#soriel fics

[angnimations]

Y'all should check out this fic I've come across if you'd like a good character analysis of Asgore and Toriel's relationship, plus some sweet Sans x Toriel relationship! Loved it!!

About Asgore - By Bloodsbane

[oddtaxicab]

happy valentines :>

[smells-like-mettaton]

Happy birthday @carlyraejepsans!! Small birthday fic for you!!!

Word Count: 1 123

Rating: G

Summary: Papyrus and Mettaton enact an explosive plan to get Sans and the Queen together.

XXX

“Are you sure this will lead to an explosion of romantic feelings?” Papyrus whispered to Mettaton in their hiding spot behind a conveniently-shaped shrub. 

The convenience was artificially-created—he had been the one to trim this particular hedge in the shape of himself and Mettaton—but that was okay. Sometimes these things needed a little artificial flavor, or nothing would ever get done! 

He hoped Queen Toriel liked the artificial flavor of bombs. 

“Darling, nothing is more romantic than missile toe!” Mettaton replied, holding a long pair of binoculars to see through the hedge. “Just wait. This program hasn’t even started yet!”

Papyrus scooted closer, pressing one eyesocket to half of the binoculars. It gave him a pretty good view of his brother and the queen standing beneath one of the garden’s arches, where Sans liked to hang out and pick water sausages for his “illegal” hot dog stand. Mettaton had forged a note in Sans’s handwriting, and Papyrus had set up the missile toe—a tarsal-and-bomb combo Mettaton said was a hit on the surface—to create the most romantic atmosphere possible. Surely it would blow through Sans’s aloof exterior and compel him to confess his true feelings!

“Hey, Tori.” Sans hid a bundle of water sausages behind his back. Papyrus wasn’t sure why he bothered, since they both knew Toriel knew what he was doing with them. “Water you doing here?”

Papyrus suppressed a groan. Sans was never going to get anywhere with abysmal puns like that! It was a good thing he had such a brilliant brother looking out for him!!

Toriel laughed, though, because she was absolutely smitten by Sans’s slime-emitting charms. Somehow. 

“Oh, nothing mulch.” She smiled, her fangs poking out from under her upper lip. Papyrus had caught Sans grinning dopily at that smile more times than he could count. Not that Toriel would be able to tell, since Sans’s expressions were nearly impossible for anyone but Papyrus to read. “I hoped you might be able to tell me.”

She held out the note Mettaton had written. It had told her to meet Sans here for a special surprise. 

“Huh. Any idea who wrote that?” Sans asked, glancing around. 

Papyrus tried to keep his bones from rattling with anticipation. 

“It was not from you?” Toriel frowned. 

“Nope. It’s a pretty good forgery, though. They even got my i’s write.” He held the paper up to the sun lamps in the cavern ceiling, like he was trying to see through it. Mettaton hadn’t hidden any secret messages, though, as far as Papyrus was aware. “Hey, wait a second.”

While looking up, he’d apparently noticed the missile toe. Perfect timing!

“Hit it, darling!” Mettaton said.

Papyrus pressed the remote detonator. 

The bomb exploded with a BOOM of bones and confetti. It was loud, it was flashy, it was perfect! In fact, Toriel was throwing herself at his brother already!!

She tackled Sans to the ground, tarsals raining down on her back. Sans’s face, pinned near her shoulder, went bright blue.

“Are you alright?” Toriel asked him quickly, propping herself up on her palms. 

“Uh,” he said coherently. 

“Ugh, Sans, you’re blowing it!!” Papyrus hissed.

“Let the show go on,” Mettaton stage-whispered. “There’s still time for a grand finale.”

“Not sure about all right, but looks like I’m all left in one piece,” Sans finally said, still lying on the ground. 

“Thank goodness.” Toriel sighed shakily. “Perhaps I should not have disbanded the Royal Guard after all… I never would have expected such a cowardly attack…”

“Heh. I think you’ve got it the other way around.” Sans picked up one of the fallen tarsals. “This has the Royal Guard written all over it.”

“You mean—Papyrus did this?” Toriel’s brow furrowed.

Papyrus cursed. Ratted out by his own brother! Didn’t he have any sense of gratitude??

“Do you not think that is a little far-fetched?” Toriel asked, standing and helping him to his feet. “Perhaps he is being framed. Your brother has no reason to fight either of us. Unless our puns pushed him too far…”

“Nah, he’s not into that kind of pun-ishment.” Sans grimaced. 

“Then why…?”

“Because Sans is incapable of telling you how he feels!” Papyrus burst through the hedge, leaving a Papyrus-shaped hole in the Papyrus-shaped shrub.

“Hey, bro.” Sans sounded tired, and not at all surprised to see him.

“Papyrus?” Toriel gaped.

“And Mettaton!” Mettaton burst through his adjacent shrub.

“And Mettaton.” Sans sighed. “Nice job with the note.”

“Thank you! Having a built-in photocopier comes in handy.”

Toriel pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“What is the meaning of all this?” 

“Romance! Drama! Bloodshed! What else?” Mettaton beamed. “The producer isn’t supposed to be seen on set, but Papyrus made the executive decision to pull back the curtain, so here we are! Ready for our close-up!”

Toriel shook her head, but chuckled.

