#~multiversal mechanics~

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

Ping!

//So Verse how easily could you procure a nature documentary for me from one of the worlds you've visited with hippos that have these specific characteristics?//

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

Unpleasant.

An accurate description of emotions, even the positive ones. Being in love is unpleasant. The affliction of affection, a blinding curse that alters reactions, personalities, makes the rational irrational. Psi wants to laugh. You realize why I picked you, don't you?

Still, there is a happiness, a comfort that comes with the familiar. They hadn't asked for it. Not exactly unwanted, but a tragic in-between. A contradiction in the human-built desire to avoid loneliness even when his presence made as many waves as the next. A ripple-effect of connections made, unavoidable.

Ceasing to exist now wouldn't make things easier. Cale made the perfect example, despite all of his attempts to hide his true nature, the mask worn still had an effect. Intentional. People still adored constructs, the familiar at work once more. They didn't know him. It didn't matter. Would it have made a difference? No.

Every step, every word, waves and networks, passing moments never forgotten. Unpleasant.

Psi... didn't want to be remembered at all. An irony, to stand beside the one machine that would never forget. Worse, that even he had fallen into the same lull the average life did, to contradict himself. There were those that called him family, those that looked up to the X that was presented to them, two in particular who sought out his attention, as minimal as it was. It was unfortunately mutual. Hopelessly attached. Unpleasant.

The only way to never be missed was to never exist in the first place. Failed at step one. Even a stranger passing by may have found some characteristic to commit to memory, cursed to never forget. All of the lives he'd known, a weight that would never be forgotten, the art of human connection a burden made of the gilded chains of friendship. Unpleasant.

Verse was honest, in this very moment and onward, at least to Psi. Most people would fear to learn about their own future, would want to ask to avoid every possibility of their final moments, but did his matter anymore than anyone else's? No, why would it? Everything ended eventually.

Morbid, huh? His real thoughts were horribly monochromatic. "I'm going to hold you to that." A wish is held on his tongue, kept to himself in that same contradiction turned selfish; I hope that you forget me.

"...But okay. If that's what you want."

Silence is a strange thing to those with emotions– almost hypocritically self absorbed. It is not truly silent, is it?

They are not in a vacuum. The sound of their footfalls bounces quietly off of smooth walls– each of them adding a unique ambiance to the mix. Lights buzz overhead. No matter how efficient they became, it still remained in reploid hearing range. There is the distant noise of monitors in a room they pass. The hum, however subtle, of cores burning energy in their chests.

Still, with all that surrounds them, silence is an agony. A lifetime. This too, is an affliction that the OVER could never grapple with before. The grueling sensation of anticipation. Utterly unknown to a being that perceived the flow of time itself, and yet… he is enmeshed in its weight.

The X’s voice only mildly quells the discomfort. Unfortunate. The more is said, the more they slow. It is pure physics, emotions have weight, mass creates drag.

’You wouldn’t feel this way’. I don’t know what this is; Verse wants to protest, another physiological reaction. It takes focus, not to squeeze the hand in his own tighter, mildly relieved as Psi does it for him.

For once, the sound of a sigh escapes the OVER-unit. His mind his racing, the web of possibilities vibrating and shifting with each moment of struggle. Even I am entangled by the red strings of fate.

“…yes, I suppose that logic is sound.” His gaze drifts away from the eyes that can’t meet his, to the the place they are connecting. “To some degree, I must always possess a bias for you. A… fondness, although I… cannot claim to understand it, even now.” They are in agreement then. “…and I will admit the psychosomatic effects of this experience are most unpleasant.” That each mental shift carried with it a host of physical symptoms– …is that normal? Horrible.

“I accept your apology… but you are wrong about one aspect.” A morbid topic to broach, especially now, and it must be tread carefully. “I already know what will happen to you. Every single way that it has, or will end.” A lone witness to those that already came to pass, unremembered. “I have no need to ask of your past, and I have no need to prepare for your future.” A simple fact, even though the implications are callous.

Perhaps that is my true nature.

I have seen every tragedy possible, and felt nothing for it. Even now, I do not fear your passing.

I still can’t.

“Inevitability exists, even for me, Psi.” I will not be swayed from my duties, even for you. “Until that day comes, I would humbly request we continue to share what precious time you have.”

[theartsynebulawhodoodles]

Happy Birthday @itsxroxannex ! Slash Sans Art!

Happy Birthday @itsxroxannex ! Sorry I drew this a bit late, but yeah! Hope ur having a great birthday!

(Sorry I had to take down original post, for some odd reason it was glitching)

Slash Sans belongs to itsxroxannex

[elizakai]

I’m having a perfectly normal amount of Undertale mechanic brain rot again💔

Resets specifically-

So like, we know that Flowey possesses control over the ability to Reset, and he tells us that he no longer was able to utilize this ability as soon as Frisk (the player?) enters into the underground, as they (us?) out-will him, and automatically overrule the Reset ability.

