I think one of the most strangely devastating moments I encountered while RPing on this website and with people I’d met was when Fiend was becoming Moss, and he was changing due to his own grief and growth. He was changing and becoming the quieter, more reserved and mature person that is Moss, a complete contrast from the loud and proud and spunky Fiend.
People loved Fiend, I know, but I couldn’t write him anymore. He’d changed so much, from his own personal philosophy and also because of the grief I was going through at the time. I didn’t have the energy to write a man like Fiend, but Moss was the most logical change for him to go through.
What had been devastating was how against it some of the people I knew at the time had been. Either telling Moss to his face that they liked him more when he was Fiend. (aka: I liked you better before the trauma) Even worse when I found out that my character had been stolen and “fixed” by said people. Taken without my consent and even shown to me and my heart broke. I have always been a damn good character writer, and I know it. I write about trauma and translate it into my characters very well.
I knew I made the right choice with Moss, and he was no longer able to just plainly enjoy the things he used to be able to when he was Fiend. He’d grown and changed so much, and yes he was much sadder in ways, but how can a person who’s been through trauma ever remain the way they were before? And to watch people just not support that and outright reject it to the point of taking my character and “fixing” him obliterated my trust.
I lost the will to write Moss over and over as this happened over and over–not the stealing of his character, but rather, every interaction he seemed to have ended up having him being told that he wasn’t good, that they liked how he USED to be. I remember it got so bad that I started to ask muns to cut it out, but I was being told “It’s just IC, I promise”. But that’s the problem, the IC thing was actually bothering me, and I was requesting it stop.
I didn’t have the knowledge that I do now, I didn’t have the words that I now have. I couldn’t explain or express myself properly to stand up for what I wanted. I do now, and it’s still hard. Moss is a very important character to me, and he represents the growth of a man who went through arduous amounts of trauma and didn’t have the support he needed–he felt alone, and he felt undeserving, and he disappeared to be by himself and figure things out.
When he came back, things were painfully different. He had only himself to blame on some levels, but he met people who still cared about him–and then I was lied to by people I thought were my friends about the intents of other muns and characters. It was hard. I was too trusting. Or rather, people were too eager to lie.
Regardless, it was endless drama I felt, and I ended up retiring Moss eventually and just barely ever touched his character again, which is a shame. Should I ever get his muse back, I’d like to do some major changes for him.
I know that he’s definitely asexual, demiromantic. I know that he was probably like that from the beginning, but didn’t know the terms, didn’t know it was okay to be that.
I know that Moss is definitely autistic. I know that he is definitely depressed. I know that he has zero interest in people whose entire personalities consist of fucking over people for fun. I know that he stands up to bullies and will continue to do so. I know that he is brave and beloved, and that he has interests that might shove him into some weird niche that makes him very othered, and I don’t care anymore.
Moss deserved a whole lot better than what he got, and I’m no longer interested in letting people work out their insecurities on him.
The weather was still overwhelmingly hot, and the volcanic Hold of Hotlands was to blame...which was convenient, as the folks of Ebott Province quite liked to blame most of their woes on Hotlands. Who wouldn't? It was, by far, the worst of the Holds. Ashen, barren and volcanic... Apparently the mining industry was doing well over there, but Dyrus had no intention of going. He wasn't hurting for G anyway.
It was too fucking hot already in New New Home, he didn't even want to think about what it would feel like walking the dry and dreary roads of New Hotlands. In fact, just thinking about it made him want to curl up and die a little…. And that’s why he didn’t get out of bed for at least a few more hours. The Inns here were pretty nice, and though air conditioning definitely hadn’t been invited yet, magic had a way of cooling the place down. Dyrus suspected there was ice magic in the vents… it was so strangely similar to air conditioning that the moss-covered skeleton guessed an Outsider from Murkwater had something to do with this. It would be foolish to assume he was the only Outsider wandering around New New Home, after all.
Still, even with the cool air blowing gently onto him, Dyrus felt weak and heavy… probably heat stroke, he figured, but the fact it had lasted nearly eight hours definitely concerned him. He never really suffered heat stroke before--it’s not like he had skin or organs. In fact, heat wasn’t something that usually bothered him so. His soul was a core of fire, and he had harnessed the flame years ago.
And yet… here he was, succumbing to heat stroke… if that’s what it was at all. A thought crossed his mind, and he touched at his mossy beard, sighing. ...The Necromancer had told him he was going to die, that the moss that grew on his bones was killing him, and there was no way to stop it. It had been the most bleak news he could have heard, yet a part of him knew it was the case long before anyone had told him. He knew that a person like him… couldn’t have a happy, peaceful ending. No amount of running would hide his sins, hide the pain he caused so many.
He deserved to die in silent agony.
Dyrus’ thoughts were interrupted by shouting coming from outside--specifically, the marketplace. It was loud, and crude…almost like a sailor cussing up a storm. He could have sworn he heard the word “cocksucker” being thrown around. That was oddly specific, but not impossible. The old soldier stood up, pulling his gloves and boots on before heading outside to see what all the fuss was about.