“Of course… well, that is sweet of you. But, I am afraid your script has an error in it.”

“An error?” Mettaton gasped with a hand to his mouth. 

“Yes. You see, I already know how Sans feels about me.” She smiled.

“You… what???” Papyrus’s jaw dropped.

Sans went pale. Paler than usual, anyway.

“What.”

She rested a hand on Sans’s shoulder.

“I did not want to press you on the subject. I have been alive for hundreds of years. I can be patient.” She gave Papyrus a stern look, and he shivered. “As you should learn to be, as well. It is terribly impolite to force someone to confront their feelings before they are ready.”

Papyrus looked away. He’d just been trying to help! Still, there was no fighting a look like that. He could only hope she decided to spare him.

“I see… My dating handbook must be missing a few pages,” he muttered.

“There was no force involved! Only the romantic catalyst of missile toe!” Mettaton insisted, hugging Papyrus close as if to protect him from Toriel’s glare.

“Missile…?” Sans snickered. “Okay, that’s funny.”

“I knew you would understand!” Papyrus said. Sans always appreciated a good jape!

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t try toe blow me up again. Just ‘cause ya missed this time—”

“UGH!! You are impossible!!! You are lucky the Queen puts up with you!!!”

“I think I do more than put up with him.” Toriel winked.

Sans blushed again. 

“Wonderful! That’s a wrap, darlings!” Mettaton waved with the arm that wasn’t squeezing Papyrus. “No need to thank us. Just order a jar of MTT-Brand Beauty Yogurt™ for your first date, and we’ll call it even!” 

Mettaton engaged the wheels in the heels of his boots and zoomed them away. The sound of Sans and Toriel’s laughter echoed behind them.

That was all the thanks that Papyrus needed.

[snailpastaenjoyer35]

Just so you guys are aware, here are my favorite soriel fanfics on Ao3. These are the ones I've used for personal inspiration in my own fic:

Raritydiamonds' Sans/Toriel collection - a bunch of small stories that I just loved reading, heavy recommend

KarenR2's The Blind Date - I yearn for more from this author because it's one of the best depictions of Sans I've ever seen, LOVE this fic. My personal favorite btw

Love in a Shell - It's a simple little fic (that you need an account for to read) but I really enjoyed it! I didn't know how much I needed Sans and Toriel playing stardew together.

The_Birds_and_Bees' The Matchmaker - I love the characterization of Sans in this one, and it's also written very uniquely, gave me a lot of Inspo

Cal1brations' Puns of Laughter - Short fic but filled to the brim with fluff, very enjoyable read

Tailax's Commit to the Habit - more angsty, still liked it though

Also if you have any recs for me PLEASE send them my way because I can never get enough soriel

[echoes-fandoms]

My Top 100 Ships (#73: Sans/Toriel)

Source: Undertale

When Did I Start Shipping Them? When I watched my first Undertale playthrough (jacksepticeye, 2016) I really shipped them from their first face-to-face interaction in the pacifist run! Why Do I Ship Them? They're both sad and they help each other be happy. Isn't that the best kind of love? Also, I like parental!Sans, and this pairing often offers that dynamic.

Favourite Fanfiction Tropes/Staples? Getting together fics! A lot of Soriel fics are established relationship, but I love reading about them getting closer together and getting to know each other.

[somegrumpynerd]

Inspired by Hotel Sans, One Vacancy by Taliax which has been living in my head ever since I read it, I love it so much

Bonus:

[the-writing-mobster]

Y'know - canon Sans is PROBABLY TERRIBLE in a relationship now that I think about it lol

It's the lack of participation in the daily upkeep of life for me.

At the end of the day, while yes, men will clean up their act to GET the person they want... once they're comfortable, old habits resurface and cause problems.

Sans is a dude who skates by on the bare minimum.

Sure when push comes to shove he pulls out all the stops, like... *after* you've killed everyone. (And I know it's because he's hopeless and desperate and moreso cares about punishing the player than it is about stopping you... But apply that energy to a relationship... Yeah....)

Do I think he would be just so awful all the time? No. Of course not. He would be a great guy to be around. He's fun, he notices things, he can be surprisingly caring —

Which is why I think his partner would keep giving him chances to clean it up. Because when it's good, it's great but... It's also really important to participate in the labor of a relationship. Putting all of the work onto one person will eventually wear them down until they just can't do it anymore. Then that resentment begins to build up...

Until eventually everything about him puts a bad taste in your mouth.

.

.

.

[topazshadowwolf]

What are your favorite head canons?

My favorite head canons? Gaster Blasters! dum dum tis

Joke aside. Some of my favorite Soriel headcanons include:

*love at first laugh (Sans being smitten by that first laugh he heard from Toriel)

*Sans loves the feeling of Toriel's ear on his skull.

*Toriel enjoying have this funny goblin man around that she can just pick up and carry.

*Both helping each other through their emotional pains. Toriel and Sans both have emotional traumas... but them helping the other heal? Beautiful!

That's just a few.

[anothertalecomic]

Of broken things and the admittance thereof

I found myself wanting to write a follow up to the thing I posted yesterday, so here it is, enjoy :3

(I took the time to comic sans’d all of Sans dialogue in the google doc, forgetting it doesn’t work that way on tumblr, sadge)

**

The shade offered by the tree she was sitting under offered little to no reprieve from the sweltering heat, yet Toriel could not find it in herself to wish she could be somewhere else.

