#undertale scenario

[magic-hcs]

Got a lil funny scenario for you!

The boy had a lazy free day, sleeping in late. He hears his brother coming home and head downstairs to greet him, wearing only boxers and looking all disheveled. To his surprise his brother isn't alone but has a human accompanying him (for some service they are doing at their house as it's revealed later.)

Turns out this human is their soulmate and the boy is meeting them for the first time looking like this !

Fooooooor Syrup! 😂

I had so much fun writing this! thank you so much for sending in this ask.

Syrup: US Papyrus

Time to cast some magic and see what we'll get!✨

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Syrup: Ah…

ground, please swallow him whole now, please and thank you.

“bro ya back, did you bring the new coffee beansss witthh youuu…” His words slowly come to a dragging halt as he stares with wide sockets at the human next to Sky.

oh bollocks…

Syrup had been working for quite a while, a day or two trying to crack at this malware failure that his current contractor had given him to fix. And the coffee in his canteen had been running empty, so he decided to go downstairs and fix his canteen with a whole new lot of coffee - maybe a lollipop or fifteen to keep him busy - when he heard the front door close and the recognizable taps of Sky’s boots and his voice. Only wearing his hoodie and some underwear, a thoroughly chewed through lollipop stick hanging between his teeth and bags for days underneath his sockets, Syrup strolled towards the hall, already mumbling his question.

And here he stood now, standing in his hobo looking glory, staring at the human who returned his gaze with widened eyes of their own. A small tug inside Syrup’s soul soon followed, filling him with the feeling of elation like he just found something he had forgotten about but been searching for oh so long. Afterwards, the searing and chilling touch of mortification followed it. Burning his cheek bones a dark orange, and drenching his back with a cold sweat.

The chewed out lollipop stick slips from his teeth, landing on the floor with a tack and his jaw falls open with a clack. A few seconds of absolute silence.

And then, Syrup’s damned sleep deprive and social capabilities decided to merge and introduce itself. “ahooga.” (He had meant to say ‘hello’ or ‘goodbye’.)

once again, ground, you have permission to swallow him hole, please do it fast.

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Thank you for participating in this spell, i hope it was to your satisfaction.

[poopystain]

hmm hi

[a-butterfly1]

[icantbotherwithusernames]

Mabel shows Ford ao3

[juniemunie]

If we're not giving up, don't give up wherever you are.

That's a promise.

[undertalethingems]

dream i had last night that i will attempt to convey in text, even though i would like to draw it as a comic...

Sans, seated at a drum kit, plays the classic rimshot.

Sans plays a slightly more elaborate rimshot, adding an extra beat or two to the timeless phrase.

He plays a yet more elaborate variation, yet it's somehow still recognizable as a rimshot despite all the extra flourishes.

He plays an even more complex version, with lots of embellishments on every beat...

The variations continue, growing in complexity, until...

He plays incredibly, using a variety of percussion instruments with a level of skill that matches one Neil Peart, building up an unforgettable arrangement...

that all ends with a rimshot.

[delta-drawsarts]

"Not fast enough"

[sunnymainecoonx]

I don't think I ever published these so ig.....

There's a last one but err warning for gore and blood(mostly just ripping an arm off)

[floweypilled]

The Dreemurr children were very late to the event that day.

bonus:

[milkamel]

Kross Royal AU but Killer is the prince/ruler

I wanna see how he got to that point lmao

Sorry for the long wait I just liked the idea so much I decided to draw it and give it a little lore!! Killer is a prince who's not ready to rule and take the throne (not cause he's too young but because he lacks the proper knowledge) and the council (who consists of Nightmare, Dream and other guys I didn't think it through sorry-) helps him to become the next king. Cross is his personal guard, he's been working hard to get into the royal guard, he wanted to help protect average folk and he's kind of disappointed that he's supposed to be the prince's babysitter instead after training and working so much. He's not fond of the prince's attitude but despite his feelings, he's dead set on accomplishing what he's supposed to do. After a while both of them grow closer and Cross gets to know Killer better which changes his whole perspective. He stops being so irritated with the other as their relationship shifts to a closer companionship and their feelings for each other grow.

