#it might be a depression nap. but shhhh. it's fine

[cuubism]

that idea about dream having once had wings is living in my head rent-free so have some hcs for the other endless & wings

imo destiny wouldn’t have wings. he is chained to his book, to reality, to the future and the past. he is a force that supports the laws of nature, rather than denies them. he is fixed in a way that dream & death are not. he does not have wings because he is the walls that keep us from flying, the ceiling hanging low over our heads. he is the limit, the boundary, the end. he has no flights of fancy. he is what is, not what can be. destiny does not have wings. 

death has wings, of course. it’s partially because we imagine her as the angel of death, come to bear us away to another world. death is an ending, a reality, like destiny, but the line between life and death is permeable (albeit in only one direction) in a way destiny’s lines are not. death is what brings people to another world. she guides us, lifts us up, brings us comfort at the end. death as the anthropomorphic personification is not only an ending, but a beginning, and it is the sound of her wings that conduct us from this place to the next. she is a doorway, a path, a light at the end of the tunnel. death has wings. 

and then dream. of course, dream. he is a literal flight of fancy, defined as that which is not, the essence of unreality. he is not limited by what is, he is free, he is dream. of course he has wings. 

later, he does not, but i think you’ve done a far better job talking about that than i ever could. 

desire is nebulous, hard to pin down. they are not concrete, they are emotions, they are everywhere & everywhen. if you shut them up, shut them away, they will destroy you, because they cannot be caged. desire has wings. 

despair… she is her twin’s darker shadow, their balance, the falling to their flight. desire lifts you up, whispers that there is freedom above if only you try. despair tells you that there is nothing up there, and you couldn’t reach it if there were. all that is left is to sink, to let the water weigh you down and to drift. to fall. to slumber in viscous tar that will not let you free. despair does not have wings. 

destruction is anchored in reality, in carnage, in ruin. he is a crumbling, a falling, a flame. he does not fly because he is inevitable, because he is not meant for such graces. but he wants to fly, longs for it, wishes hopelessly to escape the destruction he wreaks like a bird that flutters out of a window the moment before the whole of it tumbles to ruin. when he paints himself, he adds wings. 

delight flew, long ago. her wings were myriad colours and full of light. she was the rainbow at the end of a storm, the glint of a smile, the shimmer of light on glass. she flew with purpose, with luminescence, with glory. the flutter of a heartbeat, the uplift of joy. delight had wings. 

delirium does not. she drifts, unmoored by gravity or by reality, separated from everything more sharply than dream ever was — even dream must obey the line drawn between the waking and the dreaming, but delirium simply floats through such boundaries. she is disconnected, a speck on the wind, a hallucination, her movements unpredictable and bound by no laws. delirium is a ghost, and needs no wings.

i love these so much, thank you! particularly the idea of destruction painting himself with wings. i'm trying to decide if i want to posit desire having wings sometimes, my thoughts on it won't fully form... but desire as a concept can be so fickle, so on-and-off, that i wonder about their wings being so too. i really like your headcanons :)

add dream losing his wings to the list of Fucked Up Things That Messed Up The Endless As A Family, particularly if having wings is like an Endless thing at least for some of them. strong headcanon that it's just Not Talked About since dream won't speak of it after how things went down with destiny and nobody really knows how to address it anyway. if it's brought up it's usually desire being a dick about it (though deep down they actually do feel sympathy for dream, plus the fear of this happening to them too). everybody very functionally ignores it and dream doesn't mention it for 5 billion years 👍 nothing like NOT grappling with the sudden knowledge that you can be permanently changed against your will. it's fine

anyway this reminded me of how morpheus is sometimes depicted with wings in art. such as

In the Arms of Morpheus, W. Reynolds-Stephens

Morphée, Jean Antoine Houdon

Morpheus, Jean-Bernard Restout

you get the gist 😂

[skeletorific]

The one headcanon I actually saved

This was the one about the skeles cuddling with a depressed s/o. Hope you guys enjoy (again), I’m actually super glad this one’s still around, its one of my favorite things I ever wrote for the blog

UT!Sans: You sat on the couch, trying not to feel. That was the thing. When people heard you had trouble with depression, they assumed it meant you felt sad 24/7. What most didn’t realize was how much time you wanted just to...not feel. To be swallowed by the void that kept pushing itself on you, making you think that nothing and no one, not even those you loved, ultimately matter. Today was one of those days where you really just wanted that void to fill every inch of you. So you wouldn’t have to think about it.

You felt a pair of boney arms wrap around you from behind, crushing you close into his ribcage. “You doing okay, babe?”

You nodded.

