#wingdings stop please

[o-sunny-day]

@forgettable-au FAN ANIMATION ! LOUD NOISE WARNING!

*What was it all for…?

Song: Vishnu <3 by Peter Cat Recording Co.

…okay.

The main inspiration for this…can be summed up with I LOVE HOW SAD THIS CONCEPT IS. BUT i also adore how WEIRD it is.

This whole thing must be pretty weird and creepy for the characters right??? Like- we dont know for certain what EXACTLY is gonna happen, but we know for a fact that Wingdings finds out hes in a game, then kills himself so he can be closer with god-

THATS PRETTY WEIRD 😭😭 also sad but we can ignore that for now

I also experimented a tad with this in working with silence, so timing things at my own pace! It was really hard! I HAD SO MUCH FUN!!!!!!!

But, time for my FAVORITE PART….ANALYSIS!!!

DISCLAIMER: some things stated as fact haven’t been said in the blog/arent canon to the au itself, just my animation/theories/interpretation, cause i’m silly and headcanoning :3

TITLE:

The proper title ive given this is “To You” which means 2 different and very vague things. What happened to you? and sending a message like “this is To You”.

In that case, “you” is whichever version of Papyrus/Wingdings/Gaster you want- Its not exactly clear which version of him means “you” which is kinda the point. The lines blur together sometimes…

But yeah, Gaster/crazy WD sends messages TOO himself so they’re “To You”

CONTEXT

Wingdings has JUST turned himself into Gaster. Ignore how impossible Sans interacting with him in this moment is, and just hear me out on the angst possibilities-

SCENE 1

As Sans approaches the mess- Gaster is encased in shadow, and looks at him. Expression not telling much- just looking blankly. Doesn’t even look like he’s alive… just… moving. Also the eye thats open, is just a slit. because- perspective. BUT I also had fun putting that there and going hehehehe it looks like WD/Papyrus’ eye

Sans approaches, and getting engulfed in the shadow, leaving the light.

His expression here was REALLY fun and REALLY hard to draw. Angry? maybe. stunned and terrified? DEFINITELY.

In this context (that doesn’t have a lot to go off of with the comics, YET) Sans knows that this was all very much intentional. He absolutely does not want to be angry, and is certainly only feeling it subconsciously.

But… he wanted so badly to understand, and enter his brother world. But now, Sans is just… Baffled. Hes like “what the fuck did you do???”

SCENE 2

Gaster continues to look blank. Looking up at Sans as he approaches, encasing him in even more shadow.

Sans’ hand reaches to Gasters face. From Sans’ perspective, his intentions are like checking for a pulse. Not literally ofc cause pulses arent on our face- but like, feeling for him. For a sign that something is there. (It’s also meant to be something motherly/comforting)

But then, Gaster leans into the touch, somewhat reciprocating this wordless “ive got you” gesture. That’s what makes Sans go from Terrified to just purely grief stricken. His brother is still alive. And he loves him.

But this form wont last for long…For universe fixing screw ups reasons :D 👍

SCENE 3

Gaster then opens his eyes, revealing hes even still got eye lights available for him. Thats what just SHATTERS the dam, and Sans embraces him suddenly.

SCENE(S) 4

Then, the “reset” happens, Gaster is gone, and Papyrus appears in place of Wingdings in his bed.

Nothing is boiling to add to a “frozen in terror” feeling!

Now- drawing all of the differences between the past and present rooms. DESTROYED ME. i HAD SO MUCH FUN BUT I ALSO CRIED 😭 There are no thank-you letters to santa, no racecar bed, no silly bone painting, no action figures, just BORING

I also wanted to keep everything monochromatic, so ofc we’ve got black and white for the void/Gaster, blue for Sans, red for Papyrus, and purple for Sans and Papyrus together.

The tape recorder and lab coat are still greyscale though cause Wingdings still has SOME of his stuff lying around. But the tapes are indecipherable, and Papyrus threw out that lab coat the first chance he got. It gave him the absolute worst feeling, worse than anything he’s ever experienced.

Something I also really enjoy is the fact that the dress shirts were still technically Wingdings’ but they’re red for Papyrus. The lab coat is the only real WINGDINGS thing that Papyrus wants absolutely no part in. Some things that were Wingdings’ are now Papyrus’ cause :D👍

in place of the bone painting are just family photos that I also have extra to say about. Someday I wanna make a comic of what happened to those/what I think would happen to em.

One day Papyrus is like “HEY UH- SANS! THESE PHOTOS! I DON’T LIKE LOOKING AT THEM! CAN WE NOT!?” Aka, he doesn’t remember these things happening/these photos being taken… BUT THEYRE PHOTOS OF HIM.

So he just feels really uncomfortable looking at memories he should reasonably remember, but doesn’t at all- and Sans gets that. But he keeps em in his drawer. Then! they hung up the bone thing in place of it cause SILLY!

But the family photos, I still had fun with. From left to right theyre a photo of Semi with the twins, the twins as baby bones, then as slightly older kids, then WDs graduation photo.

CONCLUSION!

This entire thing was so much fun, and I feel i’ve really grown as an artist over the process of experimenting and not being knocked down by annoying setbacks,

Also, as usual, Works In Progress’ plus extra behind the scenes stuff will be posted shortly after this!! YIPPEEE!!! HAPPY NIGHTMARES!!!!!

OHHHH ALSO EXTRA ART!!!

“AREN’T THEY BEAUTIFUL?”

That silly moment when your clone is really weirdly obsessed with stars and enthusiastically holds your eye sockets open to show you them

[sam-i-damn]

Severed Hands, feat. Blood Crushers

(deltarune spoilers in case it wasn't obvious)

so everyone agrees that 'Raise Up Your Bat' is a Dess song right? blah blah Dess and Baseball, blah blah Dess with us in the dark, and you know, the Single Most Unmissable Reference To The Existance Of December Holiday In The First Three Chapters™ courtesy of Tenna.

Great. Song's Awesome, Lore's Awesome. Kinda makes you wonder where the song came from in-universe though. Did Dess literally write it? Was it just one of the songs on the Forbidden Music Channel she sang? I suppose the world will never-

Oh. Ok. So the funny jingle bells remix is unrelated to the song name and title that says 'Listening To' right next to it, gotcha. Thanks Toby. anyway...

Blood Crushers The Band, you say? Perhaps related to Blood Crushers 2 the movie? Ok cool this could be a lore rabbit hole, lets dig in a little.

'Blood' 'Crushers'. So 'Crushers' as in one who crushes, so there's some major, potentially one-sided conflict going on with the 'Blood.' Blood, blood... like family? So a family conflict? What does that have to do with Dess?

Ok cool, that was easy and taught us literally nothing. Let's look at this from a different angle.

What do we know about Blood Crushers the Movie(s)?

Alright, severed hand. cool. Anything else?

Alright I get it, Blood Crushers 2 is about a severed hand. Thank you for the clarification Susie. Are there any other severed hands I should know about?

Oh

So for those unaware, if you use the red gamble-ball machine in Chapter 3's B room, and pay exactly 1225 points (hmm), you get sent to the red platform maze dimension with noclip enabled, and eventually find this blue-ball machine which rewards you with a 'small dark triangle' that apparently resembles lacquer specifically, which most people think is either a Black Shard or a guitar pick. You then attempt to hold it, but it slips through your fingers, and you can't find it anymore. 'It' being your hand.

Which connects Dess directly to severed hands

twice

...

Well if I can't unlearn this information, the least I can do is inflict it upon others.

[utdr-fractured]

PROLOGUE | PREVIOUS | NEXT

You all are now connected to Frisk.

If there is anything that you would like to have Frisk say or do (Or if you have anything you would like to tell them personally), send it in as an ask along with the soul trait you align with.

A FEW NOTES:

I hate that I even have to say this because people are creeps, I will not bother with anything inappropriate. They are all minors so I will not entertain that. Asks containing anything like that will be deleted immediately.

I may use usernames in the comic so if you would prefer not to have your username included, send it in as anon.

If you do not include your soul trait, it will automatically be kindness.

[EDIT] I didn't expect so many people to send something in. Please understand there may be a possibility that I may not be able to get to your action. I will have to pick and choose what will be used. Do not let that stop from sending something in though, I may still use it!

INFLUENCES FROM PLAYERS

The message on the tv is from a this previous ask sent in.

Wingdings Translation:

HELLO YOU THREE, I LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR INTERACTIONS. JUST KNOW, I LURK EVERYWHERE. AND THERE MAY NOT JUST BE ONE OF ME... SEE YOU SOON...

[goldenraeofsun]

Baskerville

Dick vaults the last flight of stairs to the Batcave and sprints down the platform to the infirmary area. “Damian!” 

“Master Dick,” Alfred tsks as Dick skids to a halt outside the curtained area. “Please keep your voice down. Master Damian is resting.”

“I just heard,” Dick pants as he peers around Alfred to see through a gap in the curtains. “Did he say who did it?”

“Not exactly –” Alfred starts before Steph’s voice interrupts, her voice curt, “Jason.”

Dick steps around Alfred, ignoring his put-upon sigh, and slips by Damian’s bedside to stand next to Steph, barefaced, her eyes cold, as she stands next to the small figure hooked up to far too many tubes and covered in far too many bandages.

“Oh, Dames,” Dick murmurs as he reaches over to hold two of Damian’s fingers, the only visible part of him not covered in gauze. He bites his lip as he catalogs the TBI, broken left ulna, five bullet wounds his other limbs, probably fractured if not broken ribs, and split lip.

He turns to Steph. “You were patrolling together?”

Steph nods once, the movement too sharp. Her flinty gaze doesn’t waver from Damian’s face. “The Narrows. Apparently we got too close to Jason’s turf for his liking.”

Dick frowns. The edge of the gauze covering Damain’s hand chafes against his thumb, and he has to consciously stop himself from worrying it. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“This is exactly like him,” Steph snarls under her breath. “Tim told me about Jason’s attack at the Tower after he came back. A concussion, fractured jaw, broken clavicle, a fucking bootprint of a bruise on his back from where Jason kicked him into a stone statue. Lacerations all over from being thrown around like a ragdoll by a guy with half a foot and eighty pounds on him.”

Dick’s shoulders tense, involuntarily bristling at Steph’s actuation. “He has changed.”

“Clearly, he hasn’t.”

Dick shakes his head. “That was years ago. Talia messed with his head, convinced him that Tim took his place.”

“So Tim got that epic beatdown because Jason didn’t check his sources?” Steph hisses, incensed. Her eyes burn with a rage Dick hasn’t seen in a while - he has to stop himself from taking a step back. “And what could possibly be his reason to mess with Robin this time around? The kid would rather stab himself with his katana than pick up a gun and patrol Crime Alley.”

“I have no idea,” Dick says honestly. “And you’re sure it was Jason? It wasn’t… a copycat? A frame job?”

Steph’s mouth twists. “A copycat wearing Jason’s helmet, in Jason’s territory, that moved exactly like Jason?” She looks up at Dick for the first time since he arrived. “I may be blonde, but I’m not that blonde, Dick.” Jaw clenched, she averts her gaze again and starts to pace.

Dick sighs. Too many conflicting emotions are bombarding beneath his ribcage, too many questions left unanswered.

“If he walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, shoots armor piercing rounds like a duck…” Steph continues as she pivots back towards Dick and Damian, her footsteps unnaturally loud in the Cave. 

“But, he’s been good,” Dick says quietly, half to himself, half to Steph. “Sure, Jason has his issues with us, but he covered for me when I had to deal with the demon cult in San Francisco last week.”

“Because covering for you meant taking down the Yakuza’s growing foothold in Bludhaven,” Steph says impatiently before she takes off again. “He wiped them out in two nights and spent the rest of the time signing you up for every porn magazine still in circulation and stealing your wingdings to melt into bullets.”

Dick’s eyes widen. “How did you know that?”

She stops dead, scoffing, “Please, like Bruce is the only person who has your place bugged.”

