#ssll bonus

[tyranttortoise]

*Heeeeyyy, I just go the chance to read @thefloatingstone 's one-shot for SSLL, Rainy Day Black Out, but holy hell is it good! The characterizations were on point (especially the bit with Red, Edge -- and later Sans and Red on the stairs), and it was super cute. I had the hugest smile while I was reading it! I definitely reccomend everyone check it out ♡

[tyranttortoise]

*Cursed to be a Boneified Pirate

It’s bonus chapter time!  You guys may have noticed @messedupessy‘s post about her SeaSwap AU, so this chapter is starring Boney, which is SeaSwap Papyrus!  

Essy was the winner of my trivia contest a couple of months back, and this is her prize!  <3  

This chapter is canon, but the actual main fic should be updated in the next day or so.

[tyranttortoise]

I was wondering what Pap said to the parents and I'd love to see what went down. Love your story and blog btw ❤️

Ask and you shall receive.

Here’s the link to the Family Dinner Bonus chapter.

[tyranttortoise]

Do you have any ships for the SSLL fic based on the Landlady's ex tumblr blog?

Right now, I’m shipping the ex and Horror Game Anon.  I wrote up a quick drabble based on their weirdly-cute interactions.  

I like it when characters are redeemable.

@the-landladys-ex

Monsters?  They look like monsters to you?

He scowled at the line, watching Silent Hill 3 unfold on the screen.  They’d almost beaten the game–it was the final stretch–and throughout it, they had conquered numerous monsters.  He had cheered words of encouragement to his companion, shouting for her to blast them in the head or clobber them with a metal pipe.  He may have even been a little overzealous with it, acting as if the abominations had personally affronted him.   

Luckily, his companion had seemed oblivious to the ire burning beneath his motivation.  She had smiled, cheering whenever a particularly difficult portion was cleared out.  He would mirror her expression, cutting his gaze toward her to see her beaming up at him in triumph.  

And then there were times when a jump scare would get both of them.  She had ended up with her knees drawn to her chest, and jerked, subconsciously edging closer to him on the couch.  He tried to hide the fact that he jumped, too, his heart pounding in his chest as he sneaked another quick glance at her.  She swore beneath her breath and let out a low chuckle.  Often, he noticed that she tugged the collar of her shirt over her face, as if that would help her hide from the monsters.  

It was foolish, he thought.  You couldn’t hide from monsters.  They were everywhere in this world.  But, as silly as the notion was…

–he would even hazard to call her… cute.

“Vincent’s full of shit,” she claimed, startling him from his thoughts.  He’d been staring at the television, thinking about how it’s bullshit if those nightmarish creatures aren’t really monsters.  “He’s just trying to throw us off, make us think we’re killing innocent people or some shit like that.”  She shrugged, and he felt her shoulder move against his.  When did they get close enough that they’re touching?  Had he been leaning closer and closer to her this entire time? 

She didn’t move away.  

He scoffed.  “Obviously.  The dude’s a tool.  I hope we get to bludgeon him to death next.”  She laughs, nodding.  He smirks.  “Besides, it’s not like any monster is innocent.  They’re all evil.”

“It’s true that they keep trying to carve my face off.  Probably to wear it as a mask and walk among us,” she quipped, causing him to shudder.

“That’s fucked.”  It hit a little too close to home for him.  He could imagine skeletons wanting to carve a certain landlady’s face off and wear it.  

It unsettled him almost as much as the thought of someone carving his adorable companion’s face off.  

Wait, adorable?  

His smirk fell around the edges, and the game progressed in silence.  During the next jump scare, his gaming partner squeaked and buried her face in her shirt again, turning slightly into his shoulder.

He….

He lifted his arm and slowly slipped it around her shoulders.  

“You really are such a wuss,” he teased, chuckling and shaking his head.  She lightly elbowed him in the side.  

“I felt you jump, too!”

“Pfffft!  That was me laughing at you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, but she didn’t sit up straight again.  Instead, she shifted to get more comfortable against his side.

His heart was racing, and it had nothing to do with the survival horror game.

She reached for the plate of pizza rolls resting on his thigh at the same time he went for one.  Their fingers touched and lingered. 

