#utmv short story

[mellybabbles]

TW, Eyestrain

Happy Birthday, Dust... <3

Word count 552 Warnings: Mental breakdown, weapons, crying.

Static - Dust x Reader | Hurt/Comfort

Whispers, mumbles, cries, screams, laughs, they all flooded his mind. Why wouldn’t they go away? Why now? Dust clutched his hood harder as a particularly loud scream cut through his skull, as he flinched harshly.

It was supposed to be a good night. A night with you and a simple candle lit dinner. He finally had a damn chance with you, and yet his sins-Why can’t they just shut up?His skull rang, the mix of consistent noise and voices combining and overlapping, like an out of tune orchestra. They clashed and fought, screeching and tearing at his skull.

He felt his sins tear at his bones, the pain that wasn’t really there causing Dust to curl up closer to his legs, as he clutched at his hood in pain. Shut up, shut up shut up shut up shut up shutupshutupshutupshutup- “...Ust? Dus–t?” Your voice cut the thoughts, causing everything to come to a screeching halt. The sudden change triggered Dust’s fight and flight, as he flung a bone towards you. Luckily, due to his mental dizziness, he missed barely, slamming the bone into the side of your loose sweater, pinning you by the clothes against the wall.

Dust’s eye lights shot open at the sound of your yelp, as he opened his sockets to see you frozen against the wall, eyes wide in surprise. Dust’s own eye lights dilated before shrinking to pin pricks, before extinguishing, “sparky,” He mumbled the nickname. You gave a crooked shaky smile, waving, “Hey, world to Dust?” You said lightheartedly, before grabbing the purple bone and struggling a moment, before taking it out of the wall. Dust quickly began to stumble to his feet, as his sockets blew wide. “d-did I hit you-” he stuttered, as he gained his balance.”

You shook your eyes, as you approached Dust. “Hey, Dust, what was-” You were cut off, as Dust quickly stumbled back, shaking his skull quickly. “no, don’t.” He said stiffly, freezing you in your tracks.

“i.. i don’t want to hurt you. go to horror, he can explain and make you dinner. i… leave me. i’m not safe,” he quickly explained, sweat dripping down his soul as your hands shook. Dust stumbled back as you began to approach him, holding your hands out. “No, I’m sorry Dust I can’t… You can’t do this alone.” You said sternly, as Dust’s back hit the wall.

“sparky, please-” he mumbled uselessly, but froze as you wrapped your arms around him. He screwed his sockets shut tightly, waiting for the voices to spike and attack his mind again.

But they never did.

The silent hum of your soul is all that accompanied his skull, as you cradled the back of his skull with your hands softly. He stood still for a long moment, before melting against you.

A sharp sob broke past his teeth as he clutched your shirt, whispering. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry-” He mumbled, as he fell apart in your arms, shaking like a leaf in the wind.

You slowly brought him down to sit, as you cradled him quietly in the dark room, hushing him quietly as he cried.

(Happy birthday to Dusttale <3 Thank you for being a massive comfort despite everything. I'm excited to continue writing my stories for Dust and finding comfort even when things feel like they'll never get better.)

[zelphin124]

Killer x Y/N short story

One of the few short stories I will be writing. Requested by the wonderful @itsxroxannex as her honorable mention prize.

I do write commissions and short stories! Do you want a story? I can work with a small price (:

I'm using an image from Bing Image Creator to help the readers visualize where they are at and who they are talking to. It's for visual purposes only, and I do not claim it.

Enjoy the story!

~o0o~

The light from the sun bouncing off the rock hallways started to fade as the moon rose. The dripping from the ceiling had stopped, and monsters and humans started filling the tavern. It was supposed to be very busy tonight.

The tavern was underground, just below the surface life. Dartboards hung across the walls on various barrels. Small candles were lit beside them, either hanging from the ceiling or resting on uniquely carved tables. Carpets were strung across the floor, filled with old designs and symbols that the humans didn't understand, and the monsters refused to explain.

The bar itself looked like any other bar, but the counters were carved into the rocks and the drinks were stored within the earth. The tables were made from woven branches, and the chairs were also made from scattered parts of trees that were no longer needed elsewhere.

You weren't much for drinking. You had only come to the bar to talk with your friend, Shiro. Shiro ran the place during slow hours. Now that the night rush was coming, his co-workers came in to help him run the shift. He wouldn't have much time to talk anymore.

You started to pack your computer, flinging your bag over your shoulder. Shiro had told you of the many tales and tragedies that happen during the night rush, and you didn't want to stick around to become one of them.

"Leaving so soon?" Shiro asked as he wiped the table where you just sat. His baggy white hair fell over his face, and he smiled softly.

"You know how I am with crowds," you responded, hoping he would get the hint.

He didn't. "Well, surely it shouldn't be that busy tonight-"

He was cut off as three skeletons walked down the entrance stairs. It was apparent that they were some sort of gang, as they all wore the same-colored jacket, pants, and shoes. Each of them stood proudly as everyone went silent.

The tallest one had a large hole in his head, and his left eye was huge. It glowed red and barely made any movement when he looked around. He hunched over and had a large ax on his back. He never stopped smiling, which left an unhinged feeling in everyone who saw it.

The shortest one wore a hood over his head. His eyes glowed red, and one of them had a purple and blue tint to it. Unlike his tall counterpart, he never smiled. He glared at everyone who even dared to look at him. Monster ash covered his clothes, sparking fear in all who noticed.

The third one seemed the most normal of the group. His smile was contagious, and his extroverted personality always drew attention to him. Big black stripes dripped from his void eyes down to his neck. His coat was fluffier than the rest, and his soul wasn't hidden. It hung in front of his chest like a big red target. He twirled a knife in his hand before resting it by his side.

The Murder Time Trio, you recalled. You recognized each of their faces from wanted posters across the town. Working under Nightmare, they worked to harvest negativity.

The Star Sanses - rulers of this AU amongst many others - wanted to bring them to justice, but with all of the Sanses abilities to travel alternate universes, they were hard to track down.

You couldn't buy into the fact there were other worlds than your own. The only reason you believed it was the evidence before you; multiple versions of the same person taking different paths.

Shiro glanced over as the tavern filled with noise and music again. He rolled his eyes, grabbing a notepad and pen before walking over to the table they sat at.

The dart games began. Multiple people threw darts across the room to the targets. According to Shiro, this was how all the drama started. Someone would think a shot was unfair, and a fight would break out.

Deciding it wasn't the best idea to stay any longer, you weave through the crowd of monsters and humans trying to get to the bar to drink. You glanced at the table where the trio sat as they talked with Shiro. You pray they don't do anything to your friend.

As you stood between the dart targets, waiting for the round to be over, you eavesdrop on Shiro's conversation. He seemed bored, surprisingly.

"I'll have a margarita," the striped face one said.

"A big beer, please," Horror lowered his head.

"Think you can handle one of those again, Horror?" The striped face asked.

Horror didn't answer him. He waved his hand in dismissal to Shiro as he looked at the menu.

"I see," Shiro scribbled down the orders on his paper. "And for you, Dust?"

"Nothing," the hooded skeleton replied. "Someone has to be sober when Killer isn't."

"Hey, I would do just fine," Killer smirked. "I don't see you..."

The conversation faded out of hearing as shouts echoed across the tavern. Glancing behind you, you see a human and a monster arguing about who hit the target first as they shot their darts at the same time. The shouts almost frightened you, and you didn't think before stepping forward. Your goal was to get away from the chaos before more violence broke out. Maybe you shouldn't have come here, maybe it was a bad idea after all.

A dart flew towards your face.

You didn't have time to react before you were pulled off your feet, resting in the mercy of someone's arms as he caught the dart. "Woah darling, careful there," he sighed, his head turning toward the people who threw it.

You realize the man, or the skeleton that saved your head was Killer. His grip was firm around your waist from when he had pulled you away from the weapon. He dropped the dart and continued to glare at the monster that had thrown it.

The people playing the particular dart game went dead silent, all pointing to the person who threw the dart. He didn't seem to care. "Oh, come on, she walked in front of it! It's not my fault!"

"Pay attention to your surroundings more, mm?" Killer smirked, tilting his head. He turned towards you before the others could reply. "You too, cutie," he smirked, poking your nose. "Gotta be careful in places like these~"

His grip on your waist loosened as you backed up. A blush painted your face as you stared up at him. As your blush increased, so did his smile, making you blush more. The blood rushed to your face as you tried to cover your cheeks with your favorite-colored scarf.

"Do you seriously have to flirt with everyone you see, Killer?" Dust snapped, opening a deck of cards and flushing them across the table.

"Look at them, they're pretty!" Killer replied. "I didn't want them to get scratched by a silly dart!"

"Then they shouldn't be in a place like this," Horror rolled his eyes, glancing at the deck of cards Dust had started dealing.

Instant guilt washed over you. You didn't mean to cause any trouble, and Shiro was nowhere in sight to defend you. You gesture to Killer, thanking him for saving you before telling him you'll leave to not cause any more trouble.

Killer looked you up and down, smiling as his eyes made their way back to your face. "What's your name, Hun?" He smirks slyly.

You tell him your name, scratching your head in the process. One of the most wanted men in the multiverse was talking to you. In fact, he smiled when he looked at you. How could this be?

"Y/N, what a beautiful name," Killer takes a step closer to you, extending his hand. "You plan to get on out of here? I can make sure you get home safely."

You open your mouth to accept the offer but hesitate. He, along with his friends, were mass killers. It was obvious by the dust and blood across their clothes. Was he going to kill you? You had no idea.

If he was, then why would he go out of his way to pull you away from an incoming dart?

"Killer, you play or not?" Horror asked, interrupting your thoughts.

"Not now," Killer didn't take his eyes off you. "I wish to walk this lovely human home."

"Oh, can I come?" Horror smirked, his hand reaching for his ax.

Dust slapped his hand. "Not that kind of walk home," Dust rolled his eyes. "Look at him! His soul his turning into a heart! Pathetic, really."

Dust wasn't lying. Killer's soul had taken the form of an upside-down heart momentarily. You tilt your head in curiosity, surely that was a good sign.

"Hey!" The monster that had thrown the dart earlier shouted. "You broke my dart with your disgusting fingers!"

Killer raised his eyebrows as he shrugged. "Oops."

"That dart cost me hundreds of G!" He growled. "You're gonna pay for that!"

You felt Killer's hands run along your shoulders. "Time to go~" he whispered behind you.

As the monster tumbled near, he suddenly faded from sight. Everything vaporized into stripes as the underground tavern disappeared and was quickly replaced with the cool breeze of the surface.

The moon glimmered in the sky next to the stars as it shined down on the slightly paved street. There were no streetlights, but you could see the village in the distance. Fireflies glittered the sky along with the stars. There were a few trees and a river to cross, and the bridge over the river linked the road.

"Whew, that was close," Killer chuckled, letting go of you. He walked over to your side and smirked down at you. "Don't worry, he won't catch us now."

"Thank you," you sighed with a smile before walking toward the village.

Killer started to follow you. "Hey, I know we like, just met, right? This is a little crazy," he glanced down at the ground as he caught up to you. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and he couldn't stop smiling. "But can I get your number?"

