Unleash the rope, see the inner heart~ For whom am I hurting myself?
With this little hand I want to protect and wish strongly upon a falling star~
Thousands of twinkling stars in the night sky, I pray that they someday will come to you!
Along with this song is the seed of smile, I pray that someday you’ll make the flowers bloom!
I send my song into the night sky, with a little magic, I don’t want to be alone in sadness forever!
I look up at the starry night and make a wish, that someday a bright smile will be drawn!
I look up at the starry night and make a wish that someday a bright smile will be drawn..~
in honour of the upcoming ten year anniversary of ‘the man who would be king’, please consider these shots of dean looking at cas that make me go absolutely feral
i love the vibe of kripke era spn but most of the episodes fucking suck
crimeboys fans really reaching nowadays to prove that they're still canonically friends
bro, i hate to break it to you-
Summary: If Pap was the sun, then he must be the moon: a ball of scars and craters, whose only shine was a lesser reflection of his brother’s.
“But if you weren’t there to be the moon,” Papyrus answered, so simply, so kindly, “who else would be a light in the darkness?” Sans and Papyrus, in fifty captured seconds.
“This is not at all an admission of helplessness, surrender or defeat…but if there is anything I haven’t yet tried, brother, anything at all that might help you, I need you to tell me.”
The human’s lipstick had formed a decidedly unpleasant texture on his teeth, Papyrus mused with a shudder as he grabbed his toothbrush to scrub away the evidence.
Sans rarely ever raised his voice, but then he didn’t need to; a low growl could be far more threatening than a shout.
“Nngh…Almost there, I think,” Sans hissed, struggling to stay loose and relaxed as Papyrus gingerly manipulated the deformed joint of his shoulder back toward its socket.
“Not once have I seen a potato subspecies that grows on couches,” Papyrus admitted, “so I’m afraid I cannot speak for any resemblance between them and Sans!”
“I seem to recall a well-prepared skeleton advising his lazy brother to wear sneakers on their outing today,” Papyrus snarked as Sans’ sodden slippers squished and squelched with each step.
Chocolate sauce was chocolate sauce and spaghetti was spaghetti, both good things independently, so…Sans could assume Papyrus had made them better together, right?
Papyrus had genuinely laughed at what was admittedly his worst material, and that was more than enough to lift the corners of Sans’ wan smile.
Sans had thirty-four frantic texts, a full voicemail box, and no memory of the last three days to offer as an excuse.
Papyrus couldn’t help but marvel at Frisk’s dedication to being so cool; they had put new holes in their ears not for better hearing, but simply to decorate with tiny pieces of treasure!
“I’m just Sans—well, ‘Comic Sans’ if you want to be particular about it—but if you really need a surname,” Sans began, mischief sparking in his eyes, “it’s, uh, Lewis. C.S. Lewis, heheh.”
Finally Papyrus could understand why Sans so loved spending time in bed; these new silk sheets seemed to float around his bones, gently shushing him to relax and rest.
“Turns out the humans have a label for everything,” Sans remarked with a wry grin as he spun the striped button pinned to his coat. “I’m what they call an ace in the hole.”
For reasons he couldn’t quite justify, Papyrus flinched when Frisk wrapped their arms around his neck.
“I’ll see you soon, Tori,” he mumbled as he brushed his hand over the memorial’s stone base, “because if I know anything about that kid, they’re not gonna let you stay down forever.”
All of Sans’ strength had been spent in the shower; his juddering legs and the cold embrace of the bathroom floor dictated that dressing would have to wait.
“I’m always alright,” Papyrus whispered, though he made no effort to dry his streaked cheekbones.
Papyrus doggedly insisted that the sign had said ninety miles per hour—until he recalled a particular prescription for glasses that still needed filling.
“It’s not my job to be nice or helpful or cool,” Sans announced flatly. “It’s my job to give judgment, no matter how much it might hurt.”
“Not all humans are like Frisk, Papyrus; some of them would rather sweep us off the street than crack a smile at us.”
In response to Sans’ apathetic “What do you want?”—Papyrus poured his soul into a scream: “I want you to treat your life like it matters!”
“Undyne is always away with Alphys and the human Frisk is busy with their plethora of school friends; I don’t know who my ‘besties’ are anymore!”
“My glove is the wrapping and my hand is the present; I’m just waiting for the day someone special wants to take it!”
Spongy in the middle, crisp around the edges, swathed with butter and spices that melted in the mouth…If only Papyrus could drag the garlic bread out of the cookbook picture and onto the plate.
“Long live the King,” Sans murmured as he pried the crown from his exhausted brother’s head and tucked his cloak closer around him for the night.
It was unsettling to see Pap so limp and lethargic, snoring on and off between miserable sniffs and the few coughs his abused throat could muster.
For once Papyrus regretted that he wasn’t a stealthier skeleton; he would have liked to hear Sans sing another bar or two before he jumped at his presence.
Mettaton had been acknowledging everyone in the first several rows, but surely the celebrity had glanced at Papyrus a few seconds longer than the rest!
Their Surface house felt like a resort—airy, open, relaxing to some degree, but Sans still had the nagging urge to keep his bags and boxes packed.
“Sans, I have no intention of purchasing seventeen boxes of Twinkies!”
“Oh, so I’m not allowed any Twinkies to repackage as ‘dessert dogs’ for my booming business, but you’re allowed four different brands of shampoo for hair you don’t even have.”
