For so long now there has only been one task and one goal engraved in her entire being. It’s been soaked into her skin for so long, rich deep in her veins, controlling and stationing itself as the driving force every morning when she wakes up. For so long now.. they have wanted their freedom. Undyne sees the look on the King’s face when he talks about it, hears the wishes that litter the halls of echo flowers, lives in the weaker moments of monsters when they voice how miserable they are. Her fist clenches.

   There was no such thing as being too hard on herself. Not when it came to this—it was so important to her. Important to all of them and yet.. in her heart there is something that overrides everything. Undyne doesn’t want to have this conversation right now, as they speak the human is getting farther away, and doing who knows what with the other monsters loitering around in the last stretch of Waterfall. What kind of Captain would she be if she left her arena completely empty? A breeze to walk right on through without any consequence or struggle. No. She had a job to do, and not now nor ever, was she going to press that burden onto his battle-body shoulders.

   She sighs, just as a small collection of words finally bubble up in her throat, just the right ones that will help ease the skeleton’s worries and allow her access back to her job Papyrus starts to say something else. It’s unexpected. Physically it moves her in a small stumble backwards, hand coming over her gut as if she’s about to be sick. What? WHAT? He was kidding, right? Did he really think she’d be capable of taking his soul or any monster soul at that. Was she really that scary?

     “No!” A pause to catch her breath, shock still controlling most of her body, “Never! I’d never take your soul, or any monsters, under any circumstances. We’re talking about a human here, Papyrus. Don’t you understand? Even if they don’t hurt anyone.. even if they get past me.. they will still have to fight Asgore. One of them has to win and I’m NOT—” Teeth bare is a show of predatory nature, not a usual face she’d show Papyrus willingly, but one that came naturally with the thought of people she cared about dusting uselessly, “—about to let the King fall just for some human who was stupid enough to climb this mountain in the first place.”

     “I’m going now.” She finalizes, moving to slip her helmet back atop her head. Despite the minor injury she still had to fulfill her purpose as the Captain. Resting could come later after the human was.. eradicated.

    -Much as he tried to cull his excitement in the wake of surface murmurings to keep the pressure of delivering her promise one soul lighter from the broad berth of her squared shoulders, it still managed to radiate from him in waves of the same pulse beating Underground like a buried tremor of souls waiting to garner enough energy needed to quake the layers of earth stacked above them until there was nothing but sky and stars over their heads. He’d heard the stars—the real ones—were brighter than any pile of polished quartz, and hotter than the periodic plumes of molten material that erupted from the many moats of liquid fire winding around Hotland. Having jogged past his share of plenty glowing geysers on many a fleet-footed fraction of his daily running regime, Papyrus could hardly imagine the type of heat a star might harbor when swinging a wide berth around a pillar of plumes in his path could still singe the surface of any uncovered bones even when he’d take care to alter his direction for a plentiful proximity. But for all the fantastical stories about stars and their magic in granting the wishes of those who wished hardest and yet could never claim their benefits without a clear view of the sky in which they swam, he doubts they’re a force as fiercely overwhelming as Undyne’s unadulterated determination that would sooner burn itself out fulfilling every whimpered wish of those she’d sworn to serve than remain a high-strung decoration for an audience of adoring and upturned gazes. Worrying she could possibly blink out after granting a wish of such an unmanageable magnitude, Papyrus couldn’t pry his meddling fingers far enough from her fins to keep her from hunting down and finding that human whose very soul could harm any of them without meaning to. After all, what’s the worth of getting to the surface if she isn’t there to share the same sky as him?

    Even if he had a gift with leading her in circles with his words, she never had any difficulty charging through each of his mazes with green magic prepped to pause his escape past the barrier of planks making up his platitudes he’d dropped to deter her chase for as long as it would take to ensure she’d never make it past his verbal vexations. At times, he wonders if she thinks them as infuriating as the obstacles he liked to believe his puzzles were to the wayward human after they’d paused to admire the unmistakable and diabolical genius in his savage selection from a Junior Jumble coloring book. It’s an odd game he’s playing—this durability of wills; though his body is far from tempered in the steel swallowing hers, his mind is as stubborn and unbending as the workmanship welded into the ridges spanning her helmet. The durability his plastic armor lacks, at least when paired against hers and not the harmless sleet pellets that pelted him around town and bounced from the bubble encompassing the true steely resolve of his soul held together with several stubborn stitches, is likely what ultimately allows him free-reign through her head-space. After all, it’s not like he’s a threat to anything other than her time. Yet even so, the tactful aim of the words he threads through her thoughts is all he needs to trip her off balance and send her staggering back a step as he suspected she would, given the implications coiled in the stubborn corners of his smile. Having known her for all his life, he’d be more embarrassed if he didn’t know which way to turn her sails to catch the wind in his words than if they possessed the stopping strength of longer than a few stunned seconds.-

