking Alphys for her foresight. She didn’t want to imagine the mess Papyrus would’ve made with eggs, milk and flour. “You need any help, Pap?”

“NO NEED, FRISK! MASTER CHEF PAPYRUS CAN EASILY FIGURE THIS NEW RECIPE OUT ON HIS OWN, DO NOT FRET! NYEH HEH HEH!!”

While the two were chatting, Sans’s nearly imperceptible trembling had slowly ceased, and he’d relaxed fully in his chair. His tight smile had softened and his eyelights had returned to normal, though they still lingered on Frisk’s tender smile. Throughout it all, the human had not stopped her gentle ministrations on his hand. Sans felt his soul warm and settle, as he tightened his hold on Frisk’s hand. No words were spoken between the two of them, but they continued to hold hands, fingers firmly interlaced, all through the morning.

____________________________________________

This is my first time actually participating in Fransweek, and I'm still very much a novice writer, having only just begun trying my hand at writing last November, so I'm really nervous about sharing my works, but I love Undertale and I love Frans, it's what has consistently kept me invested in the fandom, so I feel a bit obligated to contribute something to this event. I also do want to express my love for Frans in the only way I really can.

That said, I'm not all that happy with how this turned out, but I wrote it back in December, and my Dusttale fic was still firmly on my mind back then, so this was the first thing I came up with for Fransweek. I hope it's not too terrible. My later works are hopefully a bit better.

Thank you @fransweek for this event! I love how so many fans come together to celebrate a ship we enjoy. I hope better, more talented people than me participate, because Fransweek deserves it.

Dusttale AU by Osteophile / @/ask-dusttale

Dusttale fangame by Evan Streblow

Day 1 / Day 2 / Day 3 / Day 4 / Day 5 / Day 6 / Day 7

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Snowdrifts ch.9 (spicyhoney)

Summary:   Parenthood is constantly giving Edge new challenges, but something being wrong with Snow was one he wasn't prepared to face.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Rescued Child, Babybones, First Time Parenthood, Idiots to Lovers

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

If there was one skill Underfell ingrained into Edge from a very young age, it was that no matter the turmoil in his soul, he needed to keep up with duties.

He was long accustomed to ignoring any troublesome emotions that might be fluttering about like a bothersome insect, securing them behind a wall of cool calm until there was an opportunity to deal with them. There were times when the chances were few and far between and there was the occasional burst of a reaction that was beyond his control, (the recent destruction of Alphys’s lab came to mind), but generally, he had a handle on it. There was little room for mistakes.

So, despite his worries over Snow, Edge focused on making lunch. Stretch always came home first to eat, with Red and Blue usually an hour or so later. Occasionally Red didn’t return for lunch at all and on those days, he was always suspiciously exhausted, and with a fair handful of G for his efforts, whatever they were. Eventually that would warrant a closer investigation, but for now, Edge was carefully saving whatever money was left over from what he gave Blue.

Blue had been more than a little disconcerted when Edge gave him money for rent and even tried to return it. Edge insisted by simply refusing to accept it back and ignoring every attempt. Eventually, he reluctantly accepted the coins and if he used it to fill the refrigerator with a pointed amount of groceries, it was his money to spend. Besides, Edge was using the food to feed the Swap brothers. It all worked out even in the end.

Lunch today was a thick stew and crusty homemade bread, both recipes Edge found in one of the librarby books he’d recently borrowed. The stew was perhaps a little saltier than he’d prefer and the challenge of kneading bread dough with a child in constant need of his attention left it somewhat on the chewy side, but he was still proud of the results. Proof that he could do this, that the others could depend on his housekeeping skills.

Not that Stretch ever seemed to doubt him. He took the bowl Edge offered and ate hungrily, dipping his bread right into the stew and biting off messy chunks. His manners might be lacking, but his appreciation was very welcome.

Snow was secured into her highchair and her bowl of unseasoned carrot and potato stew also made its way into Stretch’s hand. He spooned up bites to her in between his own and the sight of his easy expertise when it came to feeding her made something soft and warm settle into Edge’s chest that had nothing to do with the stew.

That warmth evaporated with Stretch’s next words. “eat up, kiddo. undyne said we can come over anytime, we’ll head over after lunch.”

“Already?” Edge blurted. He’d known he would have to come to terms with the necessity of it, but so soon?

“no time like the present, babe.” His expression twisted into a rueful grimace, distracting Edge from his surprise over the unexpected endearment. “kinda thinking we should get in and get out of there before red gets home, yeah?”

That…was a very wise assumption. If his inclination was to keep Snow far away from Undyne and the lab, then Red’s would certainly be much stronger, possibly ranging near to homicidal levels. In this case, it was probably better to beg forgiveness if and when he found out. At the very least, Red was more unlikely to kill him.

Knowing what was soon coming made what little appetite Edge had fade. He managed to eat a few bites from his bowl with dogged determination, to no avail; it only made nausea start to churn. He finally took his bowl to the kitchen and scraped it into a container for later. Letting it go to waste was out of the question. He set the dirty dishes on the counter along with the few from breakfast, fighting his natural inclination to wash them. There was no time right now. If they were going to see Undyne, then they wouldn’t be leaving empty handed.

Edge turned on his heel to stalk out of the kitchen, ignoring Stretch’s curious glance and leaving the two of them to their meal as he headed upstairs. In one corner of the bedroom was a box neatly filled with unused baby items they’d been given. Edge dug through it, tossing too-large outfits aside and ignoring the mess he was making, until he found what he was looking for. A small bag with a hideously disturbing colorful creature embroidered on the side. From his little experience with surface creatures, he was given to understand it was a giraffe and if such a thing truly existed, it must be a miserable creature, indeed. From the bulging eyes on a lumpy head set on a snake-like neck, all the way down to its horsey hooves, it was far stranger than any Monster he’d ever met.

Edge ignored the nightmarish creature; he’d chosen the bag out of necessity not aesthetic, and he set it on the bed to pack it full. Two extra outfits, one suitable for Snowdin and the other for a much warmer climate, toys, some dry cereal in containers that he kept upstairs for any essential midnight snacks. Even as he carefully wrapped up a bottle of water, he knew none of this was necessary; they were going to Hotland, not the moon. He simply couldn’t help himself, the urge too much to resist. The agitation inside him was mildly soothed by the sight of the filled bag. This world of abundant supplies was laying its offerings at his feet and for Snow’s sake, he’d accept them, along with whatever price was eventually attached.

Stretch said nothing when he came back down with the bag bulging at his side. He simply wiped Snow’s face with a damp cloth, adding his dirty dishes to the ones already in the sink before helping Edge dress her in her snowsuit. Between the two of them, they corralled her squirming limbs into the coat with minimal effort. Stretch stayed quiet, making no protest of Edge silently lifting her into his arms, holding her tightly enough at first that she whimpered a protest. He only retrieved the bag as Edge loosened his grip and followed them to the door as Edge strode determinedly out.

Out on the front stoop, Edge hesitated, unsure of which direction they were heading. It was the first time he’d ventured outside with her since their very first days here, when he’d gone chasing after Stretch, and Snow was already waving her mittened hands excitedly over the new scenery. The air was growing heavy with an incoming storm and almost he protested they shouldn’t be traveling in it. He bit back the impulse. They’d hardly be going off the beaten path and if they were waiting for fair weather in Snowdin, the child would be ready to start school before they left.

Stretch took the lead, stepping past him and jerking his head to the left.