I'm not that good at thinking out stories like this especially, in a royal setting but that's all I came up with, simple and sweet :D

Killer belongs to rahafwabas Cross belongs to jakei

[capricorn-writes2]

Dream Sans, Nightmare Sans and Reaper Sans Dating S/O who is a Goddess/God of Nature

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Hello, there @cloudyuphere.

I try my best to make the portrayal of their character based on their personality and I would like to apologize for replying the ask late because I had a horrible carpal tunnel syndrome on my right hand, depression, and I had to focus on finding jobs as well as theraphy. Thankfully, I graduated in July from my university and able to get a quick 6 months of Internship before leaving to find new job.

Gender: Neutral

Warning: Profanities and a little bit of violence

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Dream Sans

Dream feels naturally drawn to your calming and nurturing aura, like their energies are intertwined, as if your soul with him are intertwined. Being near you fills him with a warmth that feels like sunlight filtering through leaves.

The two of you often walk hand in hand through ancient forests or rest together in vibrant flower fields, where you tell stories of each plant's origins. Dream listens in awe, feeling like he’s witnessing nature's secrets through your words.

Dream weaves delicate dreamcatchers from fallen twigs and enchanted threads, gifting them to you. He tells you these charms will guard your dream just as you protect the natural world.

Together, you and him stand as protectors: Dream guarding the purity of dreams, and (Y/N) safeguarding the balance of nature. The two of you are an unstoppable team, shielding the world from corruption and pollution.

Dream loves when you weaves flower crowns for him, placing them gently on his head. He wears them with pride, even during his duties, believing they symbolize his connection to your love and the earth.

Dream is constantly amazed by how animals are drawn to you, as if they sense the pure magic radiating from (Y/N). Birds perch on (Y/N)'s shoulder, deer approach with calm eyes, and rabbits rest at your feet. Dream jokes by calling the animals “royal court of nature”

When (Y/N) emotions cause a small earthquake becoming bigger, Dream gently holds you, whispering words of comfort and love. He’ll stay by your side, calming the shaking ground until the earthquake stops.

He often tells you that your love is like nature—endless, patient, and deeply rooted. He promises that just as rivers carve stone and forests endure for centuries, his love for you will remain unshaken, timeless, and eternal.

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The golden afternoon sun filtered through the leaves of the great oak tree, casting dappled patterns of light onto the grass where Dream and (Y/N) sat together. The gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of wildflowers, their colors vibrant against the lush green earth. It was a perfect day for a garden date, peaceful and filled with the quiet comfort that always surrounded them.

Dream leaned back slightly, his golden eyelights shimmering as he glanced at (Y/N) with a playful curiosity.

"You know," you said with a mischievous glint in your eyes, "I bet I can make a better flower crown than you."

Dream’s head tilted slightly, intrigued by the challenge. "Oh?" His voice was light, laced with humor. "Is that a wager I hear?"

You nodded, your smile widening. "Whoever loses has to plan the next date."

"You're on," he said, reaching for a nearby cluster of roses

(Y/N) grinned, already reaching for delicate stems and blossoms, hands working with the grace of someone familiar with nature’s gentle touch. As the two of you worked, the only sounds were the rustling leaves and the occasional giggle when a petal brushed against your skin. The warmth in the air seemed to wrap around you, encouraging the quiet laughter that filled the space beneath the oak's towering shadow.

Dream worked carefully, stripping the thorns from the roses he chose—reds for love, whites for purity, and pinks for admiration. His hands were steady, thoughtful, ensuring not a single thorn remained to mar your skin. He wove the crown with patience, the colors blending in a simple yet elegant ring of soft beauty. You watched his concentration, charmed by the way he wanted every detail to be perfect for you.

While Dream worked with precision, you worked with intention. Baby's breath for everlasting love, white carnations for pure affection, and pink carnations for gratitude, your hands wove not just flowers, but a quiet message meant only for you to know. It is a hidden message for him.