“You bugged my –”

“Not me,” Steph cuts him off, making a face like Dick is an idiot. “Tim.”

Dick just sighs. He’ll have to do another sweep of his apartment soon if he has to start looking for Tim’s tech in addition to Bruce’s.

“It was Jason,” Steph mutters as she turns back to Damian, lying so still. “I have no idea why, but he did this. He did this to Robin.”

Dick turns back to Damian’s still form and gives his fingers a light squeeze, his heart impossibly heavy. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Steph.”

“If you need an extra pair of hands to take him down,” she says as she unclasps her cape and pulls aside the curtain separating them from the rest of the Cave, “you know who to call. I’m going to go hit stuff for a while.”

* * *

Nightwing is talking with Arkham’s chief of security when his com bursts to life. Spoiler’s voice screeches, “Back up, I need back up! Anyone there? Hello?”

Nightwing blinks, all attention focused on Spoiler. He holds up a finger to Ms. Yenn and taps his com. “Where are you?”

“The Bowery!”

Nightwing’s blood goes cold. With Arkham security measures and the destruction of the bridge during the breakout last night, it’ll take him at least fifteen minutes to get back to Gotham’s mainland and yet another twenty to get all the way to the east side. Red Robin might actually get to her faster; but he’s lurking somewhere in the Diamond District at this time of night, twenty minutes to the south of the Bowery.

“What’s the threat?”

A click of another line joining the frequency. 

Spoiler pants, “Jason!”

“Jason?” Red Robin repeats, the faintest whistle of air in the background.

Nightwing would bet the last of his wingding stash that Red Robin’s already on his way to Spoiler’s location. “Hang on, Spoiler, we’re heading to you.”

He turns back to Yenn, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I have to cut this short –”

“I can’t outrun him, guys,” Spoiler pants. She yelps, and dread pools in Nightwing’s stomach. "He's too fast. Like, really fast."

In a rush, Nightwing says, “Here are our recommendations for repairs.” He all but throws the drive at Yenn. “I’ll check back in next week if you need anything from us –”

“Fuck!” 

“Have a good night now!” He barrels through the doors of Arkham and sprints for the docks where he moored his boat. 

“Why the hell are you doing this?” Spoiler demands, breathless but determined.

Red Robin’s voice comes in, “Hold on, I’m ten minutes out.”

But in bat-time, ten minutes might as well be an hour, and by the way Spoiler doesn’t respond, she knows it too. 

Nightwing asks, “And you’re sure it’s Jason?” 

“She’s not stupid,” Red Robin responds instead, his voice tense. “If she says it’s Jason, it’s Jason.”

“Right, right,” Nightwing says over the slap of Gotham Bay’s choppy waters against the side of his boat. “I –”

“Has Robin woken up yet?” Red Robin asks. “To get his story?”

Nightwing's fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “He woke up, but he wasn’t lucid.”

The sounds of three impacts in rapid succession travel down the line. Spoiler grunts in pain, and Nightwing guns the engine.

“ETA, Red Robin?” Nightwing asks.

“Eight minutes,” Red Robin reports, his voice strained. “I ran like five red lights already and nearly killed a guy on a segway, but that’s his fault for driving a goddamn segway.”

Nightwing kills the engine as he approaches the marina. With his pulse thundering in his ears, he rides the tragically slow current to the edge of the dock. He throws out the bow and stern lines and ties them up in knots that would make Bruce ground him for a week for sloppiness, back in his Robin days.

As he’s racing to his parked bike, Spoiler screams.

An ominous series of thumps come through over the comms.

“Steph, hold on!” Red Robin shouts.

Nightwing flies down the street, heading eastward. 

Spoiler moans. “What the fucking hell is wrong with you?” she gasps, coughing wetly.

This whole time, Spoiler’s opponent hasn’t said a word, which raises every single one of Dick’s red flags. If Jason had one kryptonite, it was his big, fat mouth. Like all former Robins, quips and kicks came to him naturally. And Jason might’ve ditched the roundhouses for Sig Sauers, but he can never shut his trap when the opportunity presents itself.

“Five minutes!” Red Robin calls over a flurry of honks and yells from roaring through another red light.

Spoiler doesn’t respond, but the gunshot comes in loud and clear, followed by the heart-stoppingly familiar burst of static. Her comm has been crushed.

“Tell me what’s happening, Red Robin,” Nightwing demands.

“Four minutes,” Tim says breathlessly.

The next four minutes pass in a blur of lights and pedestrians. The static rings in Nightwing’s ears, deafening in the silence over the comm line. He weaves in between the cars, through the smallest of gaps to shave off fractions of seconds.

Red Robin next checks in, and Nightwing almost misses the next turn, shifting his weight just in time, making it just in time.

“She’s here. She’s alive,” Red Robin pants, his relief palpable. “Just barely. Pulse thready. I’m getting her out of here.”

Nightwing exhales a slow breath, trying to calm himself. Disaster mostly averted, but a disaster that should have never happened in the first place.

He needs to get a handle on this, before anyone else gets hurt.

“Any visual on her attacker?”

Red Robin doesn’t answer immediately. Eventually, he says, after an extremely judgemental silence, “No sign of Jason.”

Two minutes after Red Robin whisked Spoiler away, Nightwing pulls up to her last location at the edge of the Bowery, a wide open space of concrete and weeds underneath the overpass. Scuff marks, drops of blood leading to a larger pool, hallmarks of a fight decorate the eastern edge of the lot. The scene makes his stomach churn, but he finds no evidence left by her attacker. After a fruitless search, he heads back to the Cave. 

He stays beside Damian for hours, trying his best to calm him down when he opens his eyes to see Steph on the bed next to him, unconscious and hooked up to all their backup monitors.

They have to sedate him again. 

Once both are stable and resting under Alfred’s careful eye, Dick sneaks out. If Tim caught wind of Dick’s plan, he’d never let him go through with it. But Dick couldn’t take the chance that Tim would spook Jason and Dick would be back at square one. Jason and Tim got along like two feral cats with distinct territories – fine at a distance, but chaos in close quarters.

No, he can’t afford to have Tim as backup. He’ll handle Jason on his own.

* * *

Jason watches himself wash his hands in his cramped safehouse bathroom. Silently, he seethes. Stephanie Brown’s crimson red blood turns the water pink and swirls down the drain. His head raises to the stained mirror above the sink.

“Don’t be so glum,” comes out of his mouth. His eyes stare back at him, dark and fathomless. His face smiles, too wide, baring too many teeth.

A broad, gleeful smile. 

“A little louder, lambchop. I think you may have a collapsed lung.”

The crowbar swings again.

He struggles. The ropes dig into his wrists and ankles. No give at all. He’s completely helpless.

“I left her alive, didn’t I?” comes out of his mouth next, and Jason throws himself against the invisible confines of his own head, trying to wrest back control of his body, swearing a blue streak that would make Alfred wash his mouth out with soap.

His reflection does not move an inch. “Now,” it tuts, “that’s not a very nice thing to say about my mother. Yours was hardly a saint.” It turns to dry Jason’s hands on the threadbare maroon towel hanging opposite the toilet. “Child neglect, drug abuse, not to mention her weak constitution. Is that something people say anymore? ‘Weak constitution’? I can never keep up with the lingo. But your head is filled with such fascinating vocabulary.”

It leaves the bathroom, and Jason loses sight of his reflection. He’s just a pair of eyes, unable to so much as twitch his pinky finger.

“Boring,” it declares as it picks up a first edition of The Hound of the Baskervilles on the end table by Jason’s couch. It lets the book fall to the floor, ignoring Jason’s wordless scream of rage. Left there, it will crack the fucking spine and, well, it was a gift from Bruce.

Jason fucks with everything else in Bruce’s life, but not their first editions. Some things are sacred, even from beyond the grave.

The first year he and Bruce were on semi-decent terms, Jason came back to his safehouse after a quiet patrol on his birthday – and Jason has thoughts about Bruce’s interference with his patrol too – to find a new book nestled among the other beaten up Penguin Classics and shitty sci fi novels he takes on boring stakeouts. There was no slip of paper with a happy birthday note on the inside, but words have never been Bruce’s forte. 

But it was their thing, so it had to be Bruce. 

No movie was too campy to watch with Dick. No cold case was too cold to tackle with Tim. And no martial arts technique was too obscure to teach Damian. 

But with Jason, no first edition was ever too rare to track down and give to his second Robin.

Jason howls as he watches his steel-toed boot kick The Hound of the Baskervilles under the coffee table. A few pages come loose and flutter back to the ground. Not a sound escapes his mouth.

“My bad,” it says in a sing-song voice that makes Jason’s blood boil. “No matter. Conan was a real fraud, let me tell you  –”

It pauses at the sound of a tap-tap-tap on the window.

At the sight of the blue finger stripes, Jason’s stomach sinks. Fuck no, Dick can’t be here. He is playing right into its hands –

But Jason just beats at the invisible bars of his cage as his body marches to stand in front of the window. His face morphs into a feigned expression of confusion as Dick meets his gaze through the glass. Get away, he screams, but, what comes out is, “Dickface, you got a problem using my front door like everyone else?”

“This is faster,” Dick grunts as he neatly disables Jason’s security measures and slides inside, graceful as one of Damian’s cats. “Plus, I’m not here for a social call.”

“So what do I owe the visit, then?” it asks, crossing its arms over its chest and raising an eyebrow.

Dick sighs. “Someone has been attacking… us,” he says slowly, studying Jason’s face carefully for his reaction.

It drops the defensive stance. “Who? Are the kids okay?” it asks.

Jason fumes. It’s not me! he shouts, but the demon gives nothing away. 

“Damian and Stephanie, so far,” Dick says, his lips pursing. “Someone got the drop on them. They who knew what he was doing. They evaded all cameras and left no evidence.”

The guilt, always lurking in the back of Jason’s mind, rolls over him like a freight train. He did that. Those attacks were his fault. 

The gremlin, flat on the ground, his hand twisted the wrong way from his broken arm, three bullet grazes leaking blood, and two bullet holes gushing with it. Five in total.

Blondie, slumped over, a halo of red surrounding her bright hair. Cracked ribs and a twisted ankle. A bullet in her thigh, left shoulder, calf, and, of course, that near miss at her temple. Head wounds always bled like a bitch. Four shots in total.

Clues for Dick to find.

Every time the demon would propose a plan of attack, alone in his apartment with just Jason for company, he would try to think of something else, anything else, but it was like asking someone not to think of a pink elephant. His mind would betray him, his real thoughts would drift to the surface, and the demon would gleefully snatch them from his consciousness and improve its plan with Jason's contribution.

Jason knew the kid, knew what they taught him in the League, and knew what Bruce was teaching him now.

He shudders, but of course none of this shows on his face.

Stephanie was harder, since Jason didn’t have as much of a history with her, and she started her vigilante career self-taught, outside of Bruce’s influence. But, Jason has several years of Bat training and League tutelage on her, not to mention a hundred pounds of muscle, so it got her in the end.

Tim – Jason dreads what the demon has in store for Tim Drake. 

“Have the gremlin or blondie said who did it?” the demon asks, raking a hand through Jason’s hair as if lost in thought.

As Dick struggles to answer, Jason tries to wrest control of anything, his pinky finger, his right knee, his left eyebrow. He lashes out at his confines, silently howling his rage.

“They both say you did it,” Dick says quietly.

It actually reels back a step – You’re overselling it, you bastard – and puts on some stupid, wounded look on his face that Jason would slap off, if he could. But, judging by Dick’s hurt expression, he’s falling for the act, hook, line, and sinker. 

Fuck you, Dick.

If Jason went around randomly attacking Bats, he’d own up to it like a man. He took on Batman himself when he was fresh out of the League, fueled by angst and spite. And when Bruce tracked him down, did Jason play coy and say, Oh, no Bruce you got the wrong dead kid you adopted and then kicked to the curb ? No, Jason did his big reveal, they had an epic fight, and he went on with his plans. Zero subterfuge, no underhanded manipulation – that was Bruce’s game, not Jason’s.

