#callmeplatonically

[fishmxma-blog]

[3:17:40 AM] fresh horatio: don't fist on the first date# [10:46:04 AM] 🐡🐡🐡blow me🐡🐡🐡: But if you take out the r it becomes 'fist date' [11:10:26 AM] || Science Skele ||: go to your room

[kxndncss]

callmeplatonically replied to your post:but gaster, that doesnt answer the other anon's...

WHY WOULD THEY ASSUME YOUR CHOICES ARE SO WEIGHTY? SANS AND I HAVE PROTECTED ONE ANOTHER ON OUR OWN FOR…FAR LONGER THAN WE’VE KNOWN EITHER OF YOU. YOU DON’T HAVE TO KEEP THINKING OF US AS CHILDREN. WE’RE SOMETHING STRONGER NOW! EVEN MORE NOW THAT YOU’RE BACK…WE’RE FAMILY.

* 📫📫 🕯☞✌💣✋☹✡🕯

           * [ --‘FAMILY’,

✡☜💧📪 🕈☜ ✌☼☜ ✌ ☞✌💣✋☹✡ ☠⚐🕈📪 ✌☼☜☠🕯❄ 🕈☜✍

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

[fishmxma-blog]

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

|    THE PROTECTOR    |    THE BRAVE    |    THE HEROIC    |    THE KIND    |   

written by |   🐟 lisa  🐟   |   💀 skeu 💀   |   🐟 sky 🐟   |   💀 rose  💀   |   art credit |   x personals do not like/reblog

[trombxnes-blog]

🎺 |→ @callmeplatonically !!  { x } 

your bishounen eyes say: shada de dattebayou   ♪  [ACCEPTING]

     -It doesn’t take long for the rigid rookie to register why he’d been stalked all the way to the Guard’s Canine-Unit encampment when the ever-helpful (and seriously grating) smile of Mr. Lazybones himself is obstructed by the pendulum swing of a brown, paper bag. The very same bag that sheltered an already-frozen lunch, and the bag that Papyrus had been positively sure to sling on top of the kitchen’s tower of a sink before he’d scrambled out the door faster than he’d believed anyone with fair senses could detect. Obviously, he had misjudged a judgement eye’s 360 no-scope because there–lo and behold–is the ditched contraband, as skillfully fetched as a real Canine Unit. Great, now they’re all staring at him like a lost cause with those glinting beads for eyes and lolling tongues–oh the embarrassment! Making an effort to scrunch his skull further down into his scarf before wheeling around and squatting to give Sans a stern socket, he gestures wildly in front of him, knocking the edge of his scarf to and fro as he struggles to find words and only manages the disgruntled sounds only a mouthful of hot-sauce could milk from any living being with taste-buds, magically generated or otherwise.- YOU’RE MISSING THE POINT HERE. -Finally managing a shrill whisper, he hardly takes note of how the hovering pooches ears perk up with each fume filtered through his teeth.- I DID NOT “FORGET” MY LUNCH! I LEFT IT BEHIND–ON PURPOSE, I MIGHT ADD! THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOES NOT FORGET, HE KNOWS EXACTLY WHERE HE’S LEFT HIS BELONGINGS! AND HE ALSO KNOWS THAT YOU HAD TO HAVE BEEN A TRY-HARD TO ACTUALLY FIND HIS MOST INCONVENIENCING  OF HIDING PLACES!

  -Releasing a deep sigh of regretti for not tucking the bag down the garbage disposal for safe keeping, he snatches the bag before the incessant swinging can rattle any more of his bones.- A ROYAL GUARD MEMBERS DOES NOT BRING BAGGED LUNCHES TO BOOT-CAMP! -Papyrus grumbles through the wrinkling brown paper as he peeks inside out of mild curiosity.- EVEN IF IT’S–…OH MY GOD. IS THAT…PIZZA LUNCHABLE!? MY FAVORITE–! -The shriek escapes before he can contain it and shreds just about any chance he had of making a commendable first impression on the hounds, all dressed  in their dashing armor suits and panting in puffs of frozen air with an aimless tail waggle now and then. Coughing abruptly into his fist, he recovers with the short burst of a dab’s energy, but stops short of burying his face into his elbow’s crook to glance (what he hopes is) nobly into the fog.- I MEAN…THAT POOR MONSTER CHILD MUST HAVE DROPPED THEIR LUNCH ON THE WAY TO SCHOOL, BUT I WILL RETURN IT TO THEM POST-HASTE, LIKE THE A PROPER GUARD OF MONSTERKIND WOULD! RIGHT AFTER WE…