We know that in universe, humans posses determination in a way that monsters (usually) cannot, so that makes sense, however this does imply that the Reset ability only works within the underground itself?

If that weren’t the case, any potential person from the surface (its own whole world) who out-willed Flowey would have the ability by default.

I’m not willing to believe that this flower that was sprinkled in determination is more determined than any other in universe human.

I see people argue that only the ‘players’ are the humans possessing determination, but this doesn’t hold up if you consider the in world history that’s set in stone before we get involved, along with Alphys having physical access to DT to begin with.

Anyways, that would imply that…the world outside of the barrier marches on linearly, and that resetting and reloading only have an effect on what’s within the barriers seal? Because again, if the ability reached beyond the barrier, you’d assume anyone within its reach would qualify for uh. Time and space fuckery or whatever.

(Including Frisk before they even enter the underground, however i’m not clear if Frisk really has enough determination to overpower Flowey on their own? i mean, we’re able to reset without Frisk at the end of a true pacifist run after all, implying our own Determination is valid in universe. i can’t remember if that was ever entirely clarified. But again Frisk is a vessel seemingly for a reason and it kinda doesn’t make sense if they have no determination? For simplicity’s sake lets just assume that Frisk does possess a significant amount of Determination)

ANYWAYS AGAIN. This leads me to wonder a lot about how much time could potentially pass on the surface world while this bubble of space and time gets fucked with continually.

This also has me thinking that True Resets must have a wider reach than a normal Reset, considering it’s an (almost) complete start over. Including Frisk falling into the underground, instead of whatever spawn point they would have had for a normal Reset.

It would explain why a True Reset can only happen at the end of a Pacifist or Genocide run…a Neutral route doesn’t really affect the outside world aside from Frisk returning to it. Anything we did in game stays within that bubble. But a True pacifist run breaks the barrier, releases all monsters to the world, and brings a big change to the outside world as well. This applies to a Genocide route as well, because Chara destroys and rewrites the world, not the underground.

So far that makes sense, if True Resets affect the World as a whole, Resets are almost more akin to Reloads then to a True Reset. Resets seemingly go back to whenever Frisk comes into the picture as a vessel at a spawn point, the furthest point in time we can Reset to. (which makes me assume Flowey’s sort of ‘spawn point’ just is. when he was brought to life.)

True Resets have to go back further, especially if we consider things like the name of The Human, as in Asriel’s sibling, as in “Chara”

We all know by now that we give THAT human, the first human, a name, never do we have real control over Frisk’s name. Chara is the “True Name” according to the game, but we ARE able to change that name. Does that…imply that in different outcomes, or timelines, their name is just completely different? That’s a pretty big change, if that’s the case how far back would a True Reset reach time wise?

I know you could technically answer that by saying whenever we get the screen to “name the human”, but that doesn’t give an in universe explaination that makes sense. (yk since Chara existed and had a life before our influence-?)

It’s also perfectly valid to say this is looking to far into it…but also ZZZIIIIIP✨💔

uh idk man it’s 4 am i’m rambling and not fact checking sooo if anyone has other ideas or info or thoughts i’m interested in hearing it (if you read all this kudos pookie🌸)

[daflangstlairde-art]

"But I Didn't Do It Right (Can I Try Again?)"

Part 6 of whenever, wherever (we'll always be together)

Fanfic summary:

“and you don't have to do this alone,” Red promised softly. His fingers gently curling around Dust’s hands. — Dust and Red have both made mistakes, and they both have issues. Now they have to deal with them.

Chapter 2, 3,773 words

Content warnings and further information on ao3.

—

Red stared at the outline of Dust’s body, buried under the blanket, back turned towards him. As usual. Hardly visible in the dark of night — it was over an hour since Red came back from work and laid down. 

Dust didn't greet him. Red knew better than to think he was asleep. Dust’s relationship with sleep was about as good as his relationship with food, as much as he hid it. 

He hid a lot of things. By the nature of it, Red couldn't know what he was hiding, just that he was. The way Dust’s eyes would flick to him when he entered the room like he was in the middle of a sentence that Red interrupted. The way Red would wake up in the morning with Dust already gone. The way Dust’s expressions and behaviors were always so flat and guarded, making it impossible for anyone besides Red to tell when he was feeling anything but total apathy. And even then, Red hella struggled reading him too.

For a few days before, it had seemed like it was gettin’ better. Now it was all getting worse. Dust was tryin’ to pull further and further away, in tiny little ways. Red was pretty sure he wasn't sleeping on the couch only ‘cause he avoided Edge like the plague, and Red sure as hell wasn't gonna sleep on the couch. 

