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arthurrei07 · 1 month

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actverse/ take on fell!sans, murder!sans and killer!sans / pt. 4

tws: implied nüdity, curse words, scars, mentioned st4bbing, sëx jokes, implied drüggêd character.

ships: one sided dustard, implied nightkiller.

Fell was freezing.

His body was wet. His face was wet. His hair was wet. And the water droplets slid down from his hair to his shoulders to his back — they either hurt so fucking much as they went in his bandages or froze him to his guts as they left a wet trail.

Well, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t covered with anything—just the wettest towel he had ever fucking felt and everytime he breathed out, his skin touched it and he got fucking cold, cold as fucking shit.

He could at least feel the gripping bandages covering most of his torso and abdomen, keeping him slightly warm or some shit.

Wait.

Where was he?

This couldn’t be UnderFell. If he was in UnderFell, Papyrus would have already shouted at him to get the fuck up — he would even bang the pans together for him to literally jolt up awake.

Papyrus wouldn’t bandage him either.

Not UnderSwap. Blue wouldn’t leave him out in the cold, and he would have already woken up to his Papyrus’ loudass snoring.

Not UnderLust. Definitely not UnderLust.

Under… Tale? No, he didn’t think so. UnderTale was gone. The border was closed.

Where the fuck was he?

Fell tried to breathe, the air immediately getting tangled in his chest as dry coughs bursted out of the back of his throat. He desperately coughed, his poor voice coming too hoarse for his liking. He groaned softly as his throat ached, a faint murmur rising from his lips as he complained about the cold and wet towel.

“…Murder, Killer.”

And Fell had never been this pissass scared because, well—fucking Nightmare.

He hysterically tried to get rid of the overwhelming tiredness trying to take over his body, his efforts merely even moving an eyelid, leave alone a limb.

His breathing came out in rather ragged and hitching breaths, his utterly dry throat throbbing as he once burst out coughing.

“Calm.”

Fell’s clamping shut chest gradually became relaxed, but he still didn’t hold himself back from audibly groaning.

“Did he wake up?” And the tone almost sounded too familiar to his ears, causing his teeth to bare up — Fell didn’t know if it was because of the voice or the newly incoming wind blowing right onto his face, but with the exception of it being shriller than usual.

He didn’t know if it was Killer’s or Murder’s, just the shitty tone rang in his brain, sending shivers down his spine as he visibly flinched.

“…Seems like he did.” No, this was Murder. The fucking rasp in his voice felt as if he was constantly snorting cigarettes, not even stopping for a breath. He probably hissed when someone offered him water to clear his hoarse throat, like a fucking rabid dog.

Ugly ass voice.

“Check his temperature,” Nightmare said, and Fell heard his heels click on the most probably a wooden floor, his voice getting gradually fainter as his steps patterned away, “take care of him. I will be in my office.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Fell’s eyelids trembled, trying to force themselves upper and upper — some kind of succeeding as they only could squint.

“Oh, shit,” Killer blurted out loud, his lips almost immediately pursing after his utterly unnecessary comment about—about whatever. He slightly glanced to his side, at Murder, eyes narrowing down.

“…He looks worse than before.”

“No, shit, Killer,” The monotone voice pierced into Fell’s ears, two eyes of different colors sparkling under his hooded head, “he literally got stabbed.”

Oh. That definitely made just so much fucking sense.

Killer’s mouth barely opened, an audible scoff coming out as his pitch black eyes—stared, or glared at Murder. His hands raised up to his own chest, crossing behind his arms as his long and slim fingers took his elbow into his palm, almost like grasping. He took a moment to hum sarcastically, an eerie smile placing on his lips as it sent creeps through Fell’s guts.

“Wow, really? He got stabbed?” Killer cooed, his tone suddenly and harshly dropping down afterwards, “Didn’t you stab him?”

“…I’m not talking about this any longer.” Murder muttered, pulling his hood down onto his eyes as Killer hysterically cackled at him.

“Oh, why? Are you embarrassed, Dusty?” Killer’s head tilted to Murder’s shoulder as he put his head down—and Murder immediately jerked back, causing Killer to freeze in his place so as not to fall face first into the floor. Killer dreamily sighed, “Hurting someone you love isn’t really like you, I suppose?”

“Shut up, Killer. It was an accident.” Murder’s shoulders visibly tensed as neither of Killer’s questions were not answered but the prior, his fingers leaving the tip of his hood as it slipped back up to his head and over his cap.