It was their second summer on the surface. Almost two whole years… But, somehow, she was not tired of gazing upon the big blue sky yet, and no skies were ever as blue as summer ones. The sun was almost unbearably bright, making it hard to glance up at said sky, and yet she did, squinting.

So blue. So big. So freeing.

With a small smile she looked back down at the scene in front of her. Her child, seemingly uncaring of the almost oppressive heat, ran around with unbridled energy and a laugh on their mouth, small arms holding on tight to the handle of the basket full of water balloons they’d spent the past solid five minutes filling at the small fountain in their local park. Following suit on long and gangly limbs the tallest of the skeleton brothers also seemed entirely uncaring of the bright sun beating down on them, making the off-white color of his skull almost shine as he threw balloon after balloon, making them explode in a shower of drops against the climbing cage that was serving as a divide of sort between the two teams.

“DO YOU CALL THAT AIMING?!” Undyne yelled from the other side of it with an almost manic smile, also pitching balloons with no restraint, a sweat covered Alphys trotting after her and holding onto their own reserve of ‘bullets’. Despite what she’d just exclaimed her aim really was not any better than Papyrus’, only adding onto the small bits of exploded balloons hanging onto the cage.

Toriel chuckled fondly. The entire idea of the water balloon fight was supposed to be trying to have fun while battling the summer heat, but seeing as neither team had managed to land a single hit yet…

Well, at least they were having fun, without the shadow of a doubt.

“ah, youth”

Her smile grew larger as she turned toward the source of that exaggeratedly wistful statement.

“Feeling old, dear?” she asked as Sans, somehow clad in one of his ever present hoodies despite the oven-like temperatures, sat down by her side on the plaid picnic blanket, his small skeletal hand clutching at an oversized plastic glass for dear life. She accepted the silent offer before it’d slip out of his fingers, and he seemed relieved as both his hands closed with a series of soft clicking noises around his own, far smaller serving of ice cold tea.

“I was born an old soul, you know that”

“Thank you very much,” she said reflexively before taking a sip, glancing at him with the furry arch of her brow rising slightly. “I wouldn’t say that. I know plenty of old people who’d join a water balloon fight… What you are is usually just called ‘being lazy’.”

“zing” Sans replied without any real sign of having taken offense to the teasing, the light in his eye sockets fixed on the increasingly more rambunctious fight in the playground, the tea rapidly disappearing in seemingly thin air whenever he brought the glass close to his everlasting grin.

(Toriel had never really questioned it. She had once been the Queen of all Monsters, after all, and often witnessing her subjects do things that would be apparently impossible due to their appearance had been utterly normal to her… But she knew that humans found just about everything about the skeleton brothers downright confounding. Just as she knew that said confusion brought no small amount of chaotic joy to the man sitting by her side.)

They fell into a comfortable silence as they slowly finished their tea, the both of them watching the seemingly unending war in front of them. Poor Alphys seemed just about ready to collapse, but she yet tenaciously hung on, not wanting to leave her beloved deprived of bullets, even if how long would Undyne last was debatable, her scales glistening under the sweltering sun. Frisk was also drenched by that point, likely a mix of sweat and the water from the balloons, and even if their smile hadn’t abated a single inch it seemed as if they were starting to also run out of steam.

The only one who appeared to be entirely unbothered and still full of stamina was Papyrus who, unlike his brother, was dressed in a more season appropriate manner with a colorful t-shirt and shorts, but Toriel knew it was only because Papyrus cared a great deal about being fashionable… In his own way, that was.

She had never asked if the two ever felt hot or cold, but she also had never felt the need to ask, not after witnessing Sans trudging through the snow that had fallen heavy enough to reach his collarbone just to go grab the morning paper, only dressed in shorts and a loose, faded shirt he used as a pajama, barefooted.

It was clear enough the two weren’t bothered by extreme temperatures much at all. She was a bit jealous, if she had to be entirely honest.

“better?”

“A little, yes,” she looked down on her already almost empty glass of tea, only a tiny speck of ice floating on the surface, at that point.

“i would’ve never guessed summer would affect you so much, what with fire being your element and all that”

“Well, I already run hot exactly because of that, so…”

“oh, yes, you sure do run hot” Sans quipped back, so fast he really gave her no time to finish her sentence. When she turned slightly to look at him, he winked. “in more ways than one”

“You’re shameless,” she replied, attempting to give him an unimpressed look, which was ruined by the small smile pulling at her fanged mouth. He chuckled with that almost rough baritone of his, letting himself be flicked playfully on the ridge of his not-nose.

“guilty as charged” he admitted with a small shrug, his grin having grown larger. Toriel, a smile now well-fixed on her, put down her glass to scoot closer.

It had been months since their relationship had turned into something more, and the initial time full of awkward little moments as they found a new footing around that small, ever shifting thing growing between them had long passed… But the thrill hadn’t. She still found herself enjoying that brief tickle behind her breastbone whenever they’d be close, as if part of her had never really grown away from the once young, naive girl who dreamed of finding love she’d been such a long time past.