(It made sense, why Dust would avoid Papyrus. Considering the red scarf he carried everywhere. Red would imagine it’d be like speakin’ to a phantom.)

To be fully honest, he was really starting to get prissy. Sure, he probably fucked up, but this silent treatment was grating. He’d rather fight it out like mature monsters and then be done with it. Force the tension to snap so it doesn't just fucking keep building like this. 

More and more, he was tempted to make it a scandal. Insults and attacks, Red could dodge, or parry, and return alike; this shit? This wasn't his language. 

But, apparently, it was Dust’s language. Pushin’ it would most likely make it a lot worse. Still. Red was debating with himself. Ya gotta break a badly healed bone so you can set it and it heals correctly. Right now, all they were doing was sit with the broken bone, not even removing its rotten cast. 

Red exhaled quietly. Fuck it. 

“...wanna go stargazing?” he offered. Dust needed space, and staying cooped up at this apartment was definitely not wide, open and free. ‘Course, Dust didn’t need him to go out — he spent a lot of time at the mountain by himself. Half the time it really made Red worry, the way Dust disappeared off. 

It was quiet. Red was getting used to Dust’s distaste for replying, as annoying as it was becoming. He was ready to push the matter–

“no.” Dust murmured. 

“aw come on,” Red kept his tone light, “really? not feelin’ up to fresh air? stretch your le–”

“i’m tired.” 

...Right. 

Red sighed. Dust was in bed. For all he definitely slept like shit, he was in bed... a lot, these days. Like, a lot. Especially by Red’s standards. 

Wakes up before Red. Disappears off to smoke. Doesn't eat. Doesn't read. Doesn't chat. Goes out presumably just to have breakdowns sans witnesses. Returns to lay in bed all day, curled up and walled off. 

It was... a crap routine. Painfully familiar to Red, even if he wasn't used to being on this end of it. He wondered if the boss had felt like this when Red himself was... like that. 

His hand reflexively came up to hold onto his collar, loosely. Edge fixed him with brute fuckin’ force and dedication. Maybe Red should ask him for tips. 

Eventually, something has to give. 

—

“Dust.”

While Edge had stepped in, back straight in his full vertical glory and arms on his hips, Red lingered at the doorway. Just casually leaning, hands in his pockets. He’d debated with himself whether he should leave them to it, but decided it was too much of a risk. For both of them. 

Dust remained in his shape, laying on Red’s mattress. Curled up and practically invisible with how he was smothered by the blanket and pillow.

Ugh. Red wasn't exactly happy to be spending his Tuesday, his one free day, for drama, but whatever. It was important. Certainly Dust was less happy about it. 

No response. Expected.

“You Cannot Lay Around All Day,” Edge stated, audibly scowling. Red snickered internally. Ahh, familiarity. It's like they were right back at home.

Dust didn't reply. 

Edge sighed, pinching his nasal bridge. 

“Get Up.” he commanded, pinnacle of a Royal guardsman. He was being pretty dang patient. If this was Red, he would've been hauled up by the collar without even a single verbal prompting. Edge was much more tactful than people thought. 

Still, it earned no reaction. Not even a twitch. Strange. Red would've expected Dust to at least... like, get up just to remove himself from the situation. But nope. 

“If You Don't Get Up Yourself–” 

“five minutes,” Dust snapped quietly. “can you shut up for five minutes?” 

–Red was completely taken back by the sharp response. He never would've expected Dust to speak to Papyrus like that. 

Or maybe he should've? The response sounded... familiar in a way. Though Dust hasn't spoken to Red like that. 

“...Excuse Me?” Edge recovered from his own pause. 

“you're excused.”

(Red very carefully did not bark a laugh.) 

Edge huffed. “You’re Being Highly Unreasonable–” 

“yeah yeah, you've already laid into me about twenty times today,” Dust muttered, flippant. “you can save it. i get it. leave me alone.” 

...

...What? 

Edge paused again, struggling to keep up his role with these responses. Glanced back at Red, who shared his look of puzzlement. The hell was Dust talking about? 

...

...And suddenly, Red connected some dots. 

Tentatively, lacking the same pool of information, Edge looked back to Dust. 

“What Are You Talking About?” he demanded. Red expected no response, and no response came. Just silence. No reply whatsoever. 

No reaction. Flat and guarded and impossible to read. 

On purpose.

“boss,” Red near-whispered. Edge looked back to him and Red nodded sideways to signal they should leave the matter be. Edge scowled deeper.

The door closed behind them with a soft click. 

“You told me to be stern.” Edge crossed his arms. Red sighed, rubbing his face. 

“yeah, well,” he walked over to make himself a cup of tea. He was all full of... nerves. Tension that made him want to bite. Deli wasn't happy with how snappy he was getting. In his defense, idiots on substances were such good targets for his frustrations. 

