#static frisk

[ut-poppy-fangame]

Devlog: Underevent, and Upcoming Development

Hey, everyone! In case you're not aware, we showcased a trailer for Poppy's Story in Underevent 2022 this year, featuring some of Poppy Buys Milk's Gameplay. Be sure to check out the event itself!

That said, on account of this being the gift-giving month, we're willing to shed some more light on the game's development!

So that said, in terms of the past few two months, I (Fms) have been mostly busy with University, as many of our team members have been preoccupied with either University, work or their own projects.

That isn't to say no progress at all has been made, however. For we've put together a lot of new things regarding the Timeline Plaza and the Village, such as a new layouts for both of them. They may be slightly incongruent with material I've released in the past for Poppy's Story itself, but I feel that, for the purposes of making a fun experience, it was neccesary.

We've also finished importing all of the costumes and talksprites for Poppy, barring the custom poses- which will still take a while to finish up- but it was still a big undertaking on its own.

Oh, and speaking of characters, you may have seen a handful of characters in Poppy Buys Milk during the Poppy's Story trailer.

There's many other characters you'll meet in your adventure, some from worlds you're familiar with...

... From worlds less-well-known....

... And even... Worlds you've never seen before?

We've been coy about showing any characters besides the Poppy cast for the longest time, but this is a special occassion.

And, hey, given it HAS been a good while since you've seen any proper gameplay beyond the Village...

Here's a sneak peek into a quest in its entirety!

We hope you enjoyed that first look at the game proper! We'll see you next year with more updates.

— Fms, Lead Director

[hazyerrors]

Distort3d minds. Part 17/17 End.

Yes this is the end, I wanted to leave it kinda open ended. Hopefully it didn't seem too rushed towards the end. but since I lost all motivation for this comic for a year. once I got it back this august, I was worried if I didn't finish it now I never would. Thanks to anyone who read this comic. Hope it brought you some joy, even just for a little bit.<3

First – Precious {Master post.}

[triglycercule]

is he recognizable. he should be. errors design is impossible to make look bad i say as i dont quite know if this design looks all that good,,,,, not like im gonna try an make another one bc i do NAUGHT have time or energy to make another vice.SER design prototype

my new character guy his whole deal is that he is a chill dude who lwk don’t gaf. Although you may not know him very much right now but he’ll find his way into your heart. JK vice.SER's just error but he fell into the void like a dumbass and now hes changed his strat ‼️‼️ of destroying the multiverse by trying to convince the creators. more to him but like i cannot be bothered. i low key changed errors character so bad that i dont know if anything about his old personality and motivations and stuff can fit into vice.SER's lore bit whatever he looks cool has cool motive has cool everything. maybe i wish he could be a bit more freaky cooking but i probably just havent added enough glitch effects.

[galacii-gallery]

Forgot to post this but sometimes Static can be a bit creepy ghergnre

[whirlybirbs]

— BRUISED EGO ; PART ONE ; TOSHINORI YAGI ; 俊典

summary: you & toshinori have a great working relationship. all might is like a mentor. a great guy. a real, stand-up dude. a hero who inevitably has to help you deal with the side-effects of being hit with a love quirk. pairing: younger!toshinori yagi / f!reader ; hero name: derecho word count: 3.6k of pure smut tags: afab!reader, fingering, oral (female receiving), piv, denying feelings, toshi being a genuine lover-boy, someone has a praise kink, surprise it's me, minors dni a/n: i love young dumb full of cum late-twenties all might the tag | next →

"You don't look well—"

"Don't."

You could fry him right now. You could totally, absolutely, blast him with ten thousand volts and call it a night — but you can't, really, because he's fucking All Might. He's All Might and even worse, he's Toshinori Yagi. 

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

(That is not true. You know it. You and your therapist have worked through that stuck point — but, it sounds a hell of a lot better than explaining the reason you ended up in prison was by your own actions, not being caught by All Might.)

You're reformed.

Blah, blah, blah, you're the Villain Rehabilitation Program's star graduate. 

They loved using your imagery — the ones of you before you got clean off those Quirk enhancers and put on the straight and narrow —in their PR packages. They love that picture of you — the ones with hands behind your back — cuffed by All Might as you're effectively muzzled by the local law enforcement.

Your lip catches in a snarl.

Don't think about that. 

Don't think about his hands on your wrists. Don't think about the way his boot nudged your leg apart for the frisk — don't think about the way he threatened you, so low and so dangerous, not to move. 

Don't think about how All Might is a bastard, and the media just doesn't know it. 

He's cheeky. Sly. When he's out of the limelight, that eerie #1 smile drops and he's almost normal — if not nearly five hundred and sixty pounds of muscle.  

Like now, on this rooftop, he's more like Toshinori Yagi. Your impromptu mentor in all things heroic. After all, the Hero Commission thought it would be great for the program's image if All Might, the man who arrested you countless times, was the one to integrate you into a more heroic notion. Never mind the dozens of times you went head-to-head with the man, never mind the handful of times you almost won. 

"Derecho, I'm serious," comes his voice; it's softer, almost like he's in his smaller form — the one you always find yourself being partial to, "You look feverish..."

Static snaps across the air and Toshinori takes it — the way it bites at the skin of his hands is nothing. It's a warning shot. Don't come any closer. 

"I was hit with that guy's quirk," you mutter as you try to square your breathing, "I'm fine, I just... Need some time—"

Son of a bitch. 

You've always been a hard one to shake — and even now, as you climb well into the Top Ten ranks, he's never seen you this out of it. You've taken a crowbar to the ribs and recovered better than being hit by some petty criminal's love quirk. 

Toshinori curses under his breath as he winces at the desperation cracking in your voice. 