You widened your eyes, surprised. He really wanted your number after two minutes. Surely that couldn't be... This couldn't be happening, right? Wasn't that a red flag of some sort, and you, out of all people? You didn't see why someone as famous and as brave as him would pay attention-

You snapped back into reality, realizing that you had given him your phone, and he was already punching in his own number.

"Thanks, doll," Killer smiled to himself. "I didn't expect you to actually say yes. I'll fulfill my promise; let's get you home safely."

How the- you paused, unable to comprehend what just happened.

Despite the darkness and eerie noises surrounding you, you felt at peace. You couldn't help but wonder if that was because a skilled killer was by your side, ready to defend you if anything came your way. He made that clear with his actions at the tavern.

It didn't take long for Killer to start a conversation. He asked many questions and answered any questions you had. He often would laugh, smile, and tease you in such a way that made the butterflies in your stomach squirm. He was very charming, flirtatious, and unique. You couldn't recall if you met anyone like him.

And you liked that.

He was so different from everyone else that you had met, treated you well, and it was so easy to be yourself around him. He brought out a side of you that you thought died a long time ago. That side that made you feel... wild and free.

"Look look look," Killer begged, running off the path toward a lake. He picked up a rock and threw it across the water's surface. It must have skipped a hundred times before it plunged into the depths below. He picked up another one and did the same thing. "It's perfect water to skip the rocks on!"

You join his side and sit on a boulder nearby, watching him skip rocks as he continues to tell you about the first time won a card game, which you learned wasn't very often due to Dust having a special connection with cards.

"The look on his face when I won, hah! Priceless! Should've known better to have challenged me!"

You asked him if he had won the next two games after that.

"Uh, no, but that's not the point silly!" He smiled, heaving a great sigh as he looked up at the stars. He closed his eyes, letting the wind blow across his face as the ripples on the lake settled. The moon complimented his face and made him seem so peaceful and innocent. It highlighted his chest and showed the two small eyes that he had hidden within his skull.

You commented how he looks great in the moonlight. When he asked you how so, you got up and pointed out the various places the moonlight shined on him, and how it made him look so handsome.

"Tch, you're sweet," Killer snickered, brushing the hair out of your face. "But the moonlight on me is better on you."

Before you could recover from the sudden blush, he continued. "Have you ever skipped a stone across the water?"

As you shook your head, Killer frowned. He turned you around to face the lake and picked a stone up from the ground, admiring it in the moonlight. "Here, I'll teach you darling." He placed the stone in your hand and gestured that you try.

You tossed the rock into the water, it sunk in front of you.

"Heh, not like that." Killer came up from behind you and grabbed your wrists gently. "Here, let me guide you."

For the next thirty minutes, Killer moved your wrists in the correct motion. He gave tips on what to do with your fingers when you release the rock. You would have gotten it much sooner if you weren't so distracted by his sweet breath brushing against your cheek.

As you threw your hundredth stone, it skipped across the water more times than you can count. Joy filled your face, and your smile only increased when you heard Killer congratulate you.

"That was awesome!" He gleamed, running his hand along his skull. He quickly picked up a stone and skipped it across the water to catch up with yours. "Fast learner, eh?"

Before you could reply, Killer came up to you and embraced you. His hug was so snug, you felt safe in his arms. You wrap your arms around his back as the tension in your body flees. He was so warm, and he held you so tight... you didn't want to leave his arms.

Alas, it didn't last for long. Killer smiled and took your hand, guiding you up back to the path. "Alright, it's best I get you home, cutie," he smiled slyly. "The boys are probably wondering where I am."

You were closer to your home than you thought, to your dismay. Killer stood close to you, putting his hood over his skull to hide his face from the town as they turned down the street to your house. You almost had forgotten that he was a wanted killer with how enjoyable your time was with him. Surely, he wasn't all everyone said he was... he was so nice to you.

"Lovely house you have, I'll have to visit you sometime," Killer commented, smiling his usual charming smile as you approached the door. "Y/N, it was fun getting to know you, I'll call ya, alright? You're too pretty to say goodbye to, anyway."

You invited him to stay and watch a movie, but he declined.

"Nah, I'm sure Dust and Horror would be suspicious... besides, I cannot stay in the town for long unless I want Nightmare mad..." He took a few steps toward you until he was inches away from your face. He continued to smile as he took your hand. "However," he paused. He lifted your hand up to his face and kissed it gently. Once he met your eyes again, he smirked softly again. "I'm sure I could make an exception for you another night."

You didn't know how much more of his teasing you could take as your face turned red. You held your hand as if it was made of diamonds.

"Heh, you're so cute," Killer backed up into the street. "See ya later, Y/N."

You barely waved in time before he vanished from sight.

You couldn't stop thinking about him for the rest of the night. He treated you kindly, and his jokes were so funny... you longed for his company, despite his reputation. How long had it been since the tavern? A couple of hours? Were all monsters like this? Maybe there was a special thing about monsters where you grew attached quicker than another human. As if they understood the value of another living being and had a way to make another feel at ease around them. You tried to figure it out as you winded down for the night.

Maybe they were masters at this feeling that you felt: love.

Or maybe Killer was just special like that.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Curious Sight

What is this?! Two Drabbles?! @spotaus It is more likely than you think.

Mostly because i was REAL impressed you guys managed to keep it equal. like how? Also because i really wanted to do both so here you go! both!

This one is a lot shorter though hihi

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

*--------------------*

Just his luck.

Why did he have to have a favourite pie in a whole other universe?

The Toriel looks very apologetic “I am very sorry. They just sold out very quickly this time. I will have new ones tomorrow morning!”

Blue smiles as he pushes down the disappointment “It is okay! I can always try again later.”

Toriel smiles before motioning towards the other goods she has for sale “Anything else? The cupcakes are amazing today.” she smiles.

Blue shakes his skull “No that is alright. Thank you so much for checking!” he waves and leaves the small bakery.

He sighs as he stands outside.

Damnit.

His luck sucks today. He had hoped he could cheer himself up with some nice pie but it seems like they are out after all. Ugh. Then again, maybe it is his own fault for liking things outside his own universe so much.

Blue looks from side to side. Maybe he can look around a bit? See if there is another bakery. He doubts it because the town, and well this very universe, is very small and he hadn’t seen it when he visited this place with the Stars all that time ago.

But well. He doesn’t really have anything planned today.

He looks left and right and decides to go right for now. He wanders down the street and waves at people along the way.

Okay. So he can’t get the cherry hazelnut pie he wanted. Which is a shame. But he can do something else to cheer him up!

It had just been rough in his underground. Alphys had been very distrusting of the human this time around and it had been exhausting to get her to at least try to get to know them. That is not even the multiverse mess.

At least people don’t demand his help at every turn anymore. Sure he loves helping others but before it got so bad. Back when Dream was still doing the positive guardian thing. People had also demanded help of Blue. And Blue loves to help! But there had been the fear that if he said no it would reflect badly on Dream and Ink.

There is a reason he hardly travelled the multiverse alone before. It was just easier to give himself rest that way.

But now with Dream officially having a new god goal and Ink still being MIA it means people stopped bothering Blue all the time!

Blue tries to ignore the hurt that thinking about Ink brings. He had done so much to help Ink and had thought they had been friends! That Blue meant something to the other! Apparently not. Seeing as Ink hasn’t even shown his face anywhere yet, aside from meetings but Blue doesn’t really count that. They don’t even hang out afterwards. Ink just leaves again.

Blue shakes his skull and keeps walking. It is fine. Ink is also a god and probably busy with god stuff. Reaper was going to talk with Error and Ink about their godhood after all. Ink is probably just busy.

Blue just… he hopes Ink didn’t just… forget him…

Blue shakes his skull and pats his own cheeks twice. Come on Blue! Snap out of it! You got this! No need to dwell on the negatives. Especially if you don’t know what Ink’s reason is! There is no reason to worry or feel sad about things you don’t even know yet!

Blue sighs as he grabs his phone. His phalange hovering over Dream’s icon. No. Dream is dealing with enough. And asking him to track down Ink just so Blue can ask him why he doesn’t want to hang out anymore is just… a lot.

Blue scrolls through his contacts and pauses when he sees Red’s name. Huh. It has been a while since he hang out with Red. Maybe the two of them can go to some motorcross universe and drive a set of bikes around? Just go fast and have fun with a friend? He taps a message and sends it.

Blue grins at his phone as he waits. Oh this is going to be great. Just him and a friend having fun and talking about motorcycles!

A ping and Blue grins before it falls. Red says he can’t at the moment. Bad run going on in his universe and that his brother is very stressed. Apparently the last reset had gone very badly and Red had died and apparently Edge had gotten somekind of memory or dream about it and is hovering a lot more than usual.

Blue sighs but types back that he gets it and if he needs help just to let him know. Red answers with a thumbs up and a thanks.

Blue sighs and just looks up. Huh. He recognises these streets but can’t quite remember where from. Maybe all these areas just look alike? Blue shrugs and looks back at his phone.

Maybe he can ask Sans, or whatever everyone decides to call him. Sans is a bit… strange. No one is quite sure why, Sans least of all. It is just weird how everyone just decided that no nickname really fit him. They tried Comic and Classic. But in the end everyone just ends up referring to him with Sans.

Which is weird as fuck with all of them originally being Sans. Yet Sans is the most Sans.

It is hard to explain.

He finds the number and grins as he is typing a message.

A moment later he answers that he is down to hang out.

Blue grins as he starts typing, not really paying attention to where he is going. He texts his friend about maybe going to Outertale to just hang out at the café. Or even to try and find a new universe.

Sans says he is down and asks if he wants to meet wherever he is now to travel together or to meet at Outertale and search for each other there.

Blue thinks and is about to type for Sans to come to him as he looks up for a reference for Sans to teleport to. Only to freeze.

That is the Cuddly Cat.

More importantly.

That is the back of Killer’s jacket leaving around the side of the building.

Blue doesn’t even answer the text as he runs towards the other road.

He gets there just in time to see the portal melt shut. Blue searches for the right app on his phone and holds it near the slowly fully closing rift. Praying he was fast enough to manage and get there in time.

It takes a moment and the signal the app is picking up disappears. But it is still loading and Blue stares at the program as it slowly slowly loads.

Then it pops up with coordinates to an universe!

Blue stares in shock before seeing another message of Sans appear at the top. He quickly texts him that he is very sorry but that he just spotted the gang out and about.

Sans’s reply is mostly confused. Asking why it matters as Sans thought that was all already solved? So why try and track their movement?

Blue is thorn. Does he share that Dream doesn’t actually know if Nightmare is dead? That Dream is actually looking for Nightmare?

Blue ends up typing that Dream still wants to personally apologise for the gang and Sans says he gets it and just let him know when he got time to hang.

Blue sighs as he opens the right chat window and starts to type. But then removes the message as he tries to type one again.

Over and over as he struggles over what to exactly say before he settles on a message.

“I saw the gang. I know to which universe they went. We got a lead if you want to check it out?”

And he waits.

His phone pings.

“Please.”

Seems like he got plans after all.

*--------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[killouz]

☆Just a small thing from my AU TimeFlower Verse☆

[fineapplequeen]

Short story under cut.

The Dragon was dead.