“These puzzles I’ve submitted are sure to be a much greater challenge for this week’s column, don’t you think?” he questioned smugly as his brother stared at the sheet of incomprehensible twists, turns, and teasers.
“Doesn’t ‘hanky panky’ mean that you are ‘hankering for a pancake’?” Papyrus demanded as Sans choked on his coffee.
“I think, uh, I’d rather take the stairs, be proactive like you’re always telling me,” Sans decided, recoiling from the cramped, groaning walls of the elevator.
The pure blue expanse made Sans’ head swim with its enormity, stretching further than his eye sockets could ever see.
Papyrus couldn’t help but wonder if that terrifying noise was the sun, roiling and roaring at the dark clouds for blotting out its rightful place.
“Why do you always leave me behind?” Sans wanted to say, instead forcing a smile and wave as Papyrus strode toward his terminal.
Papyrus’ first college semester, Sans kept his phone charged and at full volume more consistently than he had in the last five years.
“Stay awake for me, Sans, just keep your eyes on me!” Papyrus begged, because if he didn’t keep their eyelights locked he would have to watch the pool of red grow.
Sans’ HP hung by a decimal point, slipping, and Undyne wrestled her arms around Papyrus’ shoulders to keep him back as he screamed.
“It’s thanks to you that I’m still here, bro; I won’t go anywhere if you don’t.”
“We skeletons have a soul sense for such things; I can feel my brother’s aura of bad jokes, dirty socks and disappointment in this room.”
“It was on sale!” Papyrus lied, brightly and effortlessly, because he hated to see Sans look so guilty for receiving a good thing.
Sans chuckled fondly as he admired the worn, creased photos, tracing a finger over his baby brother’s beaming face.
Papyrus wouldn’t mind having a little one to raise someday—someone to look up to him for his greatness and guidance, the way he had once looked up to Sans.
Seafoam swirled gently around his ankles, beckoning him closer, deeper, against his better judgment; if there was a choice to sink or swim, Sans would sink every time.
If Pap was the sun, then he must be the moon: a ball of scars and craters, whose only shine was a lesser reflection of his brother’s.
“But if you weren’t there to be the moon,” Papyrus answered, so simply, so kindly, “who else would be a light in the darkness?”
Most gods Sans heard about were not gods of mercy, but he would keep looking; he would find the one who gave eternal peace as a gift, not as something to bargain for.
As his wavering steps gave out and the twirling lights softly faded, Sans closed his eyes and breathed, soundless, “Finally.”
Nat and Alex posted again my heart is full !
“You were always getting me into trouble. But then, you were always there to get me out of trouble again.”
After writing that overly long essay on who could take Hades’ mantle as the new big bad of Kid Icarus, I still have that writing itch on me and now I’ve started to wonder which mythological figures would make great minor antagonists or rivals. I’m really starting to regret bringing that shovel with me.
This all can be blamed on Philammon and Autolycus, twins with different fathers Philammon’s father is Apollo, Autolycus’ is Hermes and vastly different personalities - Philammon was an excellent musician and Autolycus was a cunning shapeshifter who used this power to rob people. Look me into my eyes and say that they wouldn’t make great rivals for Pit and Pittoo, I dare you.
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“My brother cleared his throat. “I wish she knew that I think she is the most hilarious person on Earth. And that whenever she’s not home, I feel like I’m missing my partner in crime.”My throat tightened. Do not cry. Do not cry.“I wish she knew that she’s really Mom’s favorite–“I shook my head here.“–the princess she always wanted. That Mom used to dress her up like a little doll and parade her…
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Your imperfections are what make you beautiful! The best things in this life are unusual <3
Song: I’m not pretty~
my piece for @peppersonironi 's fic Duke Thomas VS. The "Good Child" Stereotype for the @dukethomasbigbang!! Check it out! It's hilarious!
[IMAGE ID: a five-panel digital comic. First panel: headshot of Jason Todd, a young Latino man with stubble and dark curly hair, the front section of which is white, he has a smartphone held to his ear and is standing in front of a bookshelf with an expression of annoyance on his face, while the speech bubble above him reads “But I was off-planet and-“. Second panel: Jason in the same position, noticing something off to the right and out of frame. Third panel: Duke Thomas, an African-American teen in a pink sweater with a pixilated heart on it. He’s peeking into the room Jason’s standing in and giving his brother a cheeky wave and a wink. He’s smiling like he knows something. Fourth panel: a wider view of the room. The camera is behind Duke’s head. Jason is visible from the knees up, he’s revealed to be wearing blue jeans and a white shirt with green sleeves. He’s eyeing Duke with suspicion and his speech bubble read’s “…who did you say was caught with the boombox, again?” while Duke lets out a small nervous laugh at his sudden confrontation with the consequences of his actions. Fifth panel: black and white digital drawing of the boys wrestling. Jason is enraged and on top of Duke, sitting on his chest, one leg wrapped around his brother’s head and one hand holding his head down while he tries to punch him with the other. Duke is tangled up under Jason, a determined expression on his face as he struggles while blocking the elder’s punch. END ID]
Kinda want Sapnap to kill Dream, kinda want them to team up and destroy the Eggpire together and one of them ends up having to kill Bad and George gets in the cross fire and ends up getting killed.
We’ve all been there.
I really do wish we got to see more of these two guys together!