When the final stems were tucked into place, you both sat back, admiring your creations. Dream’s gaze lingered on his crown, satisfied but curious as his eyes drifted to yours. You held up your masterpiece with a proud smile, and though Dream admired the elegance of it, there was no mistaking it, you had won whereas he had to cut the thorns after wards carefully so it would not prick your head once it is placed.

He let out a dramatic sigh, a playful pout forming on his skeletal face.

"And here I thought I stood a chance" he mutters to himself.

"Looks like you'll be planning our next date," you teased, leaning closer. A giggle escaped from your lips.

Dream chuckled, though there was no bitterness in his tone, only affection. "If losing means I get to plan something special for you… then maybe I don't mind losing after all."

His fingers brushed over the crown you made, lingering as if he could sense the meaning woven into every bloom. Then, with a tender smile, he reached out and placed his own crown gently upon your head, careful as always. The roses sat softly against your hair, warm and fragrant.

"But you wear victory beautifully," he whispered.

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Nightmare Sans

Nightmare is both fascinated and frustrated by how (Y/N)'s energy contrasts with his own. Your power is vibrant and life-giving, while his is dark and corruptive. Yet, he finds himself craving your warmth, like a shadow longing for sunlight.

There’s an almost forbidden allure to their relationship. Nightmare sometimes wonders if he's corrupting you by being close, but you reassures him that even the darkest soil can nurture new life. Your and his love is proof of balance.

(Y/N) is the only one who can calm Nightmare when his corruption surges. A simple touch, a soft word, or the scent of flowers is enough to keep his darkness from consuming him entirely.

Nightmare crafts dark, thorny roses for you, a symbol of his love—dangerous but beautiful. You accept them despite even getting pricked sometimes, knowing that even thorns hold meaning, and she/he/they plant the roses where they bloom in the darkness.

There are times when Nightmare worries his power will poison their bond. But (Y/N) proves him wrong by growing plants even in the darkest parts of his realm, showing him that beauty can bloom even from corruption.

When Nightmare is consumed by negative emotions, storms often gather. (Y/N) uses their/her/his powers to calm the winds and soothe the skies, reminding him that even his storms can be tamed.

Nightmare respects your strength. Nature may seem gentle, but it is ancient and unforgiving. Their ability to control life and death fascinates him—how one moment they are soft and nurturing, and the next, fierce as a storm.

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The garden behind Nightmare's castle was a place of shadows and silence, where the moonlight struggled to pierce through the dark haze lingering over the earth. Among the twisted, thorn-laden stems stood his black roses, their velvety petals rich with a darkness that shimmered beneath the pale glow of the sky. Each bloom was dangerous, their thorns sharper than any blade, but beautiful—like obsidian carved into delicate shapes by the hands of fate.

Nightmare stood there, still and thoughtful, his glowing eyes lingering on the flowers. He wondered if they were too cruel a gift, too dangerous to be given to one as radiant as you. But there was beauty in them, a dark kind of elegance that reminded him of the strange balance between his shadows and your light. With careful hands, he reached for the stems. The thorns were merciless, biting into his skeletal fingers as he worked, but Nightmare didn’t flinch. Pain was a small price to pay for perfection.

He stripped away the sharpest edges, weaving the stems into a small bouquet. Shadows coiled around his hands, holding the roses together as if the darkness itself wished to be a part of this offering. He tied them with a single, dark ribbon and looked down at his creation—dangerous, yet softened for you. It felt fitting, this fragile, fierce beauty. Something only you could truly understand.

Satisfied, Nightmare opened a portal with a simple twist of his wrist. The dark energy hummed, pulling open the veil between his realm and yours. Stepping through, he was greeted by the quiet calm of the night. The park was cloaked in silver moonlight, the air cool and still. And there you were—waiting for him. You sat beneath a tree, eyes turned toward the star-strewn sky, your silhouette glowing softly in the night.

There was a quiet grace in you, as though the universe itself paused to admire your beauty. For a moment, Nightmare stood still, observing you with an intensity that he rarely allowed himself. You, who greeted him without fear, who accepted him even when shadows clung to his very soul. His steps were silent as he approached, the darkness curling around him like a second skin. When he stood close enough, he let his presence be known, his voice low and smooth.

