#How did the skeleton know the other skeleton was lying? He could see right through him.

[ooctosquid]

Happy birthday to the punny'est guy alive. May each new year treat you kindly

[halfmoondaze]

I was thinking maybe Jack and sweetheart reader are at some event and some random influencer been tryna start beef with reader on the internet. Reader doesn’t know her and hasn’t responded because it’s not her character. Jack would be so protective. 💕

Protective Jack

Trigger warning: mentions of body shaming

“I’ve never met the girl, she seems nice...but I just don’t feel like she’s a good role model”

Hannah Walton, who was the current beloved social media personality, mostly known for her quirky dances on Tik Tok, was being interviewed in the Fresh & Fit podcast.

“How is that?”

“I just…you know, anorexia is a dangerous thing and I think it is disgusting for someone to promote that as the ideal body standard. I’m sorry but looking like a skeleton is not cute”

The interviewer giggled at her response.

Then she quickly added “I’m sorry, but curves are sexy, sticks aren’t”

“You know she’s dating Jack Harlow, right?” the other interviewer commented.

“Is she?” she asked followed by laughing again. “No, I didn’t know. I thought he was more into women who had something to grab onto…..Good for her I guess”

“Well, back to your collab with Fashion Nova…”

It wasn’t long before Y/N found herself tagged in a bunch of posts regarding Hannah Walton’s comments. At first, she was confused, and ultimately, her anxiety was at an all-time high at the thought that she had now become the current laughingstock on social media.

Jack, was set to not be back home until late at night and found himself walking through their shared apartment front door at 1 pm, which took Y/N by surprise.

Y/N and Jack have been dating more a little more than a year now, and even though they were private about their relationship, Jack has made the public and fans know he was in a relationship with Y/N, who was a visual artist. Because of her anxiety, she wasn’t into the idea of being in the public eye, but she wanted to be in a relationship with Jack without feeling he was hiding her. And Jack was supportive of her, which is why since then for the first time he would let it be known he was with Y/N without getting into too many details about her life.

The news of Jack no longer being single came as a shock to everyone, given that to the public, he didn’t seem the type to be in a serious relationship, and with that came a lot of support and some hate.

Jack who was set to not be back from the studio until late at night, found himself walking through the front door of their shared apartment around 1 pm.

“Y/N?” he called out for her.

He could hear in the distance the sound of the tv, and as he approached the living room, he found Y/N wrapped in a throw blanket, lying on the couch scrolling through her phone while the TV played in the distance.

“Hey” he softly said taking a seat by the edge of the couch.

She was currently going through her Tik Tok, attempting to escape all the drama from Twitter, but as soon as she noticed him, she discarded her phone somewhere on the couch smiling at him.

“Hey, I thought you were going to be at the studio for a while”

“I was, but I wanted to check on you” he paused. “Is she the same girl who kept running her mouth about you on Twitter?”

“How did you know about that?”

“Fans kept me posted”

“It’s so embarrassing…” she said looking away.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. None of the things she said were true”

“I know, but I just can't deal with the hate…I just don’t know how you do it sometimes”

“Well, it would surprise you to know not all of the comments are hateful”

Y/N looked at him confused.

“See it for yourself” he said as he handed her his phone.

Upon taking a look, she became overwhelmed by all the supportive comments from fans, and other celebrities standing up to her.

Right in that moment, she felt so grateful for everyone's support, but overall, she felt so loved and appreciated for having Jack by her side and she wouldnt have it any other way.

[justachaoticgremlin]

A Little Broken Dream

Dream wandered the halls of the castle. Everyone was busy, and Dream was bored. He wandered for a while, before spotting the bundle of lavender he’d given Nightmare. It reminded him of something, but he didn’t know what. It made his head hurt to try and remember. He could vaguely recall having an argument with Nighty, and Nighty was sulking about it. He remembered going out to the southern glen, where the lavender grew. He was going to get some as an apology… but the memory was hazy, really hazy. He found that his feet were moving, maybe going to the flower field outside the castle would help him remember? He wasn’t supposed to leave without the others, but not being able to figure out what the memory was frustrated him. So he walked, remembering as he went. 

Nightmare was really upset that fateful day, and Dream wanted to make it right. He got to the flower field and remembered arriving at the glen. He knew which flowers were the best, and he made sure to take his time. A big handful of the prettiest flowers made for a more sincere apology, so he spent a very long time picking lavender. When Dream was done, he walked in the direction he would need to go if this really was the southern glen, back to where the tree would have been. 

He remembered a deep feeling of wrongness in his soul, as if something bad was happening. Anxious, he sped up, almost running, when suddenly, Dream was enveloped in the memory, as if it were happening then and there. Nightmare was standing in front of the stump that had been their Tree. The village was destroyed, with dust and blood everywhere, there were even corpses lying around. 

The village was dead.

The Tree was dead.

His brother was…

Dream looked at Nightmare. Though the goop covering his body was not new to the little skeleton, his soul filled with shock. This was the day… This was when Nighty turned into what he was now. “What happened?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking. His brother looked hurt, and furious. “You did this.” Nightmare looked so angry, so upset. Dream couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t been there when it had happened. He dropped the bundle of flowers, falling to his knees as the memory faded. 

Nightmare had to go through that all alone, because Dream wasn’t there. 

He’d failed. 

He’d failed as a guardian, and as a brother. 

The little skeleton sobbed, unable to believe he’d basically abandoned his brother when the worst thing that could ever happen did happen. He just knelt there, crying for who knew how long. Eventually, he ran out of tears, his magic level too low for him to be able to cry. Still, he sat, his soul breaking into a thousand pieces. It made him feel sick, knowing he’d done such a thing. 

It was then, finally, that Nightmare appeared. Seeing how broken his brother was, he came closer. Dream was too lost in thought to hear him, his mind hazy and his skull aching. With how low Dream’s magic levels were, it made him feel much worse than he would have ordinarily. Nightmare’s hands, firm on the little skeleton’s shoulders, snapped Dream back to reality somewhat. “Dream, what happened?” It was clear Nighty had asked the question several times, and he sounded very worried. “I failed.” It was the only thing Dream said, the words that repeated over and over in his mind. 

Dream was vaguely aware of Nightmare CHECKing him, making sure he was alright. The next thing Dream knew, he was in Nightmare’s arms. When had Nighty picked him up? He had no idea. Dream didn’t have enough magic left to form tears, but he still sobbed, shaking and whimpering as his brother held him. Nightmare wrapped his arms firmly around the little skeleton, offering soft comforts to his tiny brother. Dream didn’t know what the larger, goopy skeleton was saying, but Nighty’s gentle tone helped him calm down a little. 

Once Dream’s whimpers became less frequent, his shaking less violent, Nightmare teleported to the castle. With how low the little skeleton’s magic levels were, Nightmare knew he had to get Dream to drink something, before his dehydration became dangerous. Cross was the first to spot Dream, and immediately Nightmare was met with a rush of questions. Nightmare’s answers were short, and there were some questions Nightmare couldn’t answer. Nightmare explained that Dream was severely dehydrated at that point, and Cross was quick to get the tiny skeleton something to drink. Dream drank it very quickly, still sniffling. 

Once Dream had finished, he looked up at Nightmare, with massive wobbly eyelights. “I’m sorry.” The words were small and tearful, as Dream was crying again. “Sorry? What for?” Nightmare didn’t know what was wrong, his focus was on Dream. He was severely caught off-guard when Dream curled into his chest, and mumbled, “For not being there.” 

One Small Dream belongs to @calcium-cat

[after-witch]

Disintegration [Yandere Fyodor Dostoyevsky x Reader]

Title: Disintegration [Yandere Fyodor Dostoyevsky x Reader]

Synopsis: You were always meant to find this room. Always meant to see its secrets. 

For Horrorfest Request: Fyodor (BSD) + “I believe death should be repulsive, so we don’t grow too fond of it.”

Word Count: 1333

notes: yandere, violence, descriptions of death and corpses

Fyodor would be lying to himself, and to  you, if he said you were never meant to see this room. This awful room, this blackened room, where none but the dead and dying go. He would be lying if he said such sights were not for your eyes, that he hoped to hide it from you until the end of time.

He would be lying, because this night, this moment--you, standing a few feet into the room with your eyes widened in shock, tears making your pretty cheeks all glossy--is perfectly right. Beautiful. Music in action.

Because if he Bluebeard, and you are his wife, you were always meant to find this place. You were always meant to grow curiouser and  curiouser. You were always meant to tiptoe down the hallway in your pure white cotton socks, a stolen key heavy in the pocket of your soft nightgown. You were always meant to slip it into the lock and turn, waiting for the loud satisfying thud inside the keyhole before you pushed the door open.