The portal was old, withering from unuse all this time. The crackling and pops have gotten so few and far inbetween, cracks splintered the end portal frame and bits of rubble crumbled into the lava below. This couldn't be it. This couldn't be the last of time, quiet between the echoing of pops against the cave walls. Not a soul was left and dust was still slowly falling between its crevices and over the ender eyes in it's frame. No, they couldn't let the end be the end. It was too much of a tragic one.

Monsterkind had taken care of it all this time before the great silence, before the dust and loud echoes. It popped and dust sunk deeper. It never had feeling before now, it never had much thought before now. It was just a portal, quiet and useful, but right now it mourned. It felt the growing cracks upon its surface, splintering off in ever which direction, it felt the heat of magma below, always keeping it warm though the portal itself always remained ice cold. It felt more than it'd ever felt before, but it did not have a soul. The eyes however, they watched.

The eyes knew of the monster that guarded and protected it for so long, a quiet monster, skeletal and always tired. It felt that exhaustion. It wished for them to return, to lay against the cobbled stairs again for a nap, to smile and speak soft words at passing critters in the room. The portal wanted for once. It wanted the monster's dust to not be scattered across it, violent and just as forgotten as it was.

Dust spilled under an eye, but it knew not of pain. It was just a frame afterall. It yearned as the eye popped out, and fell into the lava. The portal closed and the other eyes were frantic, pain.

The room was quiet still, a portal could not scream, it could not yell for help, it could only be- but that was cruel. For something to be sentient and feel touch and pain- but have no way to brace or move or speak it's thoughts was unnatural, it was tragic.

The dust settled and time passed, it forgot the pain. It didn't forget itself, of its yearning or desire. Perhaps its indulgence in hope is what caused a rift, small, void and deep, cascading through it, over and around until it was submerged. The dust rose, and with itso did the portal. Quiet, not even an echo formed in the room as dust gathered, melding, shifting, molding- and so did it, as if it were not made of framework, eyes or end stone, it was molded like clay and as the void dissappeared, it left it on the old cobbled staircase.

It looked- looked, it's eye could see and it could turn, no- it could move. It turned it's head up, down and side to side, left and right, it flinched against furrs lining it's neck when a sound came from it's chest, much like the endermen that filled the End. It looked down at itself again- himself, dressed in clothes. He looked at his hands, they were skeletal and he lifted them, familiar though the magic between his joints were a different color, green instead of blue. He'd been melded into the monster.

That was a different kind of ache, one that filled his entire chest and made strange liquid seep from his sockets, he didn't know a skeleton could make such sorrow filled sounds, the wailing echoing againt the walls of his room until he it hurt to make the sound any longer.

He sat there. Thinking, making his strange sounds, looking around, almost too afraid to move, there was no question as to why he was here, why he was melded, there'd only ever been a few thought on his mind ever since the quiet began, he wanted to restore the lives of those that were lost. He did not want the silence anymore, and he was sure the Dragon and monsters longed to be alive again. Maybe they were here, stuck as he'd been, lost to the silence, unable to express.

He stood, or tried to, failing a lot until he managed some semblance of balance against the stone floors. It was time to leave, afterall this was the beginning, and he was End.

[fairy-verse]

What would happen if a Big Folk and a fairy (normal or Firstborn?) fell in love?

For such a tragic yet ever-so-beautiful situation to occur, a child of the Big Folk must forgo their traditional ways of thinking and instead embrace the ways of the island so that their soul and heart can become fully enveloped by the tales of the wind and the songs of the trees. The love between someone of the Big Folk and a fairy is unlikely, but not entirely impossible, for the fairies hold such curiosity and amazement towards the Big Folk, no matter how frightening they may be, for they are such peculiar creatures to them, and many are so, so beautiful.

While the affection shared between a fairy and one of the Big Folk may be pure and good-intentioned, it is little they can do about the inevitable fallout that will (or could) steadily approach. Fairies live for so much longer than the Big Folk, and they cannot leave the island, nor can they solely reside within a household of the Big Folk. Should an agreement be made where they can live as close to nature as possible, then perhaps the relationship may flourish to become something strong and resilient, and who knows... Perhaps there are forces, such as the Firstborn themselves, that can give their aid in allowing one of the Big Folk to become one of them, in their own peculiar little ways.

After all, it has happened before, in the tale that whispers the words of the mother of the fae, who essentially gave birth to those half-human, half-fairy creatures that mostly reside at the edges of Ink’s domain, close to the sea. The mother of the fae may not have been loved in the traditional sense of the word, but she was dearly beloved by the firstborn of spring, and he was not about to release the soul who had sought him out in a desperate attempt to have children of her own. No, he kept her, hidden among the trees in a cottage built by her own hands. There, she still lives, though whether she is one of the Big Folk anymore remains to be seen.

[yourfriendlybi]

The Mortal in the Stars

Honestly! You think the only Mortal in the Star Sans, would be the least popular with Monsters and others!! But not for the Magnificent Sans or known as (the Magnificent) Blue to the rest of Multiverse. Then again, he does help THE literal God of Creation and THE Guardian of Positivity in keeping the Multiverse safe and balanced, so, it's no surprise that he inspires others, and becomes the 2nd popular with the group.

But sometimes being the only mortal in the group of immortals can be... Problematic at times, especially when you know you will never be able to catch up with them in many things, like strength, durability, how easily it can be to replace you since you are another copy. Or maybe when the time comes, and you get hit in the SOUL and are unbaled to survive the damage, maybe they will simply forget you even existed to them.

Though, even the God that is a literal scatterbrain and forgetful made a major effort with them writing down that long scarf of theirs about you in the early years of your friendship. Or the Guardian that always makes sure you were never too badly injured in a battle with Nightmare's Gang even after you where healed.

Maybe, they won't forget you, after all, they have called you family to them.

[lightyearssurrogatedaddy]

ErrInk beause I once again got bored

He had a stool and a plan.

If only Error would stop moving.

They were at Blue's house, wandering through the wide downstairs living room and circling up and around the upstairs in a sauntered, very gradual chase. He waddled after him and put the stool down, and Error immediately meandered away in humor. Back down the stairs, then clambering on the top of the couch and walking the rest of the way before hopping down, evading Ink as he tried to get in front of him, snickering, and going back up. Ink having trouble catching the legs on the steps and struggling to reach the top of the railing, then taking a moment to rest and picking up the stool again. Error acted like he was looking at something in the corner of the room when he wasn't moving, and behaved as if the reason he kept moving was because something interesting caught his attention.

Blue was watching this strange parade from the kitchen, leaning on the edge counter and out of the path. In mild amusement and confusion he smiled whenever Error stopped long enough for Ink to stand on the stool, then waltz away again with a disgruntled hiss following him. The little game had a point to begin with, and he'd get there eventually, Error would tire out or sit down, stop to talk to Blue or turn around and ask Ink what his deal was. And he had all the time in the world.

Following back up the stairs, swinging the stool to balance on his head and making careful steps up. One at a time. And reached the top in a shorter amount of time than last time. He put the stool down again, took pride in his accomplishment, and stalked on to the glitch at the end of the railing. Staring off into space. Ink snuck along the wall for comedic effect with a goofy grin, and slowly leaned over to set the stool beside him. He was gunna move in just a second, so he hopped up and got from his knees to his feet.

He waited, Error didn't move and gave a squinting glare. Going according to plan, he attempted to cup Error's face, and in response the glitch jerked away and ducked to speed-walk down to the end of the railing. Another fun failure, Ink picked up his stool and set off again. This time when Ink got to the living room, he found him cowering behind Blue in the kitchen. Inconspicuously, of course, leaning his back into the wannabe and hunched over his phone, probably typing something into the notes app.

Blue had his head resting between his thumb and pointer, exhaling laughter with a pained look on his face.

The doorway to the kitchen was small, and luckily the counter just barely reached the frame. He hammered the stool down, which Blue did not like, and clambered up grinning. Staring equal with Error he cracked his knuckles and shook them out thematically.

Error wore something between grimace and worry, and stood stock still as Ink's itty hands reached for him. He pulled him close, leaned in, and left a little kiss on his forehead. The glitch gave a whine of words and pressed the phone to his nose, heavily squinting at Ink. Then he ran away.

When Ink looked though Error's phone later, the notes app at a recent new addition.

Several exclamation marks, a whole paragraph of the laughing emoji (with the rare appearance of the middle finger emoji), and then an emoticon at the end:

"(:<"

[blorbfoosh]

Desert Dance

On the other side of the Web, a new story began. Like it always does, when the strings of two Webs Intertwine. A flipped world begins, sands blowing across the desert in waves. Canyons and mesas rise above, painting the scarred landscape with rusty reds, oranges, and browns, twisting and waving in an intricate pattern of rock.

The landscape itself was carved by nature's wonders- Molten lava beds which had long since cooled down over time, creating breathtaking caves, and amazing rock sites. These serve as refuge for those brave souls who traverse the Bad-Lands.

These caves have grown, and now, they even harbor cities and towns. One of these cities is called Stalagmite City, the biggest one all. Placed snug in a cave called El Roseau, this bustling semi-1950's western themed town's been thriving. Even has a big freshwater lake.

But that's not where our story's set, is it? Like what someone once said, 'you've got to get to the canyons to strike gold.' Smaller towns lie outside as well.

One of those.. Is Sterlington. A darling little town situated next to a bridge which stretches over the canyons. This is where our tale begins.

With a stubborn city gal, trying to start anew, and a loyal sheriff, who merely wants to make a friend.

These two, to others, were like oil and water. Our gal surely thinks so herself. But.. Maybe all she had to do was open up. Give friendship another chance. Maybe give love, another chance.

She's already trying, opening her home to two souls. Souls she considered her children. But will that be enough to consider other souls 'friends?'

Our sheriff surely wishes to do so. Ever since day one, he's been poking, prodding, pleading for the tiniest ounce of friendship to this iced-over woman. You can imagine how dumbstruck he felt when all of the blue, a large.. Stuffy broke the walls in five minutes, that he's been wearing down for weeks.

But he's getting somewhere.

Tucking a lock behind her ear, Polaris breathed a sigh as she stared at her creation in slight disappointment. The duck cake was not.. Duck-ying. She didn't have enough fondant to make the beak or coat the legs, and she wasn't even sure if her recipient liked fondant or not. 

At least she's getting practice out of this, she mused. But the fondant... She knows she can make it at home. Time to go out again, she supposed. All Polar really needed were marshmallows and fine sugar. From what she remembered, she needed shortening too. She had butter at home anyway.

Starlo was probably out training Killa, from the sounds of grunting and small explosions to the left. Familiar ears popped out of a sand and shook themself off. She waved at her towering feline stuffy kid, Killa, and he waved back, before dodging a bell attack.

"Focus, Kills! Keep it up, Sparkles! Y'all are doin' great."

She called, swinging her homemade tote bag on her shoulders and walking into town. Just hoped that she didn't bump into anyone on the way, yeah-? Funny how just a few weeks ago she was a silent recluse running from a job. Now, she's still a recluse, but she has a job, new.. Could she even call them friends? ..and a family. Her own.

One she's waited for, maybe even wanted. It felt.. Natural, for her.