“You can have it.  It’s probably soggy and cold by now, and that’s fuckin’ gross.”

 She tipped her head up to smile at him, and he let her have the very last one.

[tyranttortoise]

Hi, I was hoping to ask this for a more personal kind of thing. How would all the Papyrus's react to seeing the landlady curled up in a corner in the bathroom, crying her eyes out with possibly some booze in hand, just looking absolutely broken because she feels her life is falling apart.

This one is kinda long, so I’m sticking it under a cut.  And hey, I also posted it on Ao3.

It's been a week where nothing is going right.

You're rapidly approaching the feeling you had when you first came to the lodge, trying to get a reprieve before you had a break-down. You made the mistake of clicking on your ex's Facebook page, only to find him slandering you, accusing you of cheating on him with your monster lodgemates. You wouldn't have even clicked on it had it not been for his new girlfriend messaging you, trying to get the television back. She claimed she had the receipt for it with his credit card information listed, and the fact that someone could be that petty left you dumbfounded.

Not to mention that your family was at it again. Your phone was absolutely filled with passive-aggressive texts. Your father was furious that you quit your job and now relied on monsters to pay you rent. Your mom was texting you about how successful your ex's new girlfriend was, and how he's moved on. Everywhere you turned, it felt like you were doing something wrong or weren't good enough.

It unfortunately extended toward the edgier of your lodgemates, too.

They questioned your decisions to hang around the skeletons in the woods. Edge snarked at you, and when you snapped back, Red got in the middle. You knew that you had reacted poorly--that the timing had been off in the situation--but... it felt almost as if the others were giving you a wider berth than usual after that.

You should apologize. But you're tired. And the blue light blinking on your phone is making you want to smash it against the wall.

So, you drink instead. You turned to alcohol the last time you wanted to forget yourself for a while, but enough time has passed that you've forgotten what the hangover felt like. You grab a bottle from downstairs and drink in the darkness of your room, trying to let the sting of the alcohol numb you. Didn't one of your friends once tell you never to drink alone, and never to drink when you're sad?

Pfft, you're a rebel. At this point, you're just drinking to feel better, to be able to sleep. It isn't long before the alcohol runs right through you, however, and you really have to pee. When you stand up from your bed, it hits you that you're more drunk than you thought; the world shifts around you, and you have to catch yourself with your palm against your chest of drawers on your way to your door.

You go downstairs and head to one of the bathrooms, taking the bottle with you.

After you manage to do your business without incident, you end up staring at yourself in the mirror for a moment. Your hair's everywhere, your eyes just seem devoid of their usual life, and you just... look like a mess. Your visage blurs, and it takes a moment for you to realize it's because you're crying, but when you do, you clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle the rising sob. It's suddenly too much effort to stand, so you sink to your knees and then rock back onto your butt. Your head rests against the cabinet below the sink, and you pull your legs in close, trying to hold yourself together when it just feels so much like everything is falling apart.

The bottle's still clasped in your hand.

You barely even register the sound of the door creaking open.

Papyrus:

Papyrus thought he heard something, so he went to investigate. He was expecting it to have just been Sans coming up to his room after a long night of working in the basement--or maybe Red coming to the wrong floor while he was drunk.

He never expected to find you, however, curled up on the bathroom floor and desperately attempting to muffle your sobs with your palm.

"Y/N!" Your name escapes him rather loudly, causing you to jerk from your misery. You're mortified and roughly rub your cheeks with the heels of your hands while sucking in a shaky breath.

"P-paps," you manage, trying to force cheer into your tone. You fail miserably. "Sorry. I'll..." You trail off, unsure how to finish.

Papyrus seems to realize that he was too loud and tries to move a little more quietly as he crosses the floor and crouches in front of you. His hands hover around your sides, not quite touching you, while his gaze skims over your body. "ARE YOU INJURED? IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT?"

You shake your head; you're not hurt. But for his next question, you meet his gaze, tears rapidly welling in your eyes again. Your throat feels tight; it's difficult to force the word out. "N...No." You shake your head harder. "It's not."

His SOUL feels tight, and one of his hands grasps your upper arm. The other ever-so-gingerly raises to your face to wipe away a tear. He leans in, and inquiries with complete sincerity, "WHAT CAN I DO TO HELP YOU?"