“No,” He said, nuzzling into your neck. “You’re not. So...what’s ulna mind?”

You cracked a smile at that, leaned into him. “Nothin, really. Sorry, I just....I....”

“One of those days?”

Biting your lip, you nodded.

“S’okay, kid.” He said, rubbing a hand up and down your side. “Know how ya feel. But you’ll be okay, alright? You’ll get through this. And I’ll stay here with ya for a while, okay?”

A long pause. You turned around so you were facing him, leaned against his collarbone and closed your eyes. “Kay”

Sans laughed softly and fell back on the couch. “Always can count on you to give me a good excuse for a nap, can’t I?”

“Hey, don’t blame me for you being a lazybones.”

“Aw, babe, you cut me right to the bone. I bone-ly want to spend some time with you. I don’t need any ribbing. So listen when I patella you-”

“Alright, alright, I give!” You said, laughing against your will.

He grinned slowly, closing his eyes and rubbing your arm up and down. “Don’t mess with the master, babe.”

UT!Papyrus: You had known when you woke up that it was gonna be a low tank kind of day, but you had thought you could push through it, put up the front that people had come to expect from you. A day with your boyfriend. That should be enough to pick you up, shouldn’t it?

While out, Papyrus was his usual self, chattering, checking traps, rambling, groaning at Sans’ terrible jokes, occasionally kissing you on the cheek, the whole time smiling. And the entire time, you just felt this bizarre sense of disconnect, observing him like he was a figure on a screen. Perfect Papyrus. Bouncy. Bombastic. Maybe a little too much on the theatrical side, but a genuinely good heart. And most importantly....he was happy. That had been what drew you to him. He never seemed dragged down by the world around him. He was carried by a buoyancy you had never been able to recreate for yourself. You had hoped this might be a saving grace.

What was wrong with you? Any other person would have been ecstatic to be there, with a wonderful boyfriend, who loved them so much, surrounded by so many people that cared for you and each other, who worked so hard to keep you happy, him more than anyone. Why were you so....so selfish?

The mood grew steadily worse and worse, something Papyrus was starting to pick up on. “DATEMATE?” He finally said. “ARE YOU DOING ALRIGHT?”

You started slightly.You looked in his eyes and you just....you couldn’t, you couldn’t let him see how much you were hurting, because it wasn’t his fault, and there was no point in burdening him. “Um, yeah!” you said in a bright voice. “Yeah, totally, but I’m...feeling a little bit tired, so I think I’m gonna go back to the house, if that’s okay.”

“WELL, ALRIGHT!”

“Thanks, sweetie.” You said, kissing him on the cheekbone and smiling faintly before walking away.

Once back home, you crawled into bed and focused on your breathing. In....out.....in....out....anything other than think about that dull aching place in your chest that would never be filled.

You don’t know how long you laid there. You may have fallen asleep, you weren’t sure. But you suddenly felt two arms turn you around and pull you close to an unexpected form.

“P-Paps! I...I uh,”

“IT HAS OCCURRED TO ME THAT YOU ARE PERHAPS NOT FEELING YOU’RE BEST? AND ARE LYING TO ME TO AVOID BURDENING ME?”

You considered lying again, but....you buried your face in his chest, and nodded. “I...I’m sorry, its not your fault, I just-”

“OF COURSE, DATEMATE, BUT I WOULD NOT BE THE GREAT BOYFRIEND I AM IF I DID NOT HELP YOU IN THIS TIME OF CRISIS. THEREFORE, I WILL MAKE AN EXCEPTION TO MY USUAL WORK ETHIC AND CUDDLE YOU INTO GREATER WELL BEING. IS THIS  ACCEPTABLE?”

You laughed, slightly waterily, as you clung closer to him. “Yeah, yeah, Papyrus, it;s acceptable.”

“THEN PREPARE TO BE CUDDLED BY THE GREAT PAPYRUS

And for a moment, you swear, the ache faded to background noise in the tidal wave of warmth as he held you close.

UF!Sans: The door slammed behind the scowling figure. “Alright, what the hell was that?”

“What?” You said.

“You just blew up at Papyrus!”

“He was getting on my case, alright? Sometimes it gets a little old!” You felt like bile was mixing in your stomach. There was just....it was one of those days. Where there was this ache, this sadness that just scraped at your innards, exhausting you in every sense of the word and left you with nothing but emptiness and aggression.

“So you thought it was a good idea to just snap at him?!”

“What’s the matter, scared  he’s gonna take it out on you?!” You said it with all the venom you could muster. “Cause we all know you’re scared of his fucking shadow.”

He didn’t say a word. Just....stood there. Looking at you like you’d slapped him. Not even angry just...hurt. And that was what made it so much worse.