It was nice, knowing not all of her had been worn down by her life, that part of her still retained that youthful optimism; and she only had Sans to thank for that, for helping her rediscover that part of herself.

Without looking at her Sans offered his hand quietly, and she looked down at it as she accepted it.

(Couldn’t help it, really. She still found the way his whole hand fit in her palm with room to spare just so dang adorable. Perhaps she’d never stop finding it adorable, which was just fine for her.)

A shrill laugh erupted not too far, and she took a moment to look at Frisk, now with shreds of colorful balloon hanging on their drenched hair, letting themselves be dragged toward the fountain by an ever excited Papyrus, the both of them apparently ready to stock up on more ammo for another round… But as if her eyes were magnetically attracted to him she couldn’t help but look at her companion once more.

Sans was quiet at that moment… But he often was. It was something she’d discovered by spending more time with him, sharing more mundane moments of everyday life: for all his willingness to crack jokes, greet familiar faces and merrily chatting away with the apparently endless amount of friends and acquaintances he seemed to have, Sans was a surprisingly silent companion when it was just the two of them.

Sure, they still spent plenty of time also talking about this or that, sharing terrible-yet-endearing jokes, but the quietness had grown larger between them as their relationship changed, and Toriel found herself not minding it in the slightest.

It was a comfortable sort of silence. The silence of those who trusted blindly into the shared affection, not needing to fill the quiet with empty words, sitting side by side as they each focused on their own thing, yet conscious of the other’s presence.

Alone together.

And she’d grown to realize there were… Layers to the way the silence would sit on her partner’s shoulders, as if in a way Sans was capable of conveying so much without needing to speak a single word. There were minute shades to his expressions, to the way the lights in his eye sockets shifted, growing larger or smaller, dimmer or brighter… And not to toot her own horn, but Toriel was fairly certain she was a downright pro at reading his seemingly fixed expression, by that point.

And what she was reading, in that moment, was a sort of pensive melancholy, a feeling that seemed out of place as they sat under a beautiful, bright blue sky, watching their loved ones having so much fun.

“Gold for your thoughts?” she inquired softly, observing how the lights of his eyes contracted slightly for all but a shard of a second, before sliding to fix themselves on her.

“...mh” he said after a long moment of silence “that seems like a cheap offer”

“I can be persuaded to throw in a ketchup covered omelet.”

“now we’re talkin’” Sans shifted slightly to angle his body towards her, eyes ever so slightly brighter. “two omelette?"

“Don’t push your luck, mister,” she replied, one furry brow arching slightly as he huffed a small laugh. “You’ve been pensive as of late, you know?”

“guess i have” he concurred pleasantly. “thinkin’ about a bunch of stuff”

“Care to share?”

She waited as his eyes peered up at her pointedly. Sometimes, when he looked at her like that, she was distantly reminded of the fact that many, both between humans and monsters, found his stare unsettling; she did not, she never did, but it was a fact she logically knew, nonetheless.

“...how to put it” he said after a long moment of silence. “i have been thinking about you”

“Don’t you often?” she teased, but gently, letting him know she was listening.

“yes, well- i’d imagine the way i have been thinking about you in this case is… a little different than usual” he continued, unfazed. “there is something i have been meaning to ask you for a while, now, but felt the moment was never right. but i guess there never will be a right moment for this sort of question”

Now Toriel’s curiosity was well and truly piqued. She tilted her head slightly, peering down at her companion in patient silence as he seemingly took another moment to properly gather his words, eyelights unfocused.

“do you really think you are… broken?”

Toriel’s mouth opened slightly. Then closed. She frowned a little, out of confusion.

“I’m not quite sure how to answer that, nor why you are asking?” she admitted then, sincere.

Sans looked back at her, his gaze ever so slightly more prickly, as if he was trying to peer into her very soul.

“you said that you thought you were too broken”

“I… Did?”

“you did”

“...I’m sorry, dear, I genuinely don’t remember ever saying that,” she admitted, trying and failing to recall when she could’ve possibly told Sans something like that.

“eh. can’t blame you. ‘s been a hot minute” Sans replied with a small shrug. “you said it back then, when you were supposed to teach me how to make a proper tart for the kiddo’s birthday but we ended up focused on… uh… other activities”

“Back when- Oh!” she said, understanding finally dawning on her.

That fateful early fall afternoon of months prior… She could recall many details of that day: how the window was open to let the still almost summer-like scent in, the soft light bathing her kitchen in yellow and orange hues as the sun approached its time to set… The way the understanding of what she was saying truly sunk in as he looked at her, how his small fingers had closed around her wrist, the gentle feeling of his round cheek pressing on her palm when he nuzzled it in a quiet admittance of reciprocated feelings.

How they very much did not even try to recover the squashed tart, allowing themselves to enjoy that first step in a new direction and making out like naughty teenagers on the kitchen counter until they were forced to stop by the very loud return of Frisk and Papyrus, and subsequent trying to explain why was cream smeared all over the counter -and Sans- once the two joined them in the kitchen.

She recalled many, many details… But not the exact wording she’d used. Apparently Sans did, since he seemingly spent a good chunk of time pondering on it.