"If you need to take the night—"

"Yes."

He was slotted to patrol this prefecture with you for another two hours — but seeing the way your whole body looks like it could collapse is... a bit concerning. Toshinori nods, exhales, and waves you on.

"Should I call Recovery Girl?"

Your boot toes the ledge. You need out of this outfit. It's too tight. You're too hot. Your skin feels like it's on fire and the embarrassing ache between your legs is just getting worse with every low, timbred syllable out of his mouth. Don't think about his mouth. 

"I'm fine." 

You're not fine.

Even when you're back in your apartment, trying desperately to shower off the skin-crawling, mouth-watering heat of desire, you can't even come close to relating to the word 'fine'. You're a mess. You try to stand under the heat of the water for a while, to burn the need off your skin, but that doesn't work. 

You're so not fine. 

You can't stop thinking about Toshinori. Must be something to do with the fact he was closest when you were struck with the quirk. Yea. Totally that.

You have to be fine. You need to be fine. This is just a stupid love quirk that will wear off within a few hours. 

Well, a few hours come and go, and it's just getting worse. 

Come on, you are torturing yourself with the evening news, just breathe it out. 

Because you're a hero, and you were a villain. You know what it's like to get hit with disconcerting quirks like this in the heat of a battle. With just a little time, it goes away. Right? 

Right...?

"I AM CALLING! I AM CALLING!" 

Your phone vibrates on the coffee table. Your pupils, full-blown and big, swivel to the photo that ignites the dark of the room. It's a photo of Toshinori — he's in his smaller form, posed beside you in a ramen booth close to U.A.'s campus. He was hellbent on giving you a tour of his old high school.

You always loved how cute he looked in that picture.

Fuck.

You snatch the phone up and answer the call.

"What?" it comes out snappier than it needs to be. 

"Are you doin' alright?" his voice has lost its persona'd gusto. You can tell, just by the soft way he speaks, he's no longer in uniform or on patrol. All Might has clocked out for the evening, and Toshinori Yagi is in the building, "I haven't heard a peep from you all night, zippy." 

Something in your brain goes blank at the nickname. You usually hate it. Usually, you'd bite at him for it. You don't even realize you're white knuckle gripping the edge of the couch as he continues to speak. 

"Y'know, it's okay — I've been hit by love quirks plenty of times before," he goes on; you can hear him juggle the phone to his other ear, "They aren't fun. I'm sorry you're—"

"Come over."

Toshinori almost drops the can of soda in his hands. In the middle of the convenience store aisle, he feels his entire body lurch. 

"What?"

Your head is back against the couch, your hands covering your face in sheer embarrassment. You grit it out again. "I said come over."

"Derecho—"

"I've tried everything," you mutter defeatedly into the phone; you can't even pull your hand from your face, you're so embarrassed you're even telling him this but you need help, "Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi on the highest speed, Toshinori, and I can't—"

Jesus fucking Christ. 

This is bad.

This is... not you. So not you. This is... fuck, okay, right. He's All Might. He helps people. And you're important to him. You're his enemy turned pseudo-protégé turned colleague turned woman-he's-been-ignoring-his-feelings-for-the-last-seven-months. You're Derecho. Number Eight Hero in Japan, his friend. His...

"Give me ten."

And he hangs up.

Two boxes of XL condoms earn him a severely skeptical look from the cashier, but it's fine. Toshinori has bigger things to worry about — like the fact he has no idea what this is going to do to your working relationship, but it's fine. You need help. He knows what this is like — and he would feel awful if he left you to deal with it alone. 

Fingers, toys, even the Hitachi— 

Maybe he'll die, actually. Maybe he'll just throw himself from the nearest roof. 

The mental image of you, alone in your apartment, hands between your thighs as you try desperately to shake the painful ache in your core has him walking a bit faster — your apartment is three blocks over. 

He makes good time.

His knuckles don't even touch the door before you're yanking it open — and Christ, you're a sight to see.

Wet hair, wild eyes, and a permanent heavy breath. The oversized t-shirt clinging to your shoulders is definitely going to be a topic of discussion for a later date. It's All Might merch. His fucking merch. 

When did you even buy that—?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, looking pained. 

Toshinori's eyes hold your own. Then:

"I've always been a sucker for a damsel in distress."

He's a bastard. A serious bastard. A bastard who you're dragging in by the neck of his t-shirt — a bastard who doesn't complain in the slightest when your mouth is on his in a flash. With ease, he slams the front door shut with his boot and quickly allows you to guide him through your apartment. Your mouth is still latched to his, your hands digging into his shoulders as his hands chase your waist. 

You recognize in the heated haze of the kiss there's a grocery bag in his hand. It knocks against your hip as you accidentally back into the edge of the couch — your hands fumbling for some purchase in the dark living room. 

You pull your mouth from his just long enough to breathe out another apology. 

"Don't. We'll talk about it after," he says, leaning down over you as you scramble back against the leather couch cushions, "What do you need?"

"What do you think?" you hiss as his body presses against yours; he's still in his boots, still in his shirt and jeans. He's... too clothed. Your body couldn't handle anything except the less-than-flattering pair of cotton underwear and the biggest t-shirt you owned. 

You swear he's smirking in the dark. 

"Mouth? Hands?" he presses, his touch cradling your face as he continues to navigate your steady, bruisingly needy kisses, "Use your words."

"Anything—"

Your voice is a rasp, your hands scaling his back as he nudges your knees apart with his thigh and slots his hips against yours. Even in this smaller form, he's got the tactical advantage — not being near death from a fever so high you can hardly think anymore. 

"I need to know," he says as he leans back, his voice dipping lower as his palms brush the skin of your stomach. His fingertips hesitate at the edge of your waistband, and you whine. 