" Why hello there, darling," he said, a slow grin pulling at his skeletal features.

The bouquet of black roses appeared in his hand like magic, held out for you.

"I have a little gift for you before we go," his tone was playful, but beneath it.

There was a quiet vulnerability—an unspoken hope that you would accept this shadow-touched offering.

You turned, surprise lighting up your features before your expression softened. There was no fear in your eyes, only warmth. Your fingers reached out, brushing over the dark petals with care, as though you understood the sharp beauty within them.

"Thank you," you said gently, your smile delicate but real. Carefully, you took the bouquet, cradling it like it was something precious, not dangerous.

And in that moment, Nightmare knew the truth. You were the only one who could see past the darkness, who could hold something sharp and love it regardless. His heart, hidden beneath layers of shadow and corruption, ached in the softest way.

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Reaper Sans

Their love is a delicate balance, Reaper represents death, and (Y/N) represents life. Yet, neither sees the other as an enemy. Instead, they understand that life and death are two sides of the same coin, forever entwined.

Despite their divine responsibilities, they respect each other’s roles. Reaper gently reaps the souls of withering plants and animals, while his S/O nurtures new life from the remnants, creating a cycle that neither can break nor escape.

You often visits the graveyards Reaper tends to, planting flowers and vines over the resting places of souls. It’s (Y/N) and his way of honoring life even in death, and Reaper secretly cherishes the beauty you bring to his otherwise somber realm.

(Y/N) finds comfort in the rustling of leaves, saying it's the voice of those who have passed, whispering to them. Reaper listens too, finding peace in knowing that death isn't the end, just a change.

Whenever Reaper feels overwhelmed, (Y/N) gives him seeds to plant. "So you can remember that even after endings, beginnings are waiting," she/he/they say, reminding him that his role holds hope, not just finality.

The two of you often take slow walks through graveyards, Reaper sharing stories of souls long passed, while you ensures every grave is adorned with a bloom. Together, the two of you honor the dead in both your own quiet, respectful way.

You often leave him little flower arrangements, each with a secret meaning. Reaper learns their language, recognizing when a sprig of rosemary means remembrance, or lavender means peace.

Reaper built a small sanctuary in his realm, a garden where (Y/N) could visit, untouched by decay. It became both of your secret haven, a place where love and life could thrive in his world of endings.

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The sanctuary stood quiet, bathed in the soft golden light of the afternoon. Reaper paused at its entrance, his dark cloak brushing against the delicate grass beneath his feet. It was a small haven he had crafted, a place untouched by the weight of his duties. Yet, even in his absence, the space had changed. Flowers now bloomed along the edges, their vibrant colors breaking through the shadows. His gaze lingered on one in particular—honeysuckle.

The meaning was not lost on him. Bonds of love, it whispered, as though nature itself acknowledged the connection between them. A small, solemn smile tugged at his lips. Despite the divide between life and death, their love had rooted itself, blooming quietly like the flowers that surrounded him.

And there you were, seated at the simple wooden table beneath the outstretched branches of a tree he had planted. The sunlight caught in your hair, a soft glow surrounding you like a halo. In the center of the table sat a small box of teas and a pair of insulated bottles, steam curling lazily from the spouts. The scent of herbs drifted in the air, mingling with the sweetness of the nearby blossoms. You looked up, eyes lighting up as Reaper approached. There was no fear in your gaze, only warmth.

Reaper's steps were soundless as he crossed the threshold, dark robes trailing behind him like the whispers of forgotten souls. He lowered his hood, letting the sunlight touch the pale bone of his skull, and offered you a soft smile.

"Hello, sweetheart," he greeted, his voice low but warm.

"I brought something for you." His eyes, dark as obsidian, glimmered with a rare tenderness.

You tilted your head, curiosity brightening your features.

"What is it, Reaper?" you asked, your tone as light and sweet as the honeysuckle that framed the sanctuary.