“I still do not remember saying that, if I have to be entirely honest,” Toriel admitted, distractedly rubbing the pad of her thumb on the curves of his phalanges. “I guess I did. I guess… I did feel that way, back then.”

“did you feel that way, or do you still feel that way?”

She found herself once more short on words, thinking for a moment.

“...I’m not quite sure,” again a soft admittance, almost whispered in secret. “I guess I never really took the time to properly examine all of… That.”

“...yeah,” Sans replied, and his tone surprised her, in a way. He’d managed to cram so much in a single word: worry, a smidge of sadness and a sort of… Determination, perhaps. “tori, you know… i am grateful for all you’ve done for me. for… for being willing to lend me an ear to listen and shoulder to cry on. for allowing me to unload all that junk i carried and believing me. and i guess… i guess having all that also allowed me to see some things more clearly”

She said nothing, a gentle sort of curiosity settled in her chest as she let Sans take another moment to gather his words.

“you never really allow yourself to look inward, do you?” he said quietly, eyelights like pin pricks in her soul. “not to say that you are thoughtless- but you always put everybody’s needs before yours. there is always someone who needs something from you: the kiddo, me, Pap- heck, all of monsterkind, really. and i… i understand that is how you express your love. taking care of others is what you do, and you do it with a smile. it is never a chore for you, but… if you are always taking care of everybody, who takes care of you?”

“...You do,” she said after a moment, a small frown emerging on her face. “You always do. You make me breakfast and look after the house; you take care of Frisk when I am busy, you bring me lunch to school when I forget it and make me a tea whenever I want it without me ever needing to say a word-”

“but those are just… things that anybody does for their partner, yeah?” Sans interjected gently. “everybody would do that, none of that is really special or remarkable-”

“It is, for me.”

“and i’m glad you appreciate it, t. but i’m talking about something a lil’ different than that” he continued almost stubbornly. “do you think i don’t notice when you are feeling wistful? do you think i don’t notice how sometimes you just… fade away? and i won’t pretend to try and fully understand what you must be thinking about, although i think i can certainly make an educated guess… but those moments never last. when i ask you what’s up you never tell me. you just say you are fine and go right back to taking care of us. i’ve hoped many times that you’d tell me, but you never did”

It seemed as if Sans was hell bent on taking her words away, that day, seeing as Toriel found herself once more entirely speechless.

Was she really? Wistful? Fading away?

(She was. She knew she was. She never allowed those moments to last long, but she never could quite chase them away either. She’d just go along with her day, basking in the simplicity of the quiet life they had managed to make for themselves on the surface and then all of a sudden a thought would intrude her mind, making her wonder… How would things be different, if all of her children had been there too? If she’d never lost them, any of them…

But she had. She’d lost so many of them. And it hurt, it always did. But she couldn’t allow herself to just wallow in her misery; she had done that for too long. Life was different, now. She had Frisk, she had Sans, she had all of their friends. She had a life to tend to, and she couldn’t waste precious time with empty what ifs.)

“...i want you to rely on me” Sans continued in front of her silence, with a quiet resolution that carried a seriousness not often present in his voice. “that is what a partnership is supposed to be, is it not? two people on equal footing, leaning on one another when necessary. I’ve relied on you many, many times… and i need you to know that you can rely on me, too. you’re allowed to be sad, tori. you’re allowed to take time for yourself, to process all the bull you had to endure, to not always be the perfect mom, partner, friend… sometimes you can let others carry the burdens and responsibilities. you can be selfish. i want you to be selfish, when you need to be”

“I…” she softly let out, her voice breaking immediately as tears prickled in her eyes.

“its alright” Sans said, infinitely gentle. “you can cry, too”

And she did. She didn’t sob, nor let out a single noise, really, but allowed the tears to trail along her fur as she leaned in, Sans’ arms closing around her as much as his smaller size allowed it.

She wasn’t sad, per se. There was a mix of feelings battling in her chest, but most of all she felt… Bittersweet.

“...Did I really say that I was broken?” She couldn’t help but ask in a whisper, nuzzling ever so slightly against the curve of his cheek.

“you did- i reckon i shouldn’t be surprised you wouldn’t remember. you said it almost flippantly, and, well… i guess i am more than familiar with that sort of attitude, am i not? i get it, t”

“...And you’ve been thinking about it… All this time?”

“‘course i did”

Of course he did. Of course he did.

She leaned back so she could look in his eyes, smiling even as fresh tears followed the wet trail along her fur. She almost felt as if her chest could burst with all the emotions rising into it, along her flesh and bones, in the very air filling her lungs.

“I love you so very much,” she said, because otherwise she truly might’ve exploded if she’d tried to hold those words back.

“and i love you” he replied without missing a beat, ever so endearing. “promise me you’ll tell me when things get on your mind, from now on? that you’ll let yourself truly think ‘bout them?”

“...I promise,” she whispered, smile growing larger. “You might need to remind me, every now and then…”

“‘s fine. you’ve had to remind me to cut the crap plenty of times, it’s only fair i do the same, yeah?”

“I guess so,” she let out along with a small, huffy laugh. “I… thank you, my dear. I guess… I guess I needed to hear that.”

“no prob. and… huh. sorry.”

“For what?”