"Anything, Toshinori, stop jerking me around!" 

...What a brat. He almost laughs. But, then he remembers the one time he was left like this — and how desperate he was even after six hours of exhaustive attempts at self-pleasure. 

"Be nice," he chirps as his fingers slip beneath your underwear; his satisfaction builds when you fist the back of his shirt and gasp — his fingers grace the slick, wet folds of your core with ease. It's a tender movement, one that assesses just how pliable you are at this moment. 

And then, two of his fingers are pushing into you down to his knuckles. 

The babbled thank you bursts from your chest — and Toshi actually laughs at how fast you cling to his chest. He didn't anticipate his night going like this. Not with you, wild-eyed and desperate, pulling him into a kiss that's so bruising he thinks his lip splits.

Hands. Hands. Hands. His hands. One hand is between your folds, working you open, and the other is pressing up your curves and settling along your breast. You can't even think straight. The fact Toshinori is so slick, so eager, so good at whatever he's doing, is making the coil in your abdomen go white hot. 

"Fuck—" you strangle out, your lips parted in a gasp as he wets his own lips and watches your face in the dark, "G-God, okay, th-that's good—"

"Better than your own?" he asks, genuinely worried this isn't the progress you need to shake off the quirk's effects. 

"So much better," you wail, coincidentally fueling his ego in a way he never knew he needed. Because, ha, well — who knew Derecho, little miss spiteful and mysterious, just needed a little bit of him. 

"Is it enough?" he asks against her jaw, his forearm flexing as he works the pace up, his palm rubbing gently against your clit. It's an attempt at a coordinated pace, and it seems to be working from the way you're writhing beneath him. 

"I... I still — I can't — I'm so..." you look like you could cry out of sheer frustration, and Toshi suddenly feels a pang of guilt. He can only imagine how you've done this very thing over and over tonight, trying to just cum. Your voice cracks and you whimper, "I can't. I'm so close, but I just can't—"

"Okay," he breathes, his mind swirling with strategic planning, "So mouth."

"Mouth?" you choke, suddenly looking alarmed, but Toshi doesn't seem to care about the added snare of intimacy that comes with him slipping to his knees before the couch. 

Oh my god, he's on his knees. He's on his knees and he's grappling with your underwear, hauling it down the tops of your thighs before throwing it over his shoulder in a very Toshinori manner. 

You've got All Might on his knees. 

It suddenly hits you as he sits up on his knees and nudges your legs apart. He's a man on a mission — dedicated entirely to the task at hand. 

Making you orgasm. 

You wonder how many people have fantasized about this very thing — granted, he's not costume. Thank god. You can't even imagine what the conversation with his dry-cleaning team would look like. 

Toshi's voice knocks you back to reality. "Is this okay?"

He sounds concerned.

Meanwhile, you could kill him. If he doesn't put his mouth on you right now—

Noted. He sees the spark of annoyance, dumb question, and hauls your leg over his shoulder as he delves in. 

Ohmygod.

This is better — the coil is wound tighter, and a little bit closer to snapping, the second his tongue presses flat against your glistening slick. It's even better when he hums, his voice mumbles against your sex as his hands press your thighs to open a bit farther. 

"Keep 'em open."

"Don't talk," you heave between pants, "With your mouth full."

It's like the two of you are at work — this banter. But, his laugh vibrates your core and you moan. That doesn't happen at work. That doesn't happen, ever. A greedy part of you sure as hell hopes this happens again, because holy hell, he's good at this. Methodical. Strategic. Thorough.

His pace doesn't change, the pressure doesn't lessen. The blonde streaks of his fringe tickle the inside of your thighs as he continues his work — and you swear you almost cum when he slips a look up at you in the dark. 

His eyes are so blue that you feel like you're suddenly lost at sea. 

Then, there are two crooked fingers back inside of you. 

You and he are going to have to have a long talk about where he learned all this — because it's so good you genuinely can't do anything but reach out and grip his hair in a panic. You gasp, your whole body convulses, and you almost... almost cum. Almost.

It's Toshi's turn to moan. 

You're suddenly so oversensitive you swear your heart might stop. 

You're writhing away from him, squirming away, and Toshi's lips are parted as his breath fans across your core. 

"Cock," you're suddenly rambling, "N-Need — I need—"

"Right," he stutters, realizing this is good — you're almost there, he can tell. You're so close he can feel it in the air. The static electricity burning off your quirk leaves the room feeling tingly. 

He's wobbling back upright, cursing as he practically falls around the couch in the dark, and palms at the grocery bag he discarded on the floor. He's not graceful about the way he tears about the small box, or about the way he drops the foil square between his teeth as he leans back to work off his belt. 

"Bedroom?" he asks through gritted teeth.

You're nodding, practically falling over yourself to lead the way. Boots, jeans, belt, shirt — all of it is left scattered along the way, and your bare body hits the sheets after an easy shove from Toshinori. Of course, the boxers clinging to his strong thighs are his brand. The All Might logo is almost comical stretched across his hardness. 

You have the wherewithal to roll your eyes as he tears open the condom with his teeth. 

"What?" he shirks, looking down.

"Seriously?" you grit, legs pressed together tightly to try and stop the empty ache between your legs. It hurts. It hurts so much worse when his mouth and hands aren't on you.

"Don't even start," he rumbles as he rolls down the waistband and his cock springs free — he's quick to roll the condom down the thick length of it and lift a finger to wag in your face, "You answered the door in my merch—" 

"Setting the mood," you offer as he steps out of his underwear.