“…You,” Fell’s voice was no different than Murder’s, hoarse and croaky — cracking every time he waited to take in a breath, “…fucking stabbed me?”

Both of their eyes turned to Fell, a sudden change of Killer’s mischievous expression and Murder’s flashing eyes — into an astonished look. They stared at him, as if he was a lamb, running away from them as he was injured—the wolves.

Fell did not like that one bit.

But of course, as soon as Killer was shocked he was also back to his usual self of snarky behavior.

“You didn’t kill him off! Thank the Gods up above,” he took a moment to contemplate Fell even further, then turned to Murder with a gigantic and most definitely a sadistic grin, “and well, you, I guess.”

Killer proceeded to walk over to Fell after Murder didn’t give him the response he wanted—just the same shocked face gazing at Fell—and put a palm on the bottle of water standing on the glass coffee table, yanking it into his hand. He crouched down on the floor against the sofa Fell was laying on, his face facing Fell’s.

“Are you feeling better, sweetheart? Here, you should—“ And something hit Killer’s head from the back, earning a loud snicker from him as he was flung to the side.

“Don’t,” Murder’s words were not even remotely close to angry, but raging, “Don’t fucking call him that.”

“What?” Killer’s head perked back up to the air, a blob of hair batting into Fell’s vision, “He was my boyfriend too. We all dated him, you damned bastard.”

“…What the,” Fell’s right forearm placed downright onto the sofa, then left. He grunted as he eagerly but hardly tried to push himself up to his butt, but failed miserably as his tired body almost immediately gave up, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“Nonsense.” Murder’s fingers snapped and right after that his palm opened, the bottle in Killer’s hands plopping into Murder’s from mid air as he helped himself to Fell, “He is talking about nothing important.”

“Oh, come on,” Killer pouted, Murder’s eyes glaring at him, “are you just going to fucking lie? Not cool.”

“Go back to your pimp, you stupid idiot. If you want to get 11 inches shoved down your throat, go get it from Boss.”

Killer and Murder stared at each other for some solid seconds, their eyes racing to be the most intimidating.

“You could have just said that you want to keep him to yourself, you possessive freak,” Killer scoffed after a while, his eyebrows merely knitting. He pulled his body back up with a quick push and lift of his legs and Fell noticed, one of his legs had scars in the shade of pinks and blacks, definitely some burns of explosives.

Weird. Swap had the same ones.

“He is freezing,” Killer said, his tone not so hard, “replace the towel with something else, and dry his hair.” His eyes glanced back at Fell, and there was another burn on his cheek that he just came to realize — nearing to his lips, on the same side as the burns on his leg, “Put a blanket on him or something. Keep him warm.”

“I already brought the radiator here,” Murder’s index finger raised to point somewhere, and Killer snorted at his possible idiocy — and Fell frowned at his absolute lack of self control. Well, none of them had that, actually.

“Do you want him to die before you have the chance to lay him? Well you know what, I’ll cuddle him. You can go.” Fell saw the piece of mischief written on his lips, and he just knew that he just made some bullshit up to get Murder fuming.

And yet again, something dashed across the air and smacked Killer in the head, but this time he cried out.

“Shit, alright! Leave him to rot, then. I don’t fucking care anymore.” Killer’s footsteps scurried away as they pattered on the wooden floor like bunch of heavy stones — thumping onto the ground with just his socks.

Also, he didn’t miss to flip Murder off on his way out.

Murder took a moment to sigh out of his mouth, his glowing eyes turning back to Fell. They just stared from a distance, not threatening but observing him inch by inch—as if he was something special.

He walked forwards to the sofa and stopped by it. Murder put one knee down on the floor, reaching for the bottle laying on the stained rug. He grabbed it, straightening upright.

“Get up. Drink some water.”

Fell agitatedly huffed out, lips moving as he rasped out, “As if I can. I am physically unable to move. Or you would have been done, you bastard.”

And Murder flung the bottle next to Fell, startling him with the swift action. He slightly bent over to his body, taking the wet towel off him as he rolled it into a ball and just… threw it to the side.

Fell felt the wind blowing onto his whole body, a frenzy of shivers running through his body as he just trembled in his place helplessly. His teeth clenched roughly against the cold, merely even clattering from his bared jaw, “…The hell is wrong with you? Why the hell—“

—Plop!

Murder was out of his jacket. And the jacket was on Fell.

Murder pulled the rolling radiator off from the back of the sofa, and to the side where it faced Fell’s frozen body. After that, he stepped over the white cable, plopping down on the side of the sofa as he gently—gently placed Fell’s head down on his laps.

