[If there's no age anywhere on your blog, I will block you. You need to be 18+ to view this blog.] [Banner Made by LilMelonStudios on Etsy] [Icon made by Robanilla] Hey there! The name's Dreamer/Star! I'm working on writing an Undertale fanfic, which I'll be posting on AO3!
Greetings everyone! My name's Dreamer, but you can also call me Star! I've gathered some courage to do something like this and I've been a fan of Undertale for a long time, so I figured I get back into writing.
Please have an age in your bio or else you will be blocked. You need to be 18+ to follow this blog.
Update: I will no longer be accepting requests. I will write my own stuff when I have the time. Thank you to those that have requested in the past. I truly appreciate your support and for your patience. ♥
MASTERLIST
Bad Sans/OC Series Called "The Five Senses of Love"
So writers joke a lot about "drinking the tears of our readers", but I want to be so honest with you when I tell you that making you cry isn't our real goal. Making you feel is.
Kicking your feet? Giggling? Can't stop smiling? And yes, crying? Feeling anything, everything. That's our goal. That means we did The Job.
one of the hardest things to learn as a depressed former Gifted Kid™ is that half-assed is better than nothing. take the 50%, 40%, even 20% job. scrubbing your face is better than not taking a shower at all. picking up your clothes is better than never cleaning. nibbling on some bread is better than starving.
DO THINGS HALFWAY. NOW YOU’RE 100% BETTER OFF THAN YOU WERE BEFORE.
One of my college professors used to say “anything worth doing is worth doing poorly.” I didn’t understand that for years because I didn’t do anything poorly, I couldn’t do anything poorly, I had to Do Everything Perfectly.
But brushing your teeth for 30 seconds is better than not brushing them at all when that 2 minutes seems exhausting. Doing ten minutes of yoga is better than 10 minutes of sitting when 30 minutes of cardio sounds impossible. Changing my clothes is good when a whole shower is impossible. Standing on the porch for a few minutes is worth it after being in the house for three straight days because I don’t have the energy to go anywhere.
Anything worth doing is worth doing poorly… because doing it poorly is better than not doing it.
You must understand that perfectionism isn’t striving for excellence, it’s a crippling fear of being flawed and therefore worth abandonment or punishment. It’s a kind of psychological avoidance. You’re avoiding fear and failure , not embracing the thing you want to do bc if it was about the thing you want to do you’d be fine with partial victory.
Cringe culture is dead
go make self ship art and make overpowered ocs for shits and giggles! Don't be afraid! If anyone says that you're cringe, tell them that they deserve wet socks ♡
Sooo I kind of have a request? My birthday’s coming up on June 9 (wanted to give a couple weeks heads up in case you were busy), and I wanted to see if you could do a Horror x Reader thing? It doesn’t even have to be my sona, or that long, just a little something.
Idk.
It almost feels rude for me to ask, but that might be my own brain trying to talk me out of it…?
Sorry in advance if it does come across as rude, and if you can’t do it, I would completely understand!
I have a lot of your writings to catch up on (usually bc I’m too busy to read much), but I absolutely love them! 🫶✨
Again, hope it’s not too much trouble for you ☺️
ok so i wasnt smart enough to ask what your timezone was so i could time this birthday gift right, so UH. this is me posting now just in case it's already the 9th for you :l
AND HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYYYY
"An Intolerance"
'You're all the sudden babysitting a very large and cuddly grown man after he got more drunk than planned.'
Word Count: 2,000
Pairing: Horror x Reader
The karaoke on the other side of the bar is becoming increasingly harder to ignore.
It had been a very simple endeavor of tuning it out when you first walked in with Horror about half an hour ago, ready to modestly party in celebration of Birch's first job (and to lightheartedly bother him), but now the atmosphere is downright unbearable.
Or.. maybe you're just becoming irritable.
You weren't paying attention to what Birch was mixing into the colorful and fun drinks you were pointing at.
You wanted to challenge him and his brand new mixology certification, and chose what looked like the two most aggravating drinks to craft up.
His face was so focused and tensed that you could've sworn you heard a band in his braces snap. Aside from what you think needs to be another visit to the orthodontist to get that checked out, he made your drinks like it was childs' play.
It certainly looks like Birch earned that certificate.
…Anyway, you think there was tequila in both of them. That's what you were trying to get at.
Tequila gets you pissed off for, like… about half an hour. You can walk this off in a minute, it'll be fine.
You're sure the karaoke sounds great… But you still want to snap the microphone from out of that girl's hands.
There is very suddenly a gruff and drawling voice that sounds almost inside of your head, but it's actually just to your immediate left. "i c'n almost smell the anger on ya, l'il."
You look over in time to see him menacingly sit up a little in his bar stool, almost.. posturing? What?
"…You can?"
"no." And then he casually waves over his brother like he didn't just purposefully startle you.
You hate this guy.
Horror's a piece of shit sometimes, but he's also really cute, so you suppose he can be quickly forgiven.