You feel your face start to crumble, your mouth trembling. The bottle slips from your fingers as you latch onto the front of his pajamas, clinging to him like a lifeline while you bury your face into his chest. His arms slide around you, and he lets you stay like that for a moment... before he slowly rises, dragging you with him and up into his arms.

You're tired. You're suddenly so tired, and he's so comfortable. Gently, he carries you into his room--and the racecar bed you love so much. He lays you down, and you insistently tug him onto the bed beside you, where you can remain wrapped around him and he can rub his hands up and down your back.

The motion lulls you to sleep.

You're too drunk--and too drained--to realize he stays awake, silently crying into your hair.

Stretch:

Stretch had been lying on the couch in the living room when he hears you stumble down both flights of stairs. He had been sleeping when you passed him earlier to get your booze, but the sound of you almost falling in the loft was enough to wake him up. Had you woken up in the middle of the night because of your human needs? It's strange that you would end up on the corridor with his room for that; you usually preferred the one on Sans and Papyrus's hall since it had less traffic.

Ten minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

Maybe you had gone to one of their rooms? Maybe you were talking to Red or you couldn't sleep and wanted to cuddle Blueberry? Maybe you had decided to apologize to Edge?

Or maybe you had even gone looking for him?

Twenty minutes.

Stretch pushed up from the couch and decided it couldn't hurt to check. He wouldn't be concerned if the sound of you stumbling around hadn't been loud enough to wake him up. Something just felt... wrong. He hoped that he was wrong.

But when he pushed open the door, he realized he wasn't.

"honey... hey," he breathed, immediately closing the door behind him and moving to crouch in front of you. You jerked away, turning to hide your tear-streaked face.

"Stretch! S-sorry." You don't know why you're apologizing, but you can't look at the painful expression he's wearing. He automatically pulls you against his chest, letting his hoodie soak in your tears.

He usually doesn't pry. He didn't when it was obvious that something was going on when you snapped at Edge. He didn't when you started turning off your phone again and avoiding your messages. But, now, when you're falling to pieces with a bottle clasped in your hand, he can't stop himself from asking, "what's wrong?"

You don't answer. Instead, you suddenly wrap your arms around him and hug him tight, shaking your head into his chest. He's reminded of the last time he saw you utterly wasted, when you had been at a bar after a huge fight with your ex--and after you got suspended from work.

"hun... is it your ex? is he harassing you again?"

Technically, he hits the nail on the head, and you start sobbing louder in response. Stretch curses under his breath and sits down on the bathroom floor, pulling you into his lap. Gently, he rocks you back and forth, letting you cry it out while he just holds you and provides support. No matter what you're going through, he's going to be there for you.

And he's also going to make a few phone calls of his own in the morning.

Edge:

He's still sulking over the fact that you snapped at him when he hears you stumble into the bathroom. At first, he thinks it's just Red going into the wrong room while he's drunk--it's happened plenty of times before, and as much as Edge tries to steer his brother on the right path, it will undoubtedly happen again. He waits, listening for the door to open again, but it never does.

After fifteen minutes pass, Edge decides he needs something to focus his hurt feelings righteous anger on and throws open his door. The light is still on in the bathroom, so he stalks over and throws it open, fully intending on scolding his brother for passing out in the bathroom and then dragging him back to his bedroom by his collar. However, he's completely unprepared for the sight of you, curled up on the floor with your fingers loosely curled around the neck of a bottle, fighting back sobs.

The lecture dies on his tongue. On one hand, he's still angry with you, but on the other...

His SOUL clenches at the sight of you like this, looking so pitiful and vulnerable. You're supposed to be the strong one, unafraid to stand toe-to-toe with him. You're not supposed to be someone fragile enough to break down on the bathroom floor.

"Shit." You're the first one to speak, the curse riding out on a shuddering exhale. You chuckle humorlessly and wipe your face. "Sorry... I..."

You trail off, leaving the thought unfinished. It hangs between the two of you, just like the fact that you're sort-of in a fight right now is hanging there, thickening the air. Edge finally moves, crossing the floor toward you and then slowly unraveling his scarf. You watch him carefully, completely confused... until he uses the end of it to gently wipe your face. Despite its tattered appearance, his scarf is actually super soft.