    BRING IT IN, DOGS! -Once their paws have filled the middle of their huddle, the skeleton gives up trying to squeeze through Dogamy and Dogaressa’s sniffing battle, and flings his arm through the gap to rest atop the team effort. Still tilted towards his lunch savior, Papyrus leans casually against Greater Dog’s side and flashes Sans a “saved by my own brilliance” thumbs up as if to say, “SEE? I’M FITTING IN ALREADY! AND YOU WERE WORRIED.”- UNDYNE’S GOING TO BE SO PROUD OF ME WHEN SHE SEES HOW CHILL I AM WITH THE CANINE-UNITS. SEE? I JUST THROW IN MY HAND…WITH THE CHILLIEST BUNCH IN THE LAND! -And then, Doggo chomps down on his arm.- NYEEEEEEH?! DO NOT BITE THE SKELETON–ST-STOP! NO-NOHOOO, NO LICKING, PLEASEHEHE..!! -And just like that, he’d been sucked inside the huddle of doggy smooches like a treat tossed in for the Guard’s good work.- FIENDS! RELEASE ME AT ONCE, YOU FUZZY-FIENDS!  -He yelps, still clutching the pizza lunachable to his chest like a shield.-

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?” 

[hypermnestic-blog]

✪ ⋮ Greetings, child. You must be--Papyrus~? Oho, forgive my informality–"The Great Papyrus", is it? You were born into that title, you know. You came from a great monster. -The lost soul's smile is too wide almost, curling like a burned bramble.- I suppose we’re alike in that regard. -If he misused the term "monster", anyway.- Although, the monster I'm referring to could only lay claim to greatness through bloodline blunders. Cherish your father, child–as not many are able or willing to.

@callmeplatonically

   -Out of all the hints of hauntings he’d heard of late–voices that scuttled out from shadows twining along twilight’s breath, this one seems considerably less unsettling. It also seems closer than the others, almost to the point where he could have sworn someone had leaned over his little seance circle of action figures, their arms twisted backwards as if startled by the sudden jangle of  jewelry  that followed the flicker of a nearby candle’s dancing wick. With all the whispers in the house as of late, he had started to wonder if maybe one of Waterfall’s scamps had become ghostlessly lost while playing peek-a-boo, and was simply too shy to ask him or any other inhabitants where the nearest exit was. Though he’s starting to think his theory rather far-fetched, especially when the voice implores him of not a single direction, but of … Dad?-

    WELL, YOU AREN’T WRONG…WHOEVER YOU ARE. -His sockets shift from one dimmed corner of his room to the next, but his guest seems  to  have  found  an exceptional hiding place.- THIS IS THE GREAT PAPYRUS SPEAKING! EMPHASIS ON “GREAT”, NO EMPHASIS ON “CHILD”. BECAUSE CONTRARY TO POPULAR BIRTH RECORDS, I AM ABSOLUTELY AN ADULT. -Yes, an adult who  happened  to be surrounded in a circle of action figures. What? Action figures are for adults too!- HEH, MISINFORMED AS YOU ARE ON THE MATTER OF MY MATURITY, YOU SOUND LIKE UNDYNE! EXCEPT SHE TELLS ME TO CHERISH CARPET BURNS AFTER WE SHRED SOME SICK AIR-GUITAR SOLOS. -Which could very well  mean … -

  …ARE YOU MY CONSCIENCE?

       -For one who’d given their guard up alongside their form long ago, the soul finds himself flexing phantom fingers along his glitching brow in a make-shift sun-visor against the assault of this particular treasure’s brilliance. Why, with hesitation (or lack thereof) like that, he finds the source of the recent disturbance to match the newest coat of luminescence that still lingered and thrived within the shadows that stained the lost soul’s regular surroundings. Not that he’s complaining, of course--though eventually, he knows he must...for His sake. Although he welcomed the opportunity to  scrub the charcoal from his existence by skirting the edges of the foreign but familiar shard’s light, he’s not so daft to huddle nearby its calming hue and risk detection by the far more egregious of his kind. And considering the crudeness of his crimes, such titles were not so sparingly doled out among them.-

    Oh, I’m far older than you can imagine. To call you a child is actually quite generous of me! -The soul chuckles, positively charmed by the Sunspot’s candidness despite his blissfully disorienting manner of speech. Oh, He’d outdone himself with this one.-  In truth, if you aligned yourself to my time, then I’m afraid you’re more a thought that’s yet to bloom. One of few wonderful ideas your father’s had, if I must say. But I don’t ~ so try not to dwell too much on it, dear. -Hadn’t he promised himself that he wouldn’t venture too close to the obstruction just the other day? Of course, he hadn’t met a promise he couldn’t cross over as easily as snapping a sapling underfoot, and the soul isn’t keen on remedying that restlessness that roused him forward any time soon. Of course, the sapling in this sap’s smile is a special occasion he makes note to side step and circle curiously until he’s caught by the young skeleton’s conclusion. The soul couldn’t stifle a  fit of glitching laughter  he tried, not when the innocuous nature of the assumption is so intertwined with the late mannerisms of a certain dingus--yet dismantled.- Consider yourself lucky that is not the case. -And somehow he doubts the scarred soul he slithers through would vouch for his capability of any conscience-related work with the wonderful job he’s doing with the Guilt Department.- Aligned with you, I am too a thought. One that bloomed a long time ago...one that did not wilt, but was cut from the stem and compressed between the pages of a book kept within a library you will never find. Call me “M” ~