“for taking so long to actually say all of that. i wasn’t sure how to approach it-- should’ve just said it without twisting myself into a pretzel, huh”

“A pretzel, you say,” Toriel replied, her smile turning somewhat mischievous. “That is an interesting thought.”

Sans huffed out of his not-nose so loud she felt the warmth of it against her neck.

“t”

She laughed, unbridled joy filling every little particle of her being, and when she leaned in a bit more to start placing what felt like a constellation of kisses all over his face, she could feel a silent laugh shaking Sans’ shoulders under her hands.

Perhaps she was a little broken, but that was alright. Broken things could be repaired… And, sure, perhaps they would never be the same, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

With the right glue and under the right hands, broken things could become even better than what they’d originally been. And Toriel knew that the small hands that cradled her so gently would do a fantastic job picking up the pieces and putting them back together.

[theoldandnewfirm]

I was going through my Google Drive and found a nearly-finished draft for a fandom I haven't thought of in years, and now I'm wondering if I should finish it up and publish it just for the hell of it.

[topazshadowwolf]

Nearing the last 24 hrs! While I hope for Soriel to win, I won’t tell you how to vote. Both ships are awesome.

[carlyraejepsans]

despite being pretty strictly aroace with the sort of media consumption i like, your soriel art and fics and recommendations apparently do not follow these rules gfhjdgf not only did you convert me to soriel but you're breaking my content enjoyment barriers how are you doing thisss

bahahah, thank you so much! though truly, to have quality "ship" content you need solid characters that stand on their own before that, and who then click as a unit once together. the true credit, as always, goes to toby fox's work as a character writer

[oddtaxicab]

[smells-like-mettaton]

Rating: G Summary: Sans treks through the laughterless Ruins to bring Toriel a donut. She has other worries on her mind. (Soriel, Exiled Queen Ending) Word Count: 2449

XXX

Sans is nothing if not a creature of habit. Routine means Not Thinking and Not Thinking means he can pretend everything’s okay for a little longer. 

QC’s bakery is closed. The sheet of paper tacked to the door says her sister caught some kind of bug (metaphorical, unfortunately, or else he’d ask for tips). So no Cinnamon Bunnies he’d planned on gifting Toriel to make up for accidentally sleep-shortcutting into her bedroom last night.

(That better not become a habit. For someone who snores so hard, she’s quick to jump awake, fireballs in hands. She wouldn’t hit him on purpose, and bone’s not particularly flammable, but still.)

Habit. He’s not been on the other side of the door long enough to build new ones, yet, though he will. He has before. Not the first time his life’s up and uprooted like a grinning Vegetoid, and at least this time there are familiar places to backtrack to.

Too bad they’re not open.

He sighs, watching the artificial sunlight filter through the golden storefront window, before shortcutting out of the closed shop.

By habit, he almost ends up at Grillby’s before yanking himself back to the Ruins. Can’t throw those dogs a bone. They’ll have too many questions about the Ex-Queen—geez, even about him—and whatever he says’ll end up back to Undyne and he’s not ready for that.

Ruins. The Ruins are safe, for all that they’re unfamiliar. Papyrus would’ve loved exploring the place, with all its rusted traps and spikes.

He shuts his eyesockets for a moment. No habit to keep him on autopilot here. What was he doing again?

Treats. That’s right. Something loaded with sugar that Toriel won’t have to bake herself. Conveniently, his off-kilter shortcut landed him in the room with the bowl of candy… but pilfering the sweets she’d left out for the Froggits and Whimsuns just to give them back to her is too lazy of an apology, even for him.

Speak of the devils. A pair of Froggits and one shaking Whimsun hop-and-flutter through the door. The moth-like monster bursts into tears at the sight of him, fleeing back into the hall.

“Huh. That’s a first.” His grin tightens. “Normally pals wait to cry until after the joke.”

“Ribbit, ribbit,” one Froggit’s face-mouth croaks.

“(Joke?)” the mouth hidden in the shadows of its belly translates. Different from the Final Froggits Sans is used to, whose two mouths tend to speak in harmonizing tandem. “(I don’t understand.)”

Man. Tough crowd.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He shrugs his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Not everyone’s got a funny bone.”

Not even a groan at that. Just a couple of low, cricket-like croaks.

How has Toriel survived so long with this kind of audience? He can feel the humor leaking out his humerus already.

The Froggits are still staring at him. Warily.

“You know anywhere to get some grub around here?” he finally asks, because the silence is threatening to suffocate him and shortcutting around still-mostly-uncharted territory is a great way to spring one of those centuries-old traps. Just walking until he finds something is out of the question, of course. The Ruins are huge, and his legs aren’t.

“Ribbit…” “(Grub…?)”

Right. They’ve been stuck here as long as Toriel, with even less contact with the outside world. 

“Food,” he translates. Though Toriel would probably appreciate literal grubs, too, considering her bug-hunting hobby.

“Ribbitttttt.” “(Ohhh. Spider bake sale. Go out and make a left, then keep going until you reach the end of the hall.)”

He has no idea how far that is, so. Walking. Fun.

“‘Preciate it.”

His slippers scuff across the lavender stone, and he can feel all four pairs of eyes follow him out. Normally he only minds stairs, not stares. But for some reason it makes his vertebrae shiver.

Maybe it was just that Whimsun. The sudden crying, before he could even get a word out… he’s not used to that. 