You were always meant to have that dark, slimy curiosity inside your gut satiated.

And what did you find?

What you were always meant to find.

The rotting corpses of his former lovers.

The ones who didn’t measure up. The ones who betrayed him. The ones he simply got bored of.

All in varying states of decay, all thrown in here without care. Haphazard bodies lying out where they will. A jaw open here, an arm folded under there. Some naked, some clothed. Some with insects still crawling over mummified flesh, desperate for the sustenance their corpses no longer provide.

This is no elegant tomb, no planned monument.

It’s simply a room where he leaves them to rot.  

And rotting they are.

It’s the most recent corpse that your shining eyes have fixated on. Truth be told, Fyodor can no longer remember her name. It ceased to be important the moment that she ceased to be important, and at that moment, she was killed. And put here, with the others.

But she is the freshest, and therefore the most horrifying. There is perhaps still some sinking flesh to her, he thinks, though it could be a trick of the light. A family of insects has taken up nesting in one of her eye sockets, and the open-mouth scream of her jaw is not the abstractly human scream of a bone-white skeleton. Instead, her darkened mummified flesh clings to her teeth, making them look gaunt and garish. Was she screaming when she died? Or did her corpse simply fall that way, loose dead jaw muscles leaving her in a state of permanent verbal agony?

He can’t recall. It doesn’t matter.

You take a step back, but that’s as far as your legs will take you. He can see, even from his vantage point in the doorway, how your limbs tremble. How your energy seems to sap out through your legs, rooting you to the floor like some sticky residue.  You turn, perhaps hoping to flee, but you can’t. Not with how weak you are. Not with Fyodor standing in the doorway.

He holds out his hand towards you, and it takes you a moment to realize what he wants.

When you do, you comply, slowly lifting your hand and dropping the large black key into his palms.

“Did you find what you were looking for, my little sneak?” His tone is light, but he knows--and he knows you know--that the situation is anything but. Yes, he expected you to find this place, knew you were always meant to find it… that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to be punished later for taking what didn’t belong to you.

“What… what is this?”

Feebleness and weakness exudes from every pore of your face, seeking some answer that might undue what you’ve seen. As if he has some words that will make a room full of corpses seem simple--make sense.

It makes something in his stomach turn over in delight, that you think some words from him could do that. Why yes, dear, this room full of dead women is as ordinary as our kitchen. Now come along.

He doesn’t say that, of course. Instead, he gestures decisively towards the bodies in the room. Towards the women he shared a bed with, a life with, however briefly. However inconsequentially.

“They used to be mine.” He pauses, to give his words more weight. To let them sink into your fear-addled brain, as you glance, nervous, brief little looks, at the bodies. “Now they are not.”

He hopes he’ll never be tired on the way horror seems to visibly sink into your face . He’s seen it before, and he knows this won’t be the last time. But it still feels fresh and beautiful.

“Did you kill them?” Your voice is a hoarse whisper, and your words cliche and expected. Your eyes widen almost comically as you ask, shining with tears. It’s delightful, he thinks, the way you make him feel like he’s in an actor on a stage.

“Of course.” Well, he thinks, to be fair sometimes he couldn’t be bothered himself and had a lackey do it. But for the most part, the job was done by his hands. A bullet. A knife. His fingers, holding their neck down as water bubbled and bubbled and stopped in the tub.

You glance down at the nearest body, and her permanent scream. Your hands clasped together, ringing, anxious and scared and hopeful in one complicated gesture. When you look back up at him, your eyes are pleading.

“Are… are you going to kill me?”

Your voice is so quiet, so timid. You really are a little mouse, he thinks, and part of him hates you for it.

Only part of him, though.

He steps forward and draws you closer to him, the putrid-sweet smell that sticks to the walls surrounding the both of you. He regards the tears in your eyes, the soft pout of your lips. The way the white nightdress he’s put you in contrasts so beautifully with the corpses behind you.

“Do you want me to kill you?”

Your lips quiver, and you shake your head.

“No,” you say, and in your voice there’s almost a shocked tone, as if you’ve just discovered this answer yourself. “No, I don’t.”

His hand grips your chin, and you offer no resistance when he turns your head this way and that, making you glance back at some of the bodies behind you.

“Then remember what you see here, hm?”

You nod, so quickly, and it makes his heartbeat quicken with it.

“Good. Now let’s go back to bed, milaya.” He gives you a push towards the open doorway, watching you stumble, noting the goosebumps coating the backs of your arms. “I’ll join you shortly. Wait for me.”

You nod, obedient, and he hears your feet padding fast down the hallway. No longer sneaking, no longer curious, all of that bled out on the floor of this room--as it should be.

He takes another look around. If he was sentimental, and he is not, he might try to remember whether or not he ever loved these women. But if he did, then he would not have killed them, no?

The thought roots him to the floor for a moment. And then he pulls away, letting it leave its sticky trail behind him.

Perhaps he is lying after all. For the room isn’t just meant for you--a warning, should you ever step out of line, should you ever be so foolish as to betray him, should you ever break and become a boring, ordinary shell, this is what you will be.

It’s meant for him, too.

To remind him of what he would hate to see you become someday.

Is that love?

He locks the door with the big black key as slowly as he can, relishing the thud of it.

You’re waiting in the bedroom.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 21 (Granny Plantsim?!)

"You're really pregnant? How many months? How big is the baby right now?" Holly took in her sister's news during a quick visit to see her in Brindleton Bay.

"Two months, and not very big. About the size of a plum, I think."

"Wow! I can't believe I'm going to be an auntie! What are you and Malcolm going to do about it?"

"I'm going to raise the baby alone, actually. I haven't told him yet."

Holly's eyes bulged. "Are you sure you know what you're getting into? Have you talked to Mom and Dad?"

Heather shook her head. "I haven't been home to Henford in a while and I don't want to tell them this news over the phone."

Less than an hour after Holly left to return to San Myshuno, Heather's mother called. "Holly tells me we need to have you over for dinner tonight."

Heather rolled her eyes and laughed. "Of course she did. What are you cooking?"

When Heather arrived in Henford, she was shocked to see her mother with leafy hair and green skin. A tree with a thick trunk and feathery lilac leaves stood in the yard next to their cowplant skeleton, and Neal glanced at his green-haired wife with a loving shake of his head. "You actually did it!" Heather cried. Daisy had grown a portal to an enchanted forest with magic beans, plucked a forbidden fruit, and eaten it whole. "Does it feel weird only needing the sun to refill your hunger?"

"It's the strangest sensation I've ever experienced - even stranger than the wobbled gravity field past Sixam when I went to space. The researcher in me can't wait to write all about it, but I miss your Dad's veggie burgers already."

"How long until the effects of the fruit wear off?"

"A few months. Sometimes half a year. I'll be back to my old self by River and Cassandra's wedding."

"And by the time you'll be a grandmother, hopefully."

Her mother's temporarily green eyes bulged. "You're pregnant?" she said, unsure whether to be elated or concerned. "Is Malcolm the father?"

Heather nodded. "He is. But I've decided to raise the baby alone."

"Are you sure? Maybe I should move in with you to help out," mused Daisy.

"My house is too small for you, me, the cats, and a baby!"

"It's just that your father and I always had each other when you kids were small. We never wanted you to struggle."

"I'll be fine, Mom. I'm like you: When I set my mind to something, I'll see it through," Heather said. "I've thought hard about this since I found out. I know it won't be easy. But I'm ready to do this. I'm ready to be a mom and run my clinic, and I know you'll all be a phone call away if I'm ever in over my head."

With her assurance, her family offered warm congratulations to Heather's life-changing news.

In San Myshuno, Malcolm fretted over what to do for months. He knew his mother expected grandchildren and he wanted children someday, but he was only 25. He didn’t want one right now, and he’d broken things off with Heather, in part, because they’d come from such different worlds and had such different ideas about family. But even after Everett returned to Oasis Springs, Malcolm didn’t hear from Heather, so he took advantage of her silence to put off dealing with his major problem until Heather was only a trimester away from delivery.

But then his mother returned from work one evening and called her son into the kitchen. "I heard quite the piece of gossip at work today. Apparently the owner of Brindleton Pawspital will need family leave soon. How long have you known?"

Malcolm's stomach twisted, and Nancy could tell from his dropped shoulders he'd been lying to her.

"I know that girl is carrying my grandchild and I'll prove it with every resource at my disposal if need be. Is her cat-infested home even safe for a child?"

"Mom, let me deal with it."

"Are you actually going to deal with it, Malcolm? Because if you want to keep sitting on your hands-"

"I said I'll deal with it."

Malcolm still had no idea what he was going to do, but now he had to think fast. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[skellavelva]

How did the skeleton know the other skeleton was lying? He could see right through him.