What he found was something impossible. At a dried meat vendor in the market was a skeleton wearing black armor and a red, torn scarf. His bones were dark, like caramel, and he wore black jeans with knee-high red boots. He thrust his finger forward at the vendor, shrieking at him in a threatening, dangerous tone, “FORTY PIECES OF GOLD? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? FOR ONE FUCKING SLAB OF JERKY? THAT’S FUCKIN’ ROBBERY!!!”
Dyrus stared in disbelief as his legs and arms refused to respond, causing him to stand in the crowd like an idiot with his good eye wide. That was… Fiend. That was himself from years ago. What was going on here? How…? The vendor looked terrified, and a crowd had gathered around… they could DEFINITELY see him. This was real.
“These are qu-quality meats, S-Sir.”
“I’LL SHOW YOU QUALITY WHEN I RIP OUT YOUR STOMACH AND TURN IT INTO A PURSE, COCKSUCKER!!!”
That was definitely Fiend. The caramel boned skeleton seemed enraged, drawing out a blood orange bone blade made entirely of magic--the crowd gasped and someone screamed, which was enough to break Dyrus out of his stupor. The time to gawk was over, he had to do something. If he was more of a man than he used to be, he could easily save innocent people from himself.
Dyrus broke out of the crowd, running towards Fiend. He thrust out his hand, grabbing the younger by the neck and yanking him backwards.
“WHAT THE FUCK--OW!!! HEY!?!?” Fiend snarled, his weapon dispelling immediately as he was dragged with ease through the streets, Dyrus bringing him down an alley into the less wealthy quarter. He didn’t want anyone to make the connection that these two were related to one another in any way. Finally, with the coast more or less clear, Dyrus slammed Fiend against the nearest wall, snarling hot breath and smoke into his face.
“You shame yourself with such acts.”
Fiend coughed and waved away the smoke, a shit eating grin on his face, but it was clear that he was pissed, a bright red eyelight in his left socket. “NICE BEARD, YOU LOOK LIKE YOU ATE OUT A DRYAD.”
Ignore his comments, just keep him away from everyone else. “Shut up.”
“OR WHAT, COCKSUCKER? GONNA EAT ME OUT TOO???” Fiend laughed, a nasty growlish cackling, before he brought his knee up, slamming it into Dyrus’ stomach--it probably hurt the younger more than the older, but it at least caused Dyrus to back off, if only a little.
“You dishonor yourself behaving the way you are. You’re no better than a bandit.” It sickened him to look at the other, still trying to hide the shock from just seeing Fiend here… both eyes intact, no beard, no moss whatsoever. It was like a ghost right out of his past, untouched by years of experience, but not of failure. Oh no, Fiend knew of failure. Plenty of it. Fiend stepped forward, giving the finger before dragging a bright red and orange, dripping ecto tongue along the digit, “WHAT DO I CARE ABOUT HONOR? RATHER BE A BANDIT THAN GET FUCKED BY THE SYSTEM HERE. HE WAS TRYING TO ROB ME. EVERY OTHER COCKSUCKER THERE DIDN’T HAVE TO PAY AS MUCH!!”
Dyrus stood his ground, not in the least bit unnerved by the other. Ever since the Incident last year, where the Necromancer had summoned every skeleton in Ebott to go to Hotlands, and cause them to go berserk… well. People hadn’t fully put away their fears and bitterness. Monsters were monsters and yet, they distrusted their own kind, setting skeletons apart from them.
Stigma and discrimination were everywhere, even among monsterkind. Dyrus knew that, and of course he hated it, but attacking people wouldn’t solve shit. It was selfish to think that was all it took. “I know it’s unfair, but you need to put a lid on your temper. I won’t let you hurt anyone for any reason, and especially not for fun.”
That seemed to knock the smile off Fiend’s face, and it was his turn to growl, “WHO’S DOING ANYTHING FOR FUN? I WAS JUST TRYING TO GET SOMETHING FOR THE KID TO EAT!!!”
The kid?
Fiend gestured to the right, and Dyrus turned--he felt like his soul was drained from his bones as he gazed upon… himself. This wasn’t Fiend, nor Dyrus. No, this was a child, a nine-year-old skeleton wearing a scrappy orange t-shirt and roughed up brown shorts. His bones were an off-white color, and his jaw was too big for him to close properly. There was a bandage around his skull, hiding some fractures underneath. The kid looked away, rubbing his arm.
“...I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE GONNA THREATEN THE GUY…” the child muttered, though still loud enough with that growlish voice.
“Beartrap…” Dyrus found himself speaking, unable to help himself. At the utterance of the name, the child’s gaze snapped up.
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!!! I HATE IT WHEN THEY CALL ME THAT!!!” He balled his fists and maintained his ground, trying not to look scared, but most certainly bothered.