“It wasn’t me,” it answers Dick in a disturbingly convincing voice. No more than a whisper with a hint of warning.

Dick glances around, his gaze catching on one of the stray The Hound of the Baskervilles pages. “Sherlock Holmes?” he asks as he scans the text, his brow furrowing.

“What? I may not have graduated high school, but I know how to read,” it says, its tone pointed.

Dick holds up his page-free hand in a gesture of no-harm. “I didn’t think detective stories were your thing. But I should’ve known,” he says with a light chuckle that makes Jason want to throttle him because how can he be laughing now, at all times, “Brit Lit wins out over everything else, right?”

Jason feels his mouth stretch into an easy smile. “Right,” it says with his voice.

Fuck you twice over, Dick. 

Jason loved detective stories as a kid; all Robins did. They were raised by the World’s Greatest Detective; Sherlock Holmes was practically required reading, and Conan Doyle was definitely more fun than the old GCPD case reports that Bruce set as weekly assignments. Jason could tell the difference between deductive and inductive reasoning before he put on the scaly panties.

“Do you have any tracking data that recorded your location earlier tonight and last Friday?” Dick asks.

If Jason had a jaw he could use, it would have dropped open in surprise. Dick didn’t swallow the demon’s story whole.

But as the demon does something with Jason’s face, Dick rushes to say, “Damian and Steph will want proof.”

Jason would swear at the top of his voice if he could. He should’ve known. 

“They don’t know you like I do,” Dick says – pleads, really.

Christ, the guy’s pathetic.

“Well, you can’t have it,” the demon says, with a fair approximation of Jason’s quick temper. “I already have enough Bats up in my business. I don’t need little birdies on my tail when you play pin the tail on Jason because Robin took one too many blows to the head and started seeing things.”

“But–”

“Get out,” it says over Dick’s objections.

“Jay–” Something on the demon’s face makes Dick cut himself off. He carefully sets the page down on the coffee table. “Fine, I’m going. Just, look out for yourself, okay?” He meets Jason’s eyes. “I know you didn’t do this, Little Wing.” 

I didn’t.

“Get out, before I make you,” the demon says before it all but shoves Dick back out the window and slams it down behind him.

As they both watch Dick swing away, it says, “Now, let the real fun begin.”

* * *

Tim is almost too easy to track down. Despite the clear and present danger, Timmy keeps the same patrol routes he always does, with the added bonus of Big Brother watching in the wings, no doubt trying to catch the real perpetrator in the act.

Obviously, the demon couldn’t have that, so it hires a few brainless goons to blow up a yacht party on Penguin’s second-biggest boat at the same time as it places a fake 911 call about a convenience store robbery. Even if Dick figures out it’s a ploy to separate them, he will still feel compelled to stay and help search and rescue in Gotham Bay.

Jason watches with a churning feeling as Nightwing heads south and Red Robin goes north. The demon actually rubs its hands together like a two-bit spaghetti western villain about to tie a damsel to a set of train tracks.

It hops over the rooftops, supernaturally fast and agile. It keeps Red Robin at a distance, careful not to set off his well-honed sixth sense of being watched. It wouldn’t do to have Tim calling in Dick too early and ruining the big surprise.

The demon catches up with him after fifteen minutes. 

At his absolute fastest, it will take Nightwing half an hour to reach them, which is more than enough time.

“So I’m next on the list, huh?” Tim says, his voice dry as he turns around at the sound of Jason’s boots thumping down on the roof behind him. Quick as lightning, Tim snaps out his collapsible bo staff.

The demon, predictably, doesn’t say a word. It does, however, set off a miniature EMP to fry all of Tim’s fancy gadgets.

Tim raises a hand to his comm. “I want you to know, I was right,” he says. “It is Jason.”

It watches with sick satisfaction as Tim realizes his comm is dead. No help is coming. 

“What the hell did you do that for?” Tim asks as he nonchalantly twirls his staff, but Jason can read his nerves in the tense set of his shoulders – loose, Bruce always told them to stay loose – and the way he keeps his focus on Jason, not once scanning his peripherals.

“You rely on your toys too much, Timmy,” it says, taking a step closer. “So I thought I’d teach you a lesson. You need it, from what I’ve seen. You have none of Nightwing’s fluidity. Half of my brawn. A quarter of the gremlin’s training.” It reaches up and takes off Jason’s helmet, so Tim can see his bare face. “If I had to find a comparison, I’d say you’re most on level with Blondie, and she was, what, Robin for 73 days?”

Internally, Jason winces. He’d never say all that to Tim.

He’d think it, sure.

Because, from his experience, Tim isn’t a fighter on the same caliber as him and Dick and probably Damian once the little hellion goes through puberty. Tim fights smarter, relies more on his gadgets and environment than they do. He’s a relatively easier Robin to beat in close quarters, but he’s almost impossible at a distance. 

In the nonexistent-privacy of his own head, Jason’s admitted dozens of times over the past week that the kid is good and shouldn’t be underestimated. 

Tim takes the criticism with a completely blank expression. “Are you going to babble at me all night or are you actually going to do something? Because I gotta say,” he twirls his staff, daring Jason to attack while his weapon is occupied, “I’m feeling a bit left out you’re not giving me the silent treatment like you did –”

The demon lunges.

Tim dances out of the way in a dodge he definitely learned from Dick, and the fight is on.

Like with Steph and Damian, Jason tries to shut it out, but he can’t close his eyes; he can’t look away. And the demon takes all of his split-second judgments and hurls them at Tim in a merciless barrage.

A vicious punch to his kidney. “C’mon, you’re dropping your elbow, Timbo.”

A high kick to his face. “Oh, you almost blocked that in time!”

A one-two combo that sends Tim staggering back, blood dripping from his split lip, one hand cradling his cracked ribs. “Is that all you got?”

Tim smiles, crimson lacing over his teeth. “I’m just getting started.” He shifts his weight to his back foot, preparing to strike. 

The demon leans to the left for a feint –

Tim leaps backwards off the roof.

Shocked, the demon and Jason hear the poom of Tim’s grapple firing before the demon lets out a yell and follows.

Tim sprints across the increasingly decrepit Burnley townhouses, hurtling over planters full of dead bushes and overflowing piles of garbage. A stray beer bottle nearly trips him up, but he catches himself just in time. He leaps for the next building over and easily clears the ten feet of distance. 

He glances behind him, the whites of his lenses reflecting the orange street lamps. With a low curse, he throws a birdarang over his shoulder and keeps running.

The demon ducks, a feral smile curling its lip.

Tim goes too short on his next jump. His midsection slams into the edge of the roof, and he audibly gasps in pain. His gloved fingers scrabble for purchase on the crumbling concrete, and he levers himself over just as the demon takes off from the next building over. Tim sucks in a deep breath as he takes off again, weaving between rusted lawn chairs and pots full of weeds and brown dirt.

Jason and the demon overtake Tim at the next building. With a snarl, the demon yanks on Tim’s cape, sending him crashing to the ground. 

“Neat trick,” it says as it pulls out Jason’s gun from its holster. “But as fun as our little chase scene was, game’s over now, birdbrain.”

Flat on his back, Tim throws another birdarang, trying to knock the gun out of his hand. It lodges between his knuckles, and Jason internally winces at the sight, but the demon ignores it. Doesn’t even bother removing it before he fires two shots, one at each of Tim’s legs, aiming for the gaps in the armor. A third buries itself in Tim’s arm.

Tim screams as the bullets go in and through. 

“Come on, I didn’t even hit any bones,” it says in an almost bored voice as it stands over Tim, one firm, steel-toed boot on his cape, keeping him pinned like a butterfly to a corkboard. “Walk it off.” It smirks down at Tim as it plucks the birdarang out of his hand and tosses it over his shoulder. “If you can.”

Tim just glares, the corners of his mouth pinched with pain. At least he doesn’t try to get up and embarrass himself.

“Oh, right,” it says drolly, as it crouches by Tim’s side and roughly cuts him out of his outersuit, leaving it to soak up the steadily growing pool of blood around them. Redundancy is Bruce’s middle name, so the demon won’t take any chances with trackers powered by body heat or friction. It slices down the laces of Tim’s boots and pries them off.

Once Tim’s just in his black undersuit and barefoot, it hauls Tim over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and, ignoring Tim’s grunt of agony and increasingly pale face, jumps off the roof. It heads to Jason’s nearest safehouse, now three blocks away since Tim led it on that not-so-merry chase deeper into Burnley.

“Why are you taking me,” Tim groans. “You left Steph and Damian where you put them down.”

“You’re just special, Timberly,” it says as it clears another roof, landing with a heavy thump that makes Tim groan. And because it can’t let that backhanded compliment just hang there, it adds, “Bet that’s the first time anyone’s told you that, huh?”

Tim lets out a series of awful little whimpers as demon’s stomps down each of the fire escape stairs outside his safehouse. Jason catches sight of his reflection around in a third floor window, and his back is absolutely coated with blood from Tim’s bullet-ridden legs. His jacket glistens with it.

Not good.

Clang!

He startles at the sound of metal on metal, and the demon turns his head to watch one of his glocks clatter through the slats to the alley floor. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with guns?” it asks, ducking its head to get a good look at Tim, hanging upside down.

Tim just smirks and drops Jason’s other gun from where he palmed it. Down into the alley below it goes.

“You’re going to pay for that,” the demon growls. 

Tim says nothing, and Jason pushes down his worry. The snark is always the first to appear and last to disappear once a Robin puts on the cape. He tries to turn his head back to check on Tim, to make sure he’s still alive, but the demon doesn’t let him budge an inch. 

It just hikes Tim higher and opens the window to his safehouse. It drops Tim on the circular area rug in the living room. Tim coughs as he rolls onto his side, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. “Sit tight, Timmy. I’ve got to make a call.”

“Good fucking luck,” Tim spits.

Jason would sigh in relief if he could.

The demon stops, turns to squint down at Tim in the dark living room. “What the hell are you talking about?”

But Tim just rolls over again and closes his eyes, his breathing too fast and too shallow.

“Now,” it pulls Jason’s phone out of his pocket, “What should we tell big bro, hm?”

The lights switch on.

The demon whirls in place as Dick pushes off the far wall, his expression furious. “You could tell me what the hell you were thinking, going after my family.”

For a beat, they just stare at each other.

Tim groans into the silence, “Quit the dramatics, Dick.”

Face stricken, Dick darts forward and starts to drag Tim closer.

“Woah, hey, not so fast,” the demon purrs as it reaches for Tim.

But Dick is faster; he yanks Tim out of the demon’s reach. Tim cries out as the carpet gives way to wooden floor. “Sorry, sorry,” Dick murmurs as he crouches down to run his fingers through Tim’s sweaty hair. He isn’t even looking at Jason.

Jason can’t believe it. He can count about a hundred ways Dick is leaving both of them open to attack. This goes beyond stupid.

Evidently the demon agrees with him: “What are you doing?”

Dick ignores the question. Doesn’t even glance up. “Brace yourself,” he says to Tim, “One…” he hefts Tim into his arms way before he gets to three. His mouth tightens as Tim’s eyes fly open and his face contorts in pain.

And then Dick turns his back on the demon.

“Where are you going?” It circles around to block their exit – 

Jason blinks as his forehead rams into an invisible wall. The demon reels back, almost tripping over its own feet. It darts a hand out, grunting as its knuckles meet solid air.

“I’m going to get Tim to Alfred downstairs,” Dick says. He turns his head, so Jason can see the hard glint to his eye, “And then I’m going to get you out of my brother.”

Struck dumb, the demon doesn’t say another word as Dick disappears with Tim out the door.

What the fuck just happened?

Dick… knows?

* * *

Alone in Jason’s safehouse, the demon feels around its invisible cage, muttering to itself. 