“c’mon, we’re going to have to take the riverperson express,” Stretch said, hopping easily down the steps to the icy ground. “i don’t want to shortcut with her, she's a little young and i don't know how a quick trip through the void might affect her. besides, the last thing we need is to stimulate her magic. crawling is enough to deal with for now, if she ends up flinging around bones, we’re gonna need better insurance.”

“Agreed,” Edge murmured. As cold as it was, that shouldn’t be too far a walk and once they were on the boat, they’d be stripping away her suit before they were halfway there.

But as they set off, his estimation on the timeframe quickly changed. He hadn’t anticipated the sudden interest of the entire town of Snowdin. He should have, people had been asking to see the baby for weeks, and her sudden appearance was quickly noticed by passersby. Word traveled quickly, making the local Monsters crawl out of their homes, shops, and whatever woodwork was about to have a look. Soon there was a crowd of eager faces surrounding them, cutting off their path.

Instinct demanded an immediate defense and Edge fought off the urge. They were curious children and equally inquisitive adults, none of them meant any harm. Reconciling that knowledge with his own reflexes was difficult, made worse by Snow’s cheery burbling as she squirmed in his arms, eager to get down and meet this colorful new group.

A hand on his arm made him jerk, nearly lashing out, but it was only Stretch, his phalanges cool and soothing on Edge’s wrist as he tugged it lower, silently urging him to dismiss an attack he’d hardly realized he was summoning.

“easy, edgelord. let me handle this,” Stretch murmured. He moved slowly, cautiously telegraphing his every move, to take the baby from Edge. Edge released her reluctantly, letting his hands drop to his sides and unable to keep them from curling into fists as Stretch raised his voice, “hey, guys, i know you’re looking forward to some snow and tell on our newest addition but we’re on a schedule today. This’ll have to pacify you for now.” He held Snow up high and she squealed in delight, her little limbs flailing in glee. A collective sigh rose in the crowd, their expressions mirroring hers of pure delight. Stretch spun around in a full circle, dancing the baby in the air and giving the entire group a glimpse of Snow, then lowered her. “sorry, folks, that’s it for today. opening day is soon, buy a ticket, you’ll get a better view!”

The crowd reluctantly dispersed, with the child who’d given Edge the bag of clothes calling loudly back, “you were right, she is cute!”

“there.” Stretch deposited Snow back into Edge’s arms and gave him a guilty look. “sorry. i know you’ve been wanting to keep her under wraps, but—”

“No, it’s fine,” Edge took a long breath and let it slowly out, trying to make the words true. “We couldn’t keep her hidden forever. I’m grateful that all they wanted was a glimpse.”

“eh, they aren’t gonna push.” Stretch sounded suspiciously confident of that.

“Why?” Edge asked bluntly.

“huh?” Stretch blinked at him. His pale eye lights were so like Snow’s and like her, the innocence was suspect.

“Why aren’t they going to ask?” Edge repeated.

“oh, you know,” Stretch waved a hand and started walking, leaving Edge to follow at his heels. “people here aren’t like that. c’mon, let’s get to the riverperson.”

That was a carefully constructed attempt at distraction, but Edge was accustomed to wordplay from a far more devious source. “What have you told them about us being here?”

Stretch only shrugged with increasingly unconvincing carelessness, “oh, not much.”

“But you’ve told them something, you had to.”

He walked a little faster and Edge widened his strides to keep up. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to let it go, Stretch let out an aggravated sigh, his head ducked low. “look, all they know is you came from a rough situation. that’s it. there’s plenty of gossip, i can’t do much about that, but not like anyone is gonna guess the truth. people here are pretty nice, you know, but we get bored and you three are a tasty new slice of gossip. they’re gonna be curious, so i tried my best to give you some space. that’s all.” Every word dripped with defensiveness, a memory of their past antagonism, back when they’d been fucking despite their attraction instead of because of it. Before all of them came to live here.

Snowflakes were starting to fill the air, puffs of white that landed on Stretch’s hunched shoulders, standing out against the bright orange of his sweatshirt. In his arms, Snow reached out to touch a flake that fell on his sleeve, giggling as it melted away under her mitten and Edge hardly noticed. The entirety of his focus was on Stretch.

He was trying so hard to help, not just for Snow, but for both of them. All the baby supplies that came so quickly, finding clothes for Edge and coming up with excuses for him to keep them, making sure the townsfolk stayed at bay until he was ready for them.

The memory of Stretch’s sleepy confession of love was still lingering at the back of Edge’s mind where it had been for weeks and he couldn’t say what emotion was sitting deep in his own soul, but it was comfortingly warm.

“Thank you,” Edge said, softly. Stretch was too far away to touch and instead, he pressed a light kiss to Snow’s temple, leaving a trail of them down to her chubby cheekbone. “I appreciate the consideration.”

“yeah?” Stretch turned and met his gaze uncertainly.

“Yes,” Edge said decisively. “Come on, let’s get her out of the cold.”

He took the lead and walked on ahead, leaving Stretch standing in the newly falling snow. He didn’t know his way entirely around Underswap Snowdin yet, but he could assume that the Riverperson was right up ahead. After a moment, he heard the renewed crunch of footsteps behind him and the three of them made their way to the river together.

~~*~~

Snow loved the ride on the ferry. Edge tried not to let his nervousness over taking her on such a risky means of transportation show as there wasn’t much alternative. Walked to Hotland could take days and since Stretch’s normal means of conveyance was out, this was the only method left. He kept firm grip around her as she twisted around, taking in the blur of the passing water and stone around them. Stretch was sitting next to him, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world, but Edge could feel his magic was roused and had no doubt if Snow somehow wriggled loose, she’d be very quickly caught up by a quick burst of blue magic.

Strange to see that of all the people between worlds that he’d met, the Riverperson was the least changed. Perhaps they were taller, and he didn’t think he was imagining the higher pitch to their voice, but the cryptic remarks were the same, as was their peculiar boat.

When they arrived at Hotland, Stretch climbed ashore first and Edge handed Snow to him. He’d been about to step on solid ground himself when that high, sweet voice spoke behind him.

“Love unqualified searches for a connection.” Startled, Edge turned around to look at the shrouded figure at the bow of the boat. There was little in the way of a view, not so much the shadow of a face or a hint of hands. It was possible that the cloak itself was the Monster. They seem to be waiting, an air of anticipation heavy in the air.

“Thank you?” Edge offered, warily. The Riverperson made a sound like an exhale and said nothing else.

Uneasiness was crawling up Edge’s spine but that was hardly a new sensation when it came to the Riverperson. Edge ignored it and stepped on to solid land, already sweating by the time his boots touch the hardpacked earth. Nearby, Stretch was kneeling on the ground as he stripped off Snow’s warm outer layer, or tried to, teasingly scolding as she twisted and laughed.

“…no time for you to be a squirmy wormy, little miss,” Stretch was saying. He glanced up as Edge walked over and his eye lights slid briefly, knowingly, to the Riverperson. “everything okay?”

“Of course,” Edge said crisply. He gathered up the little snowsuit and bundled it into the bag before scooping up the baby, balancing her on his hip. If Underswap was still similar if opposite to Underfell, then the lab wasn’t far.

Time to get this over with.

tbc

[strippeddeckjoker]

*SHOVES three fingers DEEP into ur mouth*

[[TW/CW for: Gore and NSFW content. :newspaperemoji: dont u read this if you don't like that stuff. If you do, enjoy.]]