Sincerely, It.

[sparkypantaloons]

Jason breaks his leg

“What did you do?” An old lady hugging an oxygen tank asks.

“Felloffmybicycle.” Jason mumbles.

“Eh?” The lady replies loudly. “Speak up kid, I’m deaf.”

Jason sighs. “I fell off my bicycle.” He says, much louder this time. 

“Well that was stupid.” The old lady replies. As if Jason doesn’t know. 

It’s bad enough his leg is properly fucked. That the tibia snapped clean in half and busted out his shin for all the world to see, and that the fibula is broken in three different places. But to have not even done it as Red Hood? That’s the bit that really stings his pride. 

He hadn’t even been on his motorcycle. He’s been trying to reduce his carbon footprint recently, (unsurprisingly, vigilantism is hardly the cleanest industry in the world) so he’d been cycling. Just cycling around on a Tuesday afternoon for a bit of cardio. Took a corner too fast, stupidly put his foot out to stabilise and then, bam! - there is he lying in the street, with two thirteen year old girls simultaneously calling 911 and snapchatting his broken leg.

“Fam, your foot is pointing the wrong way,” One of them had shrilled, as Jason had blinked stupidly up at her.

“I don’t know how old he is,” the other one had told the operator panickedly. “Like old, he has white hair, maybe 30?”

And there Jason had been thinking he looked young for his age. It was this particular blow to his ego that had him coming round, grimacing through the pain as he told the kids he was fine.

“Your skeleton is outside of your body, I don’t think that’s fine!”

“Hn.” Jason had replied, rolling with the wave of nausea that came from trying to move his leg. Everything below the knee felt like jello. Very painful jello. “I’m calling an uber. Tell 911 not to come.”

The uber driver had been less than thrilled. “I am not an ambulance, my guy.”

“I will give you $1,000 in cash right now if you take me to the clinic on Old Park Row.” Jason had told him, skin clammy and face gray as he’d tried to drag himself into the back of the Toyota Prius.

In the end it had cost him two thousand dollars. But only because he had vomited all over the back of seat and felt bad.

Leslie hadn’t made him feel any better. 

“What is wrong with you? You need a hospital!” She had snapped, eyeing his blood soaked jeans and the jagged bone poking through them. “You could lose your leg if you don’t get seen to immediately.”

“I just need you to do me a cast.” Jason had replied, woozily. Was it just him, or was the world spinning? “It’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

“What you need is major surgery and three months at home.”

Jason’s protests had been no good. Leslie had called 911 and sent him on his way to Gotham General. But not before sedating him so she could re-set the bone. He’d come round in the hospital emergency room, drooling slightly and talking gibberish about carrots.

“Allergic to carrots.” The staff nurse had said slowly, a fixed smile on her face. “I’ll make sure the doctor knows.”

He’d been taken into surgery just a few hours later and had woken up that evening with a titanium rod in his leg and a gaggle of medical students ogling his stitches. “How do you always get them so neat, Luisa?” A short, white man with a pointed face was saying. “He’s like 10% body fat, there’s hardly any skin to spare.”

Jason took umbridge with that. His latest training regime (yes, the one that included cycling as cardio) had taken him down to 7% body fat. 

[ellekhen]

Hand, Hearth, and Home

Chapter 42 - Lying in Wait

Chapter Summary: Halsin guides the adventurers into the Shadowlands via an ancient tunnel - only to find that they're not the only creatures hoping for an escape. When the adventurers finally make it into the Shadowlands, their troubles are far from over.

Pairing(s): Astarion x Male Tav (Main); Past OC x Male Tav Rating: Explicit Length: 199K+ words; Chapters 42/65

Excerpt below:

“Halsin,” Wyll calls, returning from further up the broken path. “We found something.”

He gingerly hands an old, moldering journal to the druid, who studies it closely. 

“Where did you find this?” he asks Wyll softly. 

They find themselves in the remains of a hasty little camp. Right at the center of it — curled close to the remains of a campfire — are the brittle remnants of a human skeleton and a splintered quarterstaff.

Church recognizes the Oak Father’s emblem — fallen into the dust between the skeleton’s ribs. 

“Did you know them?” he asks Halsin gently. 

The druid is quiet for a moment. 

“…she was from the grove,” he whispers, voice choked. “Terryna.” 

Halsin wipes at his face, breath shuddering. “I told her… I told her not to…”

He clears his throat before handing the disintegrating journal to the warlock before walking away. Church cracks it open, surprised to find that the ink is remarkably well-preserved. 

Made good progress through the mountains. Seeing the curse for the first time filled me with an awe and fear that was difficult to describe. No writing could have prepared me, nor any artist’s rendition. As grave as the Archdruid Halsin’s warnings were, they were still lacking compared to the reality. 

Church glances over to the druid, who crouches before the skeleton with his eyes closed and lips moving in prayer. 

I shall make camp soon, and press on in the morning… though in truth, such terms have little meaning in this place.

“We should get going,” Astarion says tersely. Nervously. 

A dreadful night. The campfire needed thrice the wood that would normally be needed in order to keep it burning. Terrible sounds came to my ears from beyond the firelight. Rest has not restored me. If anything, I feel weaker. But I must persevere. I must trust in Silvanus. I must venture deeper.

“Yes,” Halsin stands, pocketing something. “We must not linger here.”

Creatures, from the darkness. Foul things. One grazed me. Only my torch saved me.

The adventurers explore the other side of the fork, only to reach another dead end. 

Deep darkness. Flames are instantly doused. The wound stings. Flesh is turning black with corruption. The shadows are growing stronger. They are spreading. I need to return to light.

“…hells, haven’t we seen this tree before?” Wyll utters. 

“Fuck!” Karlach growls, smoldering as her straining heart visibly races beneath her skin. “I hate this place!”

The wood will not burn. I can barely see the page. I am surrounded.

It is her last entry.

Church closes the journal with a sigh before approaching Astarion. He can’t help but notice that the rogue’s gaze is distant even as it scans the foreboding woods.

“Oh!” the elf startles slightly just as the tiefling opens his mouth to speak. “Sorry, did you want something?” He forces his troubled expression into a smirk. “Or are you just looking for a distraction?”

“How are you doing?” Church asks him, glancing down at the elf’s clenched hand. 

How he wishes he could just reach out and hold it, staving off whatever trepidation Astarion is feeling now… 

“I… don’t quite like this,” Astarion admits, eyes troubled above his strained smile. “Make no mistake — it's far better than that godforsaken tomb of an aqueduct.” 

The elf’s face settles into a scowl. “But it feels like we’re being watched — hunted, even. But there’s nothing out there… only more darkness.”

He huffs a laugh. “I much prefer when I’m the one prowling in the shadows, about to strike.”

Come closer. 

Something tugs at Church’s senses, and he wheels around far too late.

“Karlach!” he shouts. “Stop—!”

The other tiefling freezes — her boot mid-nudge at a dead raven smoldering with necrotic energy.

“Oh,” she utters. “Shit.”

Yes. Yes—!

A storm of ravens swarm down upon the party in an instant — eager for blood.

Start from the beginning!

[deaths]

eeeeeeeeee uh i dont know i needed to get this out of me. thoughts on That Part in shadowlands that makes me want to rip my hair out and eat it. but also some lustarion.

the cursed shadow lands were taking its toll. after finding arabella, that sweet tiefling girl in the village who they had returned to her parents, only a week later to have her parents be dead a week later… it was too much for lumina. the first thing lumina felt in his life he did out of kindness without reward had turned to ruin without mercy. lumina had told arabella to follow him and his party back to camp that night, stating he didn’t see her parents yet, but hopefully they’ll find them through lying teeth.

lumina couldn’t bear to be around arabella, even as everyone else seemed to dote on her that night, aware of her parents passing. lumina went to the edge of camp, looking out at the surrounding quiet darkness. he felt a sinking in his stomach anytime he thought about that poor girl, her family, how he was hopeless in it all, idly playing with the matching set of wedding rings he had found on a long-gone pair of skeletons in the nearby graveyard.

he looked over at astarion, who was staring daggers at the back of his head. he never was one to mope, but here he was. “yeah, i know, mad i let her stay?” he puts up a dismissive hand and a weak defensive smile.

astarion crosses his arms, “why would you assume that? can’t i simply be worried about my helpful darling being all doom and gloom?” noticing the small frown taking over lumina’s face, he sighs, taking a seat on the ground next to him. “why didn’t you tell her the truth?” he says in a curious whisper.

lumina fidgets his hands in his pockets, feeling around the rings, reflexively tightening his jaw. “look at her, astarion. for gods sake.” his voice waivers, feeling the pressure sink into him. “i’m doing fucking everything i can right now, please, let her be blissfully unaware for a moment. i can’t do everything right.” he chokes out, his claws digging slightly into his own flesh.

astarion’s face becomes a nervous frown, “i would never- i would never ask you to do everything right. that’s not what i meant.” he instinctively moves closer, his hands inching to search for any physical way to release his lover’s pain. “i am worried about you, that is the main thing i’m worried about. you… you keep,” he rests his hand lumina’s hand. “hurting yourself. for others sake.”

he flashes a grimace before sinking it truly in, all this was getting to him, it was all too much to handle. what happened to selfish heartless lumina who left people dead on the streets? what happened to the backstabber that lied to make ends meet? why was seeing people dead and forgotten affecting him so badly? he can feel his throat tightening, as if he is going to cry, but only a pained groan comes out of his mouth. astarion looks at him in surprise, but there is undoubtedly empathy in those eyes.