Not so fun when it happens to you, is it? Jason thinks savagely

The confines closely follow the border of the area rug, and when the demon peels it back, Jason marvels at the intricate runes carved in the wood underneath that definitely weren’t there the last time he was in this safehouse.

“How did he…” it drifts off, gnashing Jason’s teeth.

“You just couldn’t resist needling Jason, could you?” Dick says, and the demon looks up to find him leaning against the front door frame, arms crossed over his chest, his face impassive. “You did the same thing in San Francisco.” He shuts the door behind him. “It wasn’t enough to mess with the cultists that dredged you up from hell in the first place, you had to make your host’s life miserable too, even though she was just an innocent bystander.”

The demon straightens. “What can I say,” it starts, dropping the act. It stands preternaturally still. “The eternally devoted are just so boring, you know? Complete subservience wears off so soon.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Dick deadpans. He pulls a slim, leather-bound book out of nowhere. “Now, shut up. I have to concentrate. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas –”

Suck it, Jason crows to the demon. Dickie’s gonna kick your ass back to hell.

“Wait,” the demon shouts over the exorcism, “I can help you!”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Dick says tonelessly without looking up. “Omnis incursio, infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica –”

“Power? Money? Love? You could have it all!”

If Jason had a mouth, he would laugh loudly. As if Dick doesn’t have exactly as much power, money, and love as he wants. He runs multiple superhero teams, and he’s the son of Bruce Wayne. Nightwing is about as beloved as heroes go, save maybe Superman or Wonder Woman.

There’s nothing a demon could offer Dick Grayson that he couldn’t make happen himself. 

Well, maybe –

“Your parents,” the demon announces, and Jason lets out a wordless scream of rage. Of course the fucker picked up on that.

Dick speeds up as wind starts to whip up around them. “Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te –”

“I could bring them back for you.”

Dick’s brow furrows, and he swallows once before restarting, “ Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare –”

“They’d live long, happy lives,” the demon adds.

Dick pauses. 

Oh, fuck.

Worst of all, Jason can’t blame Dick in the slightest. Objectively, he knows John and Mary Grayson were good people, and he is not. Jason is doing good work, sure, but he wouldn’t call himself a good person. 

Moreover, Dick definitely has thoughts on Jason’s definition of “good work” and exactly how much killing that requires.

His saintly parents for the low, low price of one possessed, morally compromised brother? That’s hardly a choice.

The demon goads, “They’d see all you’ve accomplished, all the lives you’ve saved, all the disasters you’ve averted.”

Jason really does not like that faraway look in Dick’s eye. 

It continues, “They would be so proud, and you’d have your family back.”

Dick’s fingers tighten on pages. He looks up, his eyes flashing. “My family is right here, and I already know my parents are proud of me.” He shakes his head ruefully. “Jason, hold on. Constantine said you’re in for a pretty bumpy ride. Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis –”

The demon yells, and the wind picks up, whipping at his hair, tugging and pulling at his clothes. Pins and needles break out all over his body. And Jason can’t even enjoy having physical sensation back before it turns to white-hot pokers, like fire licking at every inch of his skin.

He can’t even tell who is screaming any more. He has no idea if Dick is still speaking at all. All he knows is the pain.

He falls to his knees, choking and spluttering over bitter, rancid air. Down on all fours, he retches with whole body heaves. The fire spreads down his throat. It burns like acid to the very pit of his stomach. He gags, and tears spring to his eyes as something black and tarry slithers out of his mouth and splats onto the carpet.

“ – audi nos!”

Jason watches, horrified, as the thing bubbles down into nothing. Panting for breath and shivering all over, he scrambles back, off the carpet until his back hits the wall beneath the window.

Silence rings in his ears.

“Jason?” Dick drops into a squat until he’s at Jason’s level even though he’s still all the way across the room by the door. “Are you back with me?”

Jason nods, the movement too quick and too jerky, but Dick just sags back against the door in relief. 

“Thank god,” he mutters as he lets the book drop to the floor. He runs a weary hand down his face.

For a long moment, they just stare at each other. 

Dick speaks first. “I’m so sorry, Jay.”

Jason blinks. “For what?” He’s the one who beat the majority of their family to bloody pieces over the past week. His fists gave Damian a concussion, dislocated Stephanie’s shoulder, and cracked Tim’s ribs. His mind gave away all their weaknesses, starting with Dick: his family.

“For not getting the monster back in San Francisco,” Dick says, staring at Jason’s ceiling. “I just pissed it off enough to follow me back here.”

“Oh,” is all Jason can say.

Dick just shakes his head, his throat working as he swallows. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

Jason’s skin crawls at the undeserved apology. He scrambles for a new subject instead. “I’m just trying to figure out when you knew it wasn’t me.”

Dick’s gaze flicks to the dark bookshelf in the corner of the room. It’s smaller than the one in his primary safehouse, but still stacked with well worn paperbacks and a few hardback short story anthologies. “It messed with your first edition.”

“One loose page was enough to clue you in?” he raises his eyebrows. “What kind of Sherlock Holmes shit are you on?”

Dick shrugs. “All signs pointed to you, but you were insisting it wasn’t you.” He exhales a loud breath. “It wasn’t adding up. If you had a grudge against any of us, you’d own up to it. Creatively and loudly, if I know you at all. Ergo, it was you but wasn’t you at the same time. Does that make sense?”

Jason snorts. “No.”

“So, less Sherlock Holmes and more brother intuition,” Dick says with a tired smile.

Jason can’t help pressing, “You really didn’t buy its innocence act for a second? The other option, that I was going after the kids, that’s gotta be your worst nightmare.”

“I’m an optimist,” Dick says flatly, “not an idiot. There’s a difference.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s always trust but verify with you.”

Jason shakes his head. “ Doveryay, no proveryay? Really?”

“доверяй, но проверяй” Dick repeats, the slavic syllables rolling off his tongue with a native-sounding fluency that makes Jason’s stomach clench with envy. He’s fluent too, but he will never sound like that. Dick adds, “With your history, can you blame me?”

“I guess not,” Jason says as he curls his fingers into fists.

“But this wasn’t you,” Dick says as he gets to his feet and silently walks towards Jason. “Everyone knows that, now.” He reaches down, offering Jason his hand to help him up.

Jason doesn’t take it. “It was my hands,” he mutters, “my guns.”

“But it wasn’t you,” Dick says, more firmly this time. His hand doesn’t waver. “I know you, Jay. You’ve changed. You wouldn’t attack us out of the blue.”

Jason just grunts.

Dick waggles his fingers in Jason’s face. “Come back to the Cave with me. I’m gonna pass out any minute now, and Alfred needs an assistant to help with Tim, Steph, and Damian. I don’t know what’s in the water over there, but they’re all awful at resting up.”

“Pot, kettle, Dickface.”

“Hey,” Dick holds his other hand up, “I never said anything about me.” He thrusts his offered hand closer and nearly takes out Jason’s eye. “Not getting any younger here.”

Jason scowls up at him, leaning slightly to the left to avoid Dick’s overly enthusiastic invitation. “I bet the last thing the kids want to see is my face.”

“Actually, Tim wants a record of what it’s like to get possessed, so if it ever happens to him, he knows how to beat it,” Dick says with a warm smile. “When he wakes up, he’ll be pestering you nonstop for a complete recount. And I might’ve let slip to Steph that you watch Black Sails since she’s in a pirate phase, of all things.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Dick agrees. “And as for Damian, well, he’ll want to pick over your fight in nauseating detail to know how to beat you next time.”

Jason sighs loudly. “You’re not leaving here without me, are you?”

“Nope,” Dick says cheerfully.

Jason swats Dick’s hand out of the way and gets to his feet. “If you’re wrong, you’re next on my shitlist, got it?”

Dick shudders exaggeratedly as Jason opens the window to leave. “Oh, I’m so scared.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Jason says warningly. “You’re the last Robin left, the way I see it.”

Dick throws him an odd look before he climbs through to the fire escape. “No, I’m not.”

Jason takes the steps down three at a time. “What, did Bruce pick up another black haired twerp while I wasn’t looking?”

“No,” Dick says slowly as he follows. 

“Then what the hell are you talking about?”

“You, Jay. I’m talking about you,” Dick says, deliberately slowly like the demon might’ve taken more than a few braincells when it vacated Jason’s body. “I’m not the last Robin; we are.”

Jason turns away, his face heating. He jumps the rest of the way to the alley floor, scowling as Dick backflips his way down. “C’mon,” he mutters, “Alfred’s never gonna take a break if we’re not there.”

[gravitycavity]

Sunshine (Pomni x Ragatha) Chapter 2 - Lifeline

[Click here to read from the beginning on AO3!]

Cover art by @sunification

Pomni wrinkled her nose. Somehow, the air in her room smelled even staler than yesterday.

Balancing on a wobbly pile of letter blocks, she stretched to reach the sole remaining object atop her cleaned-out dresser. Surely, at least one of the books up there had to be actually readable. Right?

Snatching it, she hopped to the floor and slid her hand across the smooth, untextured cover. She prayed that the pages wouldn’t be blank, torn to shreds, or hollowed out and filled with eldritch sludge like the others. Swallowing, she turned the cover, and…

…wingdings. A complete novel written entirely in Wingdings.

Pomni’s eye twitched. She’d turned her entire bedroom upside-down in search of something to occupy her unraveling mind — but the living space was, in practice, just a padded cell with a touch of extra flair. The books were only for show. The assortment of toddler toys scattered on the floor seemed to have been placed there just to mock her. The tacky chandelier hurt to look at, and window-bare walls were a silent reminder: No way out.

The sole object that had a practical use was the standing mirror by her bed — and Pomni much preferred that it didn’t. Each day, the mirror confronted her with her obnoxious new body. She was a jester. A fool. An entertainer, devoid of wit or talent, whose inherent patheticness was considered a punchline in itself.

Pomni snarled at her reflection; her reflection snarled back. Was that what they thought of her? Pomni the jester: a sad, helpless idiot to be pointed and laughed at? Was that why it was so important for her to smile?

It didn’t matter how she really felt, who she really was, or what she really wanted. Like it or not, Pomni was the Amazing Digital Circus’ newest wacky character — she was expected to just forget her feelings and play her part, lest she rain on everyone else’s parade.

She gripped the novel tightly.

All out of tears, Pomni screamed, hurling the useless book at the mirror with all the force she could muster. The mirror shattered with a tremendous crack, scattering countless shards of polished glass all across the room.

…And for what? She still felt just as terrible.

“I want to go home…” Pomni crumpled breathlessly to the floor, gripping the sides of her head. “Let me out of here! Let me OUT!”

This couldn’t be forever. It just couldn’t. The exit. She had to find it. The exit. She had to escape. She knew it existed. It had to. Caine was lying. Everyone was. Everyone. There had to be an exit. She saw it. The void. She did. What was on the other side? What was Caine trying to hide from her? He knew something. They all knew something, and she wasn’t going to stop until she—

A horrible, biting pain stabbed the tips of Pomni’s fingers, breaking her out of her vicious thought loop. Her twitching gaze leapt to the source.

Black. Her fingers had turned completely black.

“What…?” Pomni whimpered, watching the darkness creep across her trembling palms. The pain was unbearable — but Pomni forgot all about it once a large eye sprouted in the center of her palm, its pupil twitching erratically against a flashing neon white.

“No…” Pomni recoiled. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. "No, no, no!”

She swore to herself that this couldn’t be happening, but even she didn’t believe it. Kaufmo had been just like her — driven to madness by the same kafkaesque horror she now found herself trapped in. Just like her, he had holed himself up in his room for days on end. Just like her, he’d searched tirelessly for a way out of the circus.

And the reward for his efforts? He now languished with the other forsaken souls in the cellar, condemned for all time without even his own mind for comfort.

And Pomni was next.