Toshinori then, unceremoniously, drags your hips to the edge of the bed. You almost shriek. It's a bit rough — a bit sudden — but you can't complain when the head of his cock is suddenly being guided through your folds teasingly. Up and down. Over the swollen bud of your clit, across your wet opening. You prop yourself up on your elbows, lips parted, as you try and nudge your hips closer. 

His large hand presses your hips down to the mattress. 

"Toshinori—"

"You sure this is okay?" he mutters, his pupils full-blown as he watches himself slip through your wetness, "I— If it's too much—"

"If you don't fuck me right now—"

"Right."

And he sinks in.

Ha. 

Yea. 

This is good.

You're so glad you didn't fry him earlier. You're so glad. You're so... oh, this is so so so ridiculously good you might die. You might die, because he's snapping his hips into yours and you can see the ripple of his muscles, even in this smaller form. 

His breath is ragged, his voice low and easy.

"You're doing a great job," he says; your core tightens at the sudden praise, "Y-You're doin' really... good—"

Your chest bounces with each thrust, your legs locked around his hips, your whimpers increasing in frequency with every single in and out of his cock. The feeling is better than any sex you've ever had — you've never been so aware of every inch. 

And then, he's knocking his forehead against yours, leaning over you — you're caged against the mattress, and one arm of his is holding your leg up around his waist. The angle change is minute but it's good. Everything is Toshinori so suddenly, everything is so blue eyes and a bright smile. 

It's thorough, a word you're slowly beginning to realize describes Toshinori to a T. There's not a single falter in his pace, not a single thrust that doesn't wind the white-hot orgasm tighter and tighter in your belly. It's worse when he holds your face, though, worse when he keeps fucking you so well while chattering on about how good you are, how strong you are, how beautiful you are—

Your composure snaps when he rumbles out:

"I know you can cum for me like a good girl."

The coil snaps.

Finally. 

After four hours of torture. After four hours of trying. Finally, you cum — and hard. The sort that robs you of your vision and hearing, the sort that has your whole body arching off the bed. The kind you haven't had in a long time. The kind that, of course, Toshinori Yagi would be the man to provide. 

"Fuckfuckfuck—" you babble, gasping, still gripped by the force of the orgasm as his pace quickens.

He's laughing — laughing, and then you're clamping down on him so hard he sees stars. It's all fun and games until he can't stop himself, he can't slow down, he can't breathe, and he's rocked by an orgasm that makes his knees give out. He's wild-eyed, panting, snapping his hips into yours as you whimper and gasp and grip his shoulders so tight he may have bruises. 

Toshinori swallows, then gasps to catch his breath, and then pushes himself up to give you a little room to breathe. His cock is still twitching inside of you.

Your eyes are closed, and your breath is fast. Your hair is spilled across the sheet — and you look content. Satiated. Peaceful. He's rarely ever seen you so tranquil. 

Blindly, and lazily, you reach up to touch his cheek.

At first, he thinks it's going to be tender. Intimate. Romantic.

Then, you roughly pat it twice.

"We're never gonna talk about this again."

Right. 

Because he's All Might. And you're Derecho. You're colleagues. Friends. This was just... him helping you. Like when a friend has a cold. You bring them soup. He... brought you... an orgasm. Just like soup.

Definitely.

...Right. 

"It was just, uh," he breathes, pulling out and cursing at the embarrassingly apparent load in the condom; not like he'd dreamed about this very thing for nights on end, no siree bob, "You needed help. I offered."

That is not what happened. Not even close. But, he's going to tell himself that.

Not like you totally won't think about this every single night ever for the rest of time. Definitely like you won't dream about the way he called you a good girl. Ha. Yea, right. Psh. You're fine. This is fine. Everything is fine.

After all, it's just Toshinori.

He's... kind. And gentle. And patient. And levelheaded... If not the single reason your entire life fell apart seven years ago.

And definitely not the reason your life is falling apart right now as you realize, fuck, you're definitely in love with him, aren't you?

Naaah.

[orbital-inclination]

Moltendreams - Error Sans Alias - Static Pronouns: he/him, they/them Personality: Petty, holds a mean grudge, Big Tsundere, Complete Shut-in, Quick Tempered and Moody, fanatic with his interests, externally aggressive when in actuality he is quite shy. An absolute troll. His favorite passtime is messing with others. Paradoxically touch starved and suffers from haphephobia. Reckless with his own well being.

This variant of Error is capable of both love and compassion, he just hides it under a grumpy exterior and several layers of denial and self-destructive dogma. Other Notes:

Reluctant to harm Papyrus directly, though Static can't articulate why, and will generally avoid encounters Papyrus in any given AU.

Had a good relationship with his dad/W.D Gaster, actually.

Relates to "pest" pets; rats, mice, snakes, spiders, beetles, he loves them all.

Would have a pet rat of his own if he wasn't afraid of it shocking itself by chewing on his wires.

His favorite kind of chocolate is mixed with a hazelnut filling.

Views Frisk as a younger sibling.

Into Parkour.

-More Info undercut! -

Abilities: Static uses wire instead of string. Wire and summoned attacks can and do hold an electric charge. His presence alone messes with electronic devices. Residents of a particular AU may get a few minutes or seconds of warning as sweaters get staticy, computer screens glitch out, and anything with a battery spontaneously dies or gets super charged. By creating a circle of alternating RED and CYAN bones, Static creates a sort of reverse faraday cage. While Static can produce electricity, he can't directly control the voltage. He can only hope to direct it. The voltage of a charge is directly influenced by his emotional state. If you touch him, you will find his clothes zappy with static. Do NOT attempt to fight him in humid or watery environments for, hopefully, obvious reasons.

About: Static originates from a pre-Pacifist timeline that was followed by a looping Genocide Route. Through repetitive iterations, and an escalating instability in the timeline, the monsters of the underground began to recall events they didn't witness and memories they shouldn't recall.