Jevil at this particular moment was asleep, when his maw is assailed by fingers. So deep in the torpor he was, he didn't wake up at the intrusion. His tongue curls around the anon's fingers, dragging against them with an easy, practiced motion. He's clearly done this a lot, since its a twitch of muscle memory that brings his mittened hand to the anon's wrist. There's a sigh of contentment from the snoozing clown's chest. The inside of his mouth had a texture somewhere between a water wiggler and a very fine, wet velvet. Thick, stringy saliva collects between the anon's digits as he absent mindly licks them, its a sweet, almost adoring motion. His spit has a faint lemon smell and is a dark purple color that works its way out of his lips because the process is...Messy.

When they don't reach deeper into his throat though, his whole body tenses. There is one long, probing lick from a tongue that didn't seem to belong in his mouth. It practically unfurls under their skin. It slides between the fingers, across the palm and up the wrist. Tasting quizzically the whole way, curious, then panicked.

This isn't the right hand, it's lacking the familiar texture, the flavor he expects. Its too smooth, its skin, there is no faint tinge of smoke or dust on his palate.There's not a SECOND hand on his throat right now, or any weight bearing down upon him. No sweet-dark voice providing encouragement. The tongue retracts with a violence as he closes his grip on the offending being's arm with crushing strength. They weren't going anywhere.

Jevil is awake. Both eyes opening to a disgusting, repulsive lightner's visage. The rage in those black orbs was unspeakable and didn't match up with the way he was grinning around their phalanges.

His teeth SNAP together with hideous force, rending the anon's fingers apart at the base of the metacarpuses. Those fangs slice through muscle and tendons like a kitchen knife through a side of beef. As if to make it worse, he pulls his head back, ripping skin and veins along with him. Tearing the wound ragged and uneven as they're severed from the palm.

There's a guttural snarl in his throat as his tongue lashes out to push the prize into the back of his mouth. Swallowing them without even chewing. He doesn't wipe his mouth, giving a crazed, hungry grin.

He doesn't release the anon either, no, his grip tightens. They can feel his claws through the fabric of those mittens. Biting into their skin and dragging them down to his level so he can speak; hissing into their ear. His voice takes on a tenebrous quality that doesn't match his usual tone. It's like someone else is speaking entirely.

"Look at this, a filthy pest. Guess I'll have to eat the rest. Lightner isn't easy to digest, but I think I'm up to the test, test."

[paddie-ut]

Soriel Week 2020 Day 1: Dance More of a subtle reference to the prompt in this one. Yes i’m back at it with the angst on day 1. The pic is just a bonus for the real entry, which is the oneshot I wrote below the cut. You can also read it here on AO3: X (TW for implied blood, death and violence. The usual stuff that comes with references to the no mercy run)

It was cold.

It was cold when he hit the tiled floor, body rapidly going to pieces. And it was cold now. Wherever he was.

Everything still ached. Like acid eating through his bones. The pain was always strangely familiar, expected. But that never stopped it from hurting.

He curled his crimson stained mitten tighter over his ribcage, not even sure if he was facing up or down. He didn’t dare open his sockets, wanting more than anything to slip away from all this into sleep. He was so unbelievably tired.

The sounds of a small child’s body repeatedly slamming into the floor and against the walls kept swimming through his skull, ruining any chance of that. Paired with the hazy visions of a gold hallway littered with bones and awash in great stains of red, it was like a cruel joke. So much for this process being peaceful.

How long had it gone on this time? How many times had he killed them?

It didn’t matter anymore. So he wished his mind would stop asking.

With every moment that passed though, he did start to notice the cold all around was losing its grip on him. Something warm had come to combat it. Something physical… soft. Something… that smelled like cinnamon… and butterscotch?

The oddity of that alone was enough to calm the chaos of his thoughts some, and convinced him to attempt to open his weary sockets. It was more effort than expected, but he managed it.

What met his eyelights then when they were able to focus was… unexpected to say the least.

Soft scarlet eyes stared down at him, set in what seemed to be a sea of white fur. Long creamy white ears framed their face and two horns crowned their head. Strangely, there were also what appeared to be shining specks in their fur, glittering like tiny stars. Those same specks were also lazily floating in the air around them, bright and twinkling against what seemed to be all encompassing blackness in every direction.

Judging from the angle he was seeing them from, he realized they were holding him in their large arms. making him feel utterly tiny… but safe. The monster shouldn’t have been familiar, yet somehow he knew exactly who she was.

“Oh thank goodness…” She sighed with relief before smiling down at him. “I was starting to worry you may not wake up!”

He just stared up at her for a few moments, mind awhirl with questions he was too tired to focus on. But he eventually managed a weak smile.

“heh… well this is new.”  Was all he could think to say, thinking aloud more than anything.

He had been expecting his brother. Surely that was who must have greeted him all the other times he’d ended up here. It only made sense. But thinking about it too much would only add a skullache to all the other aches consuming him. So he didn’t bother to question it. Worrying about the logistics of what happened in this place didn’t have much of a point.

Besides… he’d be lying if he denied seeing her didn’t stir the first positive feelings he’d felt in… gosh… how long had it been since he’d saw Papyrus’ scarf half buried in the snow at the outskirts of Snowdin? Whatever… if she was here, he must be here too.  

“Greetings, my friend.” She said warmly, though her eyes were still noticeably sad. “It is I, Toriel. I know you may not recognize me, but my voice may sound familiar to you, does it not?”

“yah. nice to see you tori.” He said, finding the words oddly natural.

She blinked in surprise at that, tilting her head a bit in a way he couldn’t help but find endearing.

“Did... did you already-?” She began to question, but he interrupted her with a few shaky coughs.

“heh, don’t worry about it.” He rasped once he could speak again. “i just started connecting the dots over time, i guess.”

It was not a full lie, but not a full truth. He knew that. Though in that moment, he couldn’t have put into words just why that was. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. Not here.

She frowned, as though upset with her past self for potentially giving away her true identity unbidden. But her attention was drawn back to him as he stiffened up and winced from another wave of pain.

As much as he wanted to keep focused on her, the wound he carried that nearly split him from shoulder to pelvis was pretty darn good at demanding his attention. He squeezed the front of his shirt tighter, feeling that it was still soaked. When he shakily lifted his free hand in front of his face, he could see the splashes of dark red staining his mitten.

For some reason it made him want to laugh, but he didn’t know why.

“Do not worry, it stops hurting after a little while.” She assured him softly, giving his arm a consoling rub.

She turned her head a bit then so he could more easily see the scar on her face. A faded, but still noticeable remnant of a gash that stretched from her cheek up to under her right eye.

His breathing went funny for a moment, as something akin to a mix of nausea and anger briefly bubbled up inside him. But it wasn’t long before he forced his weary grin back into place with practiced ease.  

“good to know.” He rasped, wheezing out a chuckle. “was worried i might end up as half the skeleton i used to be.”

As if on cue, she laughed that brilliant laugh of hers. The kind that all but left her breathless. And though it was strained with the heavier emotions no doubt pressing down on her, it caused his grin to grow so much it made his cheekbones hurt.

He’d missed this. He did the best to avoid chuckling in turn though, as the action would no doubt further aggravate the gaping slash through his ribs.

Once she had calmed down and returned her ruby red gaze back to him, he shook off his ruined mitten, lifted his trembling free hand to her, and gave the best smile he could manage.

“the names… sans.” He croaked out. “sans the skeleton.”

As usual, he slipped the whoopee cushion he always kept in his hoodie sleeve up into his hand. Maybe the red stains all over it kind of ruined the effect, but he saw no sense in spoiling his routine if he could manage it.