“Well What?” Edge demanded, striding over to turn the TV on low. Probably so he didn't stand in front of the bedroom door and didn't risk getting overheard by Dust, him and his loud-ass tone. 

How could Red explain this? It was just... some patterns he’d noticed finally clicking into place. 

Dust clearly had some issue with talkin’ to someone who wasn't there. That someone was less times pleasant than they were shitty. Now Red had an idea as to who it was.It didn't make sense, and yet it also made perfect sense. 

It also explained Dust’s... silence. The way he held himself tightly composed. Replying little, reacting little. 

(“he's not real, they’re not real, you're not real, i’m not– none of it is–!”)

If he couldn't discern whether the voice talking to him was a real person, especially if it was a bitch-ass voice... why react? Why reply, when he would just look insane? 

Fuck. But is that possible? Red wasn't psychotic. Are people born psychotic? Or... schizophrenic...? He didn't know the difference. He didn't know jack shit on the topic, actually. He’d have to do some research. 

“Red.” the boss’ voice dragged him back to the present. Red blinked at the cup of plain hot water he’d been holding for the past minute. Just watching the steam rise and swirl.

He shuffled ahead to drop in a bag of tea. 

Fuck. Edge deserved to know. He’d instilled it a long time ago into Red’s mind that he’d kick his teeth in if Red kept even more secrets from him. A part of Red knew this was probably not his right to share. Another part trusted Edge with everything. Ride or die. 

“...i think,” Red started, hesitant, “that dust might be havin’... uh, a psychotic break?” was that what it’s called? Should he assume that considering he didn't know anything about the... disorder? 

“What?” Edge looked at him.

“y'know,” Red waved a hand. “talks to himself. uh. erratic emotions and stuff. violent, or at least trigger-happy. pretty sure he... like... i dunno, hallucinates his brother–? i dunno. just a theory,” 

Edge let out a hum, frowning. 

“yeeahh, definitely needs some research,” Red rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Luckily, Humans Have A Vast Pool Of Information Stored Quite Conveniently,” Edge said flatly. It was true though. Thank the angel for the Internet, Red would not entrust Dr. Alphys with a case as sensitive as this, friend or not. 

—

Holy shit it really was easy to do research. The wonders of modern technology.

Now, obviously, Red ain't no professional from a couple internet searches. He wasn't about to go diagnosing randos off the street all willy-nilly. But he got some misconceptions corrected. Some things cleared up. Like his assumptions that an inherent part of psychosis is being violent. That was... probably just Dust’s LV fueled by “paranoid delusions” (if Red’s theory on this all was correct). 

However, one problem was also made clear to him: people with a fucked up sense of reality... don't really perceive having issues. That's the whole idea. They could differentiate, but it took, like, experience and treatment or something? Red was doubtful Dust’s had any of that. It's like walkin’ into a house, making yourself a meal, getting into your pajamas — only to have a group of strangers barge in and starting insisting no, this isn't your house, you’re sick, come with us and take these pills. 

So. 

How was Red gonna approach this? Clearly he had to be delicate. Especially if Dust’s schizo was acting up. And Dust wasn't talking to him at the moment. 

...

“alright, let’s talk,” Red sat casually on the chair across from Dust. The other was smokin’ at the balcony, as usual. It wasn't raining currently, but it’s been heavy these days. Red was expecting snow in the near future. 

Or he would be smokin’, if he wasn't clearly out of cigs. And he couldn't buy them for himself since he neither had money, nor could handle going to a convenience store on his own. 

Red considered using the new pack he’d bought for Dust as leverage. Maybe he’d try it and ditch the idea if it fell through.

Dust’s eye lights flicked to him momentarily, before he looked away again. No response. Composed as ever. Chilly and gray as the scenery around them. 

But he didn't leave. Didn't even immediately shoot the conversation down. That was already a pretty darn good start. Though there was a tension to him that Red wasn't exactly a fan of. 

“it’s nothin’ bad and i ain't upset,” he remembered to preface. Those life lessons Frisk had tried to instill in him were comin’ in clutch, because ever so slightly, some of that tension sloughed off. 

Red tapped his phalanges against the surface of the little crappy table, thinking. 

“i just wanna... uh, learn more about ya. listen to what you wanna say,” he said, all easy-mannered. Listening was the first step. The guide had said to wait until the other person is ready, but that might not happen at all. “no judgin’, no nothing. i ain't gonna say anything if you don't want me to,”

Dust was looking at him now, just with his eye lights. Head still turned to the side. 

“uh, how grounded do you feel?” that seemed like a good way to start. Maybe. Or maybe it was a bit too unclear and open, too easy for Dust to side-step. “from one to ten,”

If Dust answered ten, it’d be a clear lie. Luckily, he seemed to actually consider the question. 