Working together, Static, at that point still Sans, and Alphys were able to pin point the root cause of their timeline's instability. They made a plan to save the underground and separate Frisk from the Anomaly but when it came time to execute their plan something went catastrophically wrong. As a result Sans was torn from reality, and caught in the space in-between. Eventually, he escaped but not unscathed. Static has vague conflicting memories of his past, and to this day, questions if any of it was real. He can't find his original AU and secretly fears it may have been the first world he destroyed. He is still looking for it.

Outcode Politics: Static views all outcodes the same way he views every iteration of the original timeline that even slightly deviates: as glitches to be terminated. Bugs in the code he needs to hammer out before it all goes to hell. Static believes that by destroying deviating timelines and AUs, he is preserving the stability of the original. He is “saving’’ it from corruption by trimming the branches back. Despite his position as the self proclaimed Destroyer, Static is not above biases and making exceptions. 

Static includes himself on his long list of glitches in the code to be terminated. Static has a different view on the Spirits of Creation that Fable/Ink does. (Spirits of Creation are the in-universe term and stand-in for the creator of an AU). He calls them eldritch parasites. Abominations that should be avoided at all costs. And absolutely should not be encouraged or interacted with. Though he won't admit it out loud, Static is terrified of them. OG Error @.LoverofPiggies/CrayonQueen) Moltendreams @.me Edit: he has been named! Edit 2: revised his profile a bit

[squidpedia]

HI I’M PEDIA, MASTERPOST DOWN BELOW BUT HOLD ON REALLY QUICK READ MY FAQ:

Boundaries on reposting, dubbing, and pfp’s?

Please ask for permission in my messages/inbox before reposting my work or dubbing it! PFP’s don’t need permission, just include credit in bio please. Most likely I’ll be ok with it so please don’t be shy! it’s just a boundary I like having respected. Also cmon girl if you make a dub of my work I want to see🥺

Do you like [other show/video/series]?

Maybe! All my my non utdr fanart goes to @squidpedias-fanart so maybe check/ask there?

I sent you an ask a while ago/tagged you in a post but you never responded, did I upset you somehow?

NOOOOOOOOOOOO I’M JUST AWFUL AT RESPONDING TO ASKSSS OR TEND TO MISS A LOT OF NOTIFICATIONS I’M SORRYYYYYY YOUREE FINEEEEEE. ITS YOU AND LIKE 150 OTHER PEOPLE I PROMMY IM JUST TERRIBLE. don’t be afraid to rb it and tag me in the rb again, sorry for that!

I liked this drawing concept you made. Can I make fanart, redraw it in my style, or make something inspired by it?

YEAH!!!! Flattered and happy I inspired you in that way!! Just 1) tag and credit me, because I would be so sad if I didn’t see and would love love love to rb it and 2) if it’s a redraw, try to link back to original post if possible (but I forget to mention that a lot so that second part isn’t as big of a deal)

What about writing fics?

A FEW OF YOU ARE WILD FOR THAT BUT YEAH GO OFF. Still let me know, give credit, tag me if possible, and check out this other post I made too regarding fic writing and overall boundaries about my fallen kid oc’s. If you still have questions after reading that and there’s anything I didn’t go over, reach out and ask in my inbox or dm’s! I’d be happy to elaborate on anything!

What other socials do you have?

I have a Youtube, Twitter, Bluesky, and a Switch (SW-2670-2211-5056) (thats not a social but you should friend me on there anyways and crash my splatoon lobbies lmao).

Do you have any oc’s or personal works?

@an-unconscious-effort-comic and @dragontry-comic (neither stories are connected to each other and are their own projects)

Pronouns?

Please refer to Frisk, Chara, Kris, and any of my fallen human designs with they/them strictly here (or Chara by they/it) (This includes Lilac - and sidenote i am working on a post regarding boundaries for my fallen human designs should you want to use them in any personal works, I’ll be back with that another time but thank you for having an interest in them, they’re dear to me and I’m glad if you like them too). Clover also uses they/them my take too (well they/she actually but I usually just refer to her by they they/them in posts because,,,,,nervous)

Oh wait you meant me. Any👍

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UTDR/UTY COMICS MASTERPOST

(uty comics are highlighted in orange if you’re more interested in the strictly undertale comics)

Clover’s Memories (ongoing - i prommy)

(10/12 update - the voices………….theyre telling me to work on it again………………..meanwhile i got a big project due at midnight and have to study for a test tomorrow, some halloween related ask doodles, and commissions from both sides of my family for their individual family businesses IM GONNA EXPLODEEEE)

Silence | Memory 1 | Memory 2 | Memory 2.5 Coming Soon | Sound | Memory 3 | Discrepancy | Memory 4 | Static

Clover’s Hat (post revive au)

Part 1 /// Part 2 /// Bonus

Kanako Integrity Duo (really short mini doodle comics)

Reconciliation // Introductions // Ceroba // Chujin

Miscellaneous:

Kris and Clover Interaction // Clover’s Sacrifice // Frisk vs. Clover’s POV // Clover Tells Martlet a Secret // Who’s Your Friend? // Pipe Down // Family Visit // Unwell // Letter // Humor // Gamer // They // Kicked Out // It Keeps Happening // What’s In A Name

TAGS:

#Happily Ever After and Then Some -> everyone lives au including chara, flowey/asriel, fallen kids, where i don’t offer any sort of explanations for how because it simply makes me really self-conscious to try to come up with reasoning and really i just want to imagine these characters in fun and interesting scenarios. Theyre all alive, just go with it and have fun. Note this is not a comic series or anything, i just like doodling the scenarios sometimes

