#brassberry

_In no particular order

4 fics contain dark themes

5 fics contain smut (3 of 5 eventual)

12 fics are reader fics

5 fics are Sans x Sans

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1. Skeleton Games

By poetax (279k words)

Characters: Muffet, Red, Edge, Reader

Tags: Feuding neighbors, vampire reader

Note: None

Pure Bite is trying his best 💔

My version of Bittyswap involves full-sized bittybones (and other monsters) living in the Underground and getting miniature humans as pets.

———-

"Psst. Psst!"

Ugh. How can such a short arrangement of letters be such an effective weapon against sleep? I cracked open a single eye though the childlike tone of the hissed voice pointed an obvious finger at the sleep disturbing culprit. Cherry. The sight of two very large red eyelights did not surprise me in the least. With a groan, I opened my other eye. Alas, fair slumber, we part ways too soon.

That tiny motion caused Cherry's round face to light up like one of those explosions that melts your retinas. Gosh I love this sweet, adorable skeleton. 

"Are you awake?" he whispered. I considered a sarcastic No, but Cherry's sensitive emotions happen to be the perfect deterrent against Vex snark. 

I nodded, crawling onto his hand so that we could relocate our conversation to somewhere less bedroom-y. I may have been awake, but Cap sprawled out across Brassberry’s bed, blissfully unaware of the early morning shenanigans of the two smallest housemates. I envied him… until he rolled into a teeny tiny puddle of human!bitty drool. I snorted with laughter as Cherry carried me down to the kitchen.

Not so long ago, I would have worried about becoming a crispy fried human, but now I only questioned Cherry’s wisdom when he informed me that I would be his assistant chef. The precious angel wanted to make breakfast for his exhausted brothers, and I didn't have the heart to tell him that I am an abysmal cook. I mean, I don’t eat, and the Temmies didn’t exactly provide us with culinary tools or cooking lessons.

I hoped Cherry knew what he was doing.

I hoped wrong.

We encountered our first problem while reading the recipe. “It says two cups of flour,” I told Cherry, who gathered the ingredients. He set the container of flour on the counter and opened a cupboard. I waited next to the bowl where we planned to mix our perfect pancake batter. At that point, I still thought we could handle a simple recipe. Ah, hubris.

“All of the cups are different sizes,” Cherry reported from halfway inside the cupboard. 

I considered this newest development. “As long as we use the same cup every time we measure, it should work,” I suggested with much more confidence than I truly felt. Cherry plunked a coffee mug down next to the flour before reading the next line of the recipe aloud with me.

We hit our second snag. 

“What’s a teaspoon?” Cherry asked me. I shrugged.

“Maybe we should get the spoons out and look at them. Maybe they’re labeled.” They were not labeled.

“None of these look like a T.”

We definitely could not handle a simple recipe, but we did not let that fact stop us. Ah, hubris (again). Cherry selected a spoon, citing that it would “do,” though what it would do, we had no idea. Surely not measure the proper amount of something. Pushing forward, we began scooping ingredients into our bowl with enough gusto to make up for our lackluster ability to measure. I leaned over the edge of the bowl to assess our work… and tipped the whole thing over onto myself in a puff of white powder. Thankfully we were still working with dry ingredients.

Unintimidated by this setback (hubris the third), we reassembled the dry ingredients. I stayed a few steps away from the treacherous bowl at all times now, opting instead to roll eggs to Cherry who broke them into the dry ingredients with only a few tiny shells getting mixed in. I considered it a victory, which we needed because adding the milk was a clear defeat. The mixing bowl overflowed, spilling milk- which Cherry nearly did cry over- all over the counter.

I rush to reassure Cherry. “Remember all of those MTT specials we watched?” He nodded, eyelights wavering with unshed tears. “That rectangle guy made huge messes, and all of his food turned out ok, didn’t it?” I mean, most of the food ended up being bombs anyway, but at least that’s what he intended to make. Cherry nodded again. Time to complete the ol’ Inspirational Speech: “Let’s grab a bigger bowl, add a little extra milk to cover what spilled, and get these pancakes… cakin’?”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think the pitter-patter of milk dripping from the edge of the counter onto the floor sounded like muted applause. Did I mention the hubris yet?