“Calm down! Please! Just…” Warm tears streamed down Pomni’s cheeks as the creeping black crested her shoulders. It couldn’t end like this. It just couldn’t. The abyss of insanity stretched infinitely below her, and Pomni’s mind grasped desperately for something — anything — to prove to herself that this new life was one worth living.

Her eyes squeezed shut.

Her breathing slowed.

The thought of the softhearted soul who had listened to Pomni’s cry for help — who had told her it was okay to feel, whose kind words had numbed the pain — speared through the dark clouds like golden rays of light.

Ragatha. Again and again, the woman’s soothing voice sounded within Pomni’s psyche, and little by little, the burden of eternity was lifted from her shoulders. The abstraction retreated back toward Pomni’s fingers, and the screaming pain it wrought muted into a quiet purr.

Deep breath in, deeper breath out.

In and out.

In, and…

The clock ticked softly. Pomni cracked open a single eye, one hand cradling her thumping chest. Her gaze shined brightly, sweeping across her arms, wrists, and hands.

She was safe.

Besides the few seconds it took to swipe the tears off of her face, Pomni didn’t waste any time. Though her wobbly legs could barely carry her, she fought to stand anyway, pointing her head toward the one thing in her room that she’d never bothered to look at until now.

The door.

🎪 🎪 🎪

Gangle let out a squeal of pure joy. “Today’s going to be a good day. I can feel it!”

“Gee,” Ragatha’s head tilted aside, “you’re awfully chipper today, Gangle.”

The mirthful smile on Gangle’s mask added a drop of life to the big top’s otherwise-sterile atmosphere. “Of course! I get so lonely when the day is over, you know? I’d much rather be here with you guys!”

Ragatha smiled. “I couldn’t possibly agree more.”

Neither Zooble nor Kinger bothered to weigh in on the conversation, but Ragatha figured that Kinger, at the very least, would share Gangle’s sentiments. The walking paradox often kept to himself, but he never went as far as to shut out the rest of the world. He could set up his pillow forts anywhere, after all, yet he always did so in close proximity to others.

If only a certain someone was the same.

Ragatha toyed with the fabric of her dress. No matter what she did, she just couldn’t get that new girl out of her head.

Other than yesterday’s disastrous filming session — which a kicking and screaming Pomni had been forced to attend — the poor thing had done nothing but languish in her room since her arrival. Clearly, she was in desperate need of a soft shoulder to cry on, but given how hard she was taking things, getting close enough to form any sort of friendship would be easier said than done.

But it wasn’t all doom and gloom. Yesterday, Ragatha had seen for herself that it was possible to break through. Pomni had hidden it quickly, but Ragatha swore she had seen her smiling. And what a lovely smile it was.

A three-second daydream ended with Ragatha’s gaze turning inward. What was she thinking? She was only setting herself up for disappointment. Unless Caine forced her out again, Pomni would probably never—

Ragatha perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. She turned on a dime — but her face fell once she saw who was behind her.

“What’s the matter, Buttons?” Jax’s slick stride didn’t falter for even a second. “Was it something I said?”

Ugh. Two sentences in, and Ragatha was already exhausted. “I have one button on my face, Jax. One. That name doesn’t even make sense. Try harder.” She huffed, closing her posture, “Or — here’s an idea — you could try using my actual name for once.”

“Yeesh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed…”

“No, Jax.” Zooble rolled their eyes, “You’re just an &$#hole.”

Gangle held in a giggle.

Jax scowled. He opened his mouth to fire back, but the sudden pomp and circumstance that filled the big top made his fur stand on end. Floating bugles sang with regal fanfare. Rainbow confetti rained from above. An invisible percussionist pounded on a timpani, building up to the final, dramatic climax:

With a precise flourish, Caine made his grand entrance. “Good morning, my cute little clique of carnies—”

“Ew. Nope. Start over.” Zooble crossed their arms. “We’re not your cute little anything, Caine.”

Just like that, the ringmaster disappeared, only to reappear a half-second later with the exact same routine. “Good morning, my sophisticated society of sagacious sausage-sizzlers!”

“The #@$& does that mean!?”

Disappear, reappear. “Good morning…” Caine hesitated, “…everyone!”

Zooble sighed. “How is this my life…?”

“Good to see you too, Zooble.” Caine lifted his tophat to let Bubble out — and the little gremlin immediately started running his mouth.

“Oh, oh! I just thought of something fun, Caine! Let’s go on an adventure today!” Bubble flew in tight circles around his master. “C’mon, let’s go! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s g—”

Caine popped Bubble with a well-placed poke. “What a novel idea!” He snapped his fingers, and an enormous, hand-painted backdrop of a spooky forest dropped in from who-knows-where. “Somewhere in the dark, dismal depths of the digital forest, an old mansion sleeps, undisturbed for eons…”

“Oh, this sounds fun!” Gangle clasped her ribbons together. “I love it when there’s lore!”

Jax rolled his eyes. “Oh, good. Gangle thinks it’s important, which means we can safely skip over it.”

Caine cleared his throat, despite not really having one to speak of. “Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to venture inside this spooktacular chateau and secure the precious heirloom hidden within — the brilliant bronze brooch of the manor’s malevolent matriarch, Margarethe MacGuffin!”

Somehow, Bubble was already back. “Vroom, vroom!” he chirped, “There she goes, driving the plot!”

“But don’t expect it to be a simple walk in the park, my valiant vegetables! You’ll need to keep your wits about you to navigate a lengthy labyrinth of tricky traps and perplexing puzzles — not to mention a scintillating suite of supernatural sentries!”

🎪

Pomni shook her head, ducking back behind one of the huge, garish stacking blocks scattered beneath the big top. A haunted house…? Ragatha or not, this particular adventure didn’t exactly sound like it would do wonders for her mental health. They weren’t all this stressful…were they?

She glanced back toward the way she came. Perhaps leaving her room was a lousy idea after all.

“No, no! What are you saying?” Pomni slapped her cheeks, “You can’t go back. If you keep isolating yourself, you’ll end up just like…”

Pomni looked over her shoulder. The damage done during Kaufmo’s rampage had already been repaired, but the barrel of monkeys she had been forced to cower behind that day was still in the exact same spot.

The memory sent a cold shiver down her spine.

“I’ll just, um…” Pomni sighed, plopping herself onto one of the circus’s childish set pieces. Fingers drumming idly upon the surface, her gaze wandered upward. “I’ll just wait here! Yeah! And meet everyone for dinner after the adventure is — Holy $#&% !”

Pomni slapped her hands over her mouth, jerking away from the trio of floating eyeballs lingering above her. Their cold, unflinching stares bore holes through her very soul. How long had those been there!?

Had Pomni held her breath waiting for the revolting specimens to blink, she would have asphyxiated by now. “C-C-Caine? Is that you…?”

🎪

“Zooble…” the ringmaster swirled his magician’s cane, “…you’re adventuring with Kinger today!”

Kinger emerged from his pillow fort. Smiling with his eyes, he looked at his partner-du-jour. Zooble shrugged.

“Gangle, your faithful companion will be…”

Gangle shivered. “Please don’t say Jax. Please don’t say Jax. Please don’t say—’

“…your best friend Jax, of course!”

“Like two peas in a pod!” Jax slapped Gangle twice on the back. Gangle’s mirthful mask shattered to pieces, and her subsequent whimper was as pitiful as usual.

Ragatha sighed, glancing sadly toward the dormitory hall. She should have known better than to get her hopes up. “I guess that means I’m the one stuck by myself this time…?”

“Of course not!” Caine replied, “Ragatha, your partner-in-crime for today’s heart-throbbing adventure is the one, the only…Pomni!”

Ragatha squinted. “But she isn’t even—”

Caine curled his finger inward, and a high-pitched yelp sounded in the distance. All turned to watch as a panicking Pomni was forced out of her hiding spot and dragged towards the rest of the group. Bubble, for his part, immediately got to work lapping up the blue-and-red skid marks left behind by her shoes.

Pomni's surprise trip stopped just as abruptly as it had started, and the inertia sent her careening toward the floor. Just before her face met the tile, however, a pair of soft hands caught her by the waist.

“Caine! What is wrong with you?” Ragatha scolded. She held Pomni against her chest like the world’s biggest, saddest teddy bear. “You could have hurt her!”

Jax pointed with a grin. “Careful, Dollface. She bites.”

“Oh, hush up.” Ragatha narrowed her eyes. Her gaze flicked down. Pomni stared back like a deer in headlights — and Ragatha could feel for herself how quickly the little jester’s heart was beating.

“You alright, Sweetheart?” Ragatha set Pomni back down, making sure the younger woman was on stable footing before fully letting go.

Pomni squeaked, turning away with her face buried in her hands. “Uh-huh! R-Right as rain!”

Ragatha hid her bemused smirk fairly well. What a dork.

“Pomni?!” Kinger flinched. It was anyone’s guess as to where his mind had been during the entire previous exchange. “What in the world?! I…I thought you abstracted!”

Gangle shook her head. “That was Kaufmo.”

“…Oh. Right.”

Jax slipped his hands into his pockets. He slid toward Pomni, showing off his golden teeth like a hungry shark ready to feed. “Hey, what’s the big idea? After your little tantrum yesterday, we thought you wouldn’t care if we all got run over by a train. Isn’t that what you said?”

“I, uh…” Pomni shrank away. “N-No! Well, yes, but…but I didn’t mean—”

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size, Jax?” Ragatha placed her hands on Pomni’s shoulders. “Ignore him, Pomni. It’s a new day — we’re glad you’re here.”

The look on Pomni’s face was hopelessly awkward, but Ragatha didn’t mind — it still looked better than the jester’s usual pout.

Zooble groaned. “Okay, we get it! The resident wet kitten dragged herself out of her room to show her face again. Whoop-dee-#$%&ing-do. Can we get this adventure over with already!?”

“That’s the spirit! Sort of!” Caine rested his arm on the hypotenuse of Zooble’s head, peering expectantly at the rest of the group. “Any last burning questions before the fantastic funtivities commence?”

“…Stop touching me.” Zooble growled.

“That’s not a question!”

Kinger shook his head. “Did you learn nothing from your time inside the Gloink Queen?” He stepped between them and Caine. “Repeat after me, Zooble. ‘What is stop touching me?’”

“So close, yet so far away!” Caine leapt high into the air. “Well then, if there’s nothing more to discuss…”

“Wait a minute!” Pomni’s hand shot into the air. “I never agreed to—”

Caine snapped his fingers, and the group disappeared in a flash.

---

@sunification was kind enough to illustrate a scene from this chapter! You can find it here. Don't forget to check out their other art, as well!

My Ko-fi - Tips are very much appreciated! :)

[First Chapter] [Next Chapter]

[fae-sodapop]

Thanks Lost in Code AU for making me create lore for characters I dug out of Toby Fox & temmi Chang's trash cans.

Anyways, meet the skeleton family! (WIP design)

Grandma Hardinge (Redacted),

They/it/She

it's very old - it was around before the war. She isn't even a skeleton! She's a phantom (type of undead monster) & why gaster doesn't have a nose - she doesn't have a nose either. She wears a long black robe... Dress? Undecided. I don't think she has hands either, she may use her hair to manipulate things! She's a little rusty in her own font (Hardinge) so she speaks in wingdings most of the time, but she'll make an effort to refresh her mind, she wants to connect with her grandsons after all!

Grandpa Semi, Semi serif

He/him

Tired old southern Grandpa, not as old as Hardinge, definitely not, but still elderly. He was born underground & he's never seen the sun. He thought Gaster's fascination with the surface was just a dream brought about from Hardinge's stories & hopeless reminiscing but he was actually proud of him when he became the royal scientist. He doesn't have a hatred for humans, he remembers the days of the first human child that was found. They seemed like a sweet child but a little shaken, no one was really sure what to make of them - to be honest it didn't even really seem like they came from the surface.