     HOW CAN YOU BE SO CERTAIN OF THAT? BECAUSE WE’RE MONSTERS, OR…BECAUSE WE’RE FRIENDS? –He probes insistently through the roots of her outrage that threatened to cover her sight to his reasoning completely the longer he openly considers the complications riddling her answer.- CALL ME NAÏVE FOR BELIEVING IN THE LATTER, BUT IF SOMEHOW YOU WERE TO BECOME THE HUMAN’S FRIEND TOO, THEN TAKING THEIR SOUL WOULD SUGGEST THE FORMER, WOULD IT NOT? SO…WHICH IS IT? –His gloves squelch when he curls them in as if he could crush the sturdy shell surrounding her reasons that hardened her expression beyond the smile he knew her soul capable of.- DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT  I DON’T WANT TO BE JUST ANOTHER MONSTER CARRIED ON YOUR GUILTY CONSCIENCE? –In fact, it’s the last thing he would rather be on a list inclusive of snails, though he sticks to her armor very much like one as he launches at her turned back, his spindly arms barely managing to loop around her in an embrace petulantly punctuated by the click of his cheek hitting her armor.- I’M YOUR FRIEND! IT’S MY JOB TO LOOK OUT FOR YOU SAME AS YOU LOOKING OUT FOR THE KING. SO PLEASE…IF YOU’RE GOING THEN DON’T GO STEAMED. I KNOW THERE’S LITTLE WAY OF ME CHANGING YOUR MIND ON THESE MATTERS, AND I KNOW YOU DON’T ALWAYS THINK THINGS THROUGH WHEN YOU’RE LIKE THIS, SO…UNLESS YOU FIND SOME CHILL FIRST, THEN YOU’LL BE DRAGGING THE COOLEST SKELETON ALONG TO COOL YOU OFF--INVOLUNTARILY, I MIGHT ADD! SEE, I CAN DIG MY HEELS IN, IN MORE WAYS THAN YOU PREVIOUSLY THOUGHT!  

HELLO HUMAN!!!

Wanted to draw Papyrus again since I don’t draw him that often :‘3 Hope you like it! Please do not use my art without my permission!

It had come off as odd to see that the taller skeleton hadn’t taken his lunch on his way out the door that very morning, Sans happening to notice right when he was about to head out for work (of course in a manner that was so late it couldn’t even be considered ‘fashionably-late’). And of course being not only the protective brother role Sans had practically grown into like a big sock, but also to have a reason to delay his shift over at his own sentry station further in the woods of Snowdin, the stockier sibling of the bunch decided it wouldn’t hurt to hop over there and drop the paper-bagged prize off to his adorably forgetful brother. However, Papyrus’ outward outburst of embarrassment hadn’t been what Sans was expecting. With an innocent blink of his sockets, he tilted his head a bit inquisitively, his raised brow bone the only real indication of latent surprise. 

“*whatdya mean, pap? you left the bag right on the table. you were in such a rush ta get out the door i figured ya might’ve left it on accident.” Hanging out with the canine unit or not, Papyrus loved his lunchables, just the sight of the latter tucking his flushed face away in the confines of his scarf and huffing about leaving it on purpose simply had the hooded monster smiling, mouth curled up in an oblong oval of mirth. Sans knew all too well that being apart of the Royal Guard was an endeavor Papyrus had been chasing ever since he was a baby bones, and so hanging out with the canine-unit of the guard could be considered quite a big deal when looking through his eye sockets. 

Regardless, the blue-hooded monster refused to believe that his brother would turn down a perfectly good frozen lunchable just for the sake of looking cool for the gang. So with a shrug that radiated indifference, Sans offered a wink to the other as he snatched up the bag with a disgruntled look on his long face. In his head he counted down, the pinpricks of light in his eye sockets trained on his fumbling hands as he opened up the paper bag and peered down to review the contents inside. Three… two… one… 

And bingo. Papyrus couldn’t say no a pizza lunchable. Those had been his favorite ever since he was tiny. Sans couldn’t help but chuckle, a snort escaping through his nose hole even when he tried to stifle his laughter. Even as Papyrus scrambled to save face in front of the perplexed hounds, Sans knew all too well that his brother hadn’t actually changed who he was or what he liked, and despite himself that solidity in that statement brought him some momentary relief. Although the lanky skeleton may be putting on a front for his potential comrades for the sake of fitting in and being accepted, at the end of the day— even when painting a tragic story of a monster child lacking their sacked lunch, Papyrus was still very much Papyrus. 