The sound of artificial flatulence sounded somehow more hilarious when echoing through an ethereal void, he found.

She burst into laughter again, and his soul felt light.

...

Shortly after, he found himself being carried by Toriel down some winding, faintly glowing path through the darkness. Everywhere her paws stepped, the “ground” glowed for a few moments in the shape of her footprint before fading away. It reminded him faintly of waterfall, if waterfall also had a bunch of sparkling stardust floating around.

At the end of the path, in what could maybe be called “the distance”, he could see a place that was glowing far brighter, like a city floating in the middle of a pitch black sea. He tried not to look at it, it only made a new pain lash out at his soul.

Instead he looked back up at Toriel, and found that she had been looking down at him too. She played it off and returned her gaze to their destination, but Sans could see the conflicted emotions in her eyes. He debated staying silent, maybe just closing his eyes until whatever came next, but the words seemed to tumble out of him without his permission.

“so... i figure you must of seen what happened, huh?” He asked quietly, feeling the dulling pain of his wound thrumming beneath his phalanges.

Her breathing stalled and she momentarily struggled to look at him. The soft scarlet of her eyes was awash with what he was worried he may see there, guilt.

“Yes… we all did.” She admitted, holding him a little closer and swallowing hard. “Y-you… you fought bravely, my friend. Please just rest now.”

In a move that was all too familiar to him, she worked a smile back onto her face and quickly changed the subject.

“Everyone is waiting for you. Your brother included. Not too far from here.” She said, motioning towards the bright place in the distance. “He is a wonderful monster, so cheery and kind hearted despite all that has happened. I can see why you spoke so highly of him.”

His eyelights must have given away the inner surge of emotions he felt at the mention of his brother, as she added to her statement quickly.

“Oh, he wanted to be the one to come get you of course…” She assured him. “But it seems that since I am among those who have been here the longest, it is easier for me to traverse this place. I… I do not fully understand it myself yet.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, seeing the logic in what she was saying and not bothering to question it further. He was in no shape to imagine how such things worked here, though there was some small part of him that still held that interest regardless. Even if he didn’t want to admit it. He couldn't help but think for a moment about how the other monsters must of reacted to Toriel, their long lost queen, suddenly reappearing to them in this place. Given the circumstances... if they knew all that had led to this... it was easy to imagine the majority of them would be less then pleased to see her.

 Perhaps there was more to the fact she'd come to meet him alone than it seemed. If that was the case, and even if it wasn't, he figured the best thing he could do for her was try to keep her smiling. 

“what, you weren’t just eager to see me?” He teased, wheezing out a chuckle despite his best efforts when she gave him a playful glare for it. It left his ribs freshly aching, but it was worth it.

“Well, I am very happy to finally meet you in person, my friend.” She said upon regaining her smile. “Just as I was happy to meet your brother and the others… We all have so much to talk about… and all the time in the world now to get to know one another.”

Just as quickly as it had come, her smile faltered again, and he could feel the conflicted emotions from her powerful soul radiate off her. She swallowed hard and let out a shaky sigh.

“I know… it is difficult to feel anything truly positive after all that has happened.” She said, voice noticeably trembling. “But at least… it is over now, and we will all be together. Just try to remember that.”

Sans couldn't be sure if she was really talking to him, or herself with that last bit. In any case, she kept walking, a bit faster than before. She kept her eyes on the path ahead, but he just kept his gaze fixed on her.

“right…” He responded quietly, trepidation beginning to wind tighter around his soul.

He couldn’t just keep ignoring it. No matter how much he tried to avoid the thought, it was growing like a weed and inevitably kept choking out any opposing ones.

He should keep his mouth shut. He shouldn’t say anything. He should just go to sleep and let it happen. He should spare her from this. But...

His gaze met hers again, and he felt like his soul was being squeezed.

“tori… listen…”

The words had barely left him before they both were hit by a powerful wave of... something. Strong enough to make Toriel stop in her tracks and look around in alarm. Sans didn’t know exactly what it was, but he knew what it meant. It felt like all the vitality he had left drained from him in that moment.

“What on earth was that?” Toriel asked quietly, more to herself it seemed.

“nothing good.” Sans replied, internally wincing a bit as she looked down at him in surprise.

Her gaze silently demanded to know what he meant, fear creeping bit by bit into her expression. He sighed in defeat, knowing there was no backing out of it now. He could already feel the tips of his phalanges going numb, and hear a dull whine in the far distance.

“tori, we… we aren’t gonna make it back to the others.” He said, shutting his sockets briefly.

Toriel stiffened, and he could feel the faint prick of her claws against him as they slid out of their own accord.

“Wh-what?” She stammered, clearly hoping he was setting up a joke somehow. “What do you mean?”

The hollow expression on his face no doubt banished any hope she had that this was some poor excuse for humor on his part. Even though her eyes were painful to look at then, he did his best to keep his wits long enough to explain what he could.

“tori... the stuff with the human… it goes beyond just what they did to us.” He said, ignoring the now creeping numbness in his phalanges. “they... they are causing something a lot worse to happen… i dunno what it is. but i’m pretty sure it’s happened before. i’ve uh… seen the data.”

There was no time to explain that last part, and it reminded him too much of his encounter with the kid anyway. He had to get to the point.

“for some reason… everything disappears at the end of this. and i do mean… everything.”

Toriel just stared at him in silence, mouth opening and closing but not finding any words. He could tell she wanted to argue, but surely she was feeling what was coming just as much as he did. And just as it seemed she may finally reply, another wave, stronger than the last nearly knocked her off her feet.

She staggered, clutching him tightly in an effort not to drop him. Once the initial shock had passed, her gaze quickly snapped to the lights in the distance. Sans didn’t have to look to know they’d be flickering, feeling the effects of what was coming as well. The sparkling bits of stardust around them were also winking out one by one, leaving them in further darkness every moment. It wouldn’t be long now.

It was then that it became clear Toriel wasn’t going to question things further. She didn’t fully understand, but she really didn’t need to. The idea had sunk in, as he could sense the weight of it slowly taking hold of her. Despite all her fur keeping her warm from the chill of this place, she began shivering lightly.

“i’m sorry.” He murmured without thinking, resisting a far harsher shudder of his own. “this is what happens when people like me take it easy.”

He didn’t expect a reply to that. If anything he expected anger from her, as she realized just what his failure to stop the human had truly meant. But instead it was that guilt he’d seen from her before that made itself known.

“Please, you must not blame yourself.” She implored in a dazed tone. “You... you fought so hard to stop them in the end… If anything… I am to blame for asking you to protect them…”

He closed his sockets with a soft sigh at that, all while feeling the numbness had consumed his hands and feet entirely. He considered arguing with her further, insisting his lack of earlier action against the kid far outweighed her wanting to give them a chance. But there was just no time. There were better things to focus on in what little they had. 

“well... for what it’s worth… i think your heart was in the right place, y’know?” He assured her, resting the side of his skull against her slightly. “you couldn’t have known. and i doubt the other humans were anywhere near as bad as this one, otherwise you wouldn’t have given this one a chance in the first place.”

He knew he couldn’t free her of her own guilt no more than she could free him of his. But he didn’t want her last thoughts to be those of self hatred. Not if he could help it anyway.

He tried to think of some last knock knock joke, knowing it was the only real sort of comfort he could reliably offer her. Pathetic as that was. But the increasing signs of their certain doom’s rapid approach all around them kind of made it hard to come up with any decent material.

It was her who ended up speaking again first, in a surprisingly calm tone all things considered.