Your hands were already reaching, ready to accept whatever gift he offered, no matter how strange or shadowed it might be.

From beneath his cloak, Reaper withdrew a small, delicate tree. Its leaves shimmered like silver in the soft light, and its branches cradled fruits unlike any other—apples split down the middle, one side black as night, the other pale as moonlight.

It was simple, yet ancient, holding a quiet power that hummed in the air. He placed it on the table between you, his fingers lingering for a moment on the fragile trunk.

"A Tree of Life," he said softly, as though speaking the words too loudly would break the moment.

"When I'm busy, when I cannot be here… let this remind you that I will never truly leave you." His eyes lifted to meet yours, and there was something raw in them—something soft, and painfully human.

You reached out, your fingers brushing the smooth bark with a reverent touch.

"It's beautiful," you whispered, voice laced with emotion.

Your gaze lingered on the black and white fruit, a symbol of balance, of life and death entwined in harmony.

"And so are you, Reaper," your words were simple, but they struck deeper than any blade.

And though Reaper had known centuries of silence, centuries of endings, it was this, your soundless-veil love.

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[gonerboy]

gonerworld

In this world without hope, what madness it must be to dream.

[the-fabled-void]

Someone give Killer one of those cats who make weird noises instead of meowing

[gwainchain]

Do you guys think Ceroba has a weak point that draws her back from going over the edge like she does for Starlo? Like,

"Ceroba, if you don't stop overdoing it, I-I'll... I'll stop holding your hand when we walk over bridges!!"

And she immediately stops because she's afraid of heights from that one time she strained her ankle?

I don't know. It's just silly nonsense that I find adorable between them.

[beryllineart]

The Cost of Mercy

This is my 100th post, I wanted to do something special and I liked this idea. It was not originally going to be this long. (20 pages! Wow!)

Because this took me half a month to create, I think I'll probably do a little "making of" post just to discuss how the end result differed from my original plans for this comic. I wish I could say I have a backlog of art to post, but I don't, and this comic might have given me burnout.

Ughhhh, my stupid brain has been telling me non-stop how "talentless" I am and how all of my drawings look terrible and that made making this comic an uphill battle. But I did it, and I hope that eventually I can feel proud of it. In the meantime, I think I need to do a couple of art tutorials so my brain actually acknowledges that I've been improving.

(Update: took a break between page 10 and 11 which improved my mental state, I still feel it's important to acknowledge that time of low self esteem and how I pushed through it. Also, I learned what a pen stabilizer was on page 12.)

I deserve a small ramble about this comic, right? Actually, it's pretty much as long as the comic itself, so you have been warned.

Yeah, so, this was inspired by my Susie vs. Lancer comic. In that, Susie does not admit her vulnerability to herself in time and that leads to her making a mistake she regrets. I wanted to show Asriel showing false vulnerability (my headcanon of him being an actor coming into play here) and creating a betrayal similar to Susie's, only this one was on purpose.

"But Beryll," I hear you say, "doesn't Asriel think Frisk is Chara? Why on earth would Asriel kill his best friend?" Well, besides the fact that a) Asriel is both a god of hyperdeath and a LV 9999 maniac b) he's already killed Frisk dozens of times in this battle alone and c) the image of black silhouettes on a red background with a glowing white sword is too cool to pass up, I have a little interaction I couldn't fit in the comic that should explain things.

That's my way of reconciling the whole "I thought you were Chara" thing when Chara and Frisk do not physically look alike at all. Remember, Flowey's genocide dialogue in the Ruins says, "I have a plan to become all powerful. Even more powerful than you and your stolen soul." Meaning that he knows this human physically is not Chara come back to life, but something in their mannerisms or something is so similar to Chara that Flowey convinces himself that they are. And in this comic, Asriel was so desperate for Chara to remember him that he takes Frisk's soul for himself, in the hopes that when they are reunited Chara will come back as well. (And he had to get up close and personal because of the soul's annoying tendency to crack before he can take it, also, glowing white sword. That's why I don't show the heart as broken on page 4, even though that would give the off the "dead" vibes more clearly.)