"WHO HURT YOU?" he asks, his boisterous voice softer than you've ever heard it, and much more intense.

"No one," you partially lie, dropping your gaze to your chest. His stare is too intense; you can't directly look into the smoldering embers of his eyelights.

"LIAR," he chastises, knowing your history all too well. "WAS IT YOUR FAMILY?"

"No." It actually kind of was, but that wasn't the main cause.

"ONE OF US?"

"No!" You'd fought with Edge, but that was just the tip of the iceberg.

"... YOUR EX?"

This time, your denial held much less conviction ("No..."), and Edge saw through it.

"I'LL MAKE HIM PAY FOR HURTING YOU," he vowed, a deeper, more guttural growl to his voice than usual.

"Don't. Edge, please, don't make things worse." You were tired--so tired--and now you really just wanted to go to sleep. You stood, swaying on your feet. Not only were you still drunk, but you were even more dehydrated than before. Your face felt puffy from crying, too. You attempted to skirt around Edge, but he didn't make it easy. "Move. I want to go to bed," you said rather bluntly. The alcohol did a fantastic job of cutting right through your filter.

Edge narrowed his eyesockets, but complied, following you out into the hall as you caught yourself against the wall and started toward the stairs. You heard an exasperated huff, and then Edge grabbed you from behind, scooping you over his shoulder. You initially flailed, disoriented, but his grip was iron. "STOP SQUIRMING. I'M GOING TO HELP YOU UPSTAIRS BEFORE YOU FALL AND BREAK SOMETHING!"

Oh. That's actually nice of him. Unfortunately, his shoulder is pressing into your stomach, and you've had too much to drink. Every step just further jars his sharp bone right into your abdomen, and it isn't long before you're desperately gripping the back of his shirt.

"Edge? H-hey, put me down," you blurt in a rush.

"WE'RE ALMOST THERE!"

"But... But I..."

Whoops. That soft scarf of Edge's? Yeah, you just threw up all over it.

Crooks:

In this case, you had been over at Axe's and Crooks's house for a sleepover when you ended up falling apart in their bathroom, trying to muffle your cries by covering your mouth. You thought you were being quiet, even if it felt loud in the silence of the old house. You thought that Axe had passed out after a little too much to drink, and Crooks had retired early, but...

Crooks didn't sleep much these days.

He saw the light on, and at first, he didn't think anything about it. Normal routine human stuff going on in there; no need to concern himself with the workings of possible excrement in-progress!

However... the more time that passed, the more concerned he began to grow.

He initially was just going to knock and ask if you were feeling ill, but when he paused outside the door with his fist poised to knock, he heard your quiet, desperate sobs, and immediately opened the door.

The lock broke instantly. Damn, you keep forgetting how strong these monsters are! You gasp, shifting further against the wall and wiping your tear-streaked face with the heels of your hands.

"H-hey, Pa... Papyrus. I was just... going to bed," you lie, quite obviously. Concern is clear on his face as he steps inside and closes the door. Crooks kneels before you, and you feel like his long limbs take up so much space. He still seems huge, even though he's trying -- unsuccessfully -- to meet you at eye-level.

"ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? WHAT'S WRONG?" he prompts, gingerly reaching out to wipe some of the moisture from your cheek. You sniffle and manage a watery, wry smile.

"I'm sorry... it... it's just that... nothing's going right this week..."

He nods. That's enough; he's not going to force the details out of you. Instead, he offers, "WOULD YOU LIKE TO SLEEP WITH ME IN MY BED? WHENEVER I'M FEELING TERRIBLE, I GET SANS TO READ TO ME. IT REMINDS ME OF... DIFFERENT TIMES. I COULD READ TO YOU, TOO, IF YOU'D LIKE?"

His sincere suggestion actually lessens the pang in your chest. Nodding, you reach out and entwine your fingers with his. "I'd really like that, Papyrus."

Mutt:

You'd been staying at Blackberry and Mutt's house again when you finally couldn't take it and had a break-down. Unfortunately for you, Mutt doesn't sleep well during the night, and his bedroom is right by the bathroom.