“Then... this is it?” She asked, her eyes growing hazy. “Why then… why were we brought here? I..." 

She turned her head away, stifling what sounded like a sob.

"I never was even able... to find my children..." She croaked out, the words heavy with despair. "Wh-what was the point of any of this..?" 

It was a question he could never answer. It was unlikely anyone really could. But she knew that. The question was rhetorical, but he played along anyway. If only to keep from giving into the icy fear that wanted so badly to ensnare him.

“i wish i knew...” He replied weakly, breath hitching a bit. “guess it’s just... one last dance before the curtain call.”

He meant it to be that last twinge of humor he wanted to get out. But the strain in his voice robbed it of any joviality, making it humorous in a different way perhaps, but not how he intended. Maybe if his funny bone hadn’t just gone numb as well, it would have been better.

Toriel didn’t reply for a long moment, staring at where the bright lights in the distance had once been. Now they were so dull, they were barely visible amongst the sea of black. He struggled not to think of his brother and the others, frightened and having no idea of the secondary and final fate that was bearing down on them. Or perhaps that had already claimed them.

Instead Toriel’s voice brought his wavering focus back to her, as she subtly tightened her grip on him. Her face remained impressively stoic as she spoke, even as a few tears silently spilled from her eyes.

“Will I… ever see you again, my friend?” She asked softly, looking down at him as though trying to memorize every element of his face.

The question was so raw, he wondered if she’d even meant to speak it aloud. His soul got all tight in his ribcage, and he felt what may have been long withheld tears of his own wanting to well up in his sockets. But he kept his usual smile in place all the same. If only for her sake.

Part of him wanted to lie again, to give her some last comfort before the end, but for some reason… he found he just couldn’t. Not with her looking at him like that.

“can’t know that for sure.” He admitted, giving a small shake of his skull. “we don’t have any say in what comes next. but... there’s a possibility that after everything’s gone, things might... start anew... reset, y’know?”

All of his limbs had gone numb now, and his vision blurred to the point he could no longer make out her features. Whether that was from tears or from the world’s imminent destruction, he didn’t know.

“you can be sure if we end up back at the start of all this...” He gave her a wink. “i’ll come knocking again as always.”

Those statements surely must have confused her, but the sentiment seemed to be enough that he could feel that she’d stopped trembling, and a flicker of warmer emotion emanated from her soul. Like a spark in the ever growing darkness. 

“Perhaps then… there is at least a chance things will be better next time.” She said quietly, and he felt her chin rest upon the top of his skull as she held him close.

He closed his sockets and pressed a little closer to her in return, feeling his awareness starting to steadily slip away.  

As much as he would have liked to, he couldn’t share her optimism. Not after this. But she spoke with that same integrity that had made him soften enough that day at the Ruin’s door to break his personal rule against making promises. And just like back then, despite everything, she was getting to him again.

As foolish as it was, he allowed himself to hold on to that possibility as the last wave hit, eradicating everything in their world along with it.

“yah… maybe next time.”

[cuprohastes]

The Black Market

Space is big. I mean... really big. Like even bigger than a really big rock.

And boring.

But sometimes you get an encounter...

Boring is the worst part.

You can go into space and there's all sorts of cool stuff like the microgravity, the amazing view... and after a while it's just dark and the computer goes 'Boop' every quarter time unit, and this amazing experience collapses into the same space as e.g., being in a nursing home until someone tells you that you've arrived, and you can go look at cool stuff again.

Hence Interstellar Cruise Liners.

Space travel is still not cheap - even a run up and down a space elevator needs paying for, so you want to take as much cargo and paying passengers as possible.

With automated shipyards, you can just pour money and resources into building a truly huge passenger module, stack it on top of some cargo modules and clamp on as many drive units and crew modules as you need.

Load everyone in, let them ooh and ahhh at the view for a day then spin up a gateway and fire the whole thing into superluminal space and drop it out around any world you have a beacon for.

The really great thing is even if you lose the beacon in transit, you are a beacon. Just drop out and wait. Anything goes wrong, the home office can send a rescue ship after you.

In the meantime, there's the ship's amenities: The lush mossy jungle deck, the galactic beach, the games rooms, the dining groves, the on-board university - Even the theatre for live and recorded entertainment.

Still passengers like to have an experience, and so the Sunward Sail out of Ggxcha with seven hundred passengers dropped out of Superluminal space, the bow wave of exotic particles heating the backstop up to a glowing red.

The Sunward Sail dropped into a lazy orbit around an ancient planet, orbited by a big station trailing glittering wreckage - Obviously something dramatic had gone down here.

The lights were on though - So not a derelict station - and the docking was smooth, so the first set of tourists stepped onto the station, onto the Market deck.

So much to see! So much to do!

Madam Shi-shi's bakery run by a happy Tsin selling classic Tsin pastries, and exotic purple rolls with various filling and other goods.

The Top n' Charmed Quarks Bar with the scarred Atrix obviously a veteran of some war or calamity, serving exotic and colourful drinks:

"Dare you try the Human Menu?" she suggests, pulling it out. "Watch out, the Temple of Shir-li is banned in twelve systems..."

They even have a chance wheel!

Then there's Honest Gar's Genuine Human Antiquities, the wares spilling out from the shop in a riot of colours and patinas, where one can buy a genuine antique reproduction Victorian Empire TV, or a genuine Human Made Brown's Kitchen Imp that can tell you how to make a thousand and five human style recipes with a little sheet glass projection hologram of a human in glasses and red horns. So quaint!

And if you get to the end of the market, or one of the traders tips you off, you can find...

The Black Market

There's someone there, a weathered old... unless they were young... spacer, in a patched and scuffed EVA undersuit with 43 on the chest, who'll spin you unbelievable tales for a couple of creds dropped into the old cracked space helmet he keeps on the table next to him and if you ask, he'll let you in -

The back rooms are dark, rowdy, and full of the coolest stuff. There are lots of humans here, and there's an Atrix little guy, with a set of goggles, riding low on the belly of this Atrix Mech.

If you're lucky you can see one of the humans with some grudge square off agianst the little guy. He's surrounded by switches and levers, with a little pair of waldos.

The mech lurches to life, an angry display on its faceplace, growling in a rattling synthetic voice:

Combat mode! Engaged! Polaron Claws. Charging.

It's claws glowing white hot as it swings into motion, and the Human pulls a little cobbled together blaster out and takes a pot shot. The Mech lurches and sparks, warning lights flashing ominously...

Reactor. Overheat. Reactor. Overheat. Emergency. Venting.

The stricken mecha whirls, the little guy screaming in rage and flipping clunky archaic controls... And then when everything seems to be about to go wrong, the mech begins to spray clouds of vapour from it's vents and the alerts wind down, while the scurrilous human takes the opportunity to flee.

It's very dramatic.

And after that you can buy a souvenir arm patch of Cat Fantastic's Mecha with glow in the dark Polaron claws, before it's time to head back - Don't forget to pick up a packed lunch from Madame Shi-Shi's!

--

"Ugh." said Dave, "I don't mind the tourist run but it ruins my appetite" she muttered.

"You shouldn't snack on your own stock." says Big Ma, touching up Gondy's makeup.

Phalanges, helmet off, chin up and enjoying the cool air blower form the converted life support rig that they'd modded into the mecha grunts noncommittally.

"How are we doing boss?" Raxy asks, potting up souvenir Tsin fungus with Atrix moss and human basil.