(It doesn’t really have any posted content to it’s name yet,,,other than maybe revived clover au content ig,,,and im just not even sure how hard i’ll commit??? But i think and doodle about it often enough to justify it being mentioned for now. i think)

#Phantom integrity au -> someone sent an ask once about what if clover’s narrator was integrity. It’s a fun idea to explore and where I got the concept of Lilac’s design for! It’s not something I think about very often plotwise but I like drawing ghosty lilac

#Lilac -> yes they deserve their own tag. My integrity design that i like to draw, they have diseases i love them

#Pedias art

#Other peoples art -> you should check them out please 🥺

[ask-dcf]

Meanwhile, with the young Trio…

*The kids have met many strange creatures, sparing left and right despite it being very tricky in some cases. All of them slowly getting used to their abilities… Now they faced an obstacle….. A catipillar in front of a wall of fog that was vaping…. And was gaming*

*SLAM*

*She holds up a prime drink but instead of prime it says “Pillar”.*

*She crushes it with claws*

*Frisk pulls Chara back*

*With a wave of his hand, he summons a horde of digital butterflies and sends them towards the trio. The cuts they left were sharp and painful, taking away small chunks of their HP making the kids help in pain. Chara looking pissed with her eyes static now.*

*Wings turn sharp and claws come out*

*Frisk pulls Chara back*

*Frisk steps in front of her to face the caterpillar*

*He leans closer to the trio, arms crossed*

*Chara’s eyes twitch in anger*

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Art by @xjunjox

Special monsters and streamerpillar by @theyoshimister

[jjaydazo]

I won't post wips here anymore

you heard it

from now on i'll be posting on kofi of my stuffs early. (when it comes to comics at least) I need some money too.

static tier only has snip peeks cut of the whole comic. but also it has cute extra doodles I made of frans, specifically lust sans x detective frisk

so far i only made a static tier member there. later I'll make black and white tier then HD tier (which most of my content here will be suggestive) I'll make them soon I almost forgot to put my kofi here

[prism-forgone]

Asriel Dreemurr is a Prince of Doom ((bangs pots and pans))

[ALT: he seems like he'd be a prince of doom since princes usually act like their opposite aspect AND he acts like a life player methinks]

via @ghostzdrawz

in a reblog for this post: x

putting this as a separate post because it got so long that i couldn't simply put it below your reblog ^^'

yes that is exactly my classpect for asriel!!

( just as a sidenote, I find it very fun that, given my track record of assigning UTDR characters classpects, when a character is a Prince, they are also literally a prince in canon, like Ralsei, and now Asriel).

Asriel Dreemurr // Prince of Doom

You (very correctly!) stated Princes ghost their opposite aspect, and they do that since it's only prudent for a destruction class to destroy their aspect through leaning into the opposite one, too. The fact Princes destroy their aspect or destroy with their aspect supports this even more. They're destructive inwards and towards their environment, zeroing in on things having to do with their aspect and, depending on their mental state, destroying the enemies of its well-being or (usually, really) making it wither.

The ways Asriel supports Doom as an aspect are so numerous that it isn't even funny, so I'm just gonna list some things from my aspect notes and provide brief explanations:

affinity for unfortunate events, either in being the victim or invoking them (the incident he and Chara had with buttercups instead of cups of butter, Chara's death and subsequently Asriel's death during the scheme they both agreed on, creating entire timelines where he concocts his own genoroutes)

natural magnet for the worse parts of the narrative (being fated to live as a soulless being by pure chance, since his ashes were on the flowers purely by coincidence)

great supply of empathy and/or wisdom (the former is true for Asriel, who has a soul; the latter for Flowey, who is soulless and tested how things work many times - he even gives you a mock tutorial)

sufferers and martyrs (Asriel sacrificed himself to not kill anyone, even when attacked)

affinity for attunement with some kind of... otherness, alongside Life (like the exiles or horrorterrors in HS, or what I interpret as game mechanics in UT, and kinda just us - Flowey addresses Frisk, Chara and the player all at separate occasions)

Doom's symbolism of skulls, fire, explosions and bombs (he literally uses all these in his various attacks, most in the Omega Flowey form, that one with the added caveat of vaguely destroying Doom by using plants, Life's domain, too; but the skull appears in his Hyperdeath form attack)

literal meanings of death, sacrifice, entropy, acceptance (the first two are already plenty clear, entropy is just what Flowey was doing before we got here again and again, and what he attempts to do as Omega Flowey; and acceptance is what he finally exhibits at the end of True Pacifist)

abstract meanings of deterioration, nihilism, stagnation, static state of affairs, pessimism and limitations (most are already clear - the static nature of Flowey is him resetting again and again, to the point where Sans, along with whoever he was conducting research with, noticed the time anomalies and literally had depression induced because of the fact time is just Standing Still in a loop and nothing seems to matter anyhow so why bother trying <- destroying with Doom at its finest example; but also, the loop could be seen as something exactly opposite, since Flowey always tests something different).

Additionally, as the Extended Zodiac tells us - even though I try to not rely on it too much - the best a Doom hero can be is wise, kind and non-judgmental, while the worst they can be is being filled with bitterness, resentment and fatalism. The difference is between if they cling to the past or if they learn from it.

so, yeah. to sum up, my track record already shows i need very little to get me going about this so i'm very sorry ☝️however, counterpoint: it's really fun to do this hahah

[an4mations]

Sketch dump as I re-figure out my style.

Only Corrupt belongs to me.

How much I've figured out about CorruptTale so far~

Basic idea of the story--

Bonus!

This AU takes place in a timeline where the player had not yet started any routes, therefore Frisk and/or Chara will not be introduced until much later on.

The game had been lying dormant in the computer for such a long time that the files had started to corrupt on their own.