Then the dogs were on him, becoming one literal dog-pile as they chomped, licked and pawed at the boisterous rookie. The lazybones himself stood to the side and watched the entire fiasco, grin as big and dopey as it could be. Hands now free they slipped into his pockets as Sans rocked on his heels in a lethargic rhythm. Ah, yes. He remembered the first day when he had found out he’d be working with the canines, one of them had run off with his tibia while the others practically licked him into a stupor. Yes, those were good times indeed. “*ya need any help there, bro?” 

    -In hindsight, had a hound not chomped down on his arm after getting a whiff of that marvelous compartment of shredded mozzarella, Papyrus might have admitted that the situation still swiveling around the sack of salvaged sustenance is--considerably less serious than the stereotype of “seriously embarrassing” his initial set of squawks had first stated with the start of these “follow your brother to practice and wave a lunch packed with love and possibly google eyes taped to the contents” escapades. Not that he’d peeked too long past the crinkled-brown treasure trove of a wadded up old grocery bag to really tell if his brother had bothered to paste plastic eyes to his lunch like he so often did to every leftover Tupperware and condiment bottle in their fridge, much to the growing skeleton’s nauseous disdain of having every single one of his pre-planned meals stare straight into his soul and make him question his non-vegan life choices. Did Sans even know what classified as embarrassing anymore? Sure, there had been a time when even he, a skeleton as once-naive as he was currently-great, considered caroling for their neighbors with the added accompaniment of kazoos as one of the coolest concerts ever conjured, but seeing as those days of lorn had also spanned the segment of his life when he’d (forgive him, fashion) considered Sans’s choice in footwear as “stylish”, well...he can definitely confirm from the eagle’s eye view of his newly soaring standards that his childish tastes of the past had been tempered with the same steel that would surely adorn his shoulders once he’d finally proven himself worthy of serving by Undyne’s side as a real Royal Guard! Even if his taste for tiny pepperonis had remained notably unaltered.

 Saving face in this matter, of course, is a rather difficult task to undertake when Sans keeps merrily dropping his little hints like his usual peppering of puns to suggest that not only did Papyrus leave the lunch, but that he’s as thrilled as his baby-bones would be to find it returned and layered with the kinds of goodies no monster of any shade of moral ambiguity could resist without lying to themselves.  IF BY “ACCIDENT”, YOU MEAN TAKING EVERY PRECAUTION POSSIBLE TO ENSURE IT DID NOT FIND ITS WAY BACK TO ME, SHORT OF ERECTING FORCE FIELDS IN THE INTEREST OF MY PERSONAL BUDGET AND KEEPING OUR ELECTRICAL BILL LOWER...  -Although he still has his doubts that dowsing his lunch between the light of two opposing lamps would deter any lunch returners from their task, he can’t help but feel wistful of his missed opportunity to put his extensive knowledge of all James Boned spy gadgets to proper use.- THEN YES, -He continues a bit louder, just enough to cause the hound brigade’s ears to twitch.- I SUPPOSE OUR DEAR MONSTER CHILD IS STILL RUING THE DAY THEY ALLOWED THIS THOUGHTFUL MEAL TO LEAVE THEIR THOUGHTS! -And with subtle imitation of his brother’s sly gesture, Papyrus audibly winks back. Though he’s sure the hounds are still watching the two of them, analyzing his brother’s winks in ways that surely highlighted a noble intelligence beyond the drool dripping from the tickled pink of their lolling tongues, Papyrus would have liked nothing more than to pinch the bridge of his nasal cavity in defeat and send his brother one of his scathing looks reserved only for his slackadaisical sibling’s more egregious offenses, like his terrible tendency of leaving his socks on the floor for weeks on end, but even he knows that part of looking cool as a cucumber (or anything prone to freezer-burn and left outside in Snowdin for that matter) is playing the part, even amid the pandemonium of his big brother bringing him a baggie lunch and the ensuing slobber fest that struck him at his most poised until he’d practically doubled over amid the fuzzy feeding frenzy. Now he has to save even more face, that is, if he can avoid having it licked off first.