Gaster's childhood made him sterner, dealing with a not entirely corporeal baby that can teleport & fade away at will probably does that to a person. Sans & papyrus were a bit different though. The two used to play pranks on him when they were younger, while he was grumpy he wasn't bitter, he'd join along when his old bones would allow. I'm not sure about his magic right now

W.D. Gaster

He/him

Proud father and former Royal scientist! Gaster is a phantom & a skeleton! He can go non-corporeal whenever he pleases as well as teleportation. He wears a white turtleneck and a long black robe, his hands are separate from his body and usually float near his form. He retired from the role of Royal scientist not long after having his children, though no fully as he helped tutor alphys for her new role. He moved to Snowdin with his boys when Papyrus was around 11 years old as he was looking for a fresher start than what the capital had to offer. Hardinge & Semi moved in a bit after - to get closer with their grandsons.

-- Character dialogue if Hero chooses to interact w/ them! --

Breaking the barrier:

Semi, "The surface? BAH! What's the point? These old bones don't see no point in leavin' the caverns. Why go up there, I heard the temperature can change on a whim! If I wanna be boiled I'll go to hotland. But... Suppose' I can't be to stubborn. Good job yougin'."

Hardinge, "I... Am glad....I...can see...the...Sun....again...a thousand...years...is a....long....long time..."

Gaster, "Amazing! I can't believe we'll finally see the surface, do you think they'll be interested in my theories? What kind of technology do you have up there? I should stop rambling... Good job, human."

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - sixty-six | a thing to be had

“Can I get something?”

You looked up and felt your body jolt, your hands released and your phone fell to the floor. You scrambled to the floor to get it and turned it over; the screen was now cracked and you cursed internally. But you couldn’t worry about that right now, you squeezed your eyes shut hoping you didn’t just see who you thought you did. You stood up again: it was him.

He was standing in front of you.

He smiled.

“Can I get an iced Americano? To stay.”

“Uh--” You couldn’t let him get to you. “Yeah.”

“You’re going to bring it over, right?”

“Uh-- yeah.”

You punched the order into the register and told him the price, he tried to hand you his card so you could scan it for him. It was a gold card. “You can scan it.”

You looked up from the card, confused.

He held it out to you again before recovering with a smile and scanning it himself.

Out of the corner of your eye you could see San come out of the kitchen and stop. You couldn’t see his face, he was so far away and so far out of the center of your vision that you couldn't tell what face he was making. You didn’t want to turn to him, but you suspected that he had a similar reaction to yours upon seeing your stalker.

“Take a seat.” You said, turning to the espresso machine without looking up.

You listened to his footsteps and the movement of the chair as he walked to a table - the one he always sat at that gave a good view of the counter and you - and sat. When someone else took care of him he normally stood around, maybe looking to see if you were there, but today he sat. You wondered if it was because you asked him to. You wondered if it meant more to him other than just ‘sit down please.’ Was he one of those stalkers you read about who think they have a whole relationship with their victim? You had only said it because it was what you were trained to say. You wondered if he thought of it as some kind of invitation given from you personally. You knew that your stalker only sat so he could invade your space and stare at you. He didn’t have to say it, but you knew it in your fucking bones no matter what the cops said.

As you robotically began to go through the actions of making his drink, you felt a hand on yours. You froze. Every inch of your body was on high alert, like a gazelle that’s noticed a lion stalking them in the grass. The hand that stopped yours was warm and strong. It was only when it grasped yours tighter that you realized you had been shaking.

“Go to the kitchen.”

You looked up into San’s eyes and in his expression you could tell you must have looked like some small, scared animal. He looked scared for you, but in his eyes you could see something else. Anger perhaps.

“Please.” He said quietly but firmly, his face softening.

You nodded and walked into the back. Once back there, you slumped against the wall and let yourself fall to the floor. You gasped a breath that had been stuck in your chest while you were suffocating under your stalker’s gaze.

“Are you okay?” Wooyoung whispered as he crouched to talk to you. “I’m so sorry, I was talking to San about something, if I hadn’t, he would have been out there with you.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“You don’t look okay.”

You really weren’t. You shook your head and Wooyoung helped you up. He peeked around the doorframe and you steadied yourself before joining him using him like a shield.

San brought the drink, in a to-go cup, over to the stalker.

“Where’s y/n?”

You thought about burning your name tag. All name tags. You wouldn’t even have a series of numbers for someone to address you by, you’d use wingdings so it’d take ten minutes to pronounce and  you’d be long gone by the time they managed to finish.

San put the drink down. “She’s working on something, so I brought it instead.”

“She said she’d bring my drink over.”

“She’s busy.”

“Could you call her over for a second?”

“I’m sorry but--”

“I just wanted to ask her something.”

San stared at him for a moment, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he tried to keep control.

Your stalker raised his eyebrows, urging San to go get you.

“Y/n is my girlfriend. If you’re coming here with those intentions, I hope you won’t come any more.”

“She’s your girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“She’s never said anything about having a boyfriend--”

“She would never discuss her personal life with a customer. Anyway, I’d be grateful if you didn’t come here any more for that reason.”

“Ahh…” The stalker mused as he looked San over.

San stared at him. Stalwart. Expression cold. You finally understood what he had meant months ago when he asked why you thought his face wasn’t scary because right now he looked like the cold, calculating villain of a drama; some high powered CEO or a mafia boss or something, the music all tense strings as he stared down another character, seconds away from erupting in rage.

A tiny voice in the back of your head told you it was kind of hot, but the panicking voice in the front of your head - very loudly - told that voice to shut the fuck up, because your stalker was right in front of you not a moment ago and now he and the friend you kinda sorta have a crush on were currently having a stare down.

Your stalker seemed to consider what San said for a moment before answering. “I… I guess there’s nothing for me to say.”

“I’ve put your drink in a to-go cup. You can take it with you now.”

“Oh--”

“Thank you for your patronage, goodbye.”

Your stalker looked at the drink awkwardly, pulling it towards him and viewing it for a moment, like he was deciding if he should leave or not. 

San looked at him, cooly waiting for him to leave. He raised an eyebrow.

Your stalker looked at him and took the drink and stood, leaving without saying anything else. 

San stood where he was until he walked outside. He waited where he stood for a few seconds longer before getting closer to the door to make sure he had indeed left. Once he was sure he was gone, he rushed over to the kitchen and to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Your hands were shaking.”

“He was just there suddenly, Minsoo was texting me-- I didn’t even know he came in-- my phone screen cracked…”

“I don’t think he’s coming back.”

You nodded as you fought back tears.

“No, honey, don’t cry,” Wooyoung said and reached out to you.

“I’m-- I’m mad.”

“You're mad?” San asked.

Wooyoung and San looked at each other and Wooyoung took that as his cue to leave and he walked over to the ovens.

“Why are you mad?”

“Why couldn’t he listen to me in the first place when I kept shutting him down weeks ago? Why did it have to take a man telling him he was my boyfriend to make him go away?”

“Are you mad at me? I’m sorry--”

“No I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at the whole… thing.” Tears you didn’t plan on cascaded down your cheeks. 

The bell on the door jingled and Wooyoung walked past the two of you into the front of the café. “Can I help you with something?”

San walked you further into the back, past the ovens where you could cry, safe in the knowledge that no customers would hear.

“Y/n…”

“Why couldn’t he just take me seriously? Why--?” You cried harder, crumpling to the floor. “Why am I not worth taking seriously? Why did he only take you seriously?!”

“I--”

“Because you’re men. You’re the only ones whose opinions matter!” You hiccuped a sob. “I’m a woman so I’m just a-- a-- a thing to be had. I’m not a real person!”

He put his arms around you. “I know… I know that there’s nothing I can say that can make you feel better, because it doesn’t change society and the shitty guys like that guy who act like you’re not a person. But, I take you seriously. If you ever told me to fuck off or even implied it, I would.”

You laughed through your tears. “I don’t want you to fuck off. You’re not a shitty guy like him.”

“Can you promise to put that on my tombstone?” He pulled away and leaned so he would be in your line of sight. “‘Not a shitty guy like Stalker Guy’?” 

You laughed.

He smiled at you.

You wiped your face hard with the heels of your hands. “I’m sorry for crying, I feel so stupid. Like, I’m a streamer, I get harassed all the time. I should be used to this by now.”

“Hey, just because you deal with the same shit all the time doesn’t mean you should be okay with having to deal with it.”

“I’m so not okay with it,” you laughed with a sob. “It’s just… it hurts, you  know? To feel like no one sees you as a person.”

“It does…”

“Yeah…” 

He pulled you close and held you for a few moments, cradling you softly in his arms. He was warm, not just his body, but his actions, and if you didn’t work with him and weren’t at work at that moment, it might start to make you feel some type of way. The same type of way you felt when he was comforting you the night before as you cried.

“Hey--” Wooyoung started as he walked in and stopped when he saw the two of you. “...Uh.”

“I-- I’m sorry, I was-- um--” you pushed San away and stood, wiping your cheeks.

San looked at you, confused, and stood up.

“Um, do you want to take the rest of the day off?” Wooyoung asked. “We’ll tell Seonghwa what happened and we can call him or Minsoo in to finish your shift.”

“Oh… I don’t know if I should leave early. And they’re on a date and everything. I don’t want to disturb them.” You looked at him and then to San.

“You can go home and rest if you want to.” San said.

“Should I?”

Wooyoung nodded.

San nodded as well. “I know Yunho has the day off today, I’ll ask him to walk you home. Just in case.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Are you sure? He can be here in five minutes.”

You thought. The stalker had come in every day of the week before, when he knew there wouldn’t be a man around. “I… maybe you’re right.”

San rubbed your arm for a moment and smiled reassuringly before dialing Yunho’s number as he turned to go to the front of the café. “Hey, Yunho-ya, can you come to the café?”

“Are you alright?” Wooyoung asked.

“Not really.”

He gave you a hug, squeezing you hard. “If I knew I wouldn’t go to jail, I would handle him.”

You laughed. “How?”

“With my fists. Or… knives. I have a lot of knives back here.”

“You’ve never fought anyone.”

“I could try.”

You snorted and Wooyoung smiled at you as he pulled away.

San came back in. “He’ll be here in a little bit. You can wait back here if you want to.”

“I feel sort of shitty, making you guys defend me and then pick up my slack.”

Wooyoung put a hand on your shoulder. “We wouldn’t do it if we didn’t want to, y/n.” 

San smiled at you. You thought maybe it looked like a sad smile, but you couldn’t quite discern the emotion.

Sure enough, almost exactly five minutes later, Yunho arrived. 

“Am I allowed to be back here?” He jokingly asked as San led him to the back.

“We say you can,” San responded.

You stood from where you were sitting with Wooyoung. “Hey.”

“Nice to see you again.” He said softly. “San told me what happened.”

“...Yeah.”

“But I have a suggestion.”

All of you looked at him curiously.

“If San said he was your boyfriend, he’s the one who should take you home.”

“But he has to stay at the café--” you started.

“It would look weird if I take you home, because I’m not the man who told him he was your boyfriend.”

“Ohh, you’re right,” Wooyoung chimed in.

“Then why are you here?” San asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to try working in a café. And maybe I’ll play a character who works at one someday. It’d be a good learning experience.”

“So you’re going to cover for me?” San asked skeptically.

“Mhm.”

San looked at you.

“Do you… think Seonghwa would be mad?”

“Not if we explain it to him,” Wooyoung offered. 

“But, then… Yunho needs to get paid.”

“It would only be for as long as it takes Minsoo to get here.”

Yunho waved the idea away. “I don’t mind a little volunteer work.”

You and San looked at each other.

“I… I guess we should go, then?” You asked. 

“I guess so.” San eyed Yunho suspiciously. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Wooyoung and Yunho nodded. 

San took off his apron and handed it to Yunho. “Here, you can borrow mine.”

Yunho held it like he was receiving an award. “I’m-- I’m so honored.”

You laughed at him and got your stuff from the cubby.

“Come on,” San implored as he gestured to the door.

“See you later, guys.”

“Bye,” Wooyoung and Yunho said in unison.