He’s not used to silence. He’s used to laughter and warmth and explosions and booming cries of “SANS PICK UP YOUR SOCK!” He’s used to being at the beating heart of wherever he is—lab or town or bar or, or. Maybe no one needs him, but they like him and want him and he wants them and he never realized how much being alone sucks.

And this is how Toriel’s been living. For centuries.

Maybe she likes it this way, he rationalizes, but he’s heard the excitement in her voice every time he arrived at the door, the faintest longing whisper any time he mentioned his brother or friends. He doesn’t know her at all, and he knows her too well to believe that.

The thoughts buzz in his skull up until his foot plunges through a false veneer of stone. 

Normally, he has a healthy respect for puzzles, for all that they’re not really his heritage to claim. Today, as he lands face-down in a leafpile, all he can muster is a flat annoyance. 

Maybe he could shortcut back to Toriel’s house and restart from there. But ironically, he doesn’t have a good enough sense of direction to find the bakesale from that angle. If he even can now that he’s fallen a layer deeper underground…

The leaves are pretty comfy. It’s tempting to just lie here. It’s what his old habits want.

Fortunately—unfortunately?—something chomps down on his ankle.

“Contains Vitamin D,” a Vegetoid says, its voice muffled by the tibia in its mouth.

“Huh. So this’s where the jokers’ve been hiding.” Sans grunts and kicks the sentient vegetable away. “No wonder I didn’t Cal-cium before.”

Cal-see-’em. It’s horrible. He’d bet twenty G he can get Toriel to shoot milk out her nose with it.

“Plants Can’t Joke Dummy,” the Vegetoid deadpans despite the grin still carved into its face.

Eh, he can’t begrudge it the grin. He knows how having a one-note facial expression goes. Couldn’t it have at least given him a pity “heh,” though?

“Nah, Dummy’s in a different room,” he glibs despite knowing it won’t get him any results.

“Eat Your Greens,” it replies unrelatedly as he checks the puzzle explanation on the sign and treks back up the stairs.

Ugh. Stares and stairs. They really should just close the curtain on him today.

This time, he pays more attention to the terrain, and makes it to the bake sale with only a few more awkward encounters. 

(He hadn’t meant to pick on Loox. He doesn’t pull out the eye trick for just anyone. It isn’t his fault the optical monster had chosen to interpret it as an insult rather than a flashy display of solidarity.)

He blinks at the bake sale prices on the signs. Only seven G for a donut here? Maybe that’s a reasonable price, but Muffet’s Hotland stand was as much of a ripoff as his fried snow. When the Froggit mentioned spiders, he’d expected to have to haggle or barter his way into some baked goods—which was always a good time, with Muffet. She understood the art of a good deal and if she swindled him a bit too much, at least it was going to charity.

Of course, Muffet isn’t here anyway. He doesn’t know what kind of bargaining these spiders would be up for, if any—and considering his track record today, dropping fourteen G in the web is probably his safest bet.

Some spiders crawl down and silently hand him two donuts.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” he says. Habit.

His words echo off of the enclosing walls, topple down like a cave-in. With ya, with ya, with ya. 

Somehow, he hates that even more than the silence.

XXX

Routine is like habit’s second cousin. Close enough to crash family reunions, distant enough to flake out when you need it most.

There’s no routine to coming home, ‘nuts in hand, only to find Toriel sobbing in her armchair.

“Uh,” he grunts, too caught off guard to even curse. 

Toriel doesn’t cry. She didn’t cry when she saw Asgore’s dust, or when Undyne threatened her at spearpoint, or when she stumbled back over the Ruins threshold, blank stare glazing over her mahogany eyes. And Sans—well, he can’t cry, no ducts to pump out saltwater with, so he doesn’t—doesn’t know what to do. 

Now that’s an understatement.

“Spider ‘nut?” he offers weakly, because food never made anything worse.

A wheeze cuts through her sob. She shakes her head, but waves him over. 

Mixed messages, here.

“I was gonna get ya a cinnabun,” he approaches with soft steps, “but QC was closed today.”

Toriel wipes her face. Her hands are shaking; her claws leave thin trails in the fur above her brow.

“Of course. Of course, that’s all it was.” Her laugh cracks over the words.

“Huh?” Another step closer. 

He wishes he weren’t holding donuts; he’d like to take her hands, pull them away from her face before her claws decide they want to dig in any deeper. He’s not sure that’d be welcome, anyway, after the scare he gave her last night.

“Ap…apologies,” she murmurs. “I… s-so pathetic…”

“Hey.” His browbone scrunches a little. “Not sure what you’re goin’ on about, but I won’t judge. There’s do-nuthin’ to be ashamed of.”

After all of today’s failures, he almost expects it to fall flat, but this is Toriel he’s talking to. A wet bleat interrupts her tears—and boy, that’s a lot of snot. He’s impressed. 

“O-oh dear…” She stares down at her slimy hands.

He shuffles the donuts to the dining table so his hands are free, then shrugs out of his hoodie. 

“Here.” He offers it to her, and she blinks down at him sharply.

“What—no, Sans—”

“‘S due for a wash anyway.”