    Managing to crawl halfway out of the flurry of flying fur and excited yips, Papyrus shoots his brother a grin twined in the occasional tremble he cannot stifle so long as Greater Dog keeps assaulting his ankle with puppy kisses. - DON’T YOU DARE! THIS IS ALL PART OF...THE ROYAL GUARD EXPERIENCE! LIKE ON-DUTY DORMS. AND I, FOR ONE, AND NOT GOING TO MISS A SINGLE LICK OF IT--NYEEEEEH! NOT THE LICKING, ANYTHING BUT THE LICKING! -Losing his grip on the ground, the snow he’d been  clutching explodes in his face as he’s dragged backwards into the dog pile’s scrap once more. He always had his suspicions that Undyne thought him too frail to hold his weight around the wet-nosed squad, and he isn’t about to prove them right by having his big brother bail him out of a situation, no matter how slimy.- H-HERE, I WAS GOING TO SHARE ANYWAY! -By the time they’ve honed in on his lunch, he seizes his chance and scrambles free again, this time--sans a boot, Papyrus pulls himself up to pose (albeit a bit wobbily) by Sans’s side, his hands hooked proudly at his hips as he surveys the storm of brown paper scraps churned up by the ravenous group of guards just as aggressive in their love of lunchables as he. He’d found his people.- DID YOU SEE THAT? I’M GETTING BETTER AT DIPPING OUT OF DOGGIE-PILES!

   I’VE GOT THOSE WILES-FOR-DAYS. -They just don’t seem to detect the snowy cloud of scrambling pooches steadily gaining ground towards them, that or the sparkles of victory are still brighter yet in his sockets.-

promises to keep,

Ten years ago, he wants to say. 

          Ten years since he’d held his son in his arms and smiled, since he’d offered him the world on a string at the mere cost of his soul. Ten years since he’d placed a ghostly digit against his son’s teeth to shush him in a game of hide and seek he would never return from. The tangibly awful returned in a whirling rift of contempt–yet Gaster smiled, and wiped his feet upon the mat which lined the door way as though it were the first time he’d ever crossed the threshold into the quiet (yet warm) abode. Take it slow, dear rabbit, breathe–You’ve all the time in the world.

All a monster like you HAS is time.

He shrugged the reminder, and the subtle bile which accompanied it as he drank in the sight of familiar wall paper, of polished wood structure and decor kept hauntingly in place. It was a wonder Gaster could not help but entertain as Papyrus continued to speak.Truthfully, his absence had spanned a decade (while the resets and slowed progression of TIME had made Gaster’s eternal, maddening venture beyond the veil of time and space horrifically long), he was surprised to see the warm reminders of his hands still in place.

Gaster wondered if it was Sans that willed it so–he wondered if complacency had stilled his weary fingers.

He will know, he will see before long, dear rabbit. Patience, patience–

* “–It feels like it has been so long.

                I have been searching for him for so long.”

The older skeleton’s voice wavered only slightly, skimming the barest hints of grief and what must have been boundless depths of relief as he turned to regard Papyrus with a weak smile. He had grown so much–So much, he was so strong now–

                and he’d missed it  A L L.

*  👎✋👎 ✡⚐🕆 😐☠⚐🕈 💣✡ 💧⚐☠ 🕈✌☠❄☜👎 ❄⚐ 👌☜ ✌ 😐☠✋☝☟❄✍

          * [ DID YOU KNOW MY SON WANTED TO BE A KNIGHT?

📬 📬 📬 ☟☜ 🕈⚐🕆☹👎 👍☟✌💧☜ 💣✡ ☟☜☜☹💧 🕈✋❄☟ ✌ 💧🕈⚐☼👎 💣✌👎☜ ⚐☞ 🕈⚐⚐👎📪 ✌☠👎 🕈⚐🕆☹👎 👎☜👍☹✌☼☜ ☟✋💣💧☜☹☞ ❄☟☜ 💧🕈⚐☼☠ 🏱☼⚐❄☜👍❄⚐☼ ⚐☞ ❄☟☜ 🕆☠👎☜☼☝☼⚐🕆☠👎📬

     … HE WOULD CHASE MY HEELS WITH A SWORD

                                MADE OF WOOD, 

     AND WOULD DECLARE HIMSELF THE SWORN PROTECTOR OF THE UNDERGROUND. ]

Something kind gathered along the corners of his smile.