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Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋

@rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy •

[urlsaremeaningless]

collection of funny things people I know have said (part 3)

Feel free to change pronouns as needed <3 have fun! please reblog this if you enjoy it.

im like a 6th month old puppy, im fully grown, buuut-

I love screaming

BEACUSE ITS CHEEEESE!

did we send a dog to Mars?

....we sent a dog AT Mars

Oh, the humanoid keeping cage

We are rehydrating the world leaders with Gatorade

They took away the rabbits titties

Would you peepee in your own bed?....why are you not answering?

I was thinking about how stupid koalas are.

you wouldn't watch censored hentai in public would you?

[name] that man is not wearing pants

the plot thiccccquens

Pittsburg is the germany of Pennsylvania

no no this is not the first time we've had this EXACT conversation....hey [name] whats wrong with our friendship

This is indeed a choice we have made.

I have taken up the MANTLE to read these

So you see, the hamburglar made his debut in 1971, and he looked like a preteen, which means he was probably born in the 1960s, which means he's probably around 60 years old.

you hear that, [name]? No one gives a shit if my ass is toasted!

I would say they are beefing, but the beef started with a can of soup, so I suppose they are actually souping

sometimes, i like to rub myself in vasaline and then i like to crawl on the ground, and pretend im a slug

Less daddy, more dead-y.

We drove through the entirety of Colorado and didn’t see one moose. And frankly, I’m offended.

1000% out of context, it makes sense as a joke i swear

I promise i will never send anyone a dick pick

I can't believe I got jumpscared by a penis

Second printing? Bitch I'm worth a first run

He SHOULD be FLUFFY!! >:|

an octopus has 8 tentacles, so logically if it has only 1, I'm calling it a unipus

[name] is wingdings 1 and im wingdings 2

im not gonna cry over a god damn drone in a fucking porn game

im gonna buy like a billion candy apples....so like two

I know they call them monsters but this is just slavery

we're just trying to get characters to fuck, [name]. stop looking too deep into things!

year nog egg round

Like religious text wise?.... it’s not. But i am fine with it.

Ooooo it burns a little bit when you get more than a tongue full

panic at Nabisco, where you just drop a pack of oreos on the dance floor

[undertalesyafiqah12]

Gaster Gang fun facts and did you know: part 2

Welp- not really old and new facts or anything, but I can sense most people didn't know about the gaster's backstory lore so... Here are some lore about the gang + Swapfell

Wingding: While he's just the normal gaster around him. Got PTSD dure of war and he was just a kid who had to be mature to his brothers (Sans and Papyrus). Technically after fall to his creation, he accidentally open the portal to other gasters that close to him. He always overwork and being his grumpy side. And everyone, especially Swap treats him like a child (since he's youngest)

Swap: Born to a culture that's about riverperson. His father left his mother at young age. Left his culture after marriage(?) but got divorced after his wife committed adultery and he got full custody on his sons. He blames himself for Papyrus's bad habit. He's happy go lucky to cheer everyone up to not remind himself on his past

B: Was actually born prince. He was flirty and very gentleman. Born to be a king, forced to be a advisor after his kingdom got destroy and lost his eye as a result. Gave 40% of his soul to Sans, his apprentice/kin. And first to leave the war to hide. Act strongly to humans but he's chill most of the time... Unless he's on heat. He never met Papyrus dure of Sans and Papyrus separate at birth.

Fell: Abandoned at just newborn. Got move to different foster and orphanage at his young age, he decided to run away to with the doggo in his timeline (and fun fact, Fell wanted to fit in so he sharpen his teeth). Married to a woman named Rosanna to actually protect her since she got pregnant by a rich guy but he left her bc his reputation is more important than a random girl from a farm. Unfortunately, he lost his wife and child so he joined the war. Adopted Sans and Papyrus after their family home got burn down years after the monsters trapped underground.

Stars: Half alien, half monster (no, this is not a joke). His father is a high rank alien from "The Order" in his planet. Often got bullied because of his half monster side but proved them wrong as he can destroy and create stars. Left his planet to research (although his father don't like it but he left him anyway). Actually married to an alien but he didn't know it. Becomes a scientist and Sans being his student. The only one doesn't know how bad humans are dure of him exploring the world while monsters attacking humans. He's a kind and sweet person... But the person that you shouldn't made mad at.

Swapfell: Lost his family at young age yet had to live with a very strict and bad orphanage. He developed schizophrenia a bit. And time goes by, he became a doctor and married a singer and have a family. But lost his wife and his mental issues git worse. He tried to commit suicide but failed. He got welcome to the gang. But betrayed them by spiking them, hurting B and almost experiment on him when Fell stopped him. He's the main reason why the gang being cautious.

(Note: This is based of my memory that I line up. So any mistake please tell me right away :))

(A/N: Correction for Fell's wife's name, it's actually Rosanna, not Rosalina. Her nickname is Rosey/Rose)

[o-sunny-day]

*WAS IT WORTH IT?

GAAAAAHH posted this on tiktok forgot to post it on tumblr

also i made a work-in-progress overview on tiktok and the sound got removed so im gonna do that for this too 😭😭 BUT AUGGGHHHH THIS THING TOOK YEARS OFF MY LIFE/pos (tbf this comic in general is taking years off my life so LEMME GIVE A LITTLE BACK TO COMMUNITY♥️♥️♥️)

its hard to describe after its all “done” (its not exactly done- but i’m calling it here cause i’m happy with it)

BUT I EXPECTED THAT! SO I RANTED ABOUT IT AS I MADE IT ON MY ART ARCHIVE SERVER!!! HAVE AT YEE

all the little ins and outs :3

since I can only post 1 video per pose ill post the works in progress’ after this- be on the look out cause I ALSO CANT JUST REBLOG THIS 😭😭 videos are weird on tumblr smh

[slipping-is-doing-things]

Behold! My version of Gaster

I finally written it all out because I can't draw but certainly can write myself into an hole. Haveing been in the fandom for more than six years I supposed it was finally time I share my version of Gaster.

Word count : 3.7k

Warnings : Self destructive behavior, self harm, depression, implied dissociation, smoking

Fandom : Undertale

Please feel free to draw him, I would cry if anyone would

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General

Gaster's name is actually Wingdings Aster rather than Wingdings Gaster. He never had the heart to correct the king and queen about how his name is actually pronounced.

Gaster isn't related to Sans and Papyrus, he is friends with Sans and resultingly Papyrus.

Wingding's has a sweet tooth though he doesn't openly admit such things. At the same time he'll never turn down sweets.

Gaster's an boss monster. His level of violence sits at five, very close to six from the war, he was only a late teenager (17) when the monsters were sealed underground. His LV is only that high from needing to defend himself.

Dings has had mental health issues since the war, depression and anxiety hung around long term which greatly affected his self worth.

His right eyesocket has always been deformed in a permanent halfmoon. Due to the deformity his sight out of that eyesocket don't work properly, once the crack forms in that eyesocket he loses full sight out of it. Due to what caused the one crack his equilibrium is distorted though most wouldn't notice this.

Before the CORE accident

He used to paint frequently but he slowly stopped doing so. He lost enjoyment in the activity years ago but never could bring himself to get rid of his equipment to paint.

The cracks on his face were not always there and rather born from a mix of stress and a repercussion of a failed experiment. His hands were his own doing as well but that isn't to be spoken about. Visually his hands even with being healed have permanent cracks that break off from the holes in them, they don't fully go through the bone but can be felt and seen.

His smoking habits were born rather innocently at first, he simply wanted to understand why cigarettes were labeled as addictive for humans. Turns out skeletons can become addicted to nicotine much like humans. (Or at least for Gaster)

Post CORE incident

After haveing been in the dark for an intangible amount of time he's grown an intense fear of the dark, artificial or otherwise.

Under stress his full body becomes more melted in an similar manner an wax figure melts under heat. Stressors can be from outside forces or lack of sleep.

Due to the incident his magic isn't what it used to be. His magic being rather erratic even by his standards, he only has the use of one set of extra he can depend on while useing more then one set can become risky.

With his major fear of the dark his sleep schedule is ruined. The doctor sleeping during the day while staying awake at night to make sure this tangible reality doesn't disappear around him.

Detailed appearance

Before his fall Gaster was an skeleton fully. Sadly he had the same deformities his mother had in her own bones. Due to this his appearance is as such before he gained the cracks. Sadly I don't have any commissioned artwork of him without any cracks.

After the incident the Royal scientist takes on a more heavily melted appearance. His upper and lower arms missing with his hands intact, the rest of his body having a more pure black appearance than don't show any shadows cast onto it. His physical bone structure ends at the spine vertebrae L3 with the black goop that's replaced his legs starting at L3 almost L2 visually. The image provided shows both an idea of his stable and unstable appearances.

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Music playlist

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Artwork credits

Puzzle kick - Unknown, I couldn't find the artist with this artwork posted. If anyone knows the true artist, most likely under new handle, please let me know.

Unknown - due to this being a commission I got done on Amino I sadly lost the handle of the very kind individual who drew this for me I sadly can't share who did this. If the original artist sees this please let me know so I can give you the credit you deserve.

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[ofmaddogs]

spider, it/it's/itself, 30+, dyke

21+ only on this blog for cannibalism, gore & other survival horror hijinks. The genre of the threads I write vary from fae fantasy to horror/thriller but normally dark piques my interest more.

I'm well aware the dinosaurs were eons apart and the hominids & Pleistocene are far different. I'm just having fun on my blog. Time is wonky on the mountain. Just deal with it.

I do interpret the Mad Dogs as having toxic cult-like traits but I will default to the Mad Dogs being mostly a healthy tight knit found family unless we plot. I'm not going to just spring that kinda heavy stuff on my partners & we all deserve a break from the rising toxicity of real life. But, I'm not opposed to writing it! Just let me know.

I block most nun or priest or clergy muses on sight for my own comfort.

I don't write smut on tumblr but I will on discord. Most of my characters are Gay.

if you want to write smut with me, please fill out (as you yourself, not your muse) https://adhesivecheese.github.io/kinklist/

I will send you mine as well. Not that we HAVE to do every kink on there, but so we both know each others limits. :)

jack was created in 2016, originally as "flamethrower guy" from the video game UNTIL DAWN. this blog was revived in 2024 & made into a multimuse early 2025.

mutuals only, mobile bound, iconless.

please use normal quotation marks & low formatting. I can't read all your wingding shit, man.

please plot. please.

You see the effort I put into my world. Try to engage with it. How does your muse fit in? It's more fun to collaborate and correct each other. Let's mesh our lore! It's fun! I don't bite!

i rp to find friends. i'd like to write a little, chat ooc, write a little more. i know we're all busy and i'm patient if we've like established a conversation (at least hi/hi i'm busy i'll get back to you). it's perfectly fine for you to have favorites but it's also perfectly fine for me to eventually move on and seek out people who actually want to interact with me.

My love languages: watching crummy movies on discord, sharing terrible dinosaur memes, sending each other cool scholarly articles we find.

NEVER ATTRIBUTE TO MALICE WHAT CAN BE EXPLAINED BY IGNORANCE. this is my philosophy towards others and I hope you will treat me the same.

please tag cheating/infidelity threads/hcs ! not major but appreciated.

I travel a lot for work and will often joke/not actually joke about coming to your town to hang out for coffee. If it makes you uncomfortable let me know directly and I'll stop. I have a past with stalkers and I try to be aware of it but it's also fun to meet up with internet friends sometimes.

[melonpalooza]

Hmm well maybe the Nobody’s equivalent to the Robins are the ciphers??

(I was looking up synonyms and one of the word listed was Ciphers which I thought could be cool)

Also if we go down the Cipher route, then Nightwing’s could turn into WingDings.

Which for some reason I find funny.

Okay so maybe some backstory, Nick Fulton was Nobody’s adopted son but after a heated argument on whether he should follow in his father figure’s footsteps when it comes to crime fighting, Nobody had told him no once again.

