#(drabbles.)

[citrusbones]

💟- Wildcard

Random. org decided on: 💛- A memory that makes them feel angry))

There weren’t very many memories that made Citrus feel angry. Some left him feeling sad, others made him feel sparks of fear, but…there were some that made such terrible feelings rise up in his chest. Made his bones tingle with old pain, made him want to hurt that which always seemed out of his reach.

Anonymous creatures.

There were kind ones. But the problem was that they were just that. Grey creatures with the same face, the same shape, the same voices. It made telling the good ones apart from the bad ones impossible. Made it so that he could never quite trust them, though at times, he wanted to. 

He couldn’t trust them. Not after watching his own arms move on their own. Not after breaking his own bones. Not after seeing how his friends reacted to having their own actions dictated. Not after seeing Muffin forced to relive a terrible memory. Even the fact that a kind one had reversed it in a minutes time, could he feel any less resentment towards their kind. Because—-

—-because, no matter how many nice ones were out there, there were hundreds more that would do terrible things. Twist people with magic. Take away free will. Swing at them with weapons that could hurt them so gravely.

He was angry at Anon-kind. And angry at himself, too.

He never wanted to be the sort of person who would tell another creature to go off, and perish by whatever death was possible for their kind. 

But those words had come from him. And he had meant them. He had burned with anger and killing intent—and fear, as well—after the incident with Pyro.

With that creature. Thank goodness someone killed it.

…

He’s angry at himself, too—for wishing death on anything.

But it was in the past. Even if that past was only a day ago. No good would come of dwelling on it. So he tried to fill his thoughts with better things.

[citrusbones]

“Well. I guess that’s as healed as it gets.” Citrus lowers the mirror, and looks over to his brother, who stands but a foot or so away. “What do you think?”

“I think you look alright, Brother. The scars, if anything, make you look tough. And you are, you know. That was a lot of stuff that you made it through.

You’re stronger than you think you are. And I’m very proud of you.”

Citrus smiles. Its not as large as it would have been, once---but its soft, and filled with gratitude as he looks at his older brother. “An’ yer a sap.”

“Maybe! But I never tell falsehoods---so you know I’m being serious.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Citrus leans down, and Plum stretches up on his toes, both skeletons taking hold of each other in a tight hug. It goes on for a little while, and when it ends, both swaps are wearing large smiles. 

“Well---I suppose you’ll want to go show off your face to Rex now~?”

This gets an embarrassed noise and a slap on the arm, before Citrus chases Plum (who laughs the whole time), out into Snowdin, where they’ll end up visiting Muffets, to get some pastries to bring back to Muffin’s timeline.

[citrusbones]

Meme | Playfully shoves

During his recovery phase, Boss had come over to spend time with him on a few occasions. And each time, he’s appreciated the company of his friend, who has offered him a strong shoulder to lean against, and harsh, but honest words of support, that have kept him bolstered, kept him hopeful through everything.

Citrus is glad he has Boss as a friend.

He’s also glad that the Fell skeleton isn’t treating him like glass, as most of the others around him have been doing, shoving him lightly into the bed after a series of terrible puns. Citrus gives a soft nyeh-heh-heh in response, hands reaching out, catching the taller skeleton by the elbow, in order to drag him down as well, one hand idly swinging the pillow, to softly bap him over the head.

“Complain all ya want, Boss—m’ well aware ya like m’ dumb jokes.”

Still smiling—he lets the pillow drop down onto the others chest, before lazily draping across his friend, still chuckling, as he initiates a small cuddle session. Their amazing four-song Spotify playlist, appropriately titled Skele-tunes, has been alternating between the same fallout boy songs for a good while.

Red eyes narrow—but no real complaint is uttered. Instead, claws come up to rest against the right side of his head, gently scratching along the bone. Citrus’s eyes squint slightly, a low rumble of a purr starting up subconsciously in his chest. He may not have a tail, he may not have ears, but he’s a cat skeleton, to be sure, happily nuzzling into the pillow, chin rested atop it as he hums.

Its been a quiet evening—same as most of their hangouts have been.

And really? He can’t wait for the next one.

[citrusbones]

Cuddles with. (with both cake and muffin, take that)

Its time for another episode of terrible barbie movies.

Citrus is groaning, hiding his face in Muffins cat-hood covered shoulder. He doesn’t wanna watch the next disaster movie. They’ve watched so many of them, and it seems like there over twenty. There has to be over twenty.