She didn't take notice of her surroundings, and soon tripped on the front step of an establishent. Gasping, she flailed, trying to soften her fall-.. But it never came.  Instead, she felt something tugging at the scruff of her blouse, holding her face a few centimeters from the wooden floor. She was lifted up and placed upright, making her tense up and awkwardly brush herself off, before glancing behind her.

oh. shiddles.

With a proud smirk, a certain cocky duck stared down at her, worry seeming to glimmer a bit in those hazel green eyes. Sometimes she saw them stern and serious, eyes straight. Other times, they're bright and full of light and teasing.  And others.. She didn't know. It was so hard to read them. Hard to read him.

Sheriff Vercos Star-Cross.

He stood at a towering height over her, five feet taller at most.  She'd never admit it to him, but he.. He intimidated her. In ways she didn't know were possible. Crouching down to be at her level, he took a visual check on her.

"e y- You alright, miss? That was- heh, quite the drop-"

Polar would snap out of staring. Dammit, she was doing this more and more. what was wrong with her..?

"Yes, Vercos. I'm alright. Just flapped in, did ya?"

He would shrug, raising an wing to his nape, still remaining crouched. The air was full of awkwardness- Especially considering the upcoming events.

"Mm, yea, jus' about finished with my rounds.  The bandit seems to have taken a pit stop, so we're all clear for tomorrow's dance."

There was a dance? She wasn't well accustomed with holidays. Upon seeing her confusion, the duck started to explain.

"Y'see, miss, we have, eh, let's say lil get-togetherz when stuff happens. Like for Thanksgivin', Easter, stuff like that. Valentine's is no difference."

"Different."

"Different, difference. All the same."

Polar would shake her head and sigh, as Vercos stood up again, stretching. She can't blame him, it gets tiring having to crouch just to speak well. She should know- Nursed a lil birb when she was younger.

"And lemme guess, it's extra coupley."

Vercos laughed this time, shaking his head. That surprised her. Stereotypes.. Demolished? She was grateful she moved here more than ever. This town was something special, she could see it now.  This was something she had to protect.

"Nawt at all, miss! We're all friends o'er here in Sterlington. I mean, ya can come with, if- If ya want-..?"

This action stunned her. What was he trying to achieve? Was he trying to strengthen their so-called 'friendship'..?

You thought he was gonna back off after last time? Hell. Nah. If anything, it was like he upped his game-..!

..but if she wants to stay, she needs to put effort into it.

"Miss? Miss, are ya really doin fine-? Ya look pretty, uh, not here."

Polar nodded, trying to analyze the situation. The dance will probably be night, or at least late afternoon when everyone was free. Since tomorrow was a school day, the people have time to fix up the grounds during the day. Others might've already cooked beforehand so all they needed to do was bring it. There's probably events as well. She was about done with puzzles, all she really needed to do was the cake.

..But the event wasn't what she was worried about, it was the intention of the one who asked her. Polaris hasn't been to a dance in.. A while. And the last one she had been to was, heh- Tragic, to say the least.

"Vercos. I'm fine. Just lost in thoughts like you said."

He would nod, bending over to be in her face. As usual, in her space. But why was she not getting irked?

"Well, mind if ya consider my offer?"

"I didn't realize it was an invitation."

"Hey, ya kids might wanna go too, so keep that in mind."

He'd gently nudge her with a small smile, making her involuntarily shiver and roll her eyes. Her children. Yeah.

They were a good excuse to go poke around harmlessly. Plus, she wasn't sure whether Killer had been to a dance before- Considering being cooped up in a creepy underground lab. She still felt shivers from that. ..She was genuinely scared. Concerned. For someone she wasn't that close with.

Feelings. They baffled her, really.

But.. If she kept on pushing them away, then-.. .... Crumbles has been prodding her to try. She's opened her heart. Her home. If she really wanted 'home,' she had to start nesting.

And it started with this.

"..I mean, I've been planning an outing so Killa and Starlo can get.. More aquainted with the fellows here. Guess this could be a start."

Was it just her, or did a small flicker of hope leap in his eyes..? And did his smile just twitch a little wider? That wasn't possible, was it-?

Right?..

It's just having the kids around, yeah. Nothing changes with her and Vercos. He's just the irritating sheriff ducky who hangs around a lot and likes to solve puzzles. Which she made. It's not like anything will happen.

That evening, she finished coating the duck cake in fondant, and was starting on accessories. Painstakingly molding and creasing, every single brush she did precise and calculated. This continued on late into the night, and until early morning as well. She saw the first streaks of light reach up, touching the sky and spreading like watercolors on a paper.

It was well past dawn when she attached the gold sheriff cookie badge to the green fondue poncho. She did it..! A beautiful muscovy duckatrice stood cockily on a rock, poncho lightly swaying in the wind. An oversized brown Stetson hung on his head as his eyes looked forward with a determined sheen. Horns poked out of the Stetson, for more 'duckatrice.' Where tail feathers end, a new tail began, hanging behind him in an arrogant-ish way. She sadly didn't have enough fondant to make the transition to lizard wings, but she supposed this was enough.

She's been working her best. ..but would he like it..?

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she started cleaning up the kitchen, when she heard soft thumps from the living room. A few minutes later, a groggy Killa trudged in, ears flopping side to side like they did when tired. Polar smiled, putting the cake away for later.

"mhhhh... Morning, mum."

He would take a seat at the dining table and lay his head on it, groaning sleepily.

"Good morning, love. How was your sleep?"

"I wish I can go to bed again."

Polar shook her head, going over to pat his head consolingly.

"Wanna know something?"

Killa looked up with interest, rubbing his eye with a big clawed paw. Polar leaned closer with a whisper.

"We're going to a dance later."

Killa sat up straighter, eye glinting with excitement.

"A dance? Later? With people and music and food?"

Polar laughed, giving his lil clownish nose a boop.

"Especially food."

Killa hopped up excitedly from his chair, like he was on a sugar high of some sort.

"I'm gonna go tell Star!"

And with that, Killa went pittering away to tell his bro.

Hours later, the dance was in full swing. The sun had long set by now, and night was upon them. The last of the children had gone to bed. Killa and Starlo included- Albeit it was much of a struggle getting Killa to finally honk out- Starlo was a little stubborn, but he relented still.

Now it was just Polaris and the night. And the faint sound of music and laughter. ..She felt weirdly disappointed, not staying, but-.. She felt awkward. Not.. Not at home. There were too many people, too many eyes. And couples.

She knows Vercos said that all were welcome, but-.. It didn't change anything. She still felt alone. Shivering a bit, she curled up on the back porch swing as she looked up at the open sky. It was beautiful. She couldn't get enough of it- Heck, if she didn't see this every night, she would be depressed! The beauty of the celestial plane.. It made her think. A cool night breeze flowed past her and she shivered again. ayy, she shoulda got a blanket.

But she was way too comfy to leave.

Groaning, she'd scoot closer to one side of the remarkably large swing(Killa loves this place, so she made it to fit anyone) and curl up again. At least she had nothing else to do, yeah-..? Nothing much to worry about tonight. A soft flap of wings sounded above her, but she supposed those were just birds, resting for the night. Renovations went by oddly quickly, and she made the empty, three-room cabin not so small anymore- And best of all, she made it feel like home. Not just to herself, but to others as well. ..or at least, she hoped.

The thought made her warm inside, and she smiled.  Everything was.. Okay. For once. And that feeling wrapped around her like a soft, warm blanket.. With a faint scent of leather, firewood, and.. Was that gunpowder? Blinking awake, she touched the new material draped around her body. A poncho- A lot like h i s-

"You were shivering."

Looking up, she saw a certain duck staring down at her with a soft smile.  ..Well, that explained the flapping. "Oh. Um. Thanks, I guess."

Vercos nodded, the porch swing slowly swaying with the both of them on it.

"I didn't see you at the later dances. Mind tellin' me why didn't you stay, miss?"

And there it was. The questions. Polar sighed, subconsciously wrapping the poncho tighter around her. He stayed, watching the stars in silence. Just waiting.  For her.

"I.. It felt awkward. I haven't danced in a while."

"You're welcome here. You know that."

She did. He knew she did. But yet-.. She didn't feel ready to mingle yet. She was glad her sons did, however.

"I guess I got skittish."

"Ya missed a good whole lot of dances, you know."

Polar chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"I'd rather skip than watch you fumble awkwardly."

"Hey! I look good~"

Vercos wagged his eyebrows(how does that even happen?), pushing his white hair back and leaned close to her with a smirk, preening his feathers like the cocky bird he is. As if he thinks he's attractive.

"Stop, you look ridiculous."

She laughed, pushing him away. This was much more comfortable than earlier. The duck laughed as well, a sound that resembled a quack- Yet smoother. It was unique.

"Ridiculously attractive~?"

"You're insane."

Chuckling, he'd sit straight again.  Silence settled around the duo once more, as they sat, watching the stars. Polar turned to say something, but the words were lost. She couldn't.. Talk to him.

The silence was nice-.. But this was consuming.

"So, you dance?"

"Oh- That. Yeah, I took lessons. Haven't done it in a while."

"Do ya reckon you dance well?"

Where was he going with his chatter? Polar just can't understand the ways of this duckatrice. It compelled her to pick and claw more at his being, to fully understand and read him as easily as he did to her.

"I consider myself decent. And you?"

Vercos shrugged, glancing at her.

"Mista Tuwitler did teach me a bit. Tango, polka, two-step, waltz.. Other stuff too."

"Oh? Interesting. I was taught that too."

"Bet you can't tango as well as I do," Vercos teased. Polar raised a brow. "Are you challenging me to see who's better-.."

She'd lean closer to him with a teasing smirk, which made him tense up and glance around, his eyes shifty, feathers poofing up a bit. That made her feel good, knowing she had an effect on him somehow. Since-.. She couldn't read him that easily.

"Or are you trying to ask me to dance with you, hm?"

Vercos blinked, before grinning back, leaning closer to her as well, getting all up in her space and in her face. Second time today, what a shocker.

"Would ya agree if I said yes, though?"

..WHAT?

Once again, she was stumped by Vercos Star-Cross. Or maybe, you're just overthinking. ..Or maybe that as well.

Leaning back, she stared blankly into nowhere as she tried to process it all, when a talon poked her cheek. She blinked, being met with a giddy Vercos face. Her face fell, and she rolled her eyes.

"You wanna, dontcha, miss?"

"..I'm not gonna answer that."

His teasing grin softened, and he stood up, offering a webbed, taloned hand to her.

"Well then. May I have this dance, milady?"

She stared at him, then his hand, and back at him once more. You only get a chance like this once in a lifetime. Don't screw it up again.

"Oh, screw it. You may."

Vercos's smile widened, and his eyes seemed to light up as Polar stood up, reached for the poncho once more, but thought better of it and place her hand in his-.. He grew smaller. Just for her. Standing at a height of five feet, he grinned up at her, tail feathers wagging like a happy duck. ..He really was happy.

Gently tugging her body to his, he placed his other hand on her shoulder. Blinking, confused, she did the same-.. Cause she felt awkward having to put her hand anywhere else. Laughing softly, Vercos led with a step to the side, Polaris following suit. It went along like so, just dancing in the back to a soundless tune. It felt nice. He spun her around, and she laughed, tilting her head back and slightly tightening her grip on his shoulder. He pulled her back gently, and caught her eyes. Chocolatey brown orbs met hazel green, and she lost sight of everything else. The surroundings faded away.. Leaving just him, dancing with her, in the dark.