“I....I’m sorry.” You stared at him for a long minute, biting your lip. You sat at the table, burying your face in your hands. “I’m sorry, I just....I’m just tired....shit, I’m sorry....”

A long pause, during which you could have dropped a pin and heard it echo. Suddenly rapid footsteps towards you and a firm hand grabbed your shirt collar, dragging you out of your chair and towards the living room.

“Hey, wha-”

“Couch” he said, face set in a hard line.

“What are you-”

He deposited you on the couch before dropping himself down beside you and wrapping you tight in his arms. “’Tired’ is your way of saying ‘depressed out of my fucking mind and trying not to show it’. So we’re gonna stay right here until you’re feeling better.”

“But-”

He shut you up with a soft kiss, “Shut up.”

“We can’t just-”

Another kiss. “Babe, seriously, shut up.”

You looked up at him for a minute, trying to read him. Finally, you gave in and buried your face in his jacket. It smelled like mustard, but was too warm to not cuddle into. He pulled you in closer, kneading his claws into your waist and back.

“I really am sorry,” you said softly, eyes starting to close. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Make it up to me by feeling better, ‘kay?” He said, kissing the top of your head. “It’s more fun when I get to be the asshole in this relationship, anyways.”

“More fun for who, exactly?”

“Shhhh.”

UF!Papyrus: You had been up for hours, honestly, and deeply wishing you weren’t. Papyrus had woken up and left the room a while back, and you stared at the wall for a while, trying to find the motivation to get up. You had to get up. Come on, just....get dressed, get some coffee, throw back the damn covers, something.

A knock on the door, and Papyrus appeared in the doorway, holding coffee. “You should be up by now.” He said, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding out a cup of coffee. “We’re leaving in an hour.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you said, taking the cup. You stared into its dark, bitter contents for a minute, waiting for the smell to fill you with the usual invigoration. But....nothing. “Actually....would you mind if I stayed home today? Sorry, I just...I’m not feeling well.”

His browbone raised. “You seemed fine last night.”

“Yeah, I...” you set the coffee down on the nightstand, studiously avoiding his gaze. “I think it’s just a twenty four hour thing, but I just need to rest for today. I’ll catch up on work tomorrow, if you need me to,”

A quiet moment while he inspected your face. Finally he sighed. “Very well. Clean yourself up a bit, alright? It’ll make it worse to sit in your own germs all day.”

You smile slightly, “Alright, mom.”

He rolled his eyes and kissed you on the cheek before getting up and walking out.

You meant to shower, you really did. You meant to put on fresh clothes. But....with him left the last shred of motivation to even try. You were left alone with the emptiness, and hollowed out feeling. The emptiness of the house only seemed to exacerbate it, and you lay there, staring at the ceiling, the wall. You tried to read, to scroll through your phone, take an interest in something, but it all felt pointless. So you lay there,

The tears came after a while. You spent so many hours trying to feel something, and in the end the only thing you could feel was despair at the nothingness. Why were you like this? For no reason, you would just shut down, shut off, and you were too weak to pull yourself out. Why was Papyrus even with you? He never stood for weakness. From anyone, not even himself.

Suddenly the door burst open, and he was standing in the doorway, holding some food, clearly about to deliver dinner. It must have been later than you thought. You swiped at the tears as fast as you could, hoping against hope he hadn’t....”Um, hey babe!” You said in a falsely bright voice, trying to look well-rested. “How was work?”

For a moment he just stared. Then, he carefully set the tray at the edge of the bed, and climbed in, pulling you into his chest and lying down.

“Pyrus-”

“Don’t lie to me next time, alright? Just...just say when you’re feeling low.”

His face was calm, but....there was a quality to his voice. It was softer, less harsh. Almost...broken. He caught you staring, and closed his arms around you tighter. “Is there something you need to talk to me about?”

You bit your lip and buried your face in his chest. “No, just....can we stay here for a bit?”

A small clattering noise underneath as he adjusted himself into a more comfortable position. “Fine. And try and sleep. You look like a corpse.”

You laughed as the tears sprang to your eyes, clinging to him and closing your eyes. The warmth seemed to help and soon you felt yourself slipping away,

US!Sans: You were a crying mess in your room, and trying desperately to get a handle on it. It wasn’t like you really had anything to cry about. It had been something small. You had been drawing, and over and over again you couldn’t get the hands the right way you wanted. You had tried again and again and it just....it didn’t work.

It wasn’t just the drawing, of course. You hadn’t exactly been taking care of yourself the past couple of days. You doubted you had gotten more than a 10 hours of sleep total over the past few days. And you hadn’t eaten much either.