Peeking at his phone, specifically IMDB.com, he sees that there are exactly thirty-seven Barbie monstrosities that have been published to torment families all over the world. Citrus wants to perish. Let the beanbag eat him. Muffin doesn’t seem to find them any more enjoyable. He nitpicks the entire thing, complains about glaring plot-holes, and all manner of things.

Cake, meanwhile---loves them. Owns every single damn one, somehow. Enjoys the shitty animation, the crappy songs, even the plot holes. If only because it riles his brother up, and makes Citrus attempt smothering himself with his own damn pillow. When they inevitably give up, however, and allow their last brain cells to die enough that they can just snuggle up and doze---things are very enjoyable. Cake’s stuck in the middle, Muffin’s head in his lap, while Citrus’s own rests on his shoulder. Neither skeleton is really ‘awake’ anymore.

But that’s just what happens after a good cuddling session.

Eventually, Cake will carry them both up to bed---and become trapped once more by them, as Citrus will become a clinging Koala on becoming lifted. And once Cake resigns himself and lies down? Muffin clings to his other side.

Its a cozy, lazy night---and there will be no bad dreams for these three.

[citrusbones]

cries in front of cos why not lmao

To say this is an odd experience for Citrus is putting it mildly. 

After all; Bones is one of the strongest people he knows, always ready to offer a shoulder to cry on, a hug during trying times, and cuddles when one is lonely.

Considering that---it makes sense that, sometimes, Bones needs it too.

So he takes it in stride as best as he is able, reaching for the large dog skeleton, pulling Bones to sit next to him. Now he surrounds his alternate brother with both arms, head leaned against Bones arms, to murmur quietly to him.

He doesn’t know what brought this bout of sadness on---but he will be here to provide emotional comfort for his friend, calling on all his new techniques for combating tears. Gentle strokes along the skull, warm, comfortable hugs, and little brotherly skullbumps.

Cry as long as you need to, Bones. He’ll help you dry your face afterwards.

[caramelpears]

He's throwing a hissy fit because Dingo refuses to listen to him. He's whistled a few good time, but it only gets a look from the large skeleton before he just promptly scratches behind his ear with a hind foot. Bramble did say Pear could keep him, right?

Pear isn’t sitting very far away. In fact; he’s been watching for the last fifteen minutes, as Brambles whistles increased in volume and frequency, the swap sans face growing more and more frustrated with each passing minute.

By the end, Brambles fingers were slightly damp from magic, having been pressed firmly into his mouth to create that high pitched whistle. Dingo, meanwhile, gives a wide, uninterested yawn, before stretching out across the floor, tail thwapping nosily against the floor as he made himself comfortable.

Did the commands just not work anymore? Curiosity is what drives Pear to mimic Brambles actions, fingers pressed to his mouth, before a loud whistle leaves him. The response is immediate, with Dingo sitting upright, ears pricked and alert, while the drooly beast looks in his direction. Eyebrows shoot up.

Slowly, Pear grins---and its such a smug expression, before he shoves it down, and attempts to look stern, waggling a finger in the dog-mans direction.

“Eh----ya gotta listen to yer bro too, dingle boy. Can’t be playin’ favorites.”

Inside, he feels giddy. Dingo really is his dog man. It makes his soul swell in his chest, makes his cheekbones ache with the effort it takes not to smile.

The fact that Bramble stamps his foot in a hissy fit only makes his composure crack, makes him laugh boisterously as he falls back against the floor; only for him to yelp and ‘oof’ audibly as Dingo takes this opportunity to thump all his weight down atop the older swapfell skeleton, and cuddle him nice and good.

“Fuckin’ fatass!”

[citrusbones]

tries to make them laugh -Bo

How did it come to this? When he and Bo hung out, he expected it to be a little like having Muffin or Plum for company. Loud and excited, but reasonable shenanigans. Nope. Bo had shown up with a smile on her face, and a kazoo wedged in her nose, casually doot-doot-ing Rick Astley in his direction.

He’d half choked, half-spat out his orange juice, before bursting out into the most boisterous, rib-aching laughter, tears welled up in one eye.

Welp. That wasn’t too hard, it seemed. 

“Nyeh heh heh---kin ya do careless whispers wit’ tha, too?”