#vcidbound

[fontcomic-blog]

“I’m not gonna do anything morally repugnant.”

M.F.

〔Ω〕:: вeнιnd a ѕмιle ::

“uh huh. sure.”

*(There’s never been a single instance in which he’s had faith Gaster could stick to that, if just because as far as Sans is concerned? Everything he does is morally repugnant. Call him biased, he doesn’t really care.)

[fxllenmercy]

Let’s make a flower crown!

…Oh this one’s tall.

The little human gestures to the monster to ask him to kneel down, they couldn’t throw a flower crown that high very easily!

[fontcomic-blog]

@vcidbound

〔Ω〕:: вeнιnd a ѕмιle ::

*(That’s all Gaster gets; the most irritated look. Why are you even here?)

[fontcomic-blog]

@knifekiind & @mutemade & @vcidbound || [x]

〔Ω〕:: вeнιnd a ѕмιle ::

*(There are several things that he never wants to hear. Screaming happens to rank as one of the biggest ones. Unfortunately for him, the scream that reaches him loudest is the one he knows well.)

*(Bones moving in elaborate cascades, jutting out at all directions and the glint--)

*(He’s moving before he can properly come out of the memory’s flash. And perhaps that’s why the door ends up knocked off it’s hinges with traces of cyan magic in wisps and his slippers thudding across the hallway. And then down the stairs just as quickly, half-teleporting himself through a trip on one and then he reaches the entryway.)

*(And time slows to a crawl at the scene that awaits him. He watches Katie shove the brat away, sees the knife--red, red, he hates red--and the stench of blood already wafting through the air. And then, he starts to B U R N. Anger fuels him, his pupils having just returned for a second before blanking out again as his hand lifts and a resounding ping echoes through the room. Chara would find themselves yanked away.)

“... y’know.”

*(Bones arc around him in a loose spread, he’s numb to reality and consequences now. Rage has inflamed his SOUL and he will stop for nothing here. He could crush them right now, but no... He has to make it S T I C K this time.)

“I  a l w a y s  k n e w  I  w a s  r i g h t  a b o u t  y o u.”

*(And then he grips them, pulling them toward him without mercy; bones angled forward and aimed to k i l l--)

[fontcomic-blog]

outofbones::

sentient salt pile bickering with mentions of @xpacifrisktic under cut from skype.

Sans * me. * every morning. * oh look, the sky got lighter. * the asshole over my shoulder. clears throat. * IT’S CALLED THE SUN RISING. * it’s called the ball of fire in the sky is coming to ruin my day, shut the fuck up. Gaster * SANS WE BOTH KNOW THAT THE SUN IS NOT A BALL OF FIRE * IT IS COMPRISED ALMOST ENTIRELY OF PLASMA Sans * gas. * if we’re going by frisk’s textbook. Gaster * I DEMAND THE LOCATION OF HER SCIENCE TEXTS * AND MY FINE TIP MARKERS Sans * her teachers are going to literally roast tori and me for defacing school property. * fuck no. * you can have a fucking notebook. * and paraphrase in it with the textbook beside you. Gaster * I CAN * AND WILL * RE-WRITE THE ENTIRE SECTION * AND TAPE IT INSIDE THE TEXT BOOK * WHICH WE BOTH KNOW IS FAR MORE OBVIOUS Sans * don’t put tape on school property. * you can put it in the book, i guess. * not that the kid could read it. * unless you’re also adding to your rapidly lengthening list of demands that i translate. * which, by the way, i’m not doing. * so, the whole concept is pretty pointless. Gaster * I AM MORE THAN INTELLIGENT ENOUGH * TO USE THE ROMAN ALPHABET IN PLACE OF MY OWN * WITHOUT YOUR AID Sans * says the guy who screams in his native tongue specifically in my sci-fi novels. * sure ya can. * my mistake. Gaster * I DO THAT BECAUSE IT ANNOYS YOU Sans * fantastic. * here’s a word of advice. * S t o p. Gaster * I MIGHT * WHEN IT STOPS BEING FUN.

[fontcomic-blog]

✖ [/rolls on butt.]

Don’t Forget

✖ — a repressed memory

@vcidbound

〔Ω〕:: вeнιnd a ѕмιle ::

*(If he had his way, he would spitefully keep count of every affliction he’d been given; if just to fuel his anger. A sick, yet somehow necessary maintenance of hatred. But, in his more innocent years… Trauma was not so easily handled and packaged away as fuel for the fire. Namely, the heinous actions taken shortly after his creation.)

*(He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why he doesn’t understand, he just … knows he doesn’t. Not in those exactly words, but … the lack is there. It’s enough. The first thing he sees should’ve been light, but the moment he’s conscious enough to feel; there’s P A I N. And he doesn’t understand why it hurts. What’s causing the hurt. These questions are merely flickers of feelings in-between throes of agony.)

*(What was happening? He didn’t know. Forcing his eyes open only made it hurt more, and whatever minuscule glances he managed to get only revealed something white suspended above him. And multiple hands moving. He didn’t know what either were, but everytime the hands moved; his eyes shot open and liquid magic gathered uselessly in his sockets and dribbled inwards. That, he didn’t understand either. Not understanding as it slipped down the inside of his skull and bubbled out from the joint connection between his spine and it.)

*(He wanted it to stop, even without knowing what stop meant yet. So, he does the only vocalization he can—the only one everything instinctively knows without being taught. He screams. Only for a pair of hands to swiftly silence him with a balled up cloth shoved unkindly into his mouth. It muffles him, and fear latches onto him in icy tendrils. He doesn’t understand what it means to be afraid, having no words to attach to it. Feelings were unknown to him, and it seemed the only figure in there besides him—one he was currently unaware of due to being constantly distracted by every prod and poke—wasn’t going to bother explaining them.)