* 📫📫☟☜ 🕈✌💧 ❄☟☜ ☝☼☜✌❄ ✌☠👎 🏱⚐🕈☜☼☞🕆☹ 🕯💧🕆☠💧☟✋☠☜ 😐☠✋☝☟❄📬🕯

     * [ –HE WAS THE GREAT AND POWERFUL 

                       'SUNSHINE KNIGHT.’ ]

    -Satisfied with the amount of crushed powder his thoroughly encrusted visitor had managed to scuff off his feet and abandon between the mat’s frozen fibers like particles of past miles wandered, Papyrus paints his smile with a fresh coat of curiosity as those darkly-clad shoulders hunch to spill through the doorway’s upper-most corners unhindered. If there’s a balance between being a hospitable host and a wary one, he’s yet to find its equation as any hint of worry that could have wormed its way ahead of the stranger’s entry into the familiarity of the warmly-lit foyer, fails to unveil itself; that is, if it had even entered at all. He supposes having no skin or hair has its drawbacks, seeing as he’s unequipped to counter any odd happenings like this unannounced house-guest’s sudden arrival with bone-deep tingles of premonition the lambs in his storybook so tragically lacked, but it’s not the lack of this response that puzzles him. No, he’s far more bewildered at the butterflies badgering his soul like the sneak attacks of tickle barrages that Sans used to subject him to whenever he wandered close enough to become ensnared between the puffy sides of his older brother’s jacket back when his height wasn’t such a deterrent for the stouter of his family to fling the folds around his fussy bones. He hadn’t felt so many of the flutters accumulate since those days his brother worked longer shifts while he sat stranded at home and rolling toy cars into the door until it would finally budge and Sans would slip through the sliver to greet him with a persevering grin, sometimes a candy for his patience, and always a hug. But why would that vein of nostalgia flow openly for a passerby whose name he had yet to catch? It’s a bit too early, he decides, to be picking at such puzzling predicaments. After all, it’s not like he’d had the best brand of rest, what with Sans hammering the majority of the night away in his workshop again—curse his uncharacteristically busy-bones!-

   IT WOULD BE FOR THE BEST IF YOU TRY NOT TO ASSESS THE MESS--I’D MUCH RATHER YOU PARDON IT, IN FACT. IT’S EARLY SO, I HAVEN’T GOTTEN AROUND TO PICKING UP MY BROTHER’S NIGHTLY “ACTIVITIES” WHICH HAVE NOT INCLUDED SLEEP THIS PAST WEEK, SURPRISINGLY ENOUGH! BUT I SUPPOSE HE GETS “ENOUGH” DURING THE DAY. -Muzzling his agitation for his guest’s sake, Papyrus commits his gloves to the corners of the open coat in case the taller skeleton had any whim of shedding the outer most layer with its healthy dusting of frost highlighting each stitch in the fabric.- HERE, I’LL WRANGLE THIS UP TO DRY AND THEN WE’LL SET YOU OUT TO DRY BY THE STOVE--IT’S WAY TOASTIER IN THE KITCHEN. I’VE ALREADY PUT SOME TEA ON, AND YOU’RE WELCOME TO IT, GOOD SIR! -Perhaps the scent of freshly brewed coffee would have been a more welcoming choice this time of the morning, but Papyrus isn’t about to exacerbate his brother’s recent case of insomnia anymore than he has to because he has to at least fuss at him later to drive the point through that thick skull.

   With the coat properly hung, Papyrus traipses after his guest’s slow head-start towards the kitchen, squeezing past him in the hallway to lead the way towards the dim glow of the oven’s light that draped itself warmly over the kitchen tiles like the rays of a rising sun sorely missed. While raking away a few tell-tale signs Sans had been through the area during the night--an overturned mug and its corresponding puddle of milk left on the kitchen island, Papyrus hangs onto every fond word this poor father fashions for him out of the house’s lingering shadows. Although he couldn’t claim to personally know the sorrows surrounding the separation lines between parent and child, he imagined it as jagged of a line ripped ruthlessly into his scarf from a playground bully’s claws before Sans could properly sew it up again. And although the pain of awaiting the fate of the comforting cloth had been riddled with childhood anxiety, he doubts the pain of a misplaced material possession would sting as viciously as a missing family member. Sans would never leave him though...he’s one of the luckier monsters, he’s sure. All he has is sweetness to share to the unlucky parent before him.- 