“...eight, probably,” he said airily. Red, internally, bumped that down to a seven or even a six. Not terrible. About as good as he could ask for. 

“awesome,” he pulled out the pack and handed over a cigarette. Dust blinked at the offered item. Slightly slower, he reached out, and put it between his teeth. He’d squirreled away one of Red’s many cheap lighters lying around, and now used it. Taking in a drag. Hopefully that’d help him feel more chill. 

An ‘I’m sorry’ would make Dust abort the convo immediately, as Red had seen the past week or so.

“do you think i’ll hurt you?” Red asked, trying to keep it light. Non-judgemental. “or, uh, in general, do you feel, ya know... threatened in some way?” 

Dust stared at him. His expression wasn't especially clear, but if Red had to describe it... maybe thrown off? Like he wasn't expecting it to go in this direction, which was fair. 

Dust shuffled in his seat. 

“...you couldn't even if you wanted to,” he looked away. 

There were many things about that answer. Firstly, that it wasn't an answer to the question in the first place, especially to the latter question. Second, hypothetically, even if Red would eat shit in a fight with Dust, there were other ways to hurt him. Such as: emotionally, i.e. the issue they were currently facing. 

Good thing Red was the same kind of smartass dunce and was the same level of proficient at these games. 

“great, ‘cause i don't,” he stated, getting across what he wanted to. “and neither does the boss. or anyone around. and if they do, like you said, they can only dream of matchin’ you,” 

You're safe, Red did not say, ‘cause he hated making difficult promises. And Dust wouldn't believe it anyway. This was far more realistic and reasonable to claim. 

Dust was looking at him again. Red remembered to pass over another cigarette. Dust blinked at the little thing, laying on his side of the table now. 

So far so good.

“but i get it,” Red shrugged, leaning back. “i mean, callin’ me a paranoid bastard is so light it's practically a compliment,” he snorted. The corner of Dust’s mouth twitched up a little. Score. 

“i dunno,” Dust shrugged performatively, “i’d cig-ure it’s pretty reasonable, given everything,”

Red chortled. Oh yeah, this is the good shit. Now they were speakin’ the same dialect.

Step two: empathize. Had to be careful to not affirm Dust’s paranoia however. 

“i know right? i mean what, you expect me to be all buddy-buddy with all these sickos?” Red gestured vaguely. “hell naw,”

“nope,” Dust agreed.

“they all playin’ nice now but they wouldn't’ve hesitated to stab me in the back down there,” Red continued. “can’t blame them though. i woulda done the same,”

Dust let out a hum that fell a little too flat. 

“though actually,” Red considered. “i dunno. basically no monsters have threatened to dust me in... ages, or somethin’. humans are...” he tapped his phalanges against the table. “...weirdly normal. still kinda waitin’ for the other shoe to drop or something,”

...Shit. Dust went unnoticeably still at that last part, and Red remembered, ah fuck, the other shoe did drop. And Dust had dealt with it. 

Okay, no need to panic. Red could work with it. 

“or... well, i guess it did drop,” he voiced. “and it was... fine. like, actually, totally fine,” 

Friskers & Co. dealt with the court bullshit. Red and his family were unharmed. What more could he ask for? There was barely even a scar. 

Huh. Maybe it was helping him, too, to open up and talk about his emotions a little. He really hoped it would inspire Dust to do the same. 

Dust was staring at him now, cigarette raised halfway. Red couldn't parse the meaning of his expression. 

“welp. i guess people change, for better or worse, and that's what matters,” Red finally gave in and pulled out a cigarette for himself. “or at least that’s what the kid says. and they did manage to bring it out of the king himself, so. they must be onto somethin’,” he lit up. 

Dust was looking away, shoulders a little hunched. 

“what? you don't agree?” Red prompted, in a way that could be taken as teasing if desired. 

...No response. Hm. Red wondered if it was ‘cause he brought up Frisk. Or if it was something else. 

“anyway,” looks like the sensitive approach wasn't working. Man was it difficult to talk with a Sans. Push too hard and they back away harder. Push too little and you only make it easy to do the same. Might as well go for somethin’ in the middle. “how open are you to the idea that yer havin’ a psychotic break?”

Dust reacted like Red slapped him with a fish. 

“what?” he asked, looking at Red in bafflement. It was such a change to his previously stoney attitude that Red almost wanted to laugh. Y’know what? Fuck it. We ball. 

“y’heard me,” Red doubled down, grinning. Ah, levity. Always good for conversation. “i mean, talkin’ to thin air? depression? not feeling real? sounds pretty schizo to me,” he should become a therapist.