Since Sans is by far the most powerful being in underground, he is the least affected. However, that does not mean that he was not affected by the mass corruption.

The corruption indeed gave him a few new powers. And, since the monsters of underground were all corrupted, he had to kill quite many of them. Therefore, increasing his LOVE. His durability has also increased significantly.

When he tries to fix the code, he gains quite a bit of useful knowledge. It still doesn't help his situation though.

It's not as if the monsters were just mindless shells. And that's the most painful part.

One day Sans might wake up and see that everything is fine, just like before. He will go about his day, until...the corruption starts to show itself again. And the corrupted monsters are still conscious and aware of their mind breaking down, making it even harder for Sans to deal with them.

Sans still blames himself for all this, for losing his friends and brother to the mass corruption. And that took a huge toll on his mental health.

In an attempt to harm himself, he rips out his left eye; making him blind in there. His left eye is constantly bleeding out, hence the strings.

His eyes can be a pretty good indicator of his mood. Normally, his left eye is pitch black. If he is angered, then slight static fuzz can be seen in his left eye. And lastly, when he gets fully unhinged, both his eyes become static. If you see this, then you can only pray for mercy. The static grows more and more intense the more he is angered or frustrated.

His index finger and thumb are red, since they're the most important for practicing any magic.

Sans's fighting style remains almost the same, its just that he's grown much more powerful. His bones are very sharp, and he can also use his strings for combat. Though he much prefers the bones. His bones are of two sizes, the smaller ones being red and the bigger ones being black. The normal ones are white.

And...yeah that's about it. Maybe will update this.

Hey @grungepuppet what do you think? :D

[askaxetale]

I have a question for Frisk if she can answer! Do you wish you could be alive to be with sans?

A small voice breaks through the static fog… a long forgotten memory of a dying world.

“I… I wish I could be there… he’s so broken, the way he acts… it hurts to see him like this. I know he’s still my Sans after all he’s done to help Aliza and Pappy.”

The voice soon vanishes, covered back by the static.

[triglycercule]

i love doodling swapinverse like hello drawing characters aside from the normal mtt is lowkey therapeutic 🧡🧡🧡 anyways i FINALLY FINALLY finished crash's lore!!!! and vice.SER is connected to him,,,, theyre interconnected!!! i forgot how much i liked crash's design (not the design but all the little gimmicks in the design. figuring out all the hanging ribbon bits is annoying but hey it looks good)

[askswordfrisk]

You can’t blame your husband for worrying. There are a lot and I mean A LOT of harmful things in the vast multiverse. Error sans, nightmare, XGaster, Neutral Frisk, Terror Asgore, King Sans, Bette, Static, and the list not only goes on, but it keeps getting longer. It’s very bad out there.

*A hand gently places itself upon the woman's shoulder. Looking behind her, she saw one of the many orphans she and her boyfriend took care of. They were neither a Frisk or Chara — they were a Kris. This Kris, despite the vacant poker face, gave off an understanding aura.*

*She sighs softly, turning around and hugging the teen closely.*

[capricioussun]

Underfell Papyrus with the prompt "Can’t stop shaking," please

Hope you feel better soon ^^ 💜

This one got away from me a bit so I'm sorry if it's a little janky but also ty ;; 🩵

Ao3

CW, sick fic, sick character's pov, hospital stuff

Prompt list

—

A strange sound filtered in through the darkness. Fuzzy and ticklish, distant in the back of his skull. When it happened again, pain bloomed there, bleeding down his cervical vertebrae to ache through his ribcage.

Feeling began to register as that pain traveled further. Every limb drawn taut like a wooden doll held together with too little string. Tremors held him in a vice grip, unable to think beyond the radiating soreness weighing him down like lead, stifled further by a heavy weight laid atop the length of his body. Not only heavy, but hot, smotheringly so, yet doing nothing to reach the chills shivering up his spine, exacerbating the aches further.

That sound happened again, muffled, but more familiar, a voice. He tried to open his mouth to speak, to question, when that tickling sensation jumped, right to his throat, jolting fully awake with a vicious bout of coughing.

"Oh-!" a large, furry paw smoothed over the top of his head as that sound came again, closer, words, but none clear enough to parse over his own choking. He could hardly open his eyes enough to see the distorted shapes above him, let alone make sense of them.

Something cloth passed across his teeth, and instincts abruptly urged to push his attacker away before they could gag him, but his arms were useless, weak and buried at his sides. As the coughing finally subsided he could hear the stifled rattling of his own bones beneath the thick fabric restricting him.

"It is only me, Papyrus-" still cloudy, but discernible at last, "Toriel. Calm down," her gentle voice finally clicked into alignment with everything else. Toriel, his...friend? His mind grappled for a word or phrase to define what she was to him, but thoughts seemed to jumble together, clinging uselessly to the inside of his skull.

"Do not strain yourself," she soothed again, brushing the side of her paw against his cheekbone. As disoriented as he felt, he could still hear the strain in her steady tone.

Blinking slowly, the stale magic lining his sockets prevented his vision from focusing, but the rest of his unease passed recognizing Toriel's silhouette. When the cloth pressed to his teeth again he made no move to struggle. Not that he could've – he'd become acutely aware he felt awful.

Soon enough, the light pressure disappeared, his eyes fighting exhaustion to squint back open.

"There," she sighed, and then went quiet for a moment. The battle was quickly lost, his eyes drifting back shut, when he heard the floor creak. "I will get you some water." She spoke so softly, not dissimilar to how she spoke to Frisk...it felt disarming to hear it directed at him.