*(But, it wasn’t the worst. Not yet. There’s a surge of white hot anguish would flood him next, unable to understand the newly introduced implement piercing the white thing. Somehow, amid the pangs of suffering, he came to wonder if that white thing was part of him. But, whenever the thought would come, a wave of pain would push it back. He was nearly delirious by then, almost feeding back into unconsciousness yet something barred him from falling back into blessed darkness. Almost as if he needed to be conscious for this, more things he didn’t understand nor want.)

*(The jabbing pain finally fell away, and he was left a wreck of quaking bones and with blue magic drool saturating the cloth and dribbling down his chin. He forces his sockets open, briefly, a glimpse of the white thing—that by this time he was almost sure was his white thing—covered in strange strings with flat things on them. He doesn’t bother to try and understand, he’s too tired and nothing makes sense. Not even the concept of sense itself. His sockets close and he drifts…)

*(An unknown amount of time passes—not that a concept of time is even present for him—before his sockets open and he finds himself able to look around this time. It’s not bright this time, or at the very least he doesn’t shy away from it. The gag is still there, but it feels less wet. It doesn’t cross his mind that it might’ve been removed when he was out; it wouldn’t. He simply finds his attention captured by the room.)

*(For a moment, before pain reclaims his senses. It’s not as intense as before, painful yes… But, discomfort more so. Descriptions he doesn’t yet have, but he knows he can still look despite this. It’s… dreary, dark. He doesn’t have those words, but he knows he doesn’t like it. His eyes close at a sudden pang of particularly potent discomfort, and he stays that way; dizzy and the concept of free seems so far away. It’s just a feeling; the word means nothing to him now. He doesn’t feel like he should be stuck like this.)

*(The person—whom he just now catches sight of and the resulting fear grips him—moves about with tiny clicks. The noise doesn’t make sense, but they look at him and he quivers. The white thing quivers, and next he hears is static and it terrifies him. He doesn’t understand, and it’s scary. He doesn’t understand that either. Nor does he understand how his thoughts suddenly cut off when that person leans over him quickly and a jabbing pain cycles through him. And then he feels numb… And he drifts again…)

*(He’s slower to wake this time, stubbornly clinging to the ignorance that blissful cold dark gives. He doesn’t want the light. It hurts, it’s nothing but pain and discomfort and fear for him. He tries to ignore it, return back; but the discomfort reels him back. He tries to express his want for it to stop again, but the cloth prevents it. He doesn’t try again, lethargic and simply wanting to drift away again. That must’ve been something wrong, even if he doesn’t yet know what the difference between wrong and right is.)

*(The same jabbing pain from before slams into him full force, and his sockets water again, unpleasantly dripping back into his skull. There’s no sloshing—the person must’ve cleaned out the other tears—but his white thing ripples at the feeling. It hadn’t done that before, and he doesn’t understand much of it. It’s come to approach truth that he and his white thing are connected, but the words meaning is lost on him. All he knows is that it’s his.)

*(He doesn’t stay conscious for the entire process this time, drifting and out in waves, only barely aware of anything at any time now. The person’s clicks, the other strange sounds; he feels separate from them and the pain that skims the surface of his delirium. He goes under fully after another few minutes and stays down for a good while…)

*(He wakes up knowing nothing, a strange blank space and a sore discomfort in his … What? He sees the white thing float, and the strangest sense of familiarity bubbles up. His? Was it his? It seemed to be. He hears clicks, and looks up; and flinches a bit. The person holds up large, hole-filled hands. A floating pair join them, and even through his fear, he is curious. He tries to reach out, and falters; but the hands catch him and deposit him back on the table. He understands none of this, but he’s consumed with a desire to at least know who this person is.)

“☜✌☝☜☼ ✌☼☜☠❄ ✡⚐🕆”

*(The person approaches, and he shakily reaches again, bones clicking; and one of the floating hands catch his smaller one. While he doesn’t understand, this action appeases him and he stills completely; large pupils lifting from the hands to the other’s face. He grins, doesn’t understand why he does, but it feels nice.)

“✋ ✌💣 👎⚐👍❄⚐☼ ☝✌💧❄☜☼✌☠👎 ✡⚐🕆✌☼☜ 💧🕆👌☺☜👍❄ 📁📂🖮💧✌☠💧 💧☜☼✋☞”

*(He can’t speak back, doesn’t yet know how. But, he can tell that name is for him and that the other one is this person. He knows who they are now. He doesn’t know the word or reason… But, he thinks he likes them.)

[fontcomic-blog]

🍟

Steal from a Thief

〔Ω〕:: вeнιnd a ѕмιle ::

*(It’s times like these that he can’t make himself forget they share a favourite food. There’s no rush in the way the taller of them plucks the fries from the plate. He isn’t sure what to do, the sounds of Grillby’s surrounded him so making a scene was absolutely out of the question.)

*(So, he takes the only action he can. Quick as he can, when Gaster takes another fry and draws back... He empties the entire contents of the nearby bottle of ketchup over the food. Sans can’t be sure if it’ll be enough to deter him--spite has prompted both of them to do things they otherwise wouldn’t--but at least it seems to have discouraged it for the moment.)

*(Grillby asks if he’s alright, knowing full well that bottle wasn’t rigged. He offers him a smile and shoves a handful of saturated fries into his mouth; one ketchup covered hand giving a thumbs up.)

[balefulblossom-blog]

vcidbound

Freaks. Freaks everywhere.

He was one, for being a soulless abomination, not meant to be even alive in this world anymore. Sans was one just because the freaky shit he can do for some reason.

And this new monster in front of him? Can add that to the list too. Just look at him! Guy needed to get checked up.

“...Howdy?”