Birch comes bouncing over—almost literally—"MORE FRIES?"
Your most recently emptied glass is gestured to, "two of whatev'r the hell ya gave 'em. red sparkly.. shit."
The bartender's eyelights comically squint behind his large glasses, looking deep into Horror's with a serious everything that tells you Birch is very suddenly in protective brother mode. "ARE YOU SURE? IT'S GOT… …" Birch suddenly leans obnoxiously forward at the hip, and honest-to-God genuinely whispers, something you didn't know he could do, "It has monster alcohol…"
You butt in, "I drank monster alcohol?"
A large and nicked hand drops onto your head in the worst head pat ever, "yer fine." And back to his brother, "i'll take it."
"BUT YOUR… REGULATION…"
His huh?
Horror just shrugs at whatever that meant, and you audibly hear Birch gulp in response to what seems like his older brother's bad decision(?).
You'll ask later. Sounds like Horror's not gonna be the 'designated shortcutter', which is fine. You guys can catch a bus when you're done bugging Birch, it's cool.
He's sloshed.
And during the lecture you just front-row witnessed Birch lay out on Horror, you learned that this intolerance is only applied to monster alcohol.
A monster could get a fix—a minor one, typically—on human alcohol, but your beverages aren't the same.
What gets a monster actually drunk is the magic within their drinks. It spikes their mana lines, giving them that inebriation.
And that mention of 'regulation' you overheard was apparently Horror's issues regulating his mana. Originating from his injury. A disability(?). So… in short, his tolerance was critically shot.
Both boys thought it would be alright enough for Horror to have some liquor, because he's a pretty tough guy and it's been years since the blow to his head, but wow that didn't work out—
Your barstool is almost pulled out from under you when Horror grips the frame of it and jerks you toward him.
You would've gotten immediate vertigo if he hadn't dropped his heavy head atop your's, shocking you out of the minor dizzy spell from being yoinked.
…There's a purr building within his throat, which you very vividly feel rumbling against the crown of your head where he's aggressively nuzzling you.
Okay. This is becoming an issue.
Well..! Not really, no. You live for his attention and his overwhelming cuddles, but maybe not at a bar and in front of his younger brother.
He pulls at your middle and nearly yanks you off your seat and onto his, which would have been his lap because he takes up his entire stool.
You managed to catch yourself with a hard palm to his shoulder, keeping yourself seated where you're meant to be.
Let's not get Birch fired on his first day off training. You need to get Horror home before a scene is caused.
You catch the lanky one's attention when he circles back, waving your wallet at him in a signal.
He takes the briefest of glances at Horror, his rapidly deteriorating state, his grip on you, and immediately nods in understanding. Yeah, the bear's got to go. He knows his brother'd be safest with you.
…Okay, but am I safest with him?
The bus ride home could not possibly be any farther away from your place. The road feels so unnecessarily stretched out.
It's not all that crowded in here, although there's plentiful enough people looking at you for you to feel more claustrophobic than what's actually encompassing the entirety of you.
Horror is a brick wall of warmth, on what is metaphorically like all four sides of you.
Instead of the three combined seats you guys typically take up together (because he's a big boy and needs two), it's been narrowed down to that simple two—he is almost sitting on you. Enough so that a seat's been freed up.
His far leg is slung over the both of your's, almost folding himself over you, his arms right around your shoulders in what could look like a chokehold from another angle, and you're right back with his head on top of your's.
The purr is stronger, and this time audible. He sounds like a big, happy predator cat.
He could also be mistaken for a motorcycle in the distance.
Thinking of him as an oversized, cuddly cat is funnier, though. You feel like you're his childhood kitten toy that he's found after all these years, and he doesn't want to lose you again.
…Remembering cute cat videos like that is a really good distraction for the fact that you're being cuddled to death on public transportation.
His next purr cuts to a grumble that you feel vibrate your head, and you get squeezed into what's just about to be a true chokehold.
You frantically tap at his forearms like you're tapping out of a wrestling match—"Horror."
And then he whines.
Stars have actual mercy. You're never letting him drink again. In fact, you're restricting his diet to WATER just to be safe.
"We're almost home. You can go to bed soon." And water. You're going to make him have water.
…Wait, what helps monsters come off mana spikes?
A quick phone call balanced between your shoulder and ear as you juggle a bear and house keys… isn't pretty.
In fact, it's almost like you're inside of a fever dream. You've taken care of Horror before, sure, but he's gone actual 'baby mode'.
Is this typical of drunk monsters? Or is this something specific to him? …Actually, you really think you're okay not knowing.
You are babysitting an overgrown dog that would only feel close enough if he were buried beneath your skin.
…Clifford. Clifford The Big Red Dog.
Well, you've got his next Halloween costume in mind.
You should consider your obituary next. And maybe a set of keys that isn't so horrendously hard to wrangle. You can not for the life of you unlock your front door, and it doesn't help that you're being insistently tugged left and right by your boyfriend.