As her steps faded, his own noise became emphasized in the silence. Any white noise of the house settling or Toriel's movements elsewhere went entirely drowned out by every wet, rasping breath drawn, the unrelenting rattling tremble of his bones. Dizzy and nauseous, unable to so much as sit up, dully he remembered what was wrong with him. He was sick.

Very sick.

Without warning, the nausea heightened, coiled below his ribcage and he shuddered, swallowing thickly as much as he could before a sweeping chill wracked him, gasping into another, weaker coughing bout. Even his mind would not cooperate, feeling like his head had been stuffed with static and cotton.

Back underground, pain was simply a facet of life. Being stabbed, broken, bruised and beaten; especially in the guard. Seldom a day went by he returned home plagued only by weariness. But it had always been his brother prone to illness. He could probably count the number of times on one hand he could remember being sick himself, and it had never felt like this. Like his own body trying to exorcise him.

A strange lightheadedness possessed him, whatever few thoughts he could cling to slipping rapidly from his grasp. Only distantly was he aware of Toriel’s return and her attempting to get him to drink, raising his head in a strong, careful grip. He tried to tell her not to, his body was disgustingly soaked in his own sweat, it would matte her fur, surely, but all that came out was a strangled groan as she finally lowered him back to the pillow.

Were it not for lingering common sense, he would've worried his bones were on the verge of rattling apart. His focus had nowhere else to tether as wakefulness loosened from him further, drifting back and forth often enough to keep him miserably aware of his own discomfort, but no more, not enough to think.

Time lost all meaning between snatches of consciousness, if it could’ve been called that. Every brief moment of awareness lost upon every lapse. He wouldn't remember catching whispers of two voices, one he knows better than any other, tense and worried. Wouldn't remember cringing weakly as he was moved, carried by strong, shaking hands to a cool vehicle, trembling hard enough to whimper at the pain of it. Wouldn't remember strangers’ hands replacing trusted ones, or how they caught him as he convulsed, getting sick on unfamiliar tile floors.

None of that remained, nor the days that followed.

Nothing made sense by the time his mind feebly made its way back to him. A low beeping beside him, the warmth of sunlight on his hands. When he managed to pry his tired eyes open, clean, white, unfamiliar walls greeted him. The bed before him less unknown, a hospital bed, with clinical white sheets outlining his body underneath. Wires that must've been attached to him snaked out from beneath – he couldn't feel them, but he couldn't feel much of anything beyond an overwhelming fatigue.

The air brought into his ribcage with every breath felt oddly cool, eyes drifting closed to focused what little energy he had on recalling what had led him here. Nothing came back before that beeping changed, only once, two staccato chirps seamlessly flowing back into its prior rhythm.

Automatically, he tried to look to the source, neck stiff and unwilling but managing enough to see a screen displaying stats he couldn't make sense of. He was in a hospital, of course, but what would he need to be monitored for? Why-

"rus?"

Turning his head too quickly, he flinched with a sharp inhale, "whoa whoa, take it easy, papyrus, s'just me."

Vision clearing from the unexpected jolt, his brother came into view. Outlined in the early morning, or perhaps late afternoon light filtering in from the window behind him, Sans stood beside his bed, obviously looking worse for wear in spite of the easy grin plastered on his features.

"What-" the dryness of his magic choked him, coughing as Sans fussed, pulling a cup of water off a tray he hadn't noticed with a flick of blue magic to force upon him with a mild scold. The surreality of it made him question if he was actually awake.

Clearing his throat more properly, any questions fell to the wayside as exhaustion frustratingly took hold again. He laid back, half-breathless just from drinking, and watched as Sans moved to set the cup back down by hand, aimlessly picking at the few other items on the tray. It didn't seem he actually needed to ask, watching Sans deliberately find things to do, carefully avoiding meeting his eyes. The blanket was his next target, returning to the bed to fix it, smoothing it, brow bones pinched in an unusually tight scowl.

He said nothing, perhaps too tired to be annoyed by the prevarication, or perhaps understanding something bad must’ve happened to upset his brother this deeply.

It wasn’t long before the tension cracked with a sigh. Sans stuffed his hands back into his pockets as he stared down at where a wire was surely attached to his brother’s soul under the sheets. What he was really seeing was anyone's guess, but the string was fully cut when Sans took another, deeper breath, clearing his throat and shuffling the few steps back to the chair he must've been sleeping in.

"you uh, you really don't do nothin' halfway, do ya, kid," he breathed a humorless laugh as he slowly lowered into the chair. That single working eyelight drew up to the gaze rested on him, his own weariness now plain as day.

Papyrus held that attention steadily, hoping the slight furrow of his brow bone asked well enough for him. A shadow passed over Sans' expression, gone again in a flicker as he looked away for a moment before returning, but he didn't miss the tightness of his brother's voice as he answered.

"you got sick, papyrus. really sick." His hands fidgeted where they were clasped in his lap, wringing each other sluggishly. "scared the hell outta tori. wouldn' even let the kid visit 'cause she..."

One hand moved to his knee, clearing the shakiness from his voice and making a poor attempt to cover it with a chuckle. "don' matter now. got a little outta hand ‘cause of a secondary infection, but the doc said yer improving real well so it don' matter."

A small measure of sincerity lightened Sans' smile, voice low and calm, "now ya just gotta rest, got it?" He didn't even realize his sockets were sinking shut as he listened.

"just gotta relax, 'rus, i ain't goin' nowhere. s’gunna be alright."

Of course it would, he didn’t say. He didn’t have to. This time, sleep claimed him much more gently.

[floweytflower]

as you walked away, you stopped to hear its pleads "COME BACK HERE FRISK!" You could hear a small please, but you still decided to keep moving. Until you heard a long line of static. You turned and saw it slowly getting dug more and more into the ground, with little to no resistance.