[yonak-a]

THE TALE OF TWO MECHNICAL BROTHERS. (CH.2)

Upon coming home, their father greeted them both with a hug. As Fixerr spoke up, "I wanted to make breakfast, but I couldn't reach the cupboard." He would pout, as broke free from the hug as Wrecker just sighed in annoyance at his brother's behavior. Their father just sighed, as all 3 of them made breakfast together for their mother who was just waking up from all the commotion! She greeted the 3 of them with a warm smile, as she looked her husband. "Welcome home dear, how was work?" She would ask, as the husband just replied with a merely shrug and smile... something was off today though, as if something was being kept a surprise. Fixerr being the nosy kid he was suddenly shouted, "Dad got something cool in the bag! Dad has something cool!" as the little tyke attempted to reach into the bag, the father was quick to shoo the child away. "You mustn't touch what is in the bag, it's dangerous!" The father scolded, as his wife looked at him with a displeased look. "You brought work home with you, didn't you?" She'd ask, with a concerned tone, as she knew exactly what her husband worked with. The young skeleton was disappointed when he heard it was work related, as he just sighed. He was hoping he would get to show his father something, that Wrecker helped him build but from the looks of it, not tonight. That was until, the father suddenly spoke breaking the silence, "A little birdy once told me, that You and your brother worked on something for me?" Upon hearing the question, Fixerr's expression changed drastically as he suddenly vanished to him room! As he came back down, he was holding something shiny... (as for what, that will have to wait until chapter 3!)

[liminal-pr0xy]

Okay so it's 1am but i finished reading fics and heard a song and had this thought so here's the best I got lmao

UTmv Superhero au

★★★★★★★

At the age of 16, his town was massacred and he was spared simply because he was visiting friends who lived in the main city. He searched through everything he was able to get his hands on, looking for a sign he wasn't the last one, looking for his family, looking for him.

He moved into his friend's house and stayed locked up in his borrowed, bare room for weeks after. His friend left food outside his door, never forcing him to move on, patient.

Losing your twin couldn't be easy and Dream wasn't sure life would get better. At least Ink was there, the albino artist made it a little better.

As soon as he turned 18, Dream enrolled into the city's hero academy. The heroes had failed his hometown so he dove into it, wanting to make sure no one would have to feel the hurt he had experienced.

Over the next 4 years, he'd honed his Gift and his body to be a great hero. It had come naturally and his Gift left people awestruck - being able to manipulate light constructs made of his emotions. He graduated near top of the class and set out under the hero name "Positivity."

He still missed his brother of course but being hero had helped ease the pain. Every person he saved helped mend the hole in his heart, helped put the life back in his golden eyes. He would still turn expecting his brother's purple-blue eyes but it hurt less and less after so long.

A villain rose up to fight him. Again. Again. Again. He quickly became known as "Negativity" due to his constant preference of fighting the hero Positivity. New, smaller villains started appearing with Negativity, lackies and henchmen. The Butcher, Moth, and Serialist were never seen without the other two. Vigilantes Splice and Code 422 were occasionally seen with Negativity too.

When his opponent became plural, Ink forced Dream to accept his help and a friend made in school joined in too. Ink, Blue, and Dream spent a lot of time together training so they'd be a fluid team. It paid off when Negativity had called for a retreat, single teal eye glaring at the trio. While the bad guys had managed to escape, minimal damage and injury and happened for the innocent people of the city.

★★★★★★★

Positivity had followed Negativity this fight, Splatter handling the smaller baddies with Stars' help. Positivity found himself shooting arrow after arrow at his archenemy as the villain made his way into an abandoned building. Positivity followed inside cautiously.

It was silent as he strode through the abandoned motel with peeling wallpaper and the smell of mold. His steps were light and his ears were straining to hear the other. Halfway down the second hall, he heard a commotion. Positivity quickly turned in the sound's direction, making his way quickly but quietly.

He paused outside the door, taking a deep breath before slamming the door open with his bow. He gawked, a strangled noise leaving him as he saw his...enemy?

The mask his archenemy wore was on the ground. There was a body in a puddle of blood. Tentacles of shadow were gone into a mess in the ground, like black paint staining dusty red. A scarred hand was pressed around a stab wound a the knife was left in.

He made eye contact and something clicked.

That face.

He knew that face.

It was all red and disfigured and scarred but Dream knew who that was.

Dream knew his brother's face.

"... Nighty?"

The single teal eye was confused before glaring.

The bow vanished into nothing.

"Nightmare..? Is..? I..." A hot tear fell down Dream's masked face.

"Why do you care, hero?" Negativity spat, making Dream flinch. "And you don't get to call me that. No one alive can say that name. I'll kill you-"

Dream stepped back and ripped off his mask as the villain suddenly started coming towards him, hoping Nightmare would see it. He closed his eyes and his back hit the wall and-

Gentle fingers traced his birthmark, a red blotchy spot on his cheek. They used to joke that their matching birthmarks were apples, Dream planned on getting an apple outline tattooed over it.

"... Dream..?" He opened his eyes to see tears falling from the other's eye. He couldn't trust his own voice not to break out in sobs so he only nodded. He was sure his face was twisting into that "ugly" cry he has, lips shaking and nose red.

The twins hugged each other, falling to the floor and crying into each other's shoulders.

Dream finally felt whole again.

★★★★★★★

Positivity = Dream (emotion constructs)

Stars (?) = Blue (?)

Negativity = Nightmare (tentacles/shadows)

The Butcher = Horror (something with his blade?)

Moth = Dust (?)

Serialist = Killer (copies Gifts by tasting blood?)

Splice = Cross (?)

Code 422 = Error (threads)

Splatter = Ink (creations to life)

If anyone wants to add to this or suggest something or change, go for it but tag me cus i wanna see

[zelphin124]

Idol Error meets Idol Fresh (Short Story)

Finally, the long awaited prize for @zucchiyeni, I am sooooo sorry it took so long to get to..

These short stories were the prizes of the honorable mentions in the SeasonTale Creative Challenge.

Whew, now, onto the story!

~o0o~

"That's like, totally unrad bro."

Error glanced down at his watch again. 5 minutes... they were five minutes over the meeting time they were supposed to speak with him, and it ticked him off.

Error was one of the most famous independent singers in the entire multiverse. He had rewards for his skills in rapping and voice tuning. Despite his inefficiency with technology, he produced some of the most captivating videos and VR experiences known to mankind. It was said he only had one producer, but to this day, no one could figure out who it was.

And the contractors wanted to hire him.

He told himself it was stupid. He knew that they would take his rights to his music if he agreed to their deal... yet the price tag wasn't something he couldn't refuse.

His producer seriously needed a raise.

"Dude, you can't fire me! I won't be the vibe anymore! The town's countin on me radical skills!"

Error rubbed his head, hearing the younger guy talk in the room with the contractor. All he could think about was how annoying his voice sounded. The way he talked, and the way he yelled... It was ticking him off even more.

He decided he wasn't going to wait any longer. He stood up, banging on the door to the office. "HuRrY Up," he hissed. "I d0n't g0T a11 d@y t0 wa1t f0r y0u."

The conversation stopped, and rapid footsteps were heard before the employer, wearing a bright smile, opened the door. "Error!" He smiled with glee. "So happy to have you here, just give me maybe 5 more minutes as I deal with this hobo mkay?"

"1 d0n't h@vE m0r3 t1m3," Error glitched, adjusting his outfit. "T1m3 1s m0n3y."

"But of course," the small skeleton shuddered. "Right, Fresh, I'm going to need you to leave. Unfortunately, we will not be renewing your contract and that's final."

"But lad," Fresh, a tall-appearing skeleton begged. "Tis is ma only source of income! I can't produce any more music unless you chill and let me have the rights to my own voice yo!"

Error grimaced in disgust at his rainbow outfit. He was a walking kid's toy, with trinkets on his outfit that made no sense and the style skill of a two-year-old. However, he didn't like the look of the contractor's outfit either... it was all black with a white undershirt. Very boring, in his opinion.

"I'm sorry, but there's nothing I could do."

"Wh@t d0 y0u m3an, yoU dOn'T hav3 th3 r1ghts t0 yoUr OwN v01c3?" Error gestured to the hobo, considering what he said earlier.

"Totally unfair, brah!" Fresh explained. "In the contract, they steal the rights to your voice, music, everything! They only pay a pretty penny until your rates drop because of their unrad standards!"

"Wait, no, that's not entirely true-" The contractor had a pleading look in his eyes, glancing at Error and grabbing the scruff of his sleeve.

Error immediately shot his hand out of his reach, looking at him in disgust. "N@h, that's BS r1GhT th3rE. I'1l c0nt1nuE t0 b3 ind3penDenT."

"But-" The contractor flattened his face with a defeated look. He glared at Fresh as Error walked out, but not out of earshot. "You just ruined our chance to make a big buck, prepared for your entire career to be ruined."

The scrape of a chair echoed through the hall. "Too bad you already did lad."

Error rubbed his head, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He really needed the extra cash, but with the terms he overheard and the reviews from other artists stuck in contracts with the company, he saw no benefit. Even the Star Sanses were stuck with them for six more years, unable to produce their own stuff. It made Error wonder if the instant fame was worth it for them.

Not like he experienced that desire. He had posted his music one day and it caught fire quickly, each of his videos going viral the moment it released.

Yet, nothing paid him enough to give his producer the raise she needed. Most of the money he made himself went back into his production and to pay his own bills.

"Yo broski, wait up!"

Error cringed, clenching his fists together as the footsteps behind him got louder. As if this hobo couldn't get any more annoying...

"Sorry about the lazy impression back there bud, I tots wasn't having the best convo of all time. But I know your music and I must say you're pretty rad and wanted to ask if you wanted to collab sometime." Fresh rambled, before stopping and taking a few big breaths.

Error glanced Fresh up and down... well, more up than anything. He raised an eyebrow and continued walking. I don't have time for this...

"C'mon broski!" Fresh bounded after him. "I won't let you down and I can add some sick beats to your vocals!"

"1 h@v3n't h3arD yOuR mus1c beFor3." Error glitched, adjusting his clothes once more. "YoU juSt g0t f1r3d, wHy shOulD 1?"

"Look look look," Fresh immediately pulled out his phone to search for examples of his music. Even Error was surprised at the rate he pulled it up while keeping up with his pace.

The song played fancy and radical tunes, ones that Error had never heard before. There were some parts he liked, but the main melody of most of them sucked in his opinion. Error then explained to Fresh the few parts he liked while everything else was trash.

Fresh did not seem disheartened in any way. "Thanks for the feedback broski, I will take it into account! I could lend you the sounds for a collab, just one brah."

Error scoffed, turning around to face the rainbow once more. "Tw0 w0RDs, m@ss1v3 mAk30v3r," Error gestured to his entire outfit. "Y0u'R3 n0t l0Ok1nG l1kE th@t 1n mY v1d30."

"Really brah?" Fresh frowned, unzipping part of his outfit to show the inside of it. "You think this is lame? It's better than the lazy hobo that you're wearing."