Normally taking care of yourself wasn’t an issue. Sans was pretty strict about you taking care of yourself. And when those big blue eyes were telling you to eat something, when those arms were wrapped so tight around you as you lay in bed....it was easy. That was the thing, lately it had been easier than it had ever been for you to find the motivation to care for yourself. And like an idiot you had thought this meant you were past it.

But over the past couple of days....he’d been busy. Alphys had taken him on a trip to a conference for the heads of the Royal Troop. And Papyrus was pulling all-nighters at the lab with Undyne and Chara, working on something to do with resets.

No big deal. You were an adult. You could take care of yourself for a few days.

But as the days dragged on, that (unfortunately) familiar feeling began to grab hold of you, immobilizing you emotionally and in many cases, physically. You had spent days doing nothing in particular. A little cleaning. A little reading. A whole lotta lying down and staring at the tv. You barely ate, and couldn’t sleep. Nothing.

Now when you had finally had the motivation to try something creative, and it just....it wasn’t working, and the frustration was building. Why, why were you like this, why were you so weak, why couldn’t you act like a normal freaking human being for three days without somebody having to babysit you, you couldn’t even do the things you loved right-

The dam had broken, and the tears were spilling out uncontrollably into your pillow. You had stopped trying to control it, and it this point were hoping to just ride it out.

A sudden sound of the door flying open. “I’M HOME!”

Shit. Sans was back early. You sat up, wiping at your eyes, praying he would assume you were asleep, or just wouldn’t realize where you were long enough for you to-

He burst through the door. “I’m home! And I missed yo-” His eyes went wide, and he ran to your side. “Datemate, what’s wrong?! Are you okay?!”

You kept furiously wiping away. Great. Now he was gonna feel guilty and upset because you couldn’t control yourself. “It...it’s nothing.”

“No it isn’t, you’re crying! What happened?” He said, wrapping his arms around you and looking at you with concern.

You closed your eyes to avoid his gaze, taking a deep breath through your nose as you tried to think of a good excuse.

“Why are you crying? Was it because you missed me?”

“No, I-”

“You don’t look well, have you been sleeping?!”

“I.....I just-”

“Did something upset you?! Was it-”

“NO!” You said, pushing yourself out of his arms and falling back on the bed, burying your face in your pillow. Deep breath, in, out. “I just....I’ve been feeling a little low. It’s nobody’s fault, I just....I need to be alone.”

A long pause, as you felt the guilt set in. Great. Now you’d hurt one of the few people who was willing to put up with your crap. Because he was trying to help, and you just weren’t adult enough to accept it.

“If....if you really want to be alone, I’ll go downstairs.” he said, carefully. You turned your face deeper into the pillow, trying to get away from that voice, so full of concern, so loving, when you didn’t even deserve it. “But-” Suddenly a warm pressure engulfed you, and you felt yourself being pulled back into him. “I believe that you’ve been alone for long enough.”

You swear your heart stopped for just a second. He turned you to face him and buried his face into your shoulder. “Is it alright if I stay here?”

The tears started to come back, but you wrapped your arms and legs around him, nestling into his bandanna. “Yeah. Yeah, you should....you should stay.”

You could feel him smiling against you, and his hands rubbed into your back. “The Magnificent Sans missed you very much, human.”

“Missed you too, sweetie.”

US!Papyrus: “You feeling okay?”

Papyrus had an arm around your shoulder as you walked back to the house. It was stiffly cold but there was a hot beverage in your hand to counteract. You stared at the cup, feeling his eyes on your face.

“Yeah, why?”

“You’ve just been quiet today.”

You shrugged and leaned against him. “Don’t know, man.”

“One of those days?” You had arrived at the house, and he pulled open the door. The house was darkened, but warm. You set the drink down on the table and collapsed on the couch, not even bothering to take your coat off.

“Yeah, I guess.” you said quietly. “Sorry, there’s not really a reason.”

“Doesn’t really have to be. Kind of how depression works, babe.” He tapped your leg to get you to move it, and then sat down beside you.

“I just....I wish there was, if that makes sense. I wish I could look at something and say ‘that. That’s what’s making me feel like shit, so now let’s take care of it.’”

He set his drink on the floor and pulled your hand as he fell backwards, lying back on the couch with you on top of him. “I know. But you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault.” His hand began to splay on your back, working their usual magic as they found the spot of tension and kneaded them into oblivion.

“Mmm.” you said, closing your eyes. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” You could tell from his tone he was grinning. “But can you hand me my phone? I need to check if there are any massages.”

You groaned. “Massage puns are not your forte.”

“Ah, there’s the rub.”