O'Patel flashes an OK hand sign. "We are... hitting the funding goals. One more shift - This time it's for the bonus pay." he says with satisfaction and Big Ma looks around, checking everyone's ready as someone helps Cat Fantastic back into his cockpit basket and Gondy makes sure there's enough grenadine left.

"OK people... Showtime!"

[howverychaotic]

Smut writers (and other writers), it's okay to say the body part. I promise. Increasingly obscure aphorisms as you struggle not to repeat yourself while also trying not to directly name a body part just reads like the writer is having a nervous breakdown.

We don't need pleasure buzzer, satan's doorbell, squish mitten, meat piston, or dangly sperm orbs. You don't need to replace the word eyes with dark orbs. You don't need to replace the word finger with phalange.

[thedailyartstudiesgrind]

Hand Studies D-3

reminder: more mittens!! 30 of em should be good (SUPER SIMPLE, START SKETCHING FROM BIG SHAPES THEN SMALL INTRICATE DETAIL! NOT OTHER WAY AROUND!!) around that mittens, draw a possibly fingers from imagination (5 of the mittens). without looking at Proko vid. After that, watch the vid, do revisions based on the correct way to approach it according to the vid. Almost forgot to post here due to intense study session-- Learning two different skills at the same time sure is hectic :( but oh well.. I must push myself to become better!

So here's the 1st attempt at learning to draw hands interacting with objects (aka holding cup study session since when holding it, the hand will fold, do foreshortening and overlap with each other! so I think this is a great study exercise to do) First, I make the rough sketch (not focusing on the body part here, only detailing the hands). The mittens technique will always present throughout my sketches as a guideline for the fingers.

Second one! The mittens rough sketch vs the finger parts that hold the mug handle looks proportionally correct. But the left hand holding the bottom of the cup mittens vs the ref pict and final drawings are wring in terms of ratios (too high). I need to be careful about that and be remindful of the usage of straight lines to measure.

I like the look of this one, at a glance. However when I focused on the right hand, the finger joint fold doesn't look that natural compared to the reference image. The finger joint fold overlap is wrong imo. I need to do more of this studies to better understand the overlap (sketching the rough finger overlap and fold first before refining it into bumps and curves)

Fourth, the right hand that holds the bottom of the cup could be better (it doesn't look like the plate rest on the top of the palm planes but rather elevating). The left hand fold is also proportionally wrong.. (again I need to learn how to sketch with precise line using quick straight lines to indicate differences in the measurement of each joints).

Fifth and final. The left hand phalanges is too small (need to make it bigger). The right hand phalanges (middle, ring and pinky) are having a wrong angle. The elbow looks off in distance. Overall: I think I need to keep watching and redo the whole video again and again, everyday before drawing to keep my mind remember the whole hard theories of drawing this most complicated subject of human anatomy--. I also need to draw more of the hands (and forget the whole detail of the head and body and just focus drawing the upper limbs up to the hands) Tomorrow, I'll redo the exercise again starting from the bones, then mitten planes, and then hand holding objects.

[nntheblog]

Anime Hand Drawing : How To Draw A Hand Anime

In this video tutorial, we're going to teach you how to draw hand from anime. It's anime. It's hands, and they are difficult to draw. There's little else to say. Let's take a look at the hand drawings from anime and fight the battle of hand drawing in anime and discover methods to help make these easier draw. Drawing hand from anime is dependent on the ability of your hand to be simplified of hand anatomy, as well as your capacity to change the perspective of your hand. Drawing hands from anime also relies on your visual knowledge. To draw the hands of anime well we will go over the structure of the hand along with the basic proportions and shapes. Then, we will go over two methods of making hand drawings for anime, the glove/mitten technique along with the simple Form method of construction. Tutorial Video Anime Hand Drawing https://youtu.be/1FDrizAhPa8 For a straightforward solution on drawing hands for anime: Make use of your understanding of anatomy and the ability to break down complex shapes into basic shapes, and draw a hand sketch using an image language that is similar to Anime as well as Manga. You can use either the glove/mitten method or the fundamental technique of construction of forms to finish your drawing. It is important to note that Anime is a reference to moving images displayed on screens whereas Manga typically refers to drawing still images like comic strips. For ease of use in this article, both terms are used interchangeably. Let's start.Creating a mitten or a glove shape and drawing over it can help you get proportions right. Knowing the anatomy of the hand is essential to draw hands of anime I wrote a thorough tutorial on drawing that covers the hands anatomy. Let's go over the basics we require to know about the anatomy of the hand that is used in manga and anime drawing. The metacarpals are the basis for the hand's palm. fingers are derived from these bones.Phalanges circled. Gvaat’s study. Phalanges comprise the bones that make up fingers. Notice the three fingers on each finger. joints: one at the knuckle, one in the middle and the third nearer towards the tip. It is also important to note that the thumb is only equipped with two phalanges. Third joint located on the metacarpals rear at the wrist. This joint will be crucial when drawing the thumb as there are only two joints visible compared to the three joints on the fingers. Drawing Anime Hands - begin with a general form and work from there to more specific In both methods we will go over below drawing anime hands the glove/mitten method as well as the simple method of form construction starting with the simplest form for the hand's palm. It's a boxy and concave shape. Take a look at the image above, and then perform different hand gestures, and look at your hands too and note how the shape alters between each gesture to the next. Drawing Anime Hand - Proportions If you've been following my tutorials, you'll are aware that I'm not one of those who believes in studying exact proportions for anything. Proportions change based on the subject you wish to draw. The proportions will change based on the perspective and foreshortening the subject. In time, you'll be able to judge proportions and then correct them the proportions based on what you're drawing. There are however some guidelines which can help you when drawing the hand, and they can be utilized to draw anime hands. 1 - Hand length and finger length proportions It is the length that the finger of your middle from the end to just before the knuckle equals the length of the hand. 2 - Finger joint proportions The first joint on each finger is the same as the last two joints of the finger's length. Drawing Anime Hand Joint divisions We examined the phalanges that make up the hand's skeletal system in the first part of this lesson. The phalanges are the boundaries or joints between the different finger parts. It is important to note that each finger is composed of three joints: one beginning at the knuckles, and two others along across the entire length. The marking of these joints correctly will give a solid foundation for drawing hands from anime. Drawing Hands Animation - Shapes of fingers The structures of the phalanges The joints are formed by the skeletal structure of the finger. Every finger appears a little like a bean when in perspective.Profile view of a finger. It is easier to draw anime fingers when each section is broken up as if a bean. Drawing Anime Hand, a Step-by Step method 1 - the glove or mitten technique Creating a mitten or a glove shape and drawing over it can help you get proportions right. The idea of a glove/mitten is derived because the majority people are more able to visualize or draw an image of a glove the mitten than an intricate hand drawn in anime. There is no need to fret about drawing using fingers. This method lets you just have to think about your general shape. Controlling the general shape is the foundation of any drawing that is good. In other words, every drawing that is successful starts by allowing the artist complete control over the general form of what they're drawing. Draw your first anime hand using simple shapes like gloves or mittens. The simplified fingers are drawn with a rectangular shape. After that, the simplified shape is drawn over with greater detail, and also by creating divisions for fingers.Glove/mitten approach to drawing anime hands from left to right. Study by Gvaat.Glove/mitten sketch simplification on the left, drawing over it on the right. Gvaat’s study of anime hands. The above is an excellent illustration for how the glove/mitten technique is effective. When drawing the simplified model take a moment to think about how the hands will look in general and its proportions. Think about and the overall gesture. Be concerned about the particulars when you do the second time. Glove/mitten sketch simplification on the left, drawing over it on the right. Gvaat’s study of anime hands. Here is an example an extremely simplified drawing in the form of a fist. Notice that, even though fingers are twisted downwards however, I was able draw the twist later. It was simpler to draw since it was a general form and shape of the drawing was reflected by the boxy and simplified drawing on the left.Palm shape outlined on the left, then details and fingers drawn on top. Take note that all the illustrations of hands drawn by anime that I created for the tutorial begin with the basic shape that the hand has.Anime hand. Gvaa’t study. Here's another illustration of the glove/mitten method. Begin with simple designs. A palm shape one for fingers, another for the palm and a third for the thumb. Continue to work on the details of your drawing over the structure you've already constructed. It may seem like a easy trick however, it actually works. It's particularly useful when drawing hands from anime. Through simplifying the drawing, you break down the work of the whole drawing into phases. By breaking down the work load and drawing, it makes it more manageable. Then draw the boxy glove or mitten form, then draw the details. When you attempt to draw everything in one go the drawing can become too excessive. It is necessary to consider the shape, proportions, and the details so drawing becomes more difficult to finish efficiently. When you divide the process, you can define the shape and proportions first, then the details are drawn over them next. Check Out : Anime Hair Drawing : How To Draw Anime Hair Step By Step Drawing Anime Hand, a step-by-step approach 2 - the most basic form structure If the glove/mitten technique doesn't seem to work for you, you might prefer the simpler method of form construction. This technique can be utilized to create more complex hands and pose. The second method of easing drawing anime with hands is to draw the most basic shapes first. Consider cylinders and boxes. Utilizing this method to draw hands from anime, I'm going to draw a curved shape for the hand, and indicate the dip in the hand in the palm. Next, I'll find the joint of each finger, and I'll draw circles for fingers that extend out beyond the hand. The results are as follows: Check Out : Drawing Anime Girl Body : How to Draw Anime Girl Body Conclusion Drawing Anime Hand the final thoughts Creating a mitten or a glove shape and drawing over it can help you get proportions right. Drawing hands in anime isn't an easy endeavor. There's a lot of complicated work to create stylized drawings that are fully grounded in the real world. Hands appear different from different angles, and there's plenty of motion in hands. But, this is the reason that hands are extremely expressive and an ideal tool for a mangaka to communicate with viewers. Consider what you would like to convey with a particular posture, (what says it about the character in the anime you're drawing? ) Then, find the appropriate gesture to use in your hands prior to completing your drawing. While it isn't easy drawing hands from anime can be quite a bit of enjoyment. The process of simplifying is enjoyable - even though it can be it is initially challenging however, as time passes, it will result in an immense time-saving while allowing you to communicate what matters to your target audience. This is because the majority of Anime and Manga reduce the complexity and details that is the figure of a human, its gesture and anatomy down to its most fundamental (and gorgeous) components. We hope you enjoyed this lesson. It's your turn to experiment with drawing hands in anime! Use the techniques taught in this video tutorial, and let me know what results out of it! Best of luck! Read the full article