READ ON AO3

Idk. I've never drawn a bara type bitty. ┐( ∵ )┌

Swiss here is a Brassberry (made by @ammazolie-blog​, rip), and the third bitty to join our family.

Swiss:

Personality: kind, loyal, big brother type, helpful as all heck

Height: 10 inches? decently big boi

Likes: Cuddles, sushi, raspberries, binge-watching shows, podcasts, cheesy jokes

Dislikes: large bodies of water (larger than him), olives, sadness, great heights (like a building), moths. 

Honestly the story of Swiss is a pretty typical one for Brassberry adoptions. Back a little into my senior year of high school, I was walking through the city to get to a different bus stop to get home, as my usual route was blocked by construction. I hear yelling from across the street, and then, as I turn to look, a “BANZAI.” 

2/2 He looks to be a Horrortale Papyrus bitty. He doesn’t speak any language, just babble, but I’ve had some success with a picture board. All his teeth are broken, likely on purpose, so he need soft foods. He doesn’t like other bitties, we think he was used as both bait and a heat aid for them so he screams if they’re near, but he seems okay with humans. Anyway, I hope you can help, he doesn’t have long left. We think they just called him Bait, but maybe that should change.

- - -

A bitty fighting ring.

Fuck.

Pardon my language, but FUCK.

I’m going to have to talk to Mama and make sure she’s aware of the situation, she came to us from a similar situation and could get violent if she thinks we’re getting a fighter. I’ll get a space together for the little guy, it’s going to be difficult to properly care for him since pretty much everybody here at the Sanctuary besides myself is a type of bitty.

As for the name... Well. No body deserves to be named BAIT.

Until he feels better and decides to choose a name for himself, I’m going to go with my gut and name this little survivor after one of my favorite Irish mythological heroes- Cu Chulainn, the mighty hound of Ulster.

///

“Remember, stay out of sight until I’ve got him settled, okay? He’s scared of other bitties, pretty much the opposite of Pocket, so he’s going to be staying with us here in my room until we can figure out something better.”

“S’why y’made that house thingy?”

Cell nodded, lowering themselves down onto their knees next to the bed. Underneath, a large cardboard box had been set up much like the kennel apartments in the medbay, large enough for a nice bed and space to store clothing and personal items without feeling crowded or stuffy. Strings of tiny fairy lights were stitched through the top, giving a warm ambient glow to the comfy little space. Hopefully, the badly spooked little Horror Pap would like it...

“Okay, Brass, I’m gonna help him out of my hoodie. Could you go to your room for a little bit?”

The brassberry frowned, but nodded, moving from the desk where he had been sitting over to a ladder that went all the way to the top of a bookcase, where another box apartment had been set up, though it looked much more lived in. With their roommate out of the way, Cell hunkered down and gently reached into their sweatshirt to where the latest addition to the Center had decided to hide himself upon being given over, tucked up under Cell’s arm and making an honest attempt at melding into their turtleneck.

“Hey, Cu, you ready to see your new room? We can move it to where ever you want, but I thought you’d like the privacy under the bed.”

When the bitty didn’t respond, Cell tried not to take it personally. The Horror Pap didn’t understand really all that was going on, and had apparently never been around anyone speaking long enough to pick up any kind of language, so communication was difficult at best. So far, they had been making do with a calming vocal tone and gestures bordering on sign language, but the hardest part was trying to move the little guy without scaring or hurting him. He seemed to be really clingy and touch starved, but screamed when he was handled in any way he didn’t like, which was a frightening learning process.

Cell reached a few fingers towards the bitty, watching to make sure his eye lights were tracking, and very gently tapped him on the nearest wrist. He jolted, startled, but looked up and seemed to finally notice that it was quite a bit lighter. He clung harder, and Cell sighed, sitting back on their legs.

“It’s okay, Cu, we’ve got all night...”