Dust stared at him, wide-eyed. He looked a bit like he was gonna laugh in Red’s face. Red, weirdly, didn't feel particularly upset by it. Again — better a scandal than the total nothing. 

“i’m... not psychotic,” Dust shook his head, with a huff like Red was being ridiculous but he found it cute funny.

“oh yeah? what makes you so confident in sayin’ that? ‘cause–” 

“i’m not psychotic, red,” Dust insisted. 

“that’s exactly what a psychotic man would say,” Red countered with the tone of a joke. 

Dust shook his head again. “it’s... not psychosis,” he said, quieter. “or– schizophrenia,” 

...Now hold on. That... didn't sound like good ol’ denial. That sounded like Dust knew what it was. 

“...care to en-light-en me?” Red took a drag from his own cigarette. 

Dust huffed, now in fleeting amusement. It was small, but a win is a win. 

Dust leaned back, mimicking him in inhaling some of that good smoke. Exhaling. Looking away once again. 

Red waited for him patiently. This didn't look like he was gonna go without a response again. 

Dust sighed, rubbing his face. Looking upwards.

“...yeah,” he said airily. “you know what? he– you've already seen my LV, haven't you?” Dust’s eye lights flicked down to Red. 

“...yeah,” Red confirmed tentatively. Careful to keep judgement outta his tone.

Dust chuckled. It didn't sound especially humorous anymore. His free hand was clutching the table’s edge. 

“it’s not psychosis,” he said, still airy, detached. Fuck, his grounding had probably gone lower. “it’s The Judge.”

...

...Oh.

The title rang like a bell’s toll in a sentenced monster’s final moment. Typical. 

“...what?” Red quieted down.

Dust’s grin stretched a little. It wasn't exactly a cheerful look. 

“it’s my own sins,” he spoke slowly. “every single person i’ve hurt... following me like–” he snickered grimly, “like ghosts.”

Holy shit. Fuck. 

And with this, Red understood just one more teensy thing: 

Every single person I’ve hurt. 

Coupled with the awareness of whose voice, exactly, Dust seemed to hear the most... whose characteristic article of clothing he always carried with him...

Fuck.

Fuuuckkk.

Red remembered–

(“i could dust your brother with a single attack.”)

Holy shit and piss and cursed fuckin’ angel, that wasn't just Dust dishin’ out threats against what Red loved for the sake of being creepy and serious and whatnot. That was a fucking fact. With tangible evidence. 

Red had gotten used to it, but now that number, LV 20, burned with how badly it called for his attention.

...For people in their very special kind of fucked up circumstances, ya need an anchor. Something to break through the sticky depressing sludge of reality. And what more obvious answer than your own kin? 

Back under, Red did horrible shit to survive. Naturally. Everyone did horrible shit to survive. They were all desperate, teeth bared. When you were on death’s door and everyone around you is a bastard, why give up your own life when you can pay with theirs? ‘Trust’ and ‘attachment’ gained very different meanings. Trust was about how much you would owe if your life was saved. Attachment was an animalistic strive for resource hoarding. 

It's not that Red was asocial or whatever. He had connections. Some which he cared about more than others. But at the end of the day, there was a single monster that saw aaall of his life right beside him, everything he’s done, that pushed through every tragedy alongside him. The one Red actually believed would never go anywhere should the worst come to worst because he’d already seen it a dozen times. 

His brother, ‘course. 

Though their lives weren't the same, he knew Sans shared that sentiment wholeheartedly. 

Red had– he’d thought Papyrus had been killed by the human. And– and that's why Dust was all traumatized by it. He thought–

Dust chuckled, high and airy and honestly terrifying, getting to his feet. Red sat rigidly in his own chair, wary of even twitching. Eye lights glued to Dust’s. 

“you get it now, don't you?” Dust continued. He didn't need to raise his voice for Red to hear nothing of the outside world anymore. Everything had stilled, besides the nerves-prominent beating of his soul. 

Dust looked away. He took another drag from his cigarette. Red watched the movement like it was slowed down footage.

Dust sighed, deep and drawn out. Shoved his free hand in his pocket. 

“people change, huh?” he murmured. “well. i’m glad at least one of us has done so for the better.” 

Red didn't know how to reply. There were a whole lot of conflicting thoughts and emotions in him and he needed a moment to fuckin’ process or some shit. He felt like he was in shock.

“...i’m sorry,” Dust continued past Red’s internal drama. He spoke so quietly. He was looking off into the gray horizon. “i hurt you. it wasn't...” he breathed. “it wasn't right for me to use you in that way.” what? What? Dust’s eye lights guttered out. “...but there was no way for things to go differently, huh?” Red had to strain to hear him–

–and then Dust disappeared.

[tofindloveinpoison]

Second thoughts on malevolent:

The Scratch storyline was very interesting to me, both the weird gender alignment of the creature and the arthur-oscar-john interaction.