“it’s… fine if you need to cry, dear.” it feels uncomfortable to say something he wouldn’t like hearing anyone say to him, but that’s all astarion knows how to say now. the out of place-ness of it makes lumina give a half smile. “that’s much better, more,” astarion gives a vague hand gesture with a disarming smile. “you.”

lumina rests his face on his hands, he could almost laugh from the strangeness and overwhelming emotional change. “fuck, that was stupid.” he peaks over at astarion with a uneasy smile. “it’s getting to me, being in this gloomy darkness.” he digs through his pockets, fishing out the wedding rings he found, roughly placing them in astarion’s palms. “throw these off a cliff or something.”

he eyes them, a small grin forming on his face. “hm, that idea seems more stupid than anything you said before.” he notices the magical aura around the rings. “i wasn’t planning on doing this so quickly, but you leave me no choice. give me your hand. i will not take no for an answer.” he says playfully. lumina’s eyes grow wide as he freezes up, “that’s,” he looks at him surprised, but puts his hand out on instinct.

astarion puts a ring around his pointer finger, “this isn’t, that, but, well.” lumina feels the magical connection between the rings as astarion puts his on.

lumina laughs loudly, and wholeheartedly, “oh my gods. i was so worked up in my own shit i didn’t even,” he fidgets with the ring. “warding spell? through the rings? pretty smart.”

“i want to protect you, like you protect me.” astarion clears his throat, feeling embarrassed he admitted that outright with no layered witty. “stop- feeling bad for yourself, the others miss you.” he quickly gets to his feet towards the camp, lumina following after with a grin.

[canvas-madness-txc]

CAUTION: Love Ahead

{Fellswap Gold Papyrus X Reader}

"People fall in love without a reason, without even wanting to. You can't predict it. That's love."

That is what the man behind the door had told him. Papyrus thought about those words. The more he thought, the more he despised what his SOUL made him feel. It's not like he was incapable of love. No, quite the opposite actually.

It was the Underground that was incapable of love. It was "Oppress or be oppressed" down here. Pacifist is Genocide. MERCY is FIGHT.

Love is Hate

He could not love. How could he in a place that will jail those who voice different opinions? Whatever becomes of those defiant people is never good. As much as he would like to confess, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

So he had locked himself in his room; supplied with only coffee, cream cans, black bread, angst superhero comics, his notepad and pencils.

Meanwhile, you sat in the kitchen as Sans was cooking Farfalle. You sat with your own thoughts. Thoughts of what will become of Temmie and yourself when you leave SNOWDIN. Thoughts of Asgore, who still waited in the RUINS, after losing you, as he lost every human he has encountered. Thoughts of the skeleton brothers. Sans had granted you mercy privately after nearly killing you and locking you in a shed. He had only done so because of your consistent pacifism and since Papyrus had grown fond of you. It took a long time, including Sans giving you a side- eye. He extremely was protective of his brother. You snapped back out of your thoughts when Sans had placed food in front of you. You began picking at it, as your thoughts wouldn't leave you alone. Specifically, those about Papyrus. Although, he never spoke, he did communicate with others through writing on a notepad. Still the silence worried you.

"Papyrus had been in his room for a long time," you said, trying to make it seem normal. You looked up and noticed Sans cross his arms in thought.

"yes. i know and it's making me worried." You both stayed silent for a few minutes.

"You otay," Temmie asked.

"Yeah I'm fine."

"Tem does not belive hooman." You turned to your companion. Smiling slowly, you reassured them that you were fine. Sans left to do something else and you took a few bites of your food. It wasn't enough to block out your own worry. Eventually, you decided to see for yourself if Papyrus was okay. Climbing the stairs, you felt strange feelings in your SOUL. Trying to brush it off, you knocked on the door.

"Hey Papyrus. You okay in there," you asked. Sitting by the door, you heard the faint sound of pencil scratches. A note slipped through the door.

YEAH

"You haven't come out in a while. Is something bothering you?"

NO

You both sat in silence for a while. Then, another note slipped through the door.

DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT LOVE?

You turned your head to the door. A strange question. A very strange question. Still, you told him what you knew.

You were met with silence.

"Why do you ask?" He slid another note.

JUST CURIOUS

"Okay," you replied. Silence again. A faint voice spoke in your head.

*You feel as if he is lying.

You lowered your eyes to the floor. They were right. That is what you felt. The voice pushed you to ask him. You couldn't. As worried as you were, something stopped you.

He probably wants to be left alone, you thought. Slowly, you get up and began to step away from Papyrus's room. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him slip another note. Bending down, you picked up the note.

HUMAN, I HAVE BEGUN TO FEEL STRANGE THINGS AROUND YOU.I THINK I LOVE LIKE YOU.

Your face got warm.

"You like me?" He slipped another note.

THE TRUTH IS THAT I'VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU. I JUST DIDNT REALIZE IT UNTIL NOW.

You stared at the door, processing the notes in your hand. The door began to open and Papyrus was standing in the doorway.

His notepad was open to a page that he faced towards you. On that page he had a quick sketch.

*It's you!

There was a note next to the sketch.

DATE?

Everything began falling into place. The feelings in your SOUL. There were not merely concern, worry or even LV.

It was love.

You agreed. Papyrus was taken by surprise and ran off to prepare. You wondered what surprises that could entail. Still, it would be a pleasant surprise.

Including the possibility of love.

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Ultimate Treasure Hunter

I’m back from holidays

and Skies and the Vault Hunters win the Handsome Jackpot.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

The Handsome Jackpot Part 10

Skies and the Vault Hunters enter the penthouse office of Jack’s Tower, weapons ready. Across the room is a console in front of a large window looking out at the pair of black holes beside the space station. Slumped over on the floor in front of the console is Timothy.

“Tim!” Skies exclaims.

He looks up at them, panting heavily as he covers most of his face with his hand. Blood dribbles out from around his fingers. He waves weakly with his other hand. “Oh, h-hey, guys.”

Pretty Boy stands between them, chuckling nefariously. “Jackpot.”

Something drops down from the ceiling behind him- a giant mech robot, silver and gold, that looks exactly like Handsome Jack. It picks up Pretty Boy and sticks him inside a pilot slot in its chest.

“Whoa, that’s so cool!” Skies exclaims excitedly. “Ah, man, I wish I could steal that. But given the circumstances, I gotta let the Vault Hunters destroy it. Too bad.”

The Vault Hunters begin firing at the mech as Skies races across the room. It tries to grab her, but she rolls out of the way of its large hand and continues running until she reaches Tim. She kneels in front of him and tips his chin up so he looks at her. He smiles weakly, still covering his face.

“Oh, Tim, you beautiful idiot,” she sighs, “what did you do?”

“It was only way I could stop Pretty Boy,” he insists.

“Let me see.” Skies carefully lowers his hand to see his face. Slicing diagonally across his face, from above his right eye, over the bridge of his nose, to the middle of his left cheek is a dark red burn.

“Well?” Timothy questions, “do I look as good as Jack?”

Skies chuckles weakly. “Jack wished he looked this good.”

Timothy smiles.

“I don’t have any insta-healths,” Skies mutters as she grabs a rag from her coat and gently dabs away at the blood. “But maybe Tannis will be able to fix this.”

“Are you sure she won’t just try to experiment on me?” Timothy asks.

“Well, she might.”

“Incoming!”

Skies turns at Moze’s shout to see the Jack bot shooting tiny loader bots towards her. She quickly turns back to Timothy, handing him the rag, and lifting his hand so he holds it to his wound. “Hold that there, I’ll be right back.” Skies spins as she extends her elbow blade and slices through two loader bots closing in on her. Then with an angry cry, she leaps at the incoming group and tears through them. When they’ve all been demolished, she takes a quick look at the Vault Hunters and sees they’re handling the Jack bot well enough, before heading back to Timothy.

“Okay. How are we feeling?” she asks.

“Woozy,” he replies, “and a little nauseous.”