“…What are you—“

“—Sleep.”

And Murder’s fingers started caressing Fell’s hair with a delicate touch, slowly undoing the knots and untangling the strands without hurting or pulling them. His touch was tender and almost too soft, completely opposite to the dumbass that he was.

As he ran his fingers gently through Fell’s wet hair, he calmed the knots quickly and easily.

This was weird, in complete contrast to his rough and rude way of behaving.

Fell sucked in a soft breath, and the scent of his hoodie hit his nose.

Comic. That was Comic’s scent.

Of course. This was what Killer was talking about.

Fell’s eyes did a last take at the messy living room, eyelids fluttering down to their places.

Time to fucking sleep, he guessed.

Murder/Dust Sans belongs to @ask-dusttale

Nightmare Sans belongs to @jokublog

Killer Sans belongs to @rahafwabas

OG Sans belongs to Toby Fox

Fell Sans belongs to @underfell

Actverse belongs to me

i kept writing Murder as murfer 😭😭 (smurfer)

#underfell #undertale #actverse #fell sans #dust sans #murder sans #killer sans #undertale au #utmv au #dustard #dustfell #fanfic #fanfiction #nightmare sans #gay

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slimmestslime · 4 months

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funny au information NOW [launching furniture via telekinesis]

MY FUCKING HOUSE. IT IS IN SHAMBLES

also your wish is my command. prepare for a wall

for things to make sense, i should give background on the spearheader of the au. aka, why the au even fucking exists. and once i do THAT then i’ll explain it so its not just. “ok how the fuck did this happen”

so to get it out of the way. i have this very particular oc, Tuppoi, whom i post abt on and off but ive never really explained. mainly due to the fact that if i were to explain her properly then any post would become the equivalent of the great firewall of china. but for au’s sake i’ll summarize what the fuck she is, how she do, and how she created another timeline. aka this au

tuppoi came from an AAHW cloning batch that uses fuckn, dna samples from prior to marshmellow madness when animals theoretically existed. there were 3 others in her batch but we’re only focusing on Fuckhead right now. her sample contained mostly lizard & skink dna, and some chromosome fuckery later, heres why she has four hands. some dissension shit later of “this job fucking SUCKS” and her technical brother was wounded in the crossfire of escaping, while also being slapped into a coma due to tuppoi’s own medical malpractice. she cant Medicbag. this caused her to want to revive him, so she put her talent of technical machinery to use and started to produce weaponry to raise funds to bring em back. this wasn’t enough though, so she switched to android manufacturing. many monopoly money later and she’s risen to the top where she can start asking around for those to revive her brother. which, smthn abt a fragmented S3LF later, she decides that she HAS to attract the attention of stygian in order to bring him back. monopolization and “fuckoff SQ” later, stygian arrives like the mercy from overwatch gif and revives her brother for shits and giggles then despawns (this is a pissass explaination but the visual works). this causes tuppoi to realize that death is a meaningless concept in nevada if you truly can just bring someone back from the dead, since she didnt fully believe it prior. and once she discovered what the fuck dissonance is (after one of her androids got killed), she got set on “resetting” nevada to its former glory, prior to the nexus’ downfall and prior to any improb drive activation. the “default of nevada” as she’d coin it.

so a fuckton of going back and forth between the SQ and purgatory shit later (the SQ deems her as a threat, and fuck i don’t blame them!) she opens a gate, nether portal, whatever to purgatory to let a very fucking dangerous thing out to scorch nevada. and with the help of her fuckass improb drive ipad infected with a null variable, which effectively bypasses the theoretical admin system of nevada (think like a pc), she completely reset nevada. though in canon she both succeeded AND failed due to an interloper completely splitting the process and causing her timeline to splinter off from the current, instead of completely resetting the nevada they resided in.

tldr, tuppoi is a fucking smug asshole and with the help of “i know too much for my own good”, she fractured reality because she saw the current reality as too easy, and went to make reality into her own vision.

okay are you still here. i didnt scare you off right. okay cool, so now about the au she successfully created and the shit you actually ASKED ABOUT,

the au Tuppoi created can best be summarized as “if cyberpunk 2077 took place in nevada, and if everything was a theoretical utopia”. everything is so technologically advanced that atleast every grunt has an augmentation of some sort. and where the SQ was trying to uphold the status quo of the machine, the SQ here is trying to completely break it in order to cause anarchy, out of sheer distaste under Tuppoi’s utopian and ever-so-subtle dictatorish rule.

