✶SMTH-NEW★

BYI:

I can be... cringe? I guess??? I honestly can't help you if you interact with my content anyways though. Just don't harass me please.

I am a snowflake, I am sensitive, please be nice. I am human (oh wow a fiction kin who knows they are biologically human. wow. CRAZY concept.)

I have some pretty strict interests (might try and branch out for friends/moots though)

I am ALMOST ready to take commissions for discord nitro. I'm only taking 5 spots at a time because I am REALLY bad at living up to expectations/deadlines.

I am very possibly mentally ill. I will not state anything about myself until I am medically diagnosed, but I have show behaviors linked to some disorders/afflictions. This is an explanation for me, not an excuse.

DNI:

Proshippers/darkshippers

If I tell you to/if you make me generally uncomfortable

Error or Uncorrupted Nightmare yumes/selfships (sorry)

If you can't handle somebody with cool artskillzz

Defenders of bad people within a community (Blogthegreatrouge, Stwabewwy miwk, etc)

AI users, art thiefs, and generally problematic people.

Cool info about me!!:

Fictionkin and LGBTQ :0

Yume/selfshipper (sigh F/O my love <3)

Has a life offline (AND A PARTNER?!?)

my art takes an average of 2-3 hours for every piece

My favorite ships are Killer X Dust, Horror X Cross, and Dream x Ink.

My fav season is fall and my favorite weather is warm rain

My favorite Aus are Horrortale, ____tale, Dreamtale, and Megalosomnia

!!NOTICE!!

I AM NOT OKAY with any kind of generative AI, please DO NOT use my art for anything other then maybe inspo? I love to inspire and help artists create!

I am a very anxious person, I may not respond to your comment or ask if I am afraid of disappointing you/not meeting your expectations.

I keep my age private for personal reasons, but even then keep in mind that I am ace and would rather not deal with overly thirsty asks/comments! A certain level is okay, but I will delete/ignore if it makes me too uncomfy!

I disagree with Pro/Dark/Com ship because a lot of them romanticize harmful concepts, and reguardless of whether or not people who are victims of the things portrayed like it or if its fiction, it makes me uncomfortable and if you talk about it/try to argue you will be blocked and reported!

-Night is the shortest because he cn't grow past US!Sans' height (he has Us!Sans' body) -Error is REALLY cold and likes putting his hands on either of us to make us jump -I usually end up between the both of them, but I always cuddle Night first because of Error's fear of touch -None of us could handle having a pet. -Night has really bad nightmares from what happened in his au, and he has a hard time sleeping after the nightmare is over

-When Error is having a hard day with his clothes, Night likes to be on standby just incase he needs anything -Both of my partners are available when I almost relapse, Error usually tells me not to and Night just hugs me -Error is only mildly over his fear of touch, and he still reboots if its too much -Night really likes kids cartoons and just generally childish stuff, due to his traumatic childhood and how he never got 'normal' kid stuff -Neither care about my scars

Saccharin by Me

You padded along the stone floors, socks catching on the imperfections in the brick while you continued to walk down the hall. A storm had set in outside, the rain pattering against the windows blending in with your own thoughts to form soft background noise that accompanied your walk down to what you had come to name as the living room, or the common area.

It was a particularly quiet day, nothing notable had happened yet despite how particularly late in the day it was. Glare had been reading, Flint and Vile presumably sparring, Shiv... not talking to you directly, all as Nightmare did whatever he does in his free time. It was nearly mundane, if not for the countless books to read and people throughout the castle to speak with if you so choose, though considering it was only your second day... you weren't so confident yet.

Placing your palm on a hard door frame- despite the lack of door- you poked your head into the kitchen, before finally stepping over the threshold and into the spacious kitchen. The crackling sound of oil over flame filled your ears and drowned out the noise in your head.

Taking a moment to inspect the kitchen, you quickly noticed Brute standing over the fire stove, made of brick and metal. A flame crackled inside of the oven, lighting the metal above red hot as a cast iron dish sat on top of it. Ah, he was frying something.

You watched quietly from the safety of the corner, eyes dragging over every movement the large skeleton made. He had a few dishes out and a plate on the counter. Brute appeared to be breading some meat- ah chicken.

You finally gained the courage to step out from the corner and take a closer look at the skeleton's handiwork, chicken breast being fried in hot oil over a fire that you hadn't seen die yet. It could very well be magic, though you were unsure considering you didn't always wake up the earliest.

Spices mixed in with bread crumbs, giving it a gentle red hue as Brute coated chicken in it, once, twice, three times. At which point, he appeared satisfied with the amount of breading, and placed it in the pan. Then he saw you, though perhaps he had always known you were there and just choose not to acknowledge you until now. Either way, the way his gaze fixed on you made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

He lumbered over to you, eye light calculating but not cold as he looked over you, not speaking as he turned back to the pan and flipped the chicken. Then you heard his voice, a deep baritone with the rough accent you loved from the very first day, even when he tried to be threatening or even intimidating.

"... you need somethin'?"

He continued watching the chicken sizzle and fry in the pan as the smell of cooked chicken and spices wafted up through the air and settled on the tip of your senses, nice and pleasant. You took a moment before responding.

"Was wondering how you were doing. Haven't heard from you all day." You excused yourself of any ulterior motives.

"... I'm fine. Anything else you need, or are you just lingerin'?"

"Lingering."

Your voice felt too quick out of your mouth as you choked out the word. You just hadn't thought to talk to him until now, that's it. A small reassurance despite your desperate situation regarding Nightmare. No matter how much you lie to yourself, someone will find out.

He seemed unsatisfied with your answer, but said nothing, instead pulling out the chicken breast and pressing it onto some sandwich bread that he had placed on the plate. Not before cutting off a small piece however, turning his back to you while assembling the sandwich. He handed you a piece of the chicken.

"... try it, if you plan to keep on stayin' in ere'"

You took the chicken from his hand and- fuck that burns! Still hot oil douses your fingers and you drop the morsel to the floor, pulling your hands to your chest before inspecting them. That looks like atleast a nasty first degree burn. He seems to have noticed your distress, turning to look back at you far faster then usual.

"What? What appened'?" You could here a twinge of genuine concern in his voice as he bent down and inspected your fingers.

"Burnt myself on the oil." Might as well be honest with him about your injury if nothing else you feel.

Brute looked over your face before roughly tugging you over to the sink, turning on the water and running your hand under the cool liquid in attempt to soothe your burn. He didn't speak, even looking oddly focused in a way you hadn't seen him so far.

"Brute. It- it's fine, really. I can handle it." You tried to reassure the skeleton monster, but something about your words seemed to set him off.

His gaze finally settled on your facial features, tracing over the curve of your nose and the warmth on your cheeks. He then replied, voice nearly silent in what sounded like shame, another thing you hadn't seen from him yet.

"M' sorry. Didn't mean tah hurt you. Honest mistake."

Brute apologized. To you. He placed a hand on the back of your neck in a firm, comforting gesture, and looked into your eyes as though searching, then he looked away. A subtle hint of red rose to his zygomatic arches, small enough to only be noticed if you were looking.

"... you should run back off you your room now, little runt."

Something in your SOUL told you that he really wanted you to leave, more then he let on. You gave a curt nod and his hand released your neck, before slowly walking up to one of the bathrooms to find some cream for your burn.