"Th1s 1s f@shi0n, thAT b3l0nGs 1n th3 DumPSt3r." Error fired back, getting more angry by the minute. He snarled and waved his hand in dismissal, walking towards his car.

He didn't see the devilish grin of a cunning idea wrap around the parasite's face. "Relax lad, why don't we let yo cute producer decide? The collab would be made by her anyway~"

Error stopped dead in his tracks, glitching in and out at the mention of his producer. There's no way this loser could have figured out who she was... right? The fact that he even talked like that about her fueled his fury. How disrespectful of him.

If it weren't for his popularity, Error would have strangled him on the spot. However, people were starting to look and point them out, as he was being recognized. Fresh knew this, he saw this... and he laughed about it. They both knew Fresh was taunting Error.

"I'll make it stop if ya wish to collab, broski," Fresh shrugged, rezipping his coat.

Subconsciously, Error pulled the strings from his eyes as they continued to glitch, showing his anger. "N3-3-3-v3r." He hissed, holding the strings around his fingers. "N0 0-0n3 wh0 diSr3sp3ctS m3 @nd m-m-my c-cr3w w0rkS w-w1th m3."

"Hope to see you on stage then broski, when you come crawling back to me!" Fresh bowed, the silver on his clothes blinding Error when the sun reflected off of it. "I'll personally be your rival. It'll be easier to get popular that way."

"D0n't f-forg3t a-a-ab0uT th@t s-stup1d c0ntr@ct y0u siGn3d." Error unlocked his car, seething.

"What they gonna do lad, fire me? I'm on my own," he gives a mocking salute to the rap star. "And I'll be the one to take over your career. Good luck broski..." his eyes turned a scary shade of purple. "You'll need it."

Error was incredibly puzzled by Fresh's behavior as he drove home. The only word he could use to describe it was childish, yet it still got under his nerves. Usually, threats don't bother him as they don't get very far. But this one... it was very unsettling.

The rap star would make his way home in silence before eating his favorite meal and collapsing in bed to sleep. Despite all the things he tried to do, Fresh stayed fresh in his mind, and he was unable to shake the feeling that something was about to go seriously wrong for him.

Little did he know what kind of battle for his career this rainbow hobo would bring... And the rivalry it started to this day.

Even then, his producer stayed loyal to him, and Error still made music as usual. Security was increased, and he was able to get his producer a raise due to the song rivalry with Fresh, despite never collabing. Error always thought Fresh's music was childish and inexperienced, especially when the song was putting him under the bus. He believed he had the real roasts when he finally put the song together to tick off the parasite back.

But after the song "Fresh to Rotten Fruit" was released, Error was unable to sleep. He pissed off the rainbow parasite... and the threat on his life and his producer's life was too serious to be ignored.

And Error couldn't fix it without ruining his career.

[eriscary]

Hewo!! I rlly love your sans, Tear!! He's such a creative and inspirational character! Just curious, what were some of your inspirations, when designing him?

-vibrates in excitement- I will use this chance to yap A LOT about Tear's overall creation, story and visuals. I'm sorry for this essay…

______

I returned to the Undertale fandom super recently. It’s 8-9 years after the game was released I think. I started to joke with a friend how I will make an OC only now. 3 days later it was not a joke anymore and Tear came to be.

I think what influenced the story I created is the fact that I adore isekai, reincarnation and reliving same life kind of stories. I love the feeling of being able to experience what being a specific character is like, be it through my own eyes or another character's. Because a lot of people enjoy superpowers, want to feel cool, want to become important in something/story, want to see characters deal with this type of confusion etc.... Yes, I read Sans variant reincarnation/isekai stories too. I thought, who wouldn't be interested into experiencing an exciting life (minus the stress and trauma that comes with it, but that makes it a fun read).

In the moment of me joking about creating an OC, I was trying to come up with funny scenarios that would make me laugh from how absolutely ridiculous it is. It was only to have a few laughs with a friend. Revisiting the utmv fandom, it is pretty clear it's legit ruled by Sanses and barely anything else. Somehow the idea of using my favorite character, Napstablook, just clicked with my reincarnation/isekai addiction. A character that, just like all the people consuming the same content I liked, wishes to experience what they consider exciting. That is, the life all these Sanses have. They only ever saw Sanses be 'special'. I hoped it would make Tear relatable. That Tear would be a character which is entertaining to follow, because we know what the multiverse is like as viewers, but they do not. Someone who could be cheered on because of it (just like in the game wow -cough cough- sorry). And then the idea with ripping Error's plushies hit me. I was so overly entertained by it, that it was basically the point where the whole thing stopped being a joke.

After I had the basis of the story to work with, I moved to designing their look. I pulled up a picture of every. single. popular. sans. variant. that I could remember from utmv early days. I wanted Tear to be able to legit fit in so well among them, because their wish was to be like them, blend with them in such a way. To be a Sans, a cool traveler to meet many others, be loved etc etc. For this plan, the design had to have not too much detail or too little. Most utmv designs aren't that complex. Napstablook only has a few visually distinctive features, so I tried to keep them in mind. Those being their line between the eyes and the sheet waves/frills at the end of their body. So the only initial plan was... sketch a normal sans, slap the usual shorts and shirt that all these OC variants barely change and figure it out from there. A lot of mainstream characters still wore a kind of a hoodie/jacket, so a hoodie was a must for me. I added the waves at the bottom of it, to resemble Napstablook's body, and that forehead line in the form of stitches. It still didn't feel enough. I wanted it to be extremely obvious who they are visually at first glance, with 0 prior knowledge (Napstablook Sans variant). Headphones were my biggest cherry on the top, because I don't think it gets more clear than that if I shape them to look like Blooky themselves. I later on decided I want some design references to Blooky crying too. So I added a scarf, made it drop it's ends approximately in the center of the character, as well as made the edges rounded slightly. All so it would resemble -drum rolls- a tear. Very, very subtly. The tear heart in the back was also a not so subtle tribute to it too. Because Blooky is fully paper white, Tear had to be mostly in the same colors. I admit I wanted to make their purples blue instead (to match their house colors) but I'm a sucker for the purple color and there is an inside joke with another friend how everything I ever design has some sort of purple tint to it. It's something I stopped fighting long ago and just embraced it as my little art quirk. At this point I adopt it on purpose if I catch myself doing it subconsciously. So my blue became purple instead. This was all inspired by OG Blooky and no one specific directly.

Once the design was already settled, I actually did end up taking inspiration from Dust Sans. This is the only character I directly took inspo from. I loved the idea of dramatic shadows being cast by his hood and it was perfect for what I have in store. So I expanded my ref sheet with such a drawing. I wanted the usual Tear to have a completely different vibe visually from the one that could be fought. I wanted to kill some of Tear's overall softness by making their gaze feel off. Wide eyed stare, with drastic shadows and glowing eyes. Tho they cannot and do not glow for the same reasons as Classic Sans. I recently mentioned it HERE. There is another inspiration I took from Dust, not connected to the design, but as of now I cannot mention it. It will be revealed soon if all works out.

After that, I just started writing the character info on the google doc and polishing it. The story just kept coming and consuming my brain. I never planned to make a comic out of this little idea. I was only gonna post Tear’s info sheet, maybe draw Tear 2-3 more times and move on. It was an impulse decision. All because I couldn’t stop chuckling about the Error bit and the consequences of it. Now Tear became somewhat of a comfort character and gave me a hyperfixation of a truck

[annaraebananawriter]

Day 1 - Stars

Hello all! I come bearing a new fic for a new ship week. This one (created by @starsanspolyweek) (which is also me) is for the Star Sans Poly ship! It's so fun to explore how much they mean to one another, and I thought about doing a ship week for them a few years back, but only got the courage and motivation to start it last year. So sorry about not posting anything for that one--I honestly just didn't get anything written. But this year I have!

I will try and update daily, though today is the only full day I have pre-written. The others are mostly a handful of words, or a blank page. We'll see how it goes.

Without a further ado, happy reading!!

Fandom: Undertale, but specifically UTMV

Characters: Dream (Who belongs to Joku), Blue  (Who belongs to P0pcornPr1nce) and Ink (Who belongs to Comyet)

Pairings: Star Sans Poly/Pre-Star Sans Poly

Warnings: None, actually, now that I think about it. Let me know!

Summary: "Dream is not mortal. His brother, Nightmare, is also not mortal. They are both gods. An incident in the past involving both of them forced the hand of the other gods to create a new rule: Mortals and Gods are not to interact, let one infect the other with knowledge they should not possess.

This rule becomes a problem when Dream becomes infatuated with two mortals, Ink and Blue."

Word Count: 4420

***

I went to the Garden of Love,

And saw what I never had seen:

***

The tree was always Dream’s favorite place to watch the stars. Nothing beat climbing up to the furthest branch, using skills built upon centuries of practice to get up with the ease and grace as a nimble forest animal would naturally have, using the same skills to balance there on a branch that would’ve cracked had he been anyone else.

Being so high up got him so close to the sky, so close he could almost feel the twinkling lights kissing him. He could spend hours there, crouched in the tree, staring up at the wonder most didn’t think twice of.

Correction: he has spent hours there. He often got so lost in the beauty of things that he forgot to return home, and so his brother would be forced to come and retrieve him. Though he’s often said to Nightmare to just let him be, and though his brother often agrees to do so, forever annoyed at having to leave their house for any reason, he is often going back on his word, there at the base of the tree to call him home before sunrise without fail, every night.

Tonight, it’s still early enough that he knows he has time to watch. He settles in, leaning against the trunk, eyes searching the sky for anything and nothing at the same time. If he were an artist, his fingers would itch with a drawing. If he were a writer, it would be a story or poem instead. He is neither, however, so instead all he does is look.

That is enough to content him.

Mostly.

He does sometimes wish he were more creative. Sure, he can sketch something and have it end up half-resembling the original idea, and he can string together a short story with a simple theme, but they both end up crude and childish. That’s not a bad thing overall, it just leaves him unsatisfied, forever envious of those who can do them.

It’s funny, really, that in all the centuries he’s been alive, he has never mastered the art of art. So many other things he can do with his eyes closed. Never art. The closest thing to it is baking, maybe gardening, both things he can do well enough. Healing might be considered an art in itself, but it’s not paint and words and colours and metaphors. It’s not something people will look at for years with awe, not something people will hang up on their walls or in galleries. It’s simply a skill to help others, as is his duty and job—the only thing he is ever frustrated by.

He doesn’t hate doing his job. No, he does enjoy helping people. It makes him smile when he can dry a child’s tears with some warm magic on the knee, or when he grants a miracle to a family who now needn’t worry about the cost of a funeral for someone so young. In fact, he prides himself on doing good, spreading laughter across the world. He loves the stories told of him, the kind way they portray him in artwork, and he’s flattered by the statues of him in temples. It’s all something he enjoys.

That doesn’t mean he can’t find it uncomfortable at times.

One of the very first things people decided about him was that he was never selfish. He was always working in favor of others, always, no matter the demand or price. As the people have sway over how the universe works, he is bound to this fact. He can never act for himself, not without it also benefiting others. In the beginning, he hadn’t minded this, naïve to there being a different way to live, but when he found out he was the exception to the general rule, he couldn’t help but find it unfair.