    AH-HAH! SO YOUR SON KNEW OF THE SUNSHINE KNIGHT AS WELL? THEN IT IS  IMPERATIVE WE FIND HIM SOON, BECAUSE HE OBVIOUSLY HAS TASTE THAT ALIGNS WITH AS GREAT OF A MIND AS MY OWN! -How odd though, he thinks to himself while retrieving a couple of mugs from the cabinet; he used to play sunshine knight with Sans, but that had been ages ago since he’d recalled those days, and even longer since he’d played. A thought like a shadow wiggles it’s way through his skull, drilling deeper into the revelation--deeper than he could clearly make out. Trying to shake it free, he turns and as soon as he lays his sockets on the stranger, a flash of recollection ignites the tunnel in a beam of light so concentrated, he drops the cup he’d been carrying to quickly cover an eye-socket as the hint of a headache from  earlier finally strikes unapologetically.- HH! SORRY, I--...I’M NOT USUALLY THIS CLUMSY! YOUR STORY JUST--WRENCHES MY SOUL IN ALL THE WAYS A SOUL SHOULD BE WRENCHED AT SUCH A SAD STORY! -Teeth trembling as another wave of uncertainty rises up his spine like bile, he quickly stoops to scoop the bits of broken glass into his palm.- I KNOW I’VE SAID IT’S JUST ME AND MY BROTHER HERE, BUT--...I’VE ALWAYS ASSUMED WE HAD PARENTS. I MEAN, EVERYONE DOES, RIGHT? SO--...I CAN IMAGINE HOW YOUR SON MUST FEEL--WONDERING IF YOU’RE AROUND AND STILL LOOKING FOR HIM. THE FACT THAT YOU ARE, WELL...IT GIVES ME SOME HOPE AS WELL! THAT’S WHY...-Tilting his skull back to smile at the stranger, he feels as small as he once was while crouched, as if he expected longer arms to extend from some unknown corner of his past and draw him close to a soul that beat in time with his own.- 

    ❄☟✌❄’💧 🕈☟✡ ✋ 🕈✌☠❄ ❄⚐ ☟☜☹🏱 ✡⚐🕆📬

          THAT’S WHY I WANT TO HELP YOU.

    ...AFTER ALL--I’M VERY GREAT. IT WOULD BE A SHAME TO WASTE MY TALENTS ON ANY OTHER PALTRY MISSION LESS NOBLE THAN A LONG-AWAITED REUNION! -Suddenly startled out of his shard collecting once the altered slur in their speech finally catches up to his oblivious rambling, Papyrus peers curiously at the towering skeleton’s knowing smile.- WAIT. HOW DO YOU...TALK LIKE THAT? ONLY SANS AND I DO THAT--...TO MY KNOWLEDGE ANYWAY.

(x) start small, grow tall… or stay small, that’s okay too

callmeplatonically:

* 📫📫 🕯☞✌💣✋☹✡🕯

           * [ –‘FAMILY’,

✡☜💧📪 🕈☜ ✌☼☜ ✌ ☞✌💣✋☹✡ ☠⚐🕈📪 ✌☼☜☠🕯❄ 🕈☜✍

             YES, WE ARE A FAMILY NOW, AREN’T WE? ]

   -A nod sinks his grin halfway beneath the cowls of carmine collected round his spine’s highest peak, but even descending, a sparkle spreads along the generous amount of teeth left as they widen higher in response to his father’s agreement. If Sans and he had been strong even while scattered, then there’s no shred of doubt in his mind that having their family back--all of them, made all of them as solo-standing rocks--into a mountain. And what could anyone possibly do to hurt a mountain?-

    FAMILY MEANS NO ONE GETS LEFT BEHIND! -He insists, rapping his knuckles against his battle body in a show of confidence he never seemed to have trouble carving into himself whenever a severe lack of it stained his surroundings with a hopeless fog. The plastic shell rattles with each proud pap he plants under the bravery brand printed at the upper left of the pale armor plate, soon to fall silent as his curls his fingers in once he locates the warmth of his soul buzzing beneath.-

      ☠☜✞☜☼ ✌☝✌✋☠📬

                    NEVER AGAIN.

YOUTHFUL for Centuries

YOUTH by Troye Sivan vs. Centuries by Fall Out Boy.

“FRANKLY I DON’T SEE THE APPEEL IN LOOKING LIKE A ROBOT, ESPECIALLY IF IT’S ANYTHING LIKE THAT FRAUD OF A CELEBRITY METTATRON. DESPITE YOUR INSISTENCE ON ME HAVING A HEIGHT COMPENSATION, I’M PERFECTLY COMPLACENT NOT BEING AN 8 FOOT MACHINE OF TORTURE THAT PUT MY TRAPS, TRAPS WITH A CAPITAL T FOR TRADEMARKED BY THE WAY, TO SHAME.”