[inversefunction]

lackaday

we made the universe to fall apart, then restart.

it was day and then it wasn't. outside there were twigs and sticks, fallen branches with last season's bark, leaves, so many leaves. after these abandoned limbs and phalanges are picked up a flutter of life creeps and crawls on top of the concrete porch, finding cracks to dive into, or another leaf to hide behind. i see now, why you you feel the need to escape the cold night, dear friends, dear brothers.

they gathered on my mittens, coating me in antennae and a vast multitude of tingling, flying feet. they laid their wings against their armor and patiently waited as i took them closer, closer to the coals that once fulminated, brightly fulminated admist we creatures of shadow. i could not bring them near enough to warm their tiny shells, never near enough to grant true light and heat to their vestments. together we crawled onto the hearth and started anew.

rb.xyz

[starsgivemehp]

Waking Nightmare (Event)

(i WILL ACCEPT PEOPLE JOINING THE EVENT ALL WEEKEND, AND IN-PROGRESS THREADS WILL CONTINUE PAST THE WEEKEND AS LONG AS NECESSARY.

HEAVY TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF-HARM [AND TORTURE IF YOU PROCEED] HERE WE GO!)

The nightmares had been coming more and more frequently. Today, it had been eight nights in a row that he was jolted awake screaming from them. He was sleep deprived to the extreme. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the shadowy figure in the dark room. All he could hear was the scream, the scream that must’ve been from Papyrus, must’ve been, but who could make his strong, brave boss scream like that?? He found himself falling asleep while sitting, even standing, only to jerk awake within two hours from the horrible visuals. The permanent bags under his eye sockets had grown worse. He looked like death. He felt like death.

And, in sleep delirium, in desperation, he got an idea that was stupid and deadly and also pretty damn insane. But it made perfect sense at the time, as he jerked awake yet again at his sentry station, stifling another scream. He was literally starting to just cry from how exhausted he was when it hit him. He stood up and yanked off his right mitten to stare, eye sockets blank, at the plate on his hand. This. This was the cause of everything. This plate tied him to the nightmares. If it was gone, he reasoned, the nightmares would disappear.

He summoned a few tools from the lab in his basement. Whatever he thought he might need. Examining the plate very closely, he realized that what he thought were nails were actually screws, but with a flat top, leaving them unable to be screwed out. Most likely, whoever put it there had sanded away the screwdriver indents for this very reason. Still. He would attempt to remove them like nails first, and see where it got him. He grabbed a cat’s claw and started to pry at the bottom right screw, embedded into the bottom of his pinky’s metacarpus. He pried at it desperately, gouging the metal around the screw, but could not get it to come up. The ridges in the screw made it impossible. Stupid idea. He tossed that aside and grabbed, instead, his mini reciprocating saw. A much more dangerous endeavor. But there was just enough space between the plate and his hand bones to fit the saw in and press the power button. This, he tried on the metacarpus of his pointer finger instead, because it was an easier angle to work with from his left hand.

He wasn’t expecting the pain to be as bad as it was. He screamed as the screw moved in his bone, his left hand nearly jerking the saw and causing more damage. But somehow, by sheer force of will, even as he gasped and grunted and sweat from the pain, he kept it steady, forcing the teeth of the saw to dig into screw. There was the sound of cracking, and he wasn’t sure if that was his hand, or the plate, or both. It was probably both, because the pain increased, making him whimper, making tears well up, but the S of the plate was suddenly mangled, distorted. It was a miracle when the screw was sawed through. He pulled the saw away, not taking the time to examine the damage, and started on the screw at the top of the same metacarpal bone, just below the beginning of proximal phalange.

There was more cracking. More pain. He couldn’t hold back another scream as bits of his own bone chipped away, His HP suddenly took a hit.

0.7.

Terror seized his body. He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up big time. He turned the blade off and wrenched it away from himself. It landed in the snow several feet away, but the damage already done was great. His knees buckled and he fell into the snow himself, crying out, pressing his mangled hand into the snow in some desperate attempt to make the pain go away. It didn’t help.

0.6.

...

0.5

His consciousness spun away from him, and mercifully, the pain did too. The horrible shaking of his body stilled as he passed out, his right hand, the shattered plate, stretched out.

0.4

...

...

0.3

This is where you find him, hanging on to life by a mere thread, Only intense, soul-driven healing can help him now. Without it, he will die. But the consequences of such extreme healing magic may include... glimpses into his own soul. Much like soulbonding, the visions you might get while saving his life could be...intense.