“Lean your head back,” she instructs, resting the back of his head against the console. “And just focus on breathing. And let me know if you’re gonna throw up.”

Timothy closes his eyes, taking deep breaths as Skies cleans up his wound as much as she can. After a couple minutes, there’s a loud clatter of metal and the Vault Hunters call her. She looks back to see the Jack bot has collapsed to its knees, rendered down to its metal skeleton, and Pretty Boy has fallen out of it, lying on the floor in a dazed state.

“I’ll be right back,” she tells Timothy and turns away. She draws her pistol as she approaches and stands over Pretty Boy, who glares up at her blearily.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” she grunts, aiming her gun. “Say something funny.”

He opens his mouth but before he can utter anything, Skies fires a bullet between his eyes.

She sighs with relief and smiles at the Vault Hunters, but before they have a chance to congratulate each other, the room starts shaking and distant whirring can be heard.

“Wh-what’s happening?” Timothy asks wearily.

An automated voice plays over the intercom. “Emergency. ‘Screw Everyone I’m Rich’ Protocol engaged. Firing thrusters.”

“Thrusters?” Skies questions.

“Skies!” Moxxi exclaims from her ECHO communicator. “The casino just started moving. I can see it from Sanctuary!”

Skies and the Vault Hunters hurry over to the window as Timothy struggles to get onto his knees, and they all look out as the black holes start getting closer.

“We’ve just been sent into the black hole’s gravity well!” Timothy cries, “we’re all gonna be spaghetti in a second!”

The Vault Hunters curse angrily as Skies quickly types on the console. “Come on, override override.”

The computer beeps at her. “Error. Authorized DNA code required to disengage thrusters.”

“Oh crap, crap, crap,” Timothy snaps. “With my face like this now, I can’t shut it down. Shart-knuckles, this is a real Jack-22!”

“Approaching event horizon,” the intercom announces.

“Okay, okay,” Skies says quickly and takes a deep breath. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna be fine. You still got Jack’s DNA and I got a replacement face.”

She reaches into her coat and pulls out Jack’s mask. “Alright, come here, Tim. Can you stand?”

“Oooh, I don’t think so,” he replies woozily.

“No problem, just lean on me.” Skies helps Timothy to his feet and holds the mask to his face as close as she can without touching his wound. “Now all you have to do is override the controls.”

Timothy leans against Skies as he types on the console, his vision blurring around him. But he manages to press the correct buttons.

“Authorized DNA confirmed”, the automated voice announces, “‘Screw Everyone I’m Rich’ Protocol aborted.”

“Yes, you did it, Tim!” Skies cheers as the space station stops moving. Behind her, the Vault Hunters heave a sigh of relief.

“Oh, yeah, that’s great,” Timothy mumbles, slumping against her. “I-I think I’m gonna...pass out...”

“Okay, okay, easy,” Skies says quickly as she sets him on the floor. “Stay with me, Timmy, come on.”

“Don’t worry, Tim,” Moxxi says through their ECHO communicators. “Moxxi’s coming.”

Skies kneels beside Timothy as he struggles to stay conscious. Somewhere in the office, a fast travel station activates and Moxxi appears. She saunters up to the pair and stands beside them. “Heya, handsome.”

“M-Moxxi,” Timothy croaks.

“Easy, big guy,” she purrs and kneels beside him, producing an insta-health. “Here, this will help.” She injects Timothy in neck and the severity of the burn fades away just a bit. He sighs with relief, his tension easing up.

“That’s already better,” he comments.

“I got a few more, I’ll fix you up,” Moxxi says. “You know, Tim. We couldn’t have done this without you. Any of it. Getting into the casino, taking control of it. Even when it all went to shit, you sacrificed yourself to make sure Pretty Boy wouldn’t win. You’re a hero.”

“Nah, I’m-I’m not, really,” Timothy mutters.

“I am grateful for your help, truly,” she adds, gently resting her hand against his arm. “What can I do to pay you back? Anything?”

“Anything?” he questions. “Ah, well, I mean...maybe you could...let me treat you to dinner? I mean, if-if you want.”

Moxxi smiles. “It’s a date.”

“Wha-really?” he questions in disbelief. “I-I mean, great! Yeah, sounds-sounds good.”

Skies glances between the two of them as they smile at each other. Then she smirks and stands up. “Take care of him, Mox. I got some treasure to loot.”

She walks away and motions to the Vault Hunters on the other side of the room. “Come on, kiddos. You deserve this too.”

They hurry to her side as she approaches a large door and pushes a button. “Come on, big money big money.”

The door slowly slides open, revealing a large room filled to the brim with treasure- mounds of gold coins, statues, and chests. Skies smiles and nods with satisfaction as the Vault Hunters cheer excitedly.

“Help yourselves to whatever you like, kids. You’ve earned it,” she says as she slides down the gold coins into the middle of the room. “I’m just gonna chill here for a bit.”

She lies down on the gold, resting her head against a Jack statue and sighs happily.

---

Moze, Zane, Amara, and FL4K excitedly go through the chests, deciding how to split up the loot. Skies is napping on the other side of the room, dreaming of gold and jewels not unlike the ones she’s surrounded by. She wakes up when she senses someone approach and looks up to see Timothy stumbling towards her.

“Hey, handsome,” she grins. “You’re looking better.”

He looks a lot less pale and the burn has reduced to a light scar across his face. He chuckles as he sits beside her. “Yeah, Moxxi fixed me up. She said she might be able to make the mark go away entirely, but I don’t know. I might keep it.”

“Yeah?” Skies questions, sitting up next to him.

“You know, it’s funny,” he says, “the reason I ran away from Jack was because I didn’t want him branding my face with his scar. Now I got my own because I had to ruin the face he gave me. Is that ironic?”

“It’s just sad mostly.”

“Yeah,” Timothy sighs. “Anyway, Moxxi took control of the whole casino and erased everybody’s debt. Ember burned a bunch of Jack statues; The Mayor and Trashlantis are free, and so everyone else here for that matter. It’s officially Moxxxi’s Jackpot.”

“Ah, well, job well done then,” Skies says and stretches. “Now all I have to do is figure out how I’m gonna get all of this gold to my bank. I think I’m gonna have to do multiple trips.”

“And I have to get ready for my date with Moxxi,” Timothy adds and stands up. “How do I look?”

Skies grins. “Like you even have to ask me that question.”

Timothy smiles back and heads out, while the Vault Hunters go over their loot, and Skies calculates how many money bags she’s gonna need.

[soniccrazygal]

Here I am back at it!

Michael took another bite of the mashed potatoes. It was a complete dinner and both them needed one. "So Michael how are you feeling?" The woman whose name was belle, Stared at him from the other side of the small table. It looked like she was worried at any minute he'd get up kill her or something. Foster parents the good ones would always give him that slightly terrified look that Bella currently had in her eyes. Demon child, Monster, Good for nothing and every single name for refuses the sun.. "I'm fin-..." "Excuse me can I have some More food please!" Elizabeth said over him he smiled she always knew when to pull the attention on to her, He did the same when she need eyes off her. Michael was lying he wasn't fine, Every part of him felt terrible. The purple spots were growing and the rest of him had turned yellow..He could also feel every part of him shutting down slowly he ate faster at that thought.. He didn't know much longer he could enjoy food. He heard the plop of mashed potatoes and whatever else was in this weird British food on his plate. "you needed some more! I don't need you to turn into a skeleton how will you be able to carry my stuff!" Elizabeth said with a giggle she had evidently gotten more seconds for him along with hers. "Messed up the supernatural monster Liz! I'm the Evil Dead not skeleton dance-" I pulled Elizabeth in for a hug ruffing up the top of her head. For a second to Mike forgot about everything it was just Elizabeth in him laughing together.

"Excuse me? Michael and Elizabeth right I know that you don't want to talk about whatever you're running from... I just wants you to know that my house is a safe place.. Especially while your dying" Elizabeth clung to him closer.. He hadn't told her about Evan and Cassidy and the dream yet... He wanted to get somewhere more private, according to Elizabeth she had left Charlie into the house so she was probably slithering around the corner listening to them.. Suddenly the house phone rang. "You too sit tight I'll get that!" Michael watched as Belle got up and walked to the other room. A part of him wanted to listen in but he had more important things to do comfort Liz..

Belle picked up the phone.. "Hello my darling I hope everything's going well there?" A chill ran down her spine.. "I have both of them and I'm pretty sure that gross tentacle leave sock Puppet is here too." Bella wrapped the cord around her finger.. She got directly to the point. "If you do this you give my son back? And you'll call off those things.." "Of course I'm a man word your son will be returned to you in a "normal" body!" A pause "I do thank you for letting your town and your son be a little testing ground for my experiments.." "Alright I'll send them to the States as soon as I can..."She was sending one innocent child to her death.. A part of her wanted to hang up the phone, tell the girl to run. She wouldn't mind sending the boy, he wasn't human anymore after all there. wasn't much left to ruin. She hesitated on the Choice... She stared into the other room wondering if she should do it..