One minute, you're crying alone, and the next... Mutt is abruptly sitting beside you, his back against the wall, and one arm draped across his bent knee. You gasp, your body jerking in surprise, and you start to scramble away, but he snags your arm.

"Let go!" you protest, your voice watery. "You scared me half to death!"

He lets go, and with the way you were leaning away from him, you go tumbling sideways and whack your shoulder against the sink. Ouch. You mutter curses under your breath, and Mutt actually smirks.

"didn't m'lord tell you this place is haunted? ghosts are known to just pop up."

"You're not a ghost!" you protest, and he shrugs.

"maybe i am."

He's so infuriating that you've completely forgotten you were crying moments before. Instead, you're furiously wiping your face while he watches you with a quiet intensity.

"Whatever. I'm going to bed." You turn back toward him as he begins to push himself off the floor. "Alone."

His hand catches yours again. "....actually, i was havin' trouble sleepin'," Mutt suddenly admits, causing you to pause with your back turned toward him, halfway to the door. "do you wanna watch some tv with me? maybe see what kind of stupid shit passes for comedy for humans?"

That actually sounds really nice. You suck in a breath and sigh, deciding to relent.

For his sake.

"Okay, I'll turn on Netflix."

[tyranttortoise]

SSLL Bonus Chapter

I wrote up a drabble for @jolie-in-the-underground‘s spin the bottle fanart, seen here.  

Here’s the Ao3 link!

Hope you guys enjoy it!  <3

[tyranttortoise]

Stretch puts suction cups on his ribs where nipples would be. Asks Edge if he thinks it's cold in here.

Stretch leaned against the counter in the kitchen, his hands casually shoved in the pockets of his shorts–since he had currently shed his usual orange hoodie in favor of his black tanktop.

Edge stood beside him, furiously punching tomatoes with his fists to make his sauce.  That was new; usually, he conjured a bone to pound them into pulp.  He must be irritated.

Stretch smirked.  His sucker clicked against his teeth as he shifted it from one side of his mouth to the next.  He expected Edge to acknowledge his presence, but the edgy skeleton was pointedly ignoring him.  

“hey,” Stretch finally drawled, tilting his skull back against the cabinets.  Edge didn’t even grunt in his direction, but Stretch noticed the next punch was more forceful than the others; he was surprised it didn’t crack the counter.  He waited a little longer, the passing moments punctuated by the loud whack/splat combination of bone pummeling ingredients.  A bit of tomato speckled Stretch’s exposed arm.

“hey, edge.”  The other’s eyesockets narrowed even more than usual.  “hey, is it cold in here?”  No response.  More pummeling.  

Whack.  Whack.  

“it feels cold in here to me.”

Whack.  

“c’mon, buddy.  are you givin’ me the cold shoulder? heh.”

CRACK!

Whoops, the counter broke.  Stretch doesn’t even flinch, chuckling instead.  Edge finally whirls around to face him, fury vibrating through his bones.  

“I SWEAR TO ASGORE, YOU’RE SUCH AN IMBECILE!!  IF YOU’RE COLD, GO PUT ON THAT HOODIE THAT REEKS OF SMOKE AND SHA–”

Edge’s eyelights shift down to the other’s chest, and Stretch arches his back, his grin turning positively shit-eating.  “were you gonna say shame, edgy?  ‘cause that’s not somethin’ i really have.”

Edge releases an inarticulate scream before picking up the closest thing to him–the skin of a tomato–and chunking it straight at Stretch.  

MISS.

The prankster leans his head to the right, and the peel slams into the cabinet behind him, slowly sliding down and leaving a streak of red.  

“didn’t mean to get’cha seeing red, pal.”

And then Stretch winks and teleports away to the sounds of Edge destroying the kitchen.

( @messedupessy​  I immediately thought of you.  xP )

[tyranttortoise]

Hey~ I was just wondering, did axe tells crooks that the human knows they ate human and isn't afraid of them? I'm just wondering because during the drinking game they don't even hide the fact. If so, could we see their point of view when axe tells crooks the reader knows please :3 I can imagine crooks becoming very afraid until axe reassures him they're not going to loose her

I finally got the chance to type this up! <3

Here’s the Ao3 link.