But What got me was different: how could Arthur in 1930 be that confortable with the concept of time dilation? Wasn’t relativity discovered like 6 minute prior?

So, general relativity was published in like 1915, so it could be resonable that Arthur would be okay with the idea of time dilating. It could be reasonable as long as the idea has had the time to trickle down into general knowledge.

But this got me thinking: in the first episodio John introduces Arthur to the Idea of multiple parallel Universes. And Arthur just. Accepts it in like 5 minutes.

Multiverse theory is from the late 1950s thought, as a consequence of quantum mechanics. Then it slowly started to show up in science fiction and gradually got to be a concept known by the general pubblic.

But in the 1930s Arthur had never before imagined anything of the sort and just accepted the overwhelming concept of multiple infinitely big universes. No questions asked, just cool with him i guess.

My personal headcanon is that he is just like that. Gods and monsters in parallel universes ? Okay, cool, got bigger problems on my hands

(In my first thoughts post i neglected to say that I was listening to part like 23, so, just so you know, i just finished listening to part 38)

[evangelineshifts]

“electricity is the speed of light, which is the speed of thought. there is no through. you’re already wherever you need to be.”

“i can’t ’think’ in executable code-“

“Oh, my god! you ARE the code. stop thinking like a programmer. use your imagination!”

- Pantheon (2022)

just heard this in the show i’m watching and immediately ran to write it down cause they are so real.

going more in depth about things below the cut cause I'm a thought daughter 😕

Awareness is considered to be faster than consciousness. It is your awareness you’re shifting and not your consciousness. You become aware of your DR before any of the conscious stimuli even reaches your body, before you can hear, see, smell, touch, etc. you are aware of your DR. That might sound confusing (trust me, it’s confusing for me too as I’m learning this right alongside you) but this is why it is so stressed in the community to just let go off everything like that shit is done and dusted swear 😭. Symptoms, 5 senses, focus, none of it really matters in the grand scheme of things cause as soon as you shift you attention to your dr you’re there. 

“According to current neuroscience understanding, awareness is generally considered to be faster than conscious perception;

meaning that the initial detection of a stimulus, or "awareness," can happen before the full conscious experience of that stimulus is formed, which takes a bit longer to process in the brain.”

Now I personally like to believe that awareness is the first step in perception so when you think you have a failed attempt or that nothing happened when you laid down to do your method remember how you envisioned your DR, how you mapped it out in your mind, for those with aphantasia; how you described to yourself where you were, know in your heart of hearts, that right there was the real fucking deal and I’m so serious. I know everyone is always waiting for the external stimuli and we aren’t gonna pretend like thats not what we’re doing this for but those bitches are like running as fast as they can and they can NAWT run very fast dawg 😭😭😭 smell and taste are the slowest senses, the fastest being hearing. 

You know all those stories of people saying they “minishifted” and the way they knew is that they heard someone from their DR? Have you ever read one of those and been like “that’s fuckin bullshit it was probably just someone in their CR that they mistook for their s/o or something.”? Have you ever heard one of those stories and just sorta 🤨cause subconsciously you associate actual successful shifting with seeing and feeling? Well let me tell you the list goes; hearing, touch, sight, smell, taste for how quickly they perceive new stimuli so I wouldn’t put all my eggs in those baskets fox and friends cause those bitches are tripping on their shoelaces trying to catch up 😕

“Based on reaction time, the human senses from fastest to slowest are typically considered to be: Hearing (fastest), Touch, Sight, Smell, and Taste (slowest);

with hearing having the quickest response and smell and taste being the slowest to perceive new stimuli.”

Here is some other things I found about the way the brain processes things for all the scientific homies (note: I’m barely fact checking these. Its 8 am and i’m doing this cause i saw a scene on netflix 😭i also thought it was 6 am so pardon me):

“When a sensory signal enters the brain, it goes through various processing stages,

with the initial detection often happening at a subconscious level before reaching full conscious awareness” 

If you’ve ever gotten that feeling that you shifted and you swear on your life and your grandma’s kitten that you did but like you have no physical stimuli to back it up it was

probably your subconscious alerting you to the shift in spatial awareness before your consciousness caught up. Kinda like the brains automatic threat response;

“The amygdala, responsible for processing fear, can react to a potential threat very quickly, registering awareness of danger before conscious perception of the threat itself.”

You can become aware of things before you even realize what’s happening. In the shifting community you’ll find examples of that in shifting stories when they don’t even realize that they’ve shifted until they take the time to actively think about it. There have been incidents where people have spent full days in their DRs before realize cause it’s just that natural. It’s instinctual.

“Studies have shown that brain activity related to a decision can be detected before a person consciously reports making that decision,

supporting the idea that awareness precedes full conscious experience.”