So Nick rebels against his father going by as Cipher. Now, Nobody realizes that there will be no way he could convince Nick to stop so Nobody goes to get another hero could potentially can… Turtle Titan!

After all, since Turtle Titan is also a teenager, maybe Mikey can reason with the Cipher.

So Mikey helps Nobody and Cipher with their issues, and gaining a new hero friend Cipher in the process.

And I could see the gnome idea working as well! Like you said maybe He goes by the Gnome first (who has had more the Oracle type of role, helping Nobody from Comms and hacking), then the Cipher.

-(To identify myself I’ll use this: @(・●・)@

so u know it’s me! Sorru I can’t DM you, I’m still trying to build up my confidence with social media in general, and I feel safer talking anonymously? If that’s okay? Sorry if this is weird)

Hmm well maybe the Nobody’s equivalent to the Robins are the ciphers?? (I was looking up synonyms and one of the word listed was Ciphers which I thought could be cool) Also if we go down the Cipher route, then Nightwing’s could turn into WingDings. Which for some reason I find funny.

WINGDINGS. AAAAA. You are right, that IS so funny. And it's so seamless? like omg that's so good. Cipher is also a pretty cool hero name, too!!

Okay so maybe some backstory, Nick Fulton was Nobody’s adopted son but after a heated argument on whether he should follow in his father figure’s footsteps when it comes to crime fighting, Nobody had told him no once again.

Awww Nobody want to protect his son!! But silly Nobody, you can't protect your son from his true calling: dealing justice to ne'er to wells!!!

I like how in this one, Nickie is a fair bit older. Like hey, Bruce?? Sure he'll let a 9 year old go out as Robin. Nobody? No no no, keep that lid on as tight as you can. and then when Nickie is like in his teens, BOOP. YOU CANNOT CONTAIN JUSTICE ANYMORE RAAAGH

So Nick rebels against his father going by as Cipher. Now, Nobody realizes that there will be no way he could convince Nick to stop so Nobody goes to get another hero could potentially can… Turtle Titan! After all, since Turtle Titan is also a teenager, maybe Mikey can reason with the Cipher. So Mikey helps Nobody and Cipher with their issues, and gaining a new hero friend Cipher in the process.

New friend get! I like to imagine they text each other a lot :3. This is adorable. Also bc Cipher is his own age, I bet he is able to coax Turtle Titan into clocking in more hours lmaoooo

Cipher: Please?

Turtle Titan: but it's not my shift,,,

Cipher: 🥺

Turtle Titan: ough you got me

And got imagine the quips their rogues have to deal with. The shenanigans. The jokes!! They become best buddies... I can see it now!!!!

And I could see the gnome idea working as well! Like you said maybe He goes by the Gnome first (who has had more the Oracle type of role, helping Nobody from Comms and hacking), then the Cipher.

Omg Gnome as the Oracle stand-in is so choice...

You're so creative, anon!! (Very adorable identifier btw. hehe) And whatever makes you feel more comfortable! ^o^ It's okay to stay on anon if that's what you prefer :3

[kyne-grotto]

Journal of a Conspiracy Theorist 1

There be mountains in Sweden. Funny how the webpage thing's got a weird picture of a mountain in it's theme, right under the text "THE MIGHTY HAVE FALLEN" written in Icelandic. Do any of you guys know about any mountains in that area that are "mighty" (particularly tall or treacherous or smt) or maybe one that's had some kind of collapse? Or newsworthy cave-in?

Also, I've tried the obvious thing and tried to Google translate the non-Wingdings to both Swedish and Icelandic, but nothing's come of it.

The most recent text:

☟🕆☟✍ ✋💧 ✋❄ ❄✋💣☜ ✌☹☼☜✌👎✡✍ Kåoo näiwhq, glq lglrw, gh ndq köud glj. ⚐☟📪 💣✡ ✌🏱⚐☹⚐☝✋☜💧📬📬📬 mdj vyäu iudqn, mdj vnxooh voå glj mxvw qx rp gx lqwh ydu vå idq vöw. ✌👎💣✋❄ ✋❄📪 ✡⚐🕆 ☹⚐✞☜ ❄☟✌❄📬📬📬 🕈☟✌❄🕯👎 ✡⚐🕆 👍✌☹☹ ✋❄📪 ✂☟✋💣👌⚐ ☜☠☜☼☝✡✂✍ vqäood dogulj väj ghw gäu ljhq... Phq md.

Wingdings:

"HUH? IS IT TIME ALREADY?"

"OH, MY APOLOGIES…

"ADMIT IT, YOU LOVE THAT… WHAT'D YOU CALL IT, "HIMBO ENERGY"?"

The first strange text:

☟□■♏⍓📪 ♍□◆●♎ ✋ p●♏♋⬧♏ ⬧⧫□p ⬧●♏♏p♓■♑ □■ ⧫♒♏ ♍□◆♍♒✍ ✡□◆ &■□⬥ ⧫♒♋⧫ ✋ ♍♋■🕯⧫ ♒♋❖♏ ♋ ♑□□♎ ■♓♑♒⧫ ⬥♓⧫♒□◆⧫ ♌♏♓■♑ ■♏⌧⧫ ⧫□ ⍓□◆📬📬📬 Qhm, ghwwd äu ydg vrp käqghu qäu gx lqwh obvvqdu, ghw äqgd mdj kdgh vdjw wloo glj äu dww lqwh oåwd ghp dqgud yhwd yhp vrp äu idnwlvnw O nrqwuroo. rfk ydg kdu gx mxvw jmruw? gx oåwhu ghp yhwd dww yl ilqqv. gx iöuvnöqdu lqwh dww vryd euhgylg plj qäu mdj ndq lqwh hqv olwd så glj.

Wingdings:

Honey, could I please stop sleeping on the couch? You &now that I can't have a good night without being next to you...

Please tell me one a yall know what version of Swedish this is, cause I'm pretty sure that the Swedes don't just say "wow" over and over again like Translate keeps saying when I put the words in separately.

[kingbluetheamze1]

Mv! Knighttale chapter 4 part 4

After.................the soul of carnage soul was absorbed by Flowey everyone was just enjoying their lives, but Flowey was diffenrent.........I do not know this flower well but.................Flowey is acting strange...he's been mainly just talking to the the skeleton family and Frisk...........but he has a evil look in his inner heart.....he has a murderous soul only am able to tell. As am writing this I feel dangered of my life....but I do know that all of them will be safe

Well I am a part of his fan club now......I don't know if I should be

You are a part of Mettaton's fan club?

I am very happy he is

Not a chance

M-mettaton is alright now...........his health and magic is ok

NYEH HEH HEH IT'S NICE TO SEE YOu ALPHYs

Where is Sans

SANS THIS IS NO TIMe FOR SLeEPINg......WAkE UP LAZYBONES

You understand him?

Of course I do

He taught me it

SANS WAKE UP

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Wingdings it's called wingdings

How do you know any of this?

I want chocolate

Sans taught me things

He taught me how to say this

.......

Frisk never say that again

Zzzzzzzzzz....hehZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzZZZZZZZZZZ

Sans would you wake up please?

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

* Punches Sans *

Jees clam down

CALM DONw!!!!!?

Alright Papyrus go

NYEH-

LET'S GO

* Both go out *

What is wrong darling?

* Wishpers into Mettaton's *

My my my that is a lot.... Sans is a pranking person after all............so Gaster

What?

Would you like to

Visit my fan club?

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelll no

I would

Only people 18 or older come alone

Fine

I will meet you later

TOODLES!!!!

* Smashes threw the wall *

NOT AGAIN

It's a place where a sign is there that says " Mettaton's fan club. " It's massive you won't miss it

* At Sans's station *

He's still asleep

Huh....

* Runs away *

I hope he is not following me

H u m a n d o n ' t you k n o w h o w t o g r ee t a n e w p a l?

* sweats *

Tu r n a r ound a n d s h a k e my h a n d

* runs away but gets stopped *

It's nice here

Go away

It's ok I promise I won't hurt you

Go A W AY PLEASE

Why are you here human?

* strikes Sans *

.......

Heh

I am upset

But....I am just messing around

What

This is just ketchup

O....wow

That did 0 damage

.......

Come on ya can't take a prank?

Why are you here Human?

I don't want to talk to you

Well...that was rude

Here's a better question

I just tried to kill you

And I am just trying to give ya a dog?

......

But... seriously why are you trying to attack me?

I just don't want you to hurt me

I feel bad

To the bone :)

The monsters are supposed to be weak

Would ya like to hang out some time?

I'm trying to end you

To be honest this only a act of self-defense

Can I please go now

But you were trying to kill me, and we just met I could of been a good friend

Just go away

Look pal calm down I won't hurt you...but want a dog you can trust me

Fine

* Has the dog *

Ok * eats it *

What is your name?

Godfrey

Well...looks like i am on my break

( I think I have to tell the King about this )

See ya later

You are going to go away now?

Yes

Why are you just standing?

O....well look there a monster

Where

* Teleports away*

Where did he go?

A spider

.... 😨

* runs away *

[candyeyeunicornskull]

GASTER GANG HEADCANONS, because I'm desperately licking the crumbs off my plate. || BunnyMuse, please I cannot make the content by myself ...IM LAZY WHY MAKE ME SUFFER

Wingdings, B, and Swapfell Gaster are the gayest and queerst of them all. The Gay nerd, Musical Fan Twink, and flamboyant villain how much do I have to say such more? Mf, had a boobwindow ain't sure if ya remember

The whole gaster gang...They watched the golden girls, together. Because their a bunch of old men watching old ladies being funny and relatable. So of course, they will probably love it.

Before Swapfell Gaster (My sexy man tumbler), show his toxic colors and shit. He was, annoying and nonchalant roommate. I bet for 50$, when his mad and annoyed at swap. He plays, C-BAT and swap, SWAP is getting the frying pan to beat his ass. So basically, SFG is a prankster who loves annoying people alot.

.

Their fucking eachother. I ain't sure who is it, yet. Listen, it's a GROUP of old men...half them could be possibly gay. so, I won't even be surprised. Toxic old man yaoi. I want more, but I have been straving. Don't believe me that aren't gay? ...let's ask the soliders from underfell. (Get it? Cuz, most soilders were gay— okay I'll stop)

Swap loves to wear dresses in the summer time, like I feel like he would look so cute and honestly SLAY. Did you know, cannonly his wife cheated on him...? So in my fannon version, He kills her just for that. So SLAY IT KING!!!✨🔥 🎶HE HAD IT COMING, HE HAD IT COMEING🎶 (gaster gang AU underrated, there's no cringey fannons... let me at least have one fannon)

Swap has a cooking channel, AND shares a gaming channel with Fell. Definitely, for sure. (Was that my headcanons or a friends?)

My friend headcanon B loves Musicals, and if that's the case. Why not make Meastoe and B musical nerd friends? And make a musical theater? Wingdings as Hyde and SFG as jekyll in the musical, so sick

My own headcanon/extremely fannon because like...how the hell did they meet? Would be, Meastoe and Swapfell Gaster......as teenagers, dress up as edgy emo punk rock shit and playing in a band together. So awesome, I drew that actually. Meastoe playing a electric guitar with sfg? Oh hell YEEAAHHHHHH🔥🔥 THAT SOUNDS SICK

Since they cannonly share rooms together and cuddle (see? Gay behavior), What if they had gaint sleepover and cuddle together...while watching mlp *COUGH* ME? PROJECTING MY FAVOURITE THINGS ONTO MY CHARACTERS! OH I COULD NEEEVVVERRR!!!

Okay if people like Fluttershy as a metal heavy head/goth....what If sfg had like punk side, and turn the gang into edgy metal heads for fun. That would be so SICK, mostly with swap gaster

One of my other friend's headcanon is that Wingdings, Gaster is goth/had a goth phase......I can HEAVILY see it and I bet he is one. That really explains why he wears black most of the time, can someone please draw gothic gaster?