A sort of cliff hanger oh no!! (BTW Williams Business partners have been using this town and a couple others to do sneaky remnant stuff for a while-) Anyway I really hope you like this one interested to see where you take it and of course have a great day signed that random Tumblr user!

What Belle didn't see was a thin black and white striped limb slithering away through the vent. Having heard everything, Charlie was heading directly for the Afton siblings.

[imbonewary]

Shifting Sans Chapter 3 "Questions"

~

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

~

Now it was their turn to be confused.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Papyrus was almost defensive now, not even bothering to hide his suspicion.

"I don't know," I admitted. "Everything is so weird right now! You're weird, the house is weird, the food is weird-" the floodgates had opened and I couldn't stop it. "My brother loves cooking spaghetti but he was never very good at it like you are, but he'd still hype himself up like you just did, and the house is the same except there's a bathroom here now, and Alphys is still Alphys but she's younger and doesn't have glasses, and neither of you know who I am when I've known you for years, and everything is the same but it's tweaked out of place just enough that I'm just really, really confused-"

My spiral was cut off by a knock at the door. Papyrus got up wordlessly to open it. 

"Hello," he greeted. "You're just in time, come in."

Magic concentrated around him as he shifted his boot towards the door. I couldn't see what he was doing but it probably had something to do with the wheelchair that entered the house as he moved away from the entry. 

"Thank you, darling," said the monster in the wheelchair, who looked suspiciously like Mettaton, in a magenta tank top and black pants. "Stairs are always a bit difficult to navigate."

Pushing the wheelchair was a goat-like monster, in a lavender apron and purple dress, that looked about as tall as me. She seemed oddly familiar, though...

"These are Mettané and Doc Toriel," Papyrus introduced, as first the Mettaton look-alike waved, then "Toriel" bowed slightly with a pleasant smile. That was Toriel? And she was a doctor?! The others I could understand as still being themselves but now I'm even more confused... "And I don't believe we ever caught your name before."

Mettaton Mettané wheeled himself next to the chair Papyrus had vacated, which Toriel now claimed as Papyrus went to stand by the stairs, leaning against the banister. 

"I-I..." I swallowed, trying to calm my racing soul. "I'm Sans, Sans the Skeleton. And I'm even more confused than I was a few minutes ago..."

"Sans?" Papyrus startled and everyone else seemed to have varying degrees of surprise at this revelation too. "I thought you looked similar but..."

"M-Maybe Sans is j-just a really c-common name?" Alphys suggested with a shrug. 

"We're jumping to conclusions," Toriel cut in, holding up a hand. "Sans, I'm relieved you look well; Papyrus said you were nearly frozen to death when they found you and called us over shortly after you woke up. What do you remember before waking up here?"

"Uh..." That's a surprisingly difficult question to answer. Do I tell them about the resets? Nothing good ever came of it before. And what if they don't believe me? Or turn on me? I'm not even sure I remember what was going on before the resets started...

"Sans," Toriel caught my attention again. "I understand that this is hard for you, but please believe me, we are here to help you. Whatever you have gone through to get here, we will be understanding and patient, I promise, and nothing will leave this room without your consent. However, we can only help you as much as you let us, and that begins with telling us the truth."

I felt warmth and care radiating from her, saw the sincerity in her eyes. She genuinely believed her own words.

The truth, huh.

I never did like the truth. Secrets and lies have always kept me safe. And lying was always so much easier than facing reality. But I can't come up with a convincing lie if I don't know what they expect. Toriel looks so different from the Boss Monster I knew from the Ruins, the same goes for all of the others, and it sounded like they already know someone named "Sans" who isn't me but I guess looks similar? Just like how all of these people are similar to people I know but aren't quite "them"... There's an implication there but I don't think I'm ready to say for sure. 

I need more information. 

"Ok," I finally relented. God, I hope I don't regret this. "But I expect the same from you in return."

"Of course, Sans," Toriel replied with a relieved smile. "We can take turns asking and answering questions; you can start if you'd like."

"I guess we should start with a baseline," I said with a nod. "We're in the Underground, right?"

"Yes." Toriel replied.

"And we're in Snowdin right now." I stated, forgoing the back and forth since I was technically giving them information too; letting them know how much I knew.

"We are," She nodded, apparently accepting the compromise.

"And there's Waterfall, Hotland, New Home, and the Ruins, right?"

"You forgot Greenyard," Papyrus responded. "And The Deep."

"Plus, n-nobody calls it "N-New Home" really, it's j-just the Capitol," Alphys interjected. 

"Huh," I nodded, brow thoroughly furrowed. So there's more to the Underground now? When did that happen?

"If I may, where are you from, Sans?" Toriel asked. She seemed to like using my name a lot. Probably trying to be affirming or something. 

"Uh..." I hesitated, glancing at Papyrus. "Snowdin," I finally answered. "I live in Snowdin but I grew up in New Home. Or, the Capitol, I guess."

I felt a general influx of surprise from everyone at that but I decided to ignore it.

"Who's Sans?" I asked. "The one you know."

"Sans is a skeleton who lives in the Ruins," Papyrus responded, not looking at me. "He was an advisor to King Asriel, but quit politics when Asriel died."

"King Asriel?" Did he somehow live past absorbing the human's soul?

"Ah ah ah, our turn~" Metta sang, wagging his finger. "What was your childhood like in the Capitol?"

"Good enough," I replied and I could feel myself retreating slightly. They all looked at me expectantly and I sighed. "I had a mom and dad and a younger brother. We were all pretty happy."

"Until?" Metta coaxed and my eyes narrowed. 

"My turn~," I sang back at him. "Who's leading the Underground?"

"Queen Undyne, what-" Metta was cut off by Toriel's hand on his knee. 

"Undyne took over after Asriel's death, leading monster kind along with the Council of Elders," she continued instead. "You said you live in Snowdin, Sans, is your home nearby?"

"Closer than you might think..." I trailed off awkwardly. How do I tell them I'm supposed to live in this house? "Papyrus, are you related to the other Sans at all?"

He gave me an odd, searching look. "No, there is no relation. Are you related to Sans?"

"Not as far as I'm aware," I replied with a shrug. Though I'm starting to have my suspicions... "You said Alphys was your sister, how'd that happen?"

Papyrus bristled before standing ramrod straight, trying to hide his discomfort. "Adopted siblings," he said tersely. "We grew up together. You said you were happy with your family, what happened?"

I stiffened. He didn't like being questioned any more than I did, huh? So, do I tell the easy lie or delve into the truth?

"There was an accident..." I trailed off, compromising by omission. They waited but I refused to go into it further, not yet. Not unless I have to. 

"I'm sorry to hear that, Sans," Toriel finally responded.

"Who leads the Royal Guard?"

"Captain Asgore," Papyrus answered, as Toriel had suddenly become a blushing mess. Awe, too sweet; the scientist and the captain. A lot of implications there, though. "He's usually stuck in the Capitol so Doggo leads in Snowdin, brothers Heats and Smokey Flamesman co-lead in Hotland, Amelia leads in Greenyard, and Nyad leads in Waterfall. Technically no one is in charge of the Ruins or the Deep, but Sans has taken both areas under his wing... uh, so to speak." 

He looked away, blushing slightly.

"Heh, nice one."

"A-anyways," Toriel was regaining her composure by clearing her throat. "Um, what kind of marketable skills do you have, Sans?"

"I'm a sentry but I sell hotdogs and hot cats from my posts," I replied. I felt a cold spike of suspicion from Papyrus that made me stiffen again.  

"I make a point to know all of the Sentries and Guards in the Underground," he said darkly. Sweat began to bead on my skull. "And I don't remember seeing you anywhere. Not to mention their aren't many skeleton monsters left."

He let the implication hang in the air and I couldn't help but bristle. 

"I said I'd tell the truth, didn't I?" I snapped. "I may not answer but I'm not going to tell any lies here."

"Then how do you explain-"

"I don't know, ok?!" I cried, suddenly on my feet, wings flared behind me. "So much of what you guys say is inconsistent with what I know but I'm not over here accusing you of lying now am I?!"

"P-Pap, please, th-that's n-not helping!" Alphys stuttered.

"Then please, enlighten us," Papyrus continued, ignoring Alphys. "What do you know?"

"I know that where I'm from you're not this much of a jerk!"

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

"It means that there's some kind of parallel dimension, alternate universe, divergent timeline shenanigans going on!"