Fiend laughed, “WHAT, BEAR TRAP??? I DUNNO, IT’S A FUCKIN’ SICK NAME, KID. OWN IT!!!”
This was… surreal.
What was happening…? How could these ghosts be here?
He’d run so far, and yet his past caught up with him.
It always found a way.
THE BROKEN HOW THEY CRY
THEY ONLY GAVE YOU HEART AND MIND
HOW CAN YOU JUSTIFY?
THEY LOVED YOU
NOW FATHER DON’T DENY
YOU TOOK THEM LIKE A SACRIFICE
WE FINALLY KNOW THE TRUTH ABOUT YOU
(( Moss projects his trauma onto everyone, a biography by Moss. Posted OOC because heck no he ain’t havin THIS as a selfie!
Dyrus had received word not long ago that people had been coming back from Waterfall, to move back into New New Home... It had been several months since the attacks started, but finally they'd had less and less demons trying to ambush the city... It looked like it was finally safe enough for people to return.
That left him anxious--he had no idea if or when Frisk would be among their numbers. Maybe she liked Waterfall and wanted to stay there. Maybe she returned home to Snowdin. No... She would have written something or sent a bullet card of some kind! There was no way she'd just leave him to his own devices without a single word.
And that's why when Dyrus received news that students from the College of Learning were returning to the city, currently coming in through the main gate, he dashed outside, pushing through the crowd to get to the gate as soon as possible. As soon as the crowd had thinned out enough, he broke into a full run, occasionally ending up on all fours to support just how fast his body was carrying him, much to the absolute terror of several citizens trying to get out of the way in time.
Skeletons should not be acting like crazed animals at this time, people were still harboring resentment for the Madness Wave of months ago. But Dyrus didn't care--his daughter was here. He had to see her. It had been nearly an entire year since he'd seen her last. She was the light of his life.
The moment he recognized that messy brown hair and that leather armor, he let out a shout of excitement, "FRISK!!!!!!"
She whipped her head around--not that it took long to figure out where the voice came from and who it belonged to. Her expression changed to an enormous grin and she ran through the crowd of students and teachers--just in time for the two to crash together... Not literally. It was more like Dyrus hugged his daughter around the middle, lifted her up and swung her around.
"OOF--YOU BIG LOSER! Hhhahahah! Oh my GOD you're super buff, you're gonna POP my head off, pa!!" Frisk laughed, voice somewhat hoarse as she tried to speak through his embrace.
"OH, FRISKERS... I'VE MISSED YOU SO GODDAMN MUCH. I'M SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU!!!" It felt weird talking like that, but it couldn't be further from the truth. Without Frisk around... he often didn't know what to do with himself. Doubts would gather up in his mind and make him think things that were far from true, and yet just her presence alone was enough to clear that up.
"Hheheh. I guess stuff's been pretty crazy here, huh?? Well, I'll be here as long as it's safe! And I mean... As long as you're in the N N H, you come see me whenever, okay? I'll always make time for you." A pause as she hugged him back, "I mean, as long as it's not like. My magic finals or something."
"That sounds good........" Dyrus grinned, mussing up her hair, "Let's go get some fuckin grub!"
"Oh HELL yeah." She returned that big smile, "But first, put me down."
These are some in universe retcons for Moss' history. I hate to do it, but it's necessary. Just going to focus on Dawn and Dusk.
Dawn: Fiend and Dawn dated for some time, and things were going okay, but Fiend's fell nature ended up impacting Dawn hard, and he started acting out similarly. Eventually he was more cruel than Fiend in some ways, and the two fought repeatedly. Fiend questioning whether or not he actually likes blue paps anymore comes from him remembering how bad shit was at the end. Dawn also loved T-Swift and was good buddies with Greta, so Fiend now dislikes T-Swift and tries to never bring up Dawn to Greta. A redesign may show up at some point, but unlikely to be actually drawn out.
Dusk: Dusk and Fiend were so very close. They started out as just partners in whatever hell they caused others, but also grew more romantically closer. They caused a lot of damage, and also worked together to improve, each finding new loves and growing from it. By the end, Dusk was the one who still knew Fiend better than others, but he couldn't sustain Fiend on his own, and their bond started to weaken. When Fiend left with barely a goodbye, the bond decayed.
The fires of Fiend's soul kept the Decay Disease on Dusk's bones from spreading out of control on him, whereas for Fiend the bond allowed the growth of moss to manifest on his body.
With the bond broken, both are no longer as well controlled. Dusk's current fate is unknown. Redesign likely.
Other characters that existed during fiendishpapyrus's run may not exist anymore since I'd rather not make off shoots of waaay too many characters.
Important: Moss will not know who Sleazy or Sunny is. Seeing them at any point (unlikely since I won't interact) will not get a response. Please don't try to force an interaction.
Assume that any old pictures you come across on these old blogs has the retconned name changes.
gummygunk
tangentwithtanner
turnnoffyourmind
gracieabrams
2087
izzy806
areudirty