Yes, he is not mortal. That shouldn’t mean he cannot be as free as them.

He should not have to bend to their whim, pick up after their messes, make every tiny wish come true. He should not have to heal all their scraps, paper cuts to broken bones, and he should not have to drug them to feel happiness, his aura meant to be something soothing and helpful in a crisis, not something to get addicted to.

Through the years, he’s grown so irritated that the common belief about him is that he enjoys being seen as a slave. It is simply not true at all. He enjoys helping people, yes, but he does not enjoy how it is half of what people see when they look at him. He is so much more than that. He is the sun and the stars and the light of your home, the lightness in your chest. He is the pleasant morning breeze against your flushed skin as you close your eyes and bask in it. He is the relationship you have with your closest friends and family, the way they know you better than yourself, that unspoken trust that they will be there to hold you when you fall.

He is so much more than a helper.

Dream is a God.

Yet, the laws of the universe dictate that he never speak about his wants, for that would be ‘—blasphemy for suggesting that we have free will like the mortals. We do not. We serve Fate, and Fate tells us to serve the mortals, to act the part they want us to play.’

Nightmare is a stickler for the rules. He never used to be. He was once as dissatisfied with the role mortals gave him while he had not been able to see what he meant, too wrapped up in the glitz of attention. Time has seen that their roles flipped over. Now, Nightmare insists he remember the laws, remember the role he plays, the one both of them play. What happened all those years ago changed him so much…

Ah, but he rambles. As he always does when watching the stars.

It’s time to clear his mind, lean his head back against the bark and fall into his trance. Crickets are abound on the grassy floor of the hill below, providing a symphony as he follows his own instructions, stretching his leg out along the branch. On a whim, he plucks an apple out of the air, biting into it, letting the juice fill his mouth.

It makes him sigh, this simple act of savoring what he eats, especially since it’s not needed. It is something he wanted, and so it was something he did.

A small rebellion, if you wish to call it that.

Closing his eyes, he took another bite.

He should eat more often. It’s a pleasant experience, and the taste is amazing. This apple was just one of the many edible things out there, too. Perhaps he should try an orange next, or maybe one of those sweets he’s heard about. Something to consider the next time he comes to the tree to watch the stars, that’s for sure.

When he opens his eyes again to look at the sky, he finds himself looking at a face instead. Freezing like a deer caught in the hunter’s gaze, Dream looks at the face in front of him, eyes wide.

It belongs a skeleton monster, that much is obvious, and it’s eyelights do a curious thing he’s never seen before. They change. Shapes and colours, they change as the monster blinks, making him fascinated. He’s never met a monster whose eyes change colours. It’s intriguing to watch, and he wants to ask this monster how his eyes work. Does he pick the colours and shapes? Or do they just happen? Does he know his eyes change, or will the news surprise him?

And then he remembers the new law, instilled after Nightmare’s incident: Mortals and Gods are not to interact, let one infect the other with knowledge they should not possess.

Remembering it, and realizing this would count as a violation of the law, makes his eyes widen even further, something in his stomach churning uncomfortably. He starts to panic, thinking of the repercussions of this act is found out, how it will affect Nightmare, since the universe is much more willing to blame any fault of his onto his brother.

The apple slips from his hand as his grip loosens.

The mortal catches the apple before it falls too far to salvage. “Hello!” The mortal says, grinning. His eyes change again, distracting Dream from his panic for a few moments. There’s an ink splotch on his cheek. Is he aware of it? “What brings you all the way up here?”

“Um…” Dream says, and then his panic returns, engulfing his line of thought. Automatically, he tugs at his magic, giving it the order to teleport him out of this interaction before he gives away more than he should.

Unfortunately, he does think of a destination along with the order, so he blinks and finds himself falling, having only teleported below where he was sitting, in a space without any branches to catch himself with. The beginning of a scream escapes him before he manages to wrench his mouth shut. It’ll do no good to draw even more attention to himself, not now. The best he can do is keep quiet and begin to teleport again.

Before he can give the order, he is caught, his hand instinctively clenching the fabric of a shirt. Blinking once, then twice, he breathes heavily as it sinks in that if he was caught that means…he looks up at the face of another mortal, another skeleton monster at that, who is looking down at him with concern, checking that he is alright.

Then, his face changes, jaw clenching, and the mortal looks up at the tree. “Ink! You were supposed to ask him why he was up there, not scare him into falling!” The mortal shouts up at the other one.

Ink, Dream thinks. How fitting, considering the splotch of the substance on his cheek.

The mortal who caught him does not have the changing eyelights of his companion, but that does not mean they are any less fascinating. They are blue, a bright blue that almost seems to glow, contrasted by the darkness that surrounds them. It’s a trick, he knows that—and really, the only eyelights that can glow are his own, a tell that he is not as mortal as everyone else—but it still makes his heart skip a beat.

Sounds of leaves being shaken come from above their heads, and they watch the other mortal—Ink—hop down. At first, the height he jumps from makes Dream panic, a feeling echoed from the mortal whose arms he was still in. Or maybe that feeling came first and he was the one that echoed it. Emotions were vague, that way. Landing perfectly fine, though with a bit of a stumble, Ink does not feel regret for making them worry, instead just laughs at them.

“I didn’t mean to, honest!” Ink says, grinning first at his companion, then looking down at Dream, blinking. His eyes change again: two question marks, different colours. “I gotta say, it’s weird that you got down here so quickly. I mean, I know you fell, but still. I didn’t hear any branches break or anything. The only leaves on the ground are from me.”

He’s observant. How terrible. Not only will he have to scramble for an excuse to leave as soon as possible, praying that he makes it home before anyone can get suspicious, he will have to find a way to avoid these questions.

The companion answers before he finds any words. “Don’t be silly, Ink, he just fell. That’s it. There’s nothing different about him.” He says the words pointedly, as if referring to something only the two of them understand. What were they talking about?

No, no, don’t ponder that!

Just go home.

Except he’s still in the mortal’s arms, and now he’s been in them so long, it feels too awkward to ask him to set him on his feet. That is the only reason he hasn’t moved, he tells himself, and nothing to do with the fact that it’s comfy here.

Ink scoffs, throwing Dream’s apple in the air and catching it. He takes a bite out of the other side, opposite from where his marks were. For whatever reason, the fact that this mortal is eating his food makes his cheeks burn. “You don’t know that. I’m telling you, there’s something off about him! Something…magical.”

His companion—he really must discover his name—shakes his head. He feels exasperated. Obviously, they have had many conversations like this. “Magic doesn’t exist.”

Unable to stop himself in time, Dream flinches. To proclaim that magic does not exist in front of a God, a being comprised of and birthed from the rawest form of magic, knowing you were in the presence of one or not���well, that hurts. It’s like someone denying a piece of you exists, no matter how much proof is written down, how many times you explain it to scholars and historians. It’s like they shake their head, telling you that you are the uneducated one, and referring you to a handful of resources that provide all the reasons as to why, exactly, you’re wrong about yourself.

Ink sees this flinch. “Ah, but he flinched when you said that! Why would he flinch unless you wounded him personally?” Grinning in triumph, he walks closer, standing in front of them with his hands on his hips. There is a small bit of apple stuck on the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps it’s time to ask the man himself. What say you, Magician? How do you explain traveling such a distance in such a short time?”

As the mortals wait for an answer, Dream swallows.

The only way to get out of this is to lie, which goes against everything that he is; God of Honesty and all that. Which is different from truth, yes, but it still holds the same restrictions. He cannot lie here, not fully. But there are many ways to lie and perhaps he can use that to his advantage by taking a page out of Nightmare’s book: avoidance and omission.

Yes, this will work. Or else he risks all of them being in trouble.

“Uh…” Dream says, swallowing again as he draws on his courage to raise his eyes to meet Ink’s. The changing eyelights are trained on him with unwavering attention. Clearing his throat, Dream tilts his head, pushing a curious expression to fall over his face. “Your eyelights change, did you know that? I’ve never met someone like that before.”

It’s a very clear avoidance, much like seeing someone you don’t want to talk to, making eye contact with them even, and deliberately turning and walking right back where you came from. Ink doesn’t call him out on it, though, instead just hums. “I see, I see. You want to keep your secrets. I guess I can respect that. A magician never tells, correct?”

“They’re very pretty to watch,” Dream continues as if he hadn’t replied.

Ink stares at him some more before shrugging. “Alright, Magician, keep your secrets. Maybe you’ll tell me your trick one day.” Now that his topic seems to be finished, he smiles, putting on a show of blinking and unveiling the brand-new eyelights. “Thank you! They are my second-best trait, if I do say so myself.”

Dream blinks. “Second-best?”

“Yes,” Ink laughs, eyes scrunching up. New eyelights appear. “They’re fine, but I’m used to them by now. It doesn’t excite me as much as it seems to excite you.” Sending him a wink, he reaches into his satchel, which is sat on the ground on a blanket he had been too preoccupied to notice before now. There are other things scattered on the blanket, a few snacks, and a telescope aimed up at the sky.

Finding what he’s looking for, Ink holds a notebook in front of him. “But these are much more interesting. I say this with modesty, of course. I would never proclaim myself one of the greatest artists of my generation.” With a hand on his heart, and a grin on his face to say how he really feels, he offers the notebook to Dream, who reaches out to accept the notebook but falters, remembering he is still in the arms of the other mortal.

Isn’t he tired yet? His arms must be aching by now. He is not a light God, certainly would not come across as a light mortal. But the mortal doesn’t appear to really notice him in his arms, content to stand as long as needed. Still, even knowing he wouldn’t mind holding him for a while yet, it feels like he’s being mean by taking a notebook to look through, lounging in the arms like it was his idea. Certainly, if he does this, he would come across as selfish, and as already established, this is something he cannot do.

But how to explain such things to a mortal…?

Ink seems to notice his dilemma, and he smirks at his companion. “Are you going to hold him all night, Blue, or are you going to allow him to stand on his own two feet again? I’m sure you’ve had plenty of time to make sure he was uninjured.”

His companion—Blue, Dream thinks to himself. How appropriate, with eyelights the essence of the word itself—jumps as if just remembering he is, in fact, holding someone in his arms.

“Oh, I am so sorry! I didn’t think to—I didn’t mean to—I’m so sorry.” He doesn’t seem to know how to explain himself, stuttering and starting over as he sets Dream on his feet. When he looks back at him, Blue is blushing, flushed from his neck up, the colour just as bright as his eyelights as it glows. Ink is laughing in front of them, not even trying to hide it.

Dream smiles, laughs a little himself, patting him on the shoulder. “If it helps any, your arms are quite comfortable.”

Blue’s blush deepens. “Thanks.”

Taking the notebook from Ink, he first runs his fingers over the cool sensation of the leather cover. He’s unable to tell what colour it is exactly, too much of the pigment sucked into the darkness that surrounds them—which reminds him of another problem. “It’s too dark to see your art.”

Ink looks up at him as he plops himself down onto the blanket. He’s still eating Dream’s apple. “Ah, right. Forgot it was night.” Laughing at himself, he shrugs. “I guess you’ll just have to borrow it and wait till morning to look at it.”

Blue frowns at Ink, having walked around Dream and is fiddling with the telescope. “You’re giving it away? You never give your sketchbook away.”