And now we come to the part where he says, "Hey, remember that time you wanted to kill all of those humans? Want to try again?" I think Flowey has been holding on to the whole "kill or be killed" mentality because he thinks it was his fault that he and Chara died. He fears being weak and being a coward, which is why he became a sadistic LV 9999 psychopath. Again, the whole acting headcanon thing that I rambled about in a different post.

Asriel's last memories of being with Chara are of feeling Chara's anger towards the humans, and when they finally reunite, he can't accept that, as a ghost, Chara learned to let go of that anger, having realized their own mistakes and realizing that it was their anger that got them into trouble. But Asriel has been holding on to that anger that wasn't even his own, all because he believes that it was his fault that they both died, since he fought against that anger.

So yeah, Asriel and Flowey's strongest emotions are actually guilt. Flowey's got a bit of survivor's guilt because he was brought back, albeit as a flower. But most of the guilt comes from convincing himself that it was his fault he and Chara died. That guilt causes him to reject all of the positive emotions that come his way and hold on to the hurt for so long that he hardly realizes it's there, causing that empty feeling that he thinks is a lack of emotions. But if he ever managed to actually let go of his guilt, he would realize that he actually can feel emotions. I have never believed that soulless = emotionless, given the way Flowey acts.

I just want to say, when Asriel resets in this comic, I'm definitely imagining a thing like when Majora's Mask Link plays the Song of Time, where all of the souls are leaving him like Link's items leave as he falls through the void, finally waking up as Flowey. Also, from a mechanics standpoint, Asriel has access to several save files when he's got Frisk's soul. He can reset to the moments after he got Frisk's soul, to when Frisk took away his control over resets, and to when he was first brought back as Flowey. He can't go further back than that because he can't go back to a time he didn't have that power. The only reason he can go back further than the moment he stole Frisk's soul is because of the enormous amounts of determination from all of the souls he has, both monster and human.

Okay, now I want to talk about the ending of the comic. All sweet and nice because Flowey's finally learning to let go of some of the things that made him evil and mean, right? I'm writing this ramble halfway through drawing the comic, so I'm assuming how that ends. (Also, if it's not clear, Frisk has forgotten their entire time in the Underground before. To them, this is the first time they've been down here.)

Well, that leads me to wonder, how will Flowey act since he has decided to be nice and stuff? Honestly, I don't know how the boss battles would go, but I think he and Frisk would develop a genuine friendship. He would hang around places he's pretty sure have save points, maybe give some tips and share a joke or two. Basically, imagine something like what he does for Clover in Undertale Yellow.

But, because we can't have happy Flowey, let's give him a new source of guilt. Now, Flowey lives in fear of Frisk finding out what he did, how he preyed on their sympathy just so he could kill them and steal their soul. He's been acting nice now, and enjoying their friendship, but he can't convince himself to fully commit to it (acting headcanon mention three) because he's afraid he might lose that friendship. Which is why, when Frisk chooses to hug and forgive Asriel, he refuses both, since he remembers what happened last time they hugged (on page 4) and he doesn't feel he deserves forgiveness when they don't even remember the truly horrible things he did. (Again, I'm not completely sure what the boss battles would have been like.) <Actually, I've taken a few days since writing this ramble and have figured it out but will discuss it in a future post.

But Frisk is a determined kid, and after they watch the sunset with everybody (and decide to live with Toriel of course) they go all the way back to the Ruins where this happens.

I hope you are noticing the parallels between Frisk and Chara that help defend Flowey/Asriel's confusion, because I worked hard on integrating that. They are very much alike.

So, that's the end of my ramble. I guess a long comic needs a long ramble, huh? Despite my brain's attempts to convince me otherwise, I actually really enjoyed making this comic. If you did read this whole thing, good for you! I'm not the best at explaining these things in an understandable manner, so I know it might have been hard to read.

Also, January 16th is/was Appreciate a Dragon Day. So here's Douglas, who guards my things while I do art. (I did 6 pages today, so Douglas got plenty of work in.)

[moniqa24]

The Justice duo but I gave them reasons to hate each other—