a bit more context on to how the au was created, once tuppoi was slapped into the new timeline they were thrown immediately into when marshmellow madness was about to happen. so to prevent THAT and from a certain null integer spawning, with the power of her fuckass improb drive she completely deleted it. and since improb drives hadn’t even been conceived yet; it was freeroam for her to do whatever she wanted, to be perceived as a god and to shape nevada into her molding. and so her second course of action was to completely revoke The Maker’s admin role and to merge a certain fuckshit with The Machine, basically turning a degrading and almost deceased imac into a modern day gaming computer. so now, tuppoi has complete reign under nevada!

ok i fucking deviated BAH. morw about the au since this is not an exclusively tuppoi ramble even though she is keenly tied to it.

the au, the terminal au, named as such since. you can take terminal alot of different ways and also >computer terminal. grunts are effectively under a hivemind to stay “correct” and to follow their assigned tasks, their goals. much like actual madcom canon except the machine got fuckshit pissy about that not being followed. though here since every grunt is augmented, they’re hooked to the machine’s server which forces them to behave and not “act out of line”, making it VERY difficult to dissent, BUT. the SQ (which i probably need to rename huh) managed anyway from varying points;

doc being a super hacker and able to reroute past the machine’s connection, dei just turning off connection to the machine and doing the same thing for sanford— connecting to doc’s server if needbe for hacking purposes, and hank just. Well. Fucker is 80% bionic so he’s sort of relying off doc anyway, so he’s hardwired to doc’s server. really most of this can be summarized up to “me and the boys avoiding the school firewall”

jebus likely exists but not in the way you’d think, im still thinking about him but he’d be a savior in his own way, crackpot ate shit and died aka i dont even know if he exists considering in the au, nexus city didnt even get established, tricky i need to think about but he’d either be Mostly organic or Mostly mechanical, i cant tell. bro has to have a stark contrast somewhere and im still debating. employers only half-exist but their role isn’t “all-powerful overseeing gods”, its “forced into overseeing districts of nevada from their stations”, so every employer is forced to be the auditor since tuppoi does Not trust anyone. not even with creative mode she just Doesnt trust anyone, and she has no need to in hindsight.

phobos also doesnt exist. Shocking. or well, maybe crackpot&him could exist but they’d be so rewritten. maybe they’re a warhammer40k terminally online club idk LMAO.

feel like i should elaborate on both doc & hank’s designs so far but i think they’re self explanatory. doc has the Big Computer on his hip and is shaped like a hackerman, also has lightup sketchers cause he would. and he’d pull up his pc with holograms so that shit’s neat i think. also of course he’d be able to hack stuff, but his skills are Greatly Enhanced when his pc is on, at the tradeoff of him risking being discovered by tuppoi due to so many anonymous and heavily encrypted packets being sent to her server (the machine).

and hank is 80% bionic and 20%? mechanical, playing into the “this fucker is a MACHINE.” and the reason for him being so augmented so much, is that revival sort of Doesnt exist. yeah. death is fucking Permanent, and stuff like medicbags is a scarce find (can you tell tuppoi made this timeline.) so the only way to efficiently heal yourself is to augment yourself. Which is why hank looks like a fucking soldat on destiny steroids. and why he has that big fuckoff blade which can be replaced for other parts (but thats mostly to make him kill quicker) but by fucking god im not drawing them!! one of them is a railgun reconfigured into a rifle, and i’m NOT DRAWING THAT !!

but yeah. key takeaways;

— tuppoi (terminal) au is cyberpunk 2077 but nevada and everything is a utopia governed by Fuckshit Von Tupperware

— dissenters want reality fucked up and nuked because in every timeline they hate tuppoi (mostly true)

— tuppoi’s character arc is “i miss my brother -> “Reality is pointless and so is progression, it’s best if it was all reset and built anew under a more purposeful gaze.”

— i need to ramble about these fuckshits more so thank you for invading my home, throwing my furniture around like a gmod prophunt map, and asking for This

as a bonus heres terminal tuppoi & int i never posted because i forgor

#THANKYOU THANK Y THANKYOU FOR ASKING #i was waking up as i typed this so if shit doesnt make sense you can ask for reclarification #but fuckk i have so much. lore. help.#i stapled toyhouse links in for the characters i was referring to #because if i DIDNT then this would be longer than the great firewall.#madness combat #madness combat au #slimslime talks #still exploding btw thankyou thankyu #also i might redo the terminal int #still not happy w it but idk

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