—All this tugging has distracted you.
You fix your phone before it slips from where it's pressed to your ear, offering your (not really) free hand for Horror to occupy himself with. "Sorry, what did you just say, Birch?"
There's the clatter of customers in the background, but he's making the multitask work just about as well as you are, "THE ONLY THING HE CAN DO IS SLEEP IT OFF. THERE'S NO 'QUICK FIXES' FOR MONSTER ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION LIKE THERE IS WITH HUMANS."
"You must be lying."
There's a pause. "WELL… YOU COULD GET HIM TO DRAIN UP HIS EXCESS MAGIC, BUT I WOULD IMAGINE THAT'S NOT ON THE TABLE WHEN HE'S UNDER THE INFLUENCE AND CAN'T MAKE PROPER DECISIONS FOR HIMSELF."
…Ah.
You finally get the key in the damn knob, "Yep, sounds like we're going to sleep—"
You're yanked. Broken through a shortcut right inside, dropping everything to the carpet in your panic, the both of you crashing sideways on your couch, just as you proclaimed victory against the door and made a plan.
"HELLO?" Birch calls out from the floor.
…
A third drink is about to be required. You're on the cusp of losing your marbles.
There is finally a stillness.
It did not take a whole lot of effort to convince Horror to free you from the couch. The prospect of a more comfortable space piqued his interest so fully that you were lifted with a speed typically reserved for someone smaller than him.
He made the mightiest work of bringing you bridal into your bedroom, where he placed you in the middle of your mattress and then laid himself right on over you.
You'd whine about needing a blanket, but he is radiating enough heat for you to be genuinely comfortable.
It's nice. You're finally away from the chaos of it all and are somewhere you're much more in control of.
…Well, you're not really in control of what's happening, but it's leagues better than what you originally had to work with.
He's listening to more of what you're saying. He's quiet and still. He's being all sweet.
Horror's mellowing out. He must be enjoying the privacy and safety of your bedroom, too. A familiar space. Dim-lit and comfortable.
You certainly feel that way about safety and comfort. And you're loving being out of the spotlight of public.
You're out of that horrible situation. It's okay to relax and be still. To allow yourself to be held and used as his source of comfort.
He's being used as a source of comfort, too, so it's not like you're being scammed.
Horror makes a move, suddenly deciding he wants more of you.
You're scooped clean around your middle, where he squeezes and pulls at like he's about to lift you from the bed, and he does.
He takes you upright with him and then drops to his side, again taking you with him.
The two of you now facing each other. The black iris within his red eye the roundest and most blown out you've seen of him. Again reminding you of a very big and happy cat.
It's warbling, too. Something you very intimately recognize as an affectionate expression; one he looks at you with often.
And then, while tucking you under his chin and in his arms, he grumbles, "i love you.."
…
You don't think you've ever been more parental over a boy in your entire life. You have got to give this man everything you have.
His hug is returned. The most enthusiastically you've moved since the start of this shit show.
As far around his upper body that you could wrap your arms around, you couple it with doing your best to twine his heavy legs with yours, which he happily helps with.
And to top it all off, you decide to draw a hand upward to the back of his head, massaging the base of his neck.
He melts in to you even farther, his deep purr returning.
This is pretty tolerable. Though you're still banning alcohol.
I overheard some opera being played in the background when I was taking care of a resident and I thought of Nightmare.
I can see him enjoying the show from high above to get a good view of the actors/actresses. I imagine him taking his date to see one of the shows, at least later down the road once the relationship is quite serious.
I can hear him humming one of the songs to himself when he’s by himself in his office.
(If someone already headcanon this, my bad, but I can see the vision of him looking his absolute best and wearing a monocle while smoking a cigar. 💜)
I overheard some opera being played in the background when I was taking care of a resident and I thought of Nightmare.
I can see him enjoying the show from high above to get a good view of the actors/actresses. I imagine him taking his date to see one of the shows, at least later down the road once the relationship is quite serious.
I can hear him humming one of the songs to himself when he’s by himself in his office.
(If someone already headcanon this, my bad, but I can see the vision of him looking his absolute best and wearing a monocle while smoking a cigar. 💜)
Greetings everyone! My name's Dreamer, but you can also call me Star! I've gathered some courage to do something like this and I've been a fan of Undertale for a long time, so I figured I get back into writing.
Please have an age in your bio or else you will be blocked. You need to be 18+ to follow this blog.
Update: I will no longer be accepting requests. I will write my own stuff when I have the time. Thank you to those that have requested in the past. I truly appreciate your support and for your patience. ♥
MASTERLIST
Bad Sans/OC Series Called "The Five Senses of Love"
Here's an update for my blog. I won't be accepting requests anymore due to being unable to even complete an ask at the time and just being tired. Thank you to those that have sent in requests in the past. You have made my day when you did. For now on, though, I'll be making my own stuff, but I hope to have your continued support.