With those words, Dream’s hand stills, fingers hovering in the air, a hair width away from the cover. Never? What made him so special, then?

It seems that’s Blue’s question as well, the one not spoken aloud. Ink shrugs again, answering both of them at the same time. “I’m not giving it away forever. It’s not like he’s just going to keep it.” Pausing, he looks at Dream, appearing for the first time this night nervous. “Are you?”

Dream shakes his head. “Of course not! I understand how important your art is to you artists. I would never steal it from you.”

“Right.” Gesturing at Dream, Ink continues talking to Blue, “See? I’m not giving it away. I’m letting someone borrow it.”

“Yes, but you never do that either.”

“There’s a first for everything.”

Silence rings in the air as both companions fall silent. He cannot help but feel that an unspoken conversation was just had with those few words, a conversation he is not even somewhat aware of. Like Ink said—a first for everything. What did they talk about? Was it about him? Must’ve been. Was he really that important to them?

Oh no, he didn’t interrupt anything, did he? Is he ruining something by lingering here? Well, he is, but is he ruining something for the mortals, too?

It’s best he leaves, quickly now, before—

“Are you going to sit down, Magician?”

Blinking out of his worries, Dream clutches the book to his chest. “Pardon?”

Ink tilts his head back, looking at him upside down. “Are you going to sit down, join us? I promise you; we don’t bite.” Another pause. “Not unless we have to.”

Blue smacks his arm. “Ink!”

Ink laughs, the sound beautiful, filling the quiet as if it was always meant to be there. “What? Just telling the truth. You really have nothing to be afraid of, I swear it. We’re out here to test run Blue’s telescope, that’s all—he built it himself, you see.”

Mouth opening in surprise, Dream draws closer, inspecting the telescope. It’s true. It’s made out of a mixture of wood and metal. If he reaches a hand out to touch the barrel, he runs the risk of getting a blister. Despite this, it is pretty, the rough wood a nice texture, the cool metal that frames the edges, that makes up the legs and the viewing port a nice difference, a good compliment. He cannot see too many details—again, too dark—but he can tell that a lot of work was put into it.

Shifting his gaze, he finds Blue’s gaze. “It’s amazing. How did you build it?”

Shrugging, gaze dropping back to his fiddling, Blue mumbles. “It’s nothing special, really…just wanted to make something to look closer at the stars…”

Beside him, Ink groans. “Don’t be silly, Blue.” Scooting over, he leans against Dream’s back, his breath warming the side of his skull as he whispers into where his ear would be if he was based on a human. “I keep telling him not to be so modest. It never sticks.” Getting louder, he leans forward even more, pointing at Blue and his telescope. “You built it to prove to your classmates that you didn’t get into school by chance. You built it because you knew you could. You built it with your heart, with determination—that’s how you built it.”

It seems Blue is unused to so many compliments in a row, the flush creeping back in, but Dream can tell that this is a proud flush, not an embarrassed one. “Bit more to it than that, but I suppose…and I can tell that I need to change the glass—I don’t think this was the correct cut. I need to change other things a bit, too, as it’s not zooming in as much as I want it to…” The longer he speaks, the more confident he gets, the more relaxed. He is in his comfort zone now, talking about his telescope, about the intricacies of it.

As he rambles, Dream glances over his shoulder to Ink, finding him looking at Blue with a smile far gentler than his grins were. This one, he can tell, is only used for moments like this, looking at someone he loves. Oh, how much he loves Blue…the emotion is like flying up into the sky, being among all the stars, all the lights, and closing your eyes and letting yourself fall, the euphoria in letting go.

It makes Dream’s essence pulse in tandem, like a heart skipping a beat.

However, in doing this, it reminds him of how different he is to these mortals. Why he puts them all in danger the longer he stays.

If Nightmare were to catch him like this…it would not be worse than the others, but it would mean being on lockdown. He would not be able to go anywhere without his brother breathing down his back, watching his every move, through his own eye or one of his familiars’. His brother is paranoid, afraid of what the others have done. If he sees this, he will worry that the others have as well, that the same thing that happened to him will happen to Dream…

He should leave. He should leave, right now.

But…

Tuning out of the conversation, Dream looks down at the book in his hands, runs his fingers over the leather, feeling an indentation where Ink has carved his name.

Ink has given him his sketchbook, obviously a weighted responsibility with the way they were talking earlier. Then there’s Blue and his telescope, which he built from the ground up with his own two hands, and the way lying in his arms was so comforting—he wants to know everything about them both. Why build things? Why draw things? Why create things?

These two mortals are the first ones he’s spoken to in a long, long time. Since before Nightmare’s incident and the law was fashioned. He wants to know how things have changed from last time, how much progress they’ve made as a society—he has heard of an Industrial Revolution, would like to know about it from the eye of mortals, maybe even see the changes it had made for himself. He longs for it, an ache in his bones that he cannot ignore any longer, has so many questions and two people able to answer these questions sitting so close to him.

It's dangerous to stay…but it would be terrible to leave.

The mortals deemed him selfless, to never act for himself. They might have had good intentions at first, but they quickly grew greedy with their order and wishes, and the gift turned into a curse, a prison. He has spent so long behind these bars, watching mortals grow close with one another, watched the others dictate the laws of the universe like they were the only deciding factor of it. He has watched mortals revolt tyranny all on their own, watched them write into their laws time after time some version of free will, that everyone has the right to be who they are, all of themselves, without judgement, without prohibition.

Perhaps the same can be true of a God…

Perhaps the same can be true of him.

There is a first for everything, and so Dream decides to try and be selfish, sitting down on the blanket to stay in the mortals’ company for a little while longer.

[anonymous-verse]

The Anonymous-Verse Masterlist 2.0

there have been some heavy changes in the anon-verse recently! (And not in a bad way). We have been striving away from infecting getting into people’s blogs and starting to have our own story’s. Exciting isn’t it? Well that’s why I am updating the Masterlist!

long story short, we’ve have met friends and foes and uhm. Chaos anon in our adventure during the anon-verse! Our adventures have been spread around the blogs of the individual anon besides f@|$3 who resides here but shall we continue on with the master list? I think we should

(P.S: if you want to have more information about the anon’s and the arc’s, join the discord!)

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DNI: PRO-SHIPPERS, PEDOPHILES, ZOOPHILES, TRANSPHOBIC, HOMOPHOBIC, and ENDOS

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THE DISCORD:

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Tags:

these are not used as often. Mb

#anon q&a - Question and Answers for the anons

#anon talks to anon - one of the anons listed probably asked something

#anons drawings - if any anons draw something, use this

#anons shit post - yeah. Just shit posting

#incorrect anon quotes - (please tell me you know what these are)

#anon lore - THE LOREEEEE

#announcement - if anything serious or just something we think is important will be tagged here

#anon reblog - we see something related to the anon verse not on the blog? We re-blog

if you want to see a post by a specific anon then put them in the tags

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anon lore summary ^^^

(NOT FINISHED >:\)

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Active and or in the main arcs

Orange = had an arc already

Multiverse Arson Idiot Lurking Confused Snuff Lost Tea Assnon Eyenon 👮‍♀️ Host Sky Temmie T.O.B. Promise Regret (joke character) Tortoise Dad (joke character) f@l$3 (the main user of this blog) Bed Pun Chef Witch not active Cricket Therapist not active Beep Spelling check V01D Time Enigma (not an anon but part of the lore) Done Chaos Shapeshifter (shiter) Fragment (have there own thing) McAnon (joke character) Mr. Determination Shade (not an anon) the-arc-of-1-anon (in the process of an arc)

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━  ‘ANON BLOGS!!1!1!1!

F@|$3 is the user of this account mostly

@tea-anon64

@arsontheanon

@multiverse-anon

@lost-anon

@confusedanonistrying

@tortoiseanon

@shapeshiftinganon

@shadespawned

@assn0n

@timeanon

@chaos-the-anon

@pun-anon

@temmie-dah-anon

@mcanonworker

@0an-enigma0

@cricketanon

@done-anon

@spellingcheckanon

@thecookinganon

@the-eyenon

@fragment-anon

@v01d-anon

@bedanon-x3

@beep-anon

@promiseanon

@dadanon01

@host00anon

@mrdetermination-anon

@the-official-snuff-anon

@idiotanonfrz

@lurkinganon0-0

@the-arc-of-1-anon-and-more

@hope-anon5

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━  ‘The good ol’ victims

@swiftmitsu (the one who started it all)

@maytales

@0p1er0

@derangedanomaly

@errordust-trojan

@fell-is-suffering

@thebad-lydrawn-sanses

@entityverse-utmv

@bird-nobody

@self-proclaimed-edglord

@gibbish-anon-from-gell

@kingbluetheamze1

@wickjump

@sillylittleguy2333

@iamunabletothinkofablogname

@epilepzia

━━╋━━━╋━━━╋━━  -lost anon

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Featured Fic Friday!

Welcome to Featured Fic Friday! A day where I, or someone who suggests one, tell you about a fanfic that I really enjoy! Spoiler's under the cut! Today's featured fic is...

For the Forgotten Ones by Im_Sorry_Buddy (Not Rated, Complete)

A great source of despair draws Nightmare to an abandoned AU. There he finds an unfinished Sans with no name, no companions, no purpose, no world, and a soul. Nightmare gives him the option to get out of his abandoned, empty world. He accepts the offer but refuses to destroy anything or hurt people. Instead he finds another purpose. In return the Bad Sanses give him a home, companions, a life, and a name. They call him Ink. Or: Before he can destroy his soul and enter the Doodle Sphere, Ink is recruited by Nightmare. He accepts his role as best he can, even if he sometimes feels like he is meant for something more.

This fic was picked because it was one of the first fics I read when I got back into the UTMV fandom, & it amazed me. While incredibly long, at almost 500,000 words, it keeps your attention & makes you want to keep reading, to find out where the story is going next. The characters the author uses are well written, & easy to get attached to.

While the author left it not rated, I would say that the fic is mature & definitely deals with some darker themes at times. I actually reread it recently & fell in love with it all over again. I love the concept of this fic, where one of the good guys becomes one of the bad guys, & the author absolutely did a fantastic job with it's execution.

Spoilers ahead!

There are so many things that I love about it, I hardly know where to begin. I'll start with how the author has Ink interact with another Ink from a different multiverse. Like, they really made an entire story about the first Ink & went, I should make a backstory for this other Ink. It works, too. I love how we're introduced to Prism, even if the circumstances surrounding the meeting weren't great.

Speaking of not great circumstances, the scene, & those surrounding it, in the beginning where Ink is trying to break his soul apart is so emotion filled. I think it helps set the theme of the fic, a heavy beginning for a fic that deals with dark & heavy themes.

On the topic, it's interesting how the author deals with Ink losing one of his legs. They don't just magically make him better, they show him going through the process of getting a prosthetic, & dealing with the fact that he won't get that limb back. While I can't say how accurate it is, the author does a great job of making it seem realistic.

Going back to the actual characters, the author does an amazing job of making you care about them. Even when they're only in the story for a relatively short period of time, such as Geno or Color. Especially with Color, since he first goes from what we see as a kind of antagonist, to becoming someone who we grieve when he's killed.