[thewatercolours]

King's Quest Ficlet: "And More"

Follow up to "More."

“Tell me more,” Graham says. “If you know more. About Dad’s… life.”

Years ago Madeline broke herself of making her hands into nervous fists by doing the opposite – splaying her fingers out as far as she can. Ginger figured out what it meant last year, and now she must hide it if he doesn’t want to annoy or concern her siblings. There is plenty of room in her huge pockets to spread her fingers discreetly. But following the track of Graham’s eyes, she wonders if he’s on to her. She smiles her brother’s favourite smile. “I don’t know if there are any more of his stories mom hasn’t told you.”

“Maddie,” he saws, pulling himself up to sit on the counter. “We don’t lie.”

She sighs, and takes up the dish towel again, leaning over the sudsy basin on the cool part of the stove. “Who’s lying? I don’t know. Mom could have told you everything, for all I know.”

He’s not even eight. He should have had a few more years of dad living in his head as a folklore hero. What has he already overheard from those hateful people in town? Why do stupid people have to talk in range of a little boy’s hearing? How much larger had the rumours around her father’s “treachery” grown as the years went by?

“What makes you ask today?” she asks at last, scrubbing the pot lid with a sudden ferocity as though she meant to rub right through it and out the other side.

“Did he really do all those things?”

She won’t, won’t grit her teeth. He’ll think she’s frustrated with him, not the busybodies. “Which things?”

“Just… all the stuff.” Graham covers his mouth while he talks, the way people unconsciously do when they’re fibbing or taking a risk or confessing an old guilt, as though they can’t bear for the words to come out and would like to shove them back in. “Like beating the skin-walker. And the skeletons. Or bringing back the white crystal. And saving you from being carried off by the fairies as a baby. That stuff.”

She drops the dish cloth in surprise, and rounds on him. “Yes, of course he did all that! He was a great knight. It was his calling!”

This... wasn’t the angle she was expecting.

Graham hasn’t looked up. His gaze is still fixed on the cold-warped kitchen floor.

“Did someone tell you he didn’t?” she says quietly.

He still doesn’t look up.

She doesn’t even dry her hands. She throws her arms around her little brother. As her cheek squishes against his, she feels a dampness. Her heart sinks.

“You can cry,” she says. “It’s fine to cry. But maybe when you’re ready you can tell me why you’re crying.”

“I’m not crying.” He wipes a sleeve across his face. “Hugh says my dad can’t be a knight. He says a knight’s kids wouldn’t live here. So we’re not really a knight’s kids.”

The particular phrasing is unfortunate. Something rises in Madeline that she wasn’t expecting to rise today. Something she’ll have to untangle soon, so it doesn’t keep rising at inconvenient moments. But her problems are not the moments problems. She’s sixteen, and her part is to understand.

She takes hold of his shoulders, and smiles at him. “Graham, I remember when you were born. The maids couldn’t get me out of the house, because I wanted to stay so badly. The minute the midwife said you were born, I ran right into the bedroom where Mom had you. I was so excited I got a brother. I wanted to see if you were purple – some girls I knew had told me some babies are a bit purple when they’re little. But I couldn’t see you very well, because Dad was holding you because Mom needed to rest a little. He couldn’t stop kissing you and talking to you. And when you got a little bigger, he would balance you on his hands, and his feet, and swing you around and around like a yo-yo, and later he would throw you up high and let you land on a mattress or a big pile of pillows. When he would come back from quests and missions he sometimes didn’t want to let you go. If he were still alive, yeah, we probably wouldn’t be living in a place like this. But hat doesn’t change the fact that he’s our dad. Lots of kids lose their dads, and it’s hard, right? But he doesn’t stop being our dad.”

He looks up at her. “What else did he do when I was a baby?”

She grins. “You two had many renowned adventures.”

“Tell me more.”

[dadjokestop]

Ready to rattle some bones with laughter? If you’re on the hunt for some skeleton jokes that’ll tickle your funny bone, you’re in the right place. These jokes are perfect for when you’re looking to bring some spooky fun to the table, whether it’s Halloween or just a regular day in need of a good laugh. Let’s dig into 20 skeleton jokes that are sure to crack you up! 1. Why don’t skeletons fight each other? They don’t have the guts! 2. What do you call a skeleton who won’t work? Lazy bones! 3. Why did the skeleton go to the party alone? He had no body to go with him! 4. How did the skeleton know it was going to rain? He could feel it in his bones! 5. Why don’t skeletons play music in church? Because they have no organs! 6. What’s a skeleton’s least favorite room in the house? The living room! 7. Why did the skeleton cross the road? To get to the body shop! 8. How do skeletons call their friends? On the telebone! 9. What do you call a skeleton who tells jokes? A funny bone! 10. Why don’t skeletons go trick-or-treating? Because they have no body to share the candy with! 11. What does a skeleton order at a restaurant? Spare ribs! 12. Why was the skeleton always so calm? Nothing ever got under his skin! 13. How do you make a skeleton laugh? Tickle his funny bone! 14. What did the skeleton say to the vampire? “You suck!” 15. Why didn’t the skeleton go to prom? He didn’t have the guts to ask anyone! 16. What’s a skeleton’s favorite instrument? The trom-bone! 17. Why do skeletons hate winter? The cold goes right through them! 18. What do you call a skeleton that won’t stop talking? A chatter-bone! 19. Why was the skeleton bad at lying? You could see right through him! 20. How do skeletons stay in shape? They join the “aerobones” class! There you have it—20 skeleton jokes that are bound to make you laugh your skull off. Whether you’re sharing these with friends or just keeping them in your back pocket for a rainy day, they’re the perfect way to add a little humor to your day. So, get ready to rattle some bones with these hilarious punchlines!

[abominationvault]

Session 10: Sat 9 Sep 2023

Some of us have levelled up! Some of us are doing our homework on the bus again… It’s getting dark. We are told the haunt will reset every night. We don’t want to rest here overnight. We could stay with Tangletop? Joto doesn’t want to, because he looks like a pervert. And Mick Hucknall. But he is closer, so… We crash at his place. And wake up with (level x CON mod) more hit points! Hartvig does a Heal before we sleep as well.

Rested and with spell slots back, and one less level of drained, it is late afternoon so we decide to head back into town. We set off, in no particular hurry, but it is starting to get dark as we approach the town. Out of the corner of our eyes, we notice a horrible, sickly pale light suddenly blazing out of the tower. It shines on the graveyard next to the town rather than the town itself… It looks like we haven’t stopped the haunting altogether.

Joto: “Are we the Ghostbusters now?”

We decide to go and see Wrin to see what we should do, and turn in our quest. We did our bit, after all. Whatever this is won't be our problem, surely. As we pass the stone circle outside of town, we see that everyone has come out of their houses and are staring in horror at the graveyard. There are guards standing outside it looking panicky. It looks like it might be our problem after all. We head in that direction.

Hartvig asks one of the guards what is happening. They don’t know, but they’ve sealed off the graveyard. Skabb wants to scale the wall and have a peek. Joto boosts her up to the top.

The soil is churning with corpses rising from their graves. They all rush to the south, and down a cliff? To a library I think?

What’s special about the library, Joto wants to know. Well, we went there for healing, it’s also a temple. (Oh, that library.) Not all of them have jumped, Skabb sees. The ones that have jumped are dashed to bits.

Joto: “Ah, problem over.”

He wants to know how big the undead are likely to get, but the guard he is questioning is distracted. Joto shakes him for an Intimidation check with help from Nadia’s new feat, Intimidating Glare. The guard shakes himself. Just regular size corpses!

Skabb wants to do a Disrupt Undead. What’s the range on that? 30 feet; there are no undead within range.

Are there points where we (our long range fighters) could stand on the wall, Nadia wants to know? Only on the gate posts, we gather.

Joto wants to sneak in and have a look through the gate first. He’ll have to get a key from the guard. He shakes him a bit more. “Dammit man, give me the key!” The man buckles under the pressure and unlocks the gate. Joto meows at it pathetically until someone actually opens it.

He sees a building but not much else; it’s dark. Hartvig joins him, as he has Darkvision and is okay at sneaking. He sees a skeleton walking around. “That ought to be lying down.”

The DM reconsiders the light situation; there is a ghastly beam shining right into the graveyard, so we should be able to see a bit better. He adjusts the light level accordingly.

There are regular skeletons, and some zombies… Hartvig sees 6 skeletons and 3 zombies.

Joto: “Sounds like a party.” He sees some coffins as well.

How many can fit on the gate posts? Luna quite likes the idea of being out of the range of attacks.