Anyways that’s all for all the girls, gays, and theys who think to much like I do! Happy shifting mwah 💋🍓

[papiliovolens]

You know what?

*throws an glitched black annoying dog into the anti void*

Error was never more grateful for his new bean bags than at that moment.

The voices had chucked in their creation of Annoying Dog. It could hardly stay still, glitching in and out of existence as it stared at him, somehow able to see through Error's bean bag shield.

Error had a policy of avoiding Annoying Dog no matter the universe. They rarely took kindly to his presence, and Error had quickly learned to give them a wide berth. He had no clue how similar the voices' version of Annoying Dog was to the multiverse's, but Error did not want to take any chances.

He just wanted it to leave.

Error breathed a sigh of relief when the Anti-Void finally rejected its presence, and the Annoying Dog spasmed into nonexistence.

[luke-demoverse]

Head cannon time!!!

Cross would have painting and drawing as a coping mechanism. He would also have it as a hobby.

His outfit has a lot of pockets and in one of them he keeps a little notebook and a pen that he says is just for note taking but he’s lying

He would probably do a lot of anime and video games fan art but also would do other things, some with a lot of meaning behind them.

Nightmare would definitely hang up some of the original pieces cross has made in the castle.

Cross would definitely paint gifts for dream especially landscapes and flowers

[squatch-and-stretch]

Concept sketches for Fiddleford’s prosthetic in my Mystery Trio Through the Multiverse AU

[astxrope]

Maybe theres a timeline where Arthur's kingdom didn't fucking die because he's a dense dumbass lmao

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

Things have been... off, since the latest incident. Although Verse had thought it mostly solved during, it has become quite clear that things are not "back to normal" between himself and Psi. Emotions, and the lack thereof... making what was once simple, now difficult to navigate. Dropping in unexpectedly? Taking initiative, more accurately. The OVER-unit appears with less fanfare than his contemporaries, no beam of light, no sound of arrival. His only courtesy being that he's outside Psi's door, willing to knock.

[ @overx ]

Rapping on the door.

There's nothing else to do other than say, "Come in," to his visitor, though there's equally little fanfare outside of a backwards glance to the OVER-unit. X is bent over a worktable, its recent acquisition likely already been taken into account by his boyfriend.

"You never knock," an eyebrow raised, but the attempt at banter equally comes as unsurprised. Before him are parts strewn across the wood surface, but it's obvious it's not a model-kit project.

He doesn't need to explain himself. Verse knows him well enough, and even then was more than aware of his future, the choices he'd make. The brunet finds it almost irritating how predictable he could be.

Things may have not been back to normal between the two of them, but it's the furthest thing on his mind. I'm not so petty. "Did you want to hang out while I work on this?"

[thegatesofinfinitespace]

...Reassuring? It sounds odd from Verse, to him. It's a calculated response, from one who has to deliver difficulties just as much as promises. There's no such vows here, nothing to set in stone. It is uncomfortable, the pendulum of time.

Another finger drapes around his neck. It feels finite. It...

MZ is nothing, if not selfish. The conflict of keeping his Mate away, for safety, and bringing the Light-bot along, to prolong what could be their last moments. Is it even a choice? Pulled along by the strings of fate, like shackles of sand and glass.

Resignation does not suit a machine built to end life itself.

"...You know my answer already."

The possibility of not coming back is implied. Of being caged forever, or even terminated. There is no aggression from the Maverick now. Another outcome fades from the semi obscured branches of time before Omega. 

No fight. Not this time. Death comes even for those that honor him most, it would seem.

Perhaps he knows how dangerous the specter haunting him is. Perhaps he does not, yet senses it in some instinctive way. A weight hangs over the war machine. He is slow. Tired.

For once, even you know what fear is. 

“I would expect nothing less.” Verse turns to reopen the rift that brought him, but pauses. He does not look to the vamploid, merely deliveries what he believes will be a note of comfort. “…he may accompany us up to a point, if you desire.” Whether it will be for Rock’s sake, or MZ’s, is inconsequential. 

[theartsynebulawhodoodles]

My first DTIYS! Passive Nightmare Sans and Nightmare Sans

THE DRAWING FOR itsroxannex’s DTIYS! I used mechanical pencil, watercolor, and colored pencil to make this! This is my first ever DTIYS. I enjoyed drawing this greatly. 🩵

@itsxroxannex

Passive Nightmare Sans and Nightmare Sans belongs to Jokublog

[elizakai]

hey undertale/ deltarune/ utmv community

are we just like

gonna sleep on that sequence in undertale where everyone becomes lost souls?

we just gonna NOT play with those implications and mechanics??

[juridical-angel-blog]

Special Poster ''Iron Man 2008 MCU'' Mechanical Armor ''One Mark''!