(*REBLOG WITH YOUR CHARACTER’S REACTION AND, IN THE HEALING PROCESS, WILL EXPERIENCE A LONG-FORGOTTEN MEMORY TIED TO THE PLATE*

*EVENT START*)

[rifcringes]

Shitposty McToasty

@iloy-imagines told ya

This probably only falls under the category of shit I care about, but......long story short Iloy and I have been rp-ing for a while (all you really need to know from this is that Iloy is this kid that started hanging around Red and I when they were a teenager and we decided “guess we’re your parents now”). Anyways, I’ve been deep in my Heathers obsession lately and we joked about Rif (me) and Stretch getting high at some point and, well.....

AN: probably not essential that you listen to “Blue” from Heathers for this but you should do it anyways. Also this turned out just a bit shit but hey that’s what the personal blog is for

“Remind me again why I’m doin’ this?”

Rif sighed. “Bonding, Sans, booooonnnnndiiing, do you need to see it defined?”

Red rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that part the first twelve times, but it’s not a real answer.”

“Come on, you two never do dad-daughter stuff, and if Iloy’s ever gonna be ready to move into dorms then there’s a bunch of crap she’s gonna need.”

“So please, please.” Iloy said. “Let’s go buy that stuff now.”

Red sighed. “And the reason you can’t come is….?”

“Well, it’s a very good, very selfless reason.” A slow grin crept across her face. “I don’t want to.”

Red flicked her forehead.

“Dad, will you quit with the domestic and just come on?” Iloy said impatiently. They had been standing by the door for a full fifteen minutes, keys in hand and jacket on, when Red had decided to put up resistance to the idea.

“Besides,” Rif said. “I haven’t hung out with Stretch one on one in forever, we’ve got a few months worth of Mortal Kombat to catch up on.”

He sighed again. “You owe me.”

She kissed his cheekbone. “I love you.”

He rolled his eyes and returned the kiss, heading out the door. “Don’t destroy the house.”

“You know full well we’re too lazy to.”

The door closed.

Rif started rounding up food. Chips, drinks, anything that required minimal preparation.  She piled a couple of blankets. Once they got started they never wanted to move, so may as well reduce reasons. About fifteen minutes after they left a sudden tall skeleton in an orange hoodie appeared in the middle of the room.

“You know one of these days you’re gonna land right where I’m standing.”

“Nice to see you too.” Stretch grinned, collapsing backwards on the couch.

Rif started booting up the system. “Has that ever actually happened to you?”

“I once ended up with my foot in Undyne’s mouth. We don’t talk about that much.”

Rif returned to the couch, controllers in hand. “Ready to get your ass handed to you?”

“It’s unnerving when you refer to yourself in the second person like that.” He said, taking the proffered tool. They selected the characters and set to work.

It was virtual silence in the room. The occasional traded barb, curse word or sound of chewing broke in occasionally, but in general they focused with an intensity usually reserved to for neurosurgeons. After an hour and a half, Rif’s eyes were starting to tingle from lack of blinking.

“Alright, my thumbs are gonna be permanently indented if we don’t take a break.”

“Quitter talk.” He said, but he hit pause, tossing the controller aside. Rif sighed and rose from the couch, stretching and rolling her shoulders.

“Fuck, I’m tensed up.”

“Want some help relaxing?”

“Unusually suggestive. What did you have in mind?”

Stretch rolled his eyes. “Your mind enjoying itself in that gutter of yours?”

“Always, its like a second home.” She sat back on the couch. “But seriously, what were you thinking?”

Stretch reached into his hoodie pocket and withdrew a tightly bound packed of plant matter.

“You just brought that?”

“You never know.” He waved the packed. “Well?”

“I don’t know….there was a reason we stopped lighting up together.”

“Do either of us remember that reason?” Papyrus grinned, raising a brow. “Come on…”

Rif considered it for a bit. Red and Iloy likely wouldn’t be home for another couple of hours…. “Alright. You’re a bad influence, though.”

“Kid, you’re dating Red, I don’t think you get to call me the bad influence.” He went into the kitchen to roll the joints. Rif made sure there wasn’t anything too breakable in the room. They could get….well, a little impulsive when they were high.

Papyrus came back, his own already lit and clenched in his teeth. He handed her the other and a lighter. She stuck it in her mouth, held the flame to the tip, and took a deep inhale. They exchanged lazy smiles before returning to the couch, stretching out and settling in.

~half an hour later~

Rif had developed a tactile fascination with Stretch’s sweater. She had a hold of one of his sleeves and was playing with the edge, pulling at loose threads. Stretch was a bit less lightweight than her (trust me, the irony of the situation has been extrapolate on before) and so watched with a quiet amusement, relaxed against the couch.

“So what were you out of town for again?”

“Blue went with Alphys to a meeting of the Royal Guard. I went along to make sure they didn’t collapse the building or something.”

“Did they?”

He took a long puff. “Yeah. But only a little bit.”

She giggled. Then she wrapped her arms around his middle, rubbing her face against the sweatshirt. He chuckled.

“Who’s being suggestive now?”

“Shhhh…”

~One hour later~

She still hadn’t pulled out of the hug, too buzzed to really care that it was getting weird. Fortunately, so was Papyrus, who was staring transfixedly at the ceiling, his phalanges tapping out patterns and his legs jittering.

“Wanna watch something?”

“Yeah, sure.” Her laptop was leaning against the couch, and she grabbing it, finally sitting up and positioning the computer between them. She pulled up the first compilation of vines she could find and settled back.

 Twenty minutes later their stomach (visible and purely theoretical alike) hurt from laughing, and just to get some air they had to click off of it onto something at least a little more serious.

She wasn’t sure when exactly they’d ended up on Heathers. Both of them were lowkey musical theatre people, so it had probably turned up in her recommendeds, but somebody had uploaded a recording of the entire thing to Youtube, and they’d ended up blitzing through it. It was funny enough to feed their buzz but sober enough that they didn’t completely lose their minds.

Well, with the exception of one song.

“Blue” had them both clutching their sides. Rif almost burnt the carpet with the last bit of her joint when she nearly dropped it. They ended up looping the song until the melody drove a hole through their minds. It didn’t help that it was irresistibly hummable. Eventually they couldn’t get through the rest of the show because one of them always kept humming it without realizing. So they looped it until they knew the lyrics fairly well.

“You know….” She said after a while, both of their joints mostly used up and the air thick with the smell. “That choreography actually looks super simple.”

Carrot smirked. “Always wondered how I’d do on Broadway.”

   ~Half an hour later~

Red and Iloy could hear the noise from outside. Exchanging a raised brow, they pushed open the door.

“Don’t run from me,

They’re all beat up like a tackling dummy!”

Stretch and Rif, doing some decidedly unorthodox choreography in the kitchen. Singing? If you could call it that, they kept bursting into giggles. Rif was standing on a chair behind Stretch, arms under his shoulders.

Stretch: “They long for your embrace”

Rif: “They’re warm like mittens”

“They’ll curl up on your face”

“And purr like kittens!”

Stretch turned around and picked Rif up under the arms. “You make my balls so blue!.”

Rif clasped her hand under her chin as they both looked off to the side, grinning. “Just look at them gloooow.”

Red and Iloy just stared, Red trying his hardest not to bust a gut.

“They’re beggin you!”

He lost control, roaring with laughter, but both didn’t seem to notice him. Iloy stared for another long moment before walking back out the door. “I’m going to Blood’s house”

“Oh no oh no no no!”

In between gasps for air Red managed to pull out his phone and hit record. If he played his card right this video would insulate him from household chores for a week.