“I WOULD HAVE SAID THAT YOU GRIND MY BONES, BUT DUE TO A LECTURE MY BROTHER RECENTLY GAVE ME ON PROPER FLIRTING ETIQUETTE I DIDN’T WANT TO INSINUATE THE WRONG IDEA”

 WELL, IT’S NOT SO MUCH AS LOOKING LIKE A ROBOT AS IT IS LOOKING MORE...RECTANGULAR? -But how could he possibly explain this Underground- wide trend to the anthropomorphic personification of Hot Topic itself? There weren’t nearly enough studded accessories in his wardrobe to pacify such a blatantly branded beast as the sellout before him!- ACTUALLY, MY ORIGINAL BATTLE-BODY PROTO TYPE HAPPENED TO BE MORE BOX-LIKE, BUT I DECIDED FITTING THROUGH MOST DOORS WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN...-He pauses to pinch one of the shoulder spikes on his counterpart, releasing it sharply to see if it sproings back into place.- “BEING EDGY.” SO! I HAD TO TWEAK THE FINAL DESIGN. OBVIOUSLY, THE CHANGE WAS NOT IN VAIN, AS I AM STILL QUITE THE DREAM-CATCHER FOR THE EYES! STANDING NEAR YOU, THE  LINE  OF  VISION  WILL  MOST CERTAINLY ALWAYS FALL TO ME! AND NOT BECAUSE I’M SHORTER, MIND YOU! YOUR STYLE IS JUST A TAD STALER OF A MUFFIN THAN MY OWN. WHY, WITH A FEW SPRINKLES, I’D SAY YOU’D BE ON PAR WITH MY PERFECTION! I DARE SAY, WE’D MAKE A GREAT PEAR OF PERSONALIZED PARTISANS!

    WE SHOULD START WITH ENSURING YOU DON’T ADD EXTRA R’S TO YOUR WORDS. I KNOW IT’S PROBABLY A  FORCE OF  HABIT  FOR  YOU,  BEING  AS “R”-IGID AS YOU ARE, BUT TRY YOUR BEST TO REPEAT AFTER ME: METTATON. M-E-T-T-A-T-O-N! UNLESS YOU’RE JUST GETTING HIS NAME WRONG BECAUSE YOU’RE A HATER. IN WHICH CASE, I OFFER YOU NO MORE LESSONS. NOT  UNLESS THAT MISPLACED “R” IS YOUR SLIPPERY SNAIL WAY OF ADMITTING THAT ROBOTS ARE INDEED “R”-AD. -If he were tall enough, he would have rammed  shoulders with his lacking lackey, but due to vertical difficulties, he manages to bump the bottom of his “r”-ival’s rib-cage before a smear of curiosity cranes his neck back to regard the spiky clone’s claims with squinty-sockets.- WHY WOULD YOU CONSIDER USING A CHEESE GRATER ON ONE’S  BONES  AS  PROPER  “FLIRTING”?  IT  SOUNDS TO ME LIKE YOU NEED A REFRESHER FROM THE DATING MANUAL! 

   CHAPTER 9 SPECIFICALLY SAYS: DO NOT GRATE YOUR DATE.

The bond that links your true family is not one of blood,           but of respect and joy in each other’s life.

what once was golden |

[Color Me Blue]

    -The newly-ushered desolation that had draped over the throne room in shades of recent evacuation seemed oddly awry, even though he’d wandered through his share of Waterfall’s caverns and hidden grottoes just as empty and wet. Yet the longer his gaze lingered along the stone walls laden in jagged marks only the fiercest of claws could have carved in concentrated fury, the more Papyrus realizes that some empty areas had always been hollow, but still harbored the hope the extra space could be filled with light and laughter when passing through. But the emptiness of the throne room he now found himself circling in confusion was comprised of a lonelier conclusion. Having already been filled with life that no longer lingered, the room imparts a feeling of loss in the wake of ripples spread by the raindrops striking the flooded areas of the floor like piercing projectiles that infiltrated his battle-body without even puncturing through the plastic where his soul leaked its light through his chipped cheekbone. This gutted place did not suit the bare-bones look when his budding memories of the King’s garden still glint green in the reflection of the deeper puddles, all concentrated around the throne as if everything he once knew about this sacred section of the kingdom had sank through to some subterranean level of low through the choppy surfaces of moistened mirrors. Through the suffocating veils of the barrier’s run-off, the aquatic occupation of the throne room settles heavily on his shoulders as if he’d fully submerged underwater where each movement became more strenuous than the last, but he finds this weight far less disconcerting of a change compared to the sight of her bent broodingly over the throne as if she’d claimed every burden left in the world to bear on her shoulders, a ruler reigning over long-drowned entropy. Undeserving.-