You snuggled into the sweatshirt. “I hate you.”

SF!Sans; You’d had enough. Enough of feeling sorry for yourself in your room.

You had gotten Papyrus to cover for you so Sans wouldn’t come looking for you in your room. But as you had found before, being alone rarely fixed what ailed you. It just left you alone with the low feeling, made you feel more cut off. FInally, you’d had enough, and somehow found the strength to walk out of the room to wear Sans was sitting at the table, hard at work on something.

For a while you just stared at him. So many people wondered why you were dating him. It wasn’t hard to see why. Sans was arrogant, preening, aggressive, snappish and completely high on himself.

But what most people didn’t see (or at least they ignored) was his strength. Not just physical. He was almost entirely self-contained and self-sufficient. He had enough internal energy to keep himself going, and everyone around him. If he hit low points, he never showed it. He could hold himself together. And by extension....you.

Most days. You had come to accept that your depression wasn’t something you cured. It was something you coped with. That you treated, day in and day out. But some days, like today...something extra was needed.

Quietly, you walked downstairs. Sans looked up when you came in, browbone raised as you came closer. “Where have you-”

You straddled his lap and leaned into him, which briefly shut him up. You felt him stiffen under your touch, before relaxing and wrapping a hand around your waist. “Ah.”

You nodded, burying your face into his neck vertebrae.

“Do you need me to-”

“You can keep working. Just....is it alright if I stay here for a while?”

He made an affirmative noise, scooting the chair so your back barely touched the edge of the table. You hear the pen scratching again on paper, and you leaned against him with a small contented sigh.

“I missed you today.” He said. Quietly. With that tenderness only you had ever been allowed to hear from him.

“Missed you too. I should be fine to go back tomorrow, just needed a day.”

Another long silence. His hand moved in small circles around your back occasionally, and you could hear his SOULbeat, soft and steady under his shirt.

Suddenly he dropped the pen, wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek. “I love you.”

You returned it with a small smile “Love you too, Sans.”

He nodded with a small grunt and went back to work.

SF!Papyrus: He had known all day you were feeling low. That was the thing about Papyrus. He always knew. And you knew he knew. But he had been giving you space, knowing you hated it when he hovered.

For once though, you kind of wished he had. Normally you preferred to deal with this on your own, but you had lately discovered there were definite benefits to having a boyfriend to help you cope. It wasn’t like cuddles could fix everything. Nothing could. But that presence, that soft knowledge that he was there, that he cared enough to try and help you. It could pick you up on the worst days.

You just weren’t sure how to ask.

Finally he got back from work, saw you lying on the couch. He leaned over the back, ran a hand over your head. “You doing okay?”

You shrugged. “Ish.”

“Low tank day, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine, though.”

For a moment he just looked at you with those quiet eyes, examining every inch of your face. He hadn’t concentrated this much since he had been trying to figure out how to initiate that first kiss. Suddenly his face split in a soft grin. “Hey. I think I know what’ll help you”

You raised an eyebrow. “Um...what?”

Suddenly his fingers were at your side, vibrating along the ribs. And holy shit did it tickle

“AAGH, Paps the the fuhuhuck?!” You shrieked, trying to duck away from the touch.

He climbed over the back and jerked your legs out straight, straddling your hips. “Mm, someone a little sensitive, babe?”

“Get out of there!” you said, fighting the massive smile splitting your face.

“Oh, I don’t know if I can resist.” HIs fingers wiggled into your stomach, causing you to choke on laughter. “You’re just too cute like this.”

“STAHAHAHAP!” You laughed, trying ineffectively to slap his hands away.

“Let’s count those ribs, shall we? One...two....” With each number he wriggled into the space between it.

“NOHOHOO”

“Hmm, how about that neck, then? That ticklish too?” He leaned into your neck and nibbled lightly at the skin. You shrieked and tried to jerk away, but he was just too damn strong. “Guess so. How cute...”

“FUHUHUCK YOU!” Your chest was starting to hurt as it heaved with laughter, and his fingers were ghosting everywhere, producing shrieks and giggles everywhere they went as you feebly tried to struggle against him.

Finally after a few minutes, he stopped, pulling you on top of him and kissing the top of your head. “Feeling better?”

“You suck so much” you said, leaning into his chest and trying to stifle the giggles. Your face was flushed from lack of oxygen, but there was a rush of endorphins like you hadn’t felt in a while.

“Anything to get that smile back.” He said, tucking an arm into your waist and kissing you. “Look, I get low points too, babe. So let’s just be honest with each other about it, okay? I’m here for you.”

You grinned and leaned in, the void, for the moment at least, full. “Kay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”