Skabb wants to sit on Nadia’s shoulders atop the gate post, and Luna shimmies up to the other one. The DM rolls secret stealth checks for us all, and Skabb is distracted by a daddy longlegs who has invited itself into hers and Joto’s house. Joto catches it, and removes it. We continue…

The guards say they will lock the doors behind us; Nadia and Luna want to know if they, you know, want to do their fucking jobs and help us maybe? Luna makes a Society check, but it’s too low; zombies are above his pay grade. Luna curtsies and scuttles away.

We do a surprise round, with Joto going first. Joto sneaks up and tumbles behind one, hoping to make it flat footed. He trips it, and stabs it. How de do dis! He does a Mortal Kombat sweep, draws his sword, and cuts it in half. He then makes a reflex save - huh? an 8. The skeleton explodes in his face. All the bones shatter, flying in all directions, and Joto takes 1d6 slashing damage. 1! Phew.

Skabb recalls information to see if she knows if it’s the light that’s making them explode; she doesn’t know. Sprocket does, though! At four days old, he’s MADE of knowledge. He tells us that some skellybums explode after we kill them, some collapse and reform, the bloody ones can heal themselves, and some can remove their skulls and fling them at us. Woof. He shrugs, unsure where this information has come from.

Skabb: “He’s like an olde worlde Alexa.”

Nadia screws on a silencer, and we roll initiative…

Can Joto tell by looking which ones explode, and which ones fling heads?

DM: “Nope!”

… Okay. He tumbles at another one, and does some stabbies. He misses, goes again, misses again.

Skabb blasts an Icy Ray against the flat footed one. She hits it squarely - but it reduces her 8 damage to 3. She whips a sling bullet at it - it goes through the head, but doesn’t explode. It does die though!

Luna is too far to shoot anything with her bow, so she is unsure what to do. She can sneak and move at half speed, if she wants to climb down from the gate post. She does so, but misses. She rerolls and kills it! How de do dis! It does explode but there is no-one in range. She uses her next action to shoot at another one, but ties herself into her bow with a natural one.

Nadia is over encumbered, so she drops her artisan’s tools on the other side of the wall, hops down from the gate with Skabb on her shoulders and moves closer, next to the mausoleum behind which Luna and Hartvig are sheltering. They crouch down.

Sprocket does some measuring, and he and Augustus move forward. He casts Shield on himself. Oooo!

Hartvig Produces a Flame, with appropriate sound effects. 12 misses. “Ohhhh.” That was all his actions.

Joto spots some more wet undead in the distance. It’s their turn… One shambles at Joto; he admires how juicy it is. It punches him. “Ow!” 7 bludgeoning damage. “… That was a good punch.”

The zombies and skeletons all shuffle closer, but still a little way away yet. Joto starts his turn within the zombie’s Rotting Aura; his open wound starts to fester.

He begins his turn… Scimitar strike - 21 hits. It takes 2 of the 7 damage he deals.

The DM: “… Well that doesn’t trigger that, so that’s good.”

Joto: “Oh, good.”

(There is something about pustules; I missed it and I’m not sad about it.)

Is it two actions to take out a torch and light it? It’s one, as he’s wearing it. He uses his last action to try to set fire to the zombie in front of him. 6 misses. Wait - scimitar does slashing damage, yes? The zombie doesn’t reduce the damage from Joto’s first attack, as it turns out. In fact, it takes ten! Joto is allowed to retcon his last two actions in light of this new information.

“Slashies, slashies!” 12 hits. “Slashies!” 3 damage, and it takes all 8. It is not dead, though. 14 to hit. “How about now?” How de do dis! “Legs, then, arms, then head.”

Skabb, is up. She can add 2 to her AC as well as she’s pressed against the wall with Nadia. She whips her slingshot around her head again. Is she going for wet or dry undead? She wants to do wet, because hopefully it’s still far enough away that it might not disease anyone if it dies. She does dry instead, as Hartvig has softened that one up. How de do dis!

She takes aim at the wet one as well, but misses. She can attack again or move - she scuttles up onto the crypt and sits on the roof, swinging her feet over the edge.

Luna shoots at a wet undead but misses. She moseys up next to Augustus, and performs her new trick - Electric Arc!

Her target crit-fails, yeah! It takes all 8 of her 4 damage, and she earns herself a Hero Point. In fact, her target is close enough to another one that the spell arcs - that one takes half damage as well.

Nadia jumps out from behind her wall and shoots a wet undead, bursting some of its pustules. She is sick in her mouth a bit and retreats back behind her wall.

Sprocket directs Augustus to pull out another new trick - he manga-style electric arcs another wet one. It fails, taking 5 damage, and Augustus can choose which target the spell arcs to - wet or dry? The wet one is closer. It fails as well and takes another 5. Electricity crackles off Augustus’ nail hands, and Sprocket gives him a thumbs up. He toddles away a bit for some cover.

Hartvig has two targets to choose from, and shoots the further one with fire. 13 hits! It takes all 3 fire, but no more. He moves back a bit so the nearer one can’t reach him on its turn.

Zombies are slow, on account of being zombies. One scoots up to Nadia, but it’s run out of actions by the time it gets there. Another shambles up to Sprocket and has a go at him. 13 hits, as it bites him. Some of its teeth and gums fall out. A third shuffles over to Augustus and does this to Sprocket:

22 hits.

“It… woah… okay.” It has attempted to demoralise both Sprocket and Luna, who have to make Will saves. Sprocket is four days old, so when he aces his save it’s because he has no idea how unforgivably rude it is to take your head off and fling it at people. Luna also makes her save, but I imagine it’s more disdain than ignorance of etiquette in her case.

Joto moves up to Sprocket and does a tumble where Luna can see him so she knows he’s the fancy one, and proceeds to roll a ten Acrobatics. He doesn’t fumble it entirely, but no-one’s impressed. He vaults over a zombie and lands behind it. Fancy cat gets a 22 for this one! He does a scimitar attack and gets the how de do dis, cutting it in half. “I’m the cool one!”

Skabb shoots another Electric arc - it makes the save and only takes half damage. The spell arcs to a skeleton which also makes its save - but curiously, takes no damage. She uses her sling again, at the skeleton, and hits for 1 damage. She feels proud.

Luna stabs the skeleton in front of her with her rapier and hits for 7 damage. It only takes two, however. She punches it in the ribs. No wait, the head! It’s flanked, so 14 hits - how de do dis! She knocks its block off. She can heroically run away for her third action - she does that.

Nadia has a new friend but she doesn’t like the look, so she runs away and shoots a different wet one instead. She crits for 12 damage and gets the how de do dis! She also gets a hero point for, by complete chance, killing the last rotting aura zombie, which might have killed her friends if it had been allowed another turn! The pustules explode going quite a distance, landing at Joto’s feet.

Sprocket will keep the head that was flung at him, and will visit an “aggressive bideting” on its previous owner. How de do dis! The water sprays out from between its bones. Augustus does a two handed bop on another one.

DM: “Rude. How de do dis?”

Augustus tears it in half, and it explodes. They get a hero point as both of them got a kill on the same turn.

Hartvig shoots more fire at the last (?) remaining skeleton but misses. “I am bad at fire.”

Joto closes in on it and swings his scimitar, but misses. “I am angered by this.” He busts out the claws, and gets the how de do dis, punching its head off. Luckily, it doesn’t explode.

Skabb has a zombie right next to her, though she is a little bit above it. It isn’t appearing on her map...? It turns out she couldn’t see it because she was above it - “I was doing pirouettes on its noggin!”

She jumps on its head with her sickle in hand - 18 hits and she rolls 1 slashing damage. She does a Disrupt Undead and it fails its save. She rolls 5 damage and it takes 14 - it explodes, showering her grinning face in goo. She gets a hero point because that was badass. Also, if she’d used piercing damage, it would have exploded its pustules on her, potentially diseasing her. Phew!

We won! Joto wants to loot the corpses. Not the graves. The light is still shining from the lighthouse. Skabb wants to send Grabby Cat over the edge to have a look at the library at the bottom of the cliff. She sees splattered zombies, and a bunch of clerics of Sarenrae including our friend Vandy Banderdash. They are cleaning up the mess. The villagers look absolutely horrified at what’s happened to the remains of their loved ones.

What do we want to do next? Luna wants to look at the gravestones to see if the risen undead have anything in common; she can’t see any patterns. Joto wants to gather the jewellery from the undead and return it to their families.

Hartvig, ever practical, wants us to heal ourselves before we do anything else, and earns himself a Hero Point for his pragmatism. He does a Mass Heal, if we will all gather around.

The light from the lighthouse gives us goosebumps as it hits our skin; we think something might be about to happen. (We also think that the dead might keep on rising until we find a way to turn that light off for good...)

Is there about to be a second wave? The gooseflesh on our arms intensifies, and the beam shrinks down to a single spot among all of us - and this appears:

We hate it as a free action.