He drapes the hoodie over her hands before she can protest any further. Too late, he hopes she wasn’t protesting because she wanted something cleaner to wipe her hands on. Oh well.

“...Thank you.” She clutches the garment tightly.

Something squeezes in his ribcage. They’re both staring, and trying to pretend they’re not, and the fireplace is cold so the only thing he can hear is her still-somewhat-congested breathing.

“You, uh. Want me to give you some space…?” he finally asks.

“No,” her answer is quicker and firmer than he expected. “No, please. Stay.”

He nods. Then, hoping he’s not pushing his luck, he hauls himself up onto the arm of her broad chair. His legs hang off the side, his back pressed to her shoulder.

“Now ya won’t have to break your neck lookin’ down at me,” he rationalizes away the touch.

“How thoughtful.” She smiles with a wet snort. 

Her hands tangle deeper into his crumpled hoodie. Her claws are retracted now, though. He’s pretty sure she won’t poke any holes in it. Not that he’d mind if she did.

“I… thought you…” she inhales a shaky breath, “I thought you had left.”

“Yeah, I went out to get snacks and—oh.” He blinks. “You thought I—why?”

She’d thought he left. For good. Not even that he was gone, which could’ve implied she thought a stray Froggit offed him for one of his bad jokes. That he could’ve understood. But left, on purpose?

Nope. Not happening. She’d have to throw him out the doors and recast the seal if she wanted to get rid of him.

“I—I nearly hurt you last night…” she trails off, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, ‘cause I sleepwalked into your room.” Sleepwalked? Sleptwalked? Technically it was sleep-shortcutted, so. Whatever. “That’s, uh, what the apology ‘nuts were for.”

Stupid walking with his stupid legs. He must’ve taken even longer than he’d thought if Toriel had thought he wasn’t coming back.

“Of course. Of course.” Another weak laugh. “I have been falling apart over nothing…”

“I’ll leave a note next time,” he says lightly, but he means it. 

He knew he meant a lot to her, but this—geez, this scares him. And thrills him, in a messed-up way that sends guilt itching at his collarbones. Someone does still want him, and that someone happens to be the funniest, sweetest, most incredible monster in the Underground. Staying with her was the easiest decision he’s ever made.

The thing is, where he stays is rarely his decision. Not with his luck. If anything happens to him, and she thinks he left by choice—

He just. Won’t think about that. Honestly, he may look as tough as wet cardboard, but he’s not gonna fall down to any Froggit or Loox. 

(And if any twist of fate tries to drop him somewhere new again—he’ll fight and claw with all the determination he doesn’t have. He’ll try.)

(It’s the best he can do.)

He burrows his hand into the hoodie with hers, because the joke he has in mind doesn’t work without touching her palm. That’s the only reason.

“Tori. I’m sticking with you.” 

She looks up, and her hand twitches. Still sticky.

“Snot like you can get rid of me that easy,” he says, in case the first quip was too subtle.

And there it is again, that laugh he lov—likes. 

(Cherishes. Adores. Wants to bottle and put on everything like ketchup.)

“Thank you, Sans. I am… sorry you had to see me like that,” Toriel says, having mostly recovered. He can’t feel her shoulder trembling against his back anymore.

“Hey, like I said. No judgment here.” He shifts, bumping his shoulder against hers with a grin. “What’re friends for?”

After a blink, a warm smile spreads across her face, uncovering the two sharp teeth poking down from her upper lip. 

“They are for worrying me silly, apparently.” 

He’s about to apologize when she cups the side of his face, hand still sticky. Her thumb brushes the curve of his cheekbone.

“Also, for making me laugh, and smile, and apologizing for things that are not his fault, and being kinder than I remembered was possible.”

“Uh-uh…” he blushes, warm and blue under her touch. His brain is short-circuiting a little, and it shows in the embarrassingly flimsy joke he comes up. “I know you are, but what am I?”

She laughs anyway. She always does. It’s enough to make up for every silent Froggit and Whimsun and Loox in the Underground.

“You are awfully handsome in that shade of blue,” she answers, and his brain’s short-circuit goes into full power outage—

Only to explode like Gyftmas lights when she presses her lips to the side of his skull, her protruding teeth scraping slightly in a way that makes him shiver. 

That’s something he could stand to make a habit.

[snailpastaenjoyer35]

Honestly people antagonize asgore wayyy too much, all because he's just deeply flawed and complex. He's grieving the loss of his children, but unlike toriel, is also running a whole hopeless nation of people by himself. Toriel says at the end that he "could've taken one soul and killed six people on the surface," but how would that be any better? Not only did his son die from doing that exact same thing, but it would cause a lot of hostility with the humans the moment they break free. They both did bad things but that doesn't mean they're bad people, yknow? Idk I might be forgetting something but asgore wasn't a real villain, like at all. Yeah, he killed 7 kids and took their souls 🙄 but I think that's because he was blindsided by the idea that "it was the only way to save thousands of monsters that were looking to him to free them."

Sorry for the blabbering, feel free to refute me with an actual well thought out post 😍

[amalia-uwu]

Could anyone please recommend me some Undertale fics/comics please?

Some preferences

Rottencrop

Kustard

Sansby

Sans x reader

Fontcest

Sans and Toriel (mostly platonic, I enjoy soriel as well tho)