    THERE WAS SOOO MUCH STUFF IN HERE BEFORE...DID YOU REALLY MOVE IT ALL? -He inquires, persistent as always, the hint of doting amusement lingering along the edges of concern. She’s one of the toughest souls he has the pleasure of knowing beyond simple “hellos” and distantly draped adoration, but even if he’d claim himself the loudest of her supporters, even he had to admit her faults in forging ahead against her better judgement. Sparing him a tedious night of toting boxes who knows where certainly had her signature staining the corner of her decision in ink that had yet to dry and smudged under his thumb as he inspects each angle of his assumption for any details he dare not miss. Of course this was all her doing, he decides while noting her fresh exhaustion she’d spilled along with her scales onto a throne large enough to swallow her with the slew of whale-sized problems soaking through the patch of waterlogged padding situated under her seating arrangement. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d went out of her way to ensure he wouldn’t hurt himself, but it’s not as if moving a few boxes is anything like climbing ranks in the Royal Guard; at least, the rookie in him doesn’t think so.- WOWIE! HOW SELFISH--NOT EVEN LEAVING YOUR BESTIE SOME BROWNIE POINTS! WELL, EXCEPT FOR THE SPOT YOU MISSED BACK THERE, BUT THAT’S HARDLY A BROWNIE. IF YOU THINK ABOUT IT, IT’S MORE LIKE A CRUMB. -Great, now he really has a hankering to bake some brownies! In fact, he’d probably have to in order to make up for his slack around the King; god--he sincerely hopes he didn’t drool in front of his majesty!

   With the frequency of the falling sky drops streaking away any signs of spilled saliva as his armor glints with each proper dowsing, he doubts he’ll figure that mystery out unless Undyne had already uploaded a Vine of him snoring away among the excavated buttercups. The flower behind her fin seems to be holding up quite well, a sprightly sprig despite the thicker raindrops rolling along each petal of a mane that bobbed a little lower with each floral tear shed. Yellow had always suited her scales and fins’ primary colors, an observation he’d slyly mention whenever he happened upon the Captain mid-cuddle with a certain scientist who sported sunnier scales he wouldn’t mind seeing now weaving through the patches of night and rain, and the occasional rumble echoing throughout the higher stalagmites. Spying her fist as it grinds what he assumes is a stain of overexertion she’d try to hide from him even in plain sight in the hopes that his tendency towards flighty conversations would saturate his better judgement, Papyrus doesn’t prune back his restless rebuke of her selflessness, finding that a fish being soaked under a little black cloud is less pitiable than any other monster without the gills.- TIRING YOURSELF OUT LIKE THIS...I DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW HOW MANY LAPS I’M GOING TO HAVE TO RUN TO CATCH UP TO YOUR LEVEL OF  EXHAUSTION SO WE CAN MATCH! -Because of course, swolemates would swell together...in even the most painful of post-workouts. That is, if she’s still his swolemate after snapping like that.-

    WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T DO IT? IT’S JUST ONE MORE FLOWER! AND EVEN IF YOU CAN’T DO IT, TELLING ME TO GO AWAY’S NOT GOING TO GET THE LAST SECTION OF THIS ROOM MOVED WHEN YOU LOOK LIKE YOU CAN BARELY MOVE YOURSELF! -The loud protest leaves him prickled as if his battle-body were bursting with pine-cones, but they shatter into harmless shards as the crack in her voice suddenly sends his senses into a tail-spin. Is she really that upset he’d tried to help her? Thinking she’d over strained herself like usual, Papyrus  moves in, voice a shade softer as he tries to shush her through his teeth.- ...WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’M RIGHT HERE! STOP MISSING ME ALREADY, YOU NERD. IT’S NOT LIKE WE’RE TRAPPED IN DIFFERENT ROOMS TALKING THROUGH BEAN CANS AND YARN. -Though he can’t say playing can-telephone with her when they were kids was all that upsetting of an experience.-  HEY NOW...IT’S GONNA BE OK. YOU’RE JUST TIRED IS ALL, RIGHT, GRUMPY-GILLS? WE’LL GET YOU SOME ICE FOR THOSE SORE BICEPS AND A CHAIR THAT’S NOT SO HARD, AND THEN YOU’LL FEEL WAY BETTER, I PROMISE! -Sockets stained with concern, he leans in, taking the backs of her hands splayed shakily over her face as he gently pries them apart as if parting curtains to let a ray of sunlight steal through his smile.- DYNE...DON’T WORRY, OK? 

 YOU’RE SAFE WITH ME.