Send In  “🔪+ A Number” For Your Muse To Impale Mine With Their Weapon Of Choice.

i fixed it. the other one had wonky colors and ALSO... it was flipped the wrong way :’)

the other one looked wrong and i couldn’t tell why and now it’s like 1:15 am but this was worth it because this one looked better and also... i saved the layers so i can edit the expression without having to erase other parts of it hah ain’t that smart

look at them

//"Can you ever forgive me?" ((bloomingasters =3c))

Callisto takes several steps back from Gaster. They hadn’t expected… How could he even see them?

They feel like they’re going to cry. It’d been awhile since they’d heard him talk. What was he even apologizing for? Callisto feels their own guilt, leaden on their heart–this was all their fault.

It was as if Gaster’s eyes were holding them in place; his gaze a heavy weight on their shoulders. How long had it been? Callisto had lost count of the months.

Their soul pulsed softly within the container on Gaster’s lab table, surrounded with little trinkets and tools–their journal, even, sat open next to a microscope. Callisto didn’t take notice of any of this, anyway, and even if they had they were too far away to see what page Gaster had flipped to.

If they were to take a step closer, they would see that the old, beaten spiral was opened to their crude notes on echo flowers, chock full of their incorrect theories.

“I-It’s not your fault,” they finally choke out. “I don’t… What are you apologizing for?”

Jupiter’s Moons

At some point                       I started looking at the ground more than the sky At some point                I’ve gotten scared of people’s eyes I hold out my hand,         But no one holds it.

It occured to Callisto--perhaps a bit belatedly--that they really shouldn’t have gone on ahead without Gaster. He was much more confident, smart, composed--

“H-Hey, come on, just listen. Please,” They held their notebook out, open to their notes. “Look, it’s--I have a plan, sir--”

Asgore didn’t even look like he’d heard them. Callisto threw themself to the ground to attempt to avoid Asgore’s trident, though they did end up with a rather nasty gash on their bicep and a complimentary tear in the sleeve of their sweater. Their journal was dropped, loose pages scattering across the bed of flowers. They first grabbed at the wound, but all that did was get blood all over their hands.

Callisto still scrambled to gather up what they could, and stood again, eyes watery with tears. They took a shaky breath, sniffling a bit and readjusting their glasses. It was their turn to make a move, after all. Quivering, they flipped back to where they had furiously scribbled all of Gaster’s important points--why this was more efficient, why it was better, what good it’d do in the long run--and took another breath. A few stray tears slipped out, but Callisto dashed them away quickly.

Gaster would not be shaking in his boots.

Gaster would’ve convinced Asgore to discuss this over a steaming cup of tea by now.

I’m going to die. The thought was sudden; unwelcome. Callisto pushed it away.

“You s-see, if you would a-allow me to explain... Y-You don’t h-have to hurt anyone, sir.” Their voice cracked, trembling. They were terrified, and it was clear for everyone to see. Being so easily read was only making them more afraid, though. Would that make them lose their credibility?

“I can just g-go back home, and bring back my foster parents, and... And...”

I’m going to die.

The hesitation was all Asgore needed to make his move again, this time opening another deep wound on their calf. Callisto dropped to their knees, but kept the journal clutched tight to their chest.

“W-Wait,” They whimpered softly. “Please,”

Dark red was staining the buttercups underneath them. They were going to die.

The sudden sound of frantic footsteps turned their head, back towards the long hallway they’d come down to get here. In the tall archway--

“Gaster?” Journal dropping, Callisto dragged themself to their feet, turning their back to Asgore. They were so relieved. He was here, he was going to tell Asgore it was all okay, and Callisto could go home. They could fix this all.

“You... You came for m-me?”

Three metal points, coated with a viscous, red substance--was that their blood?--sprouted from their chest. Callisto’s eyes flickered from their friend briefly to look down. It didn’t look real. Confused, they looked back up to Gaster. They couldn’t read his expression. Asgore must’ve yanked back on the trident because now they were lying on their back with three gaping holes in their chest, struggling to breathe. Gasping for air, their hand started to look for their journal. It must’ve fallen nearby--

“Callisto,” Oh, no. No no no no.

"Oh... Oh my god,” There was a pressure on their chest. He must’ve been trying to stanch the bleeding. Callisto had a vague feeling of guilt; blood stains would be hard to get out of his white fur. At least it’d grow out.

“Sorry,” It came out garbled. It hurt. Everything hurt. Callisto was afraid.

There were dozens of assurances that it was okay, that it wasn’t their fault, but they started crying anyways. They should’ve listened.

“Am I dying?”

“No, no, you aren’t dying. We’ll fix you up, Little Moon.” Callisto let out a short sob. He was wrong. Weakly, they pushed his paws off their chest--the blood was just soaking through anyways--and gripped a furry paw tightly in their hand, trying to look him directly in the eyes for once. Their breath rattled in out out raggedly, and when they tried to speak again, all that came out was blood. They sucked in a breath; they sucked in blood. They couldn’t breathe, they couldn’t breathe. They struggled, free hand gripping at the bloody buttercups underneath them, as if by holding onto something solid, something real, they could stay. They had to stay.

They had to tell him--

Callisto’s eyes rolled back, tensed muscles gradually loosening.

Their blood-stained hand let go of Gaster’s.

Send me “Where have you been?” to confront my muse after they’ve been missing for a year

Send me HC + a word and I’ll write a headcanon about it regarding my character.

Pssttt, I’m bored. Send my muse anons about anything you’ve ever wondered about them or the people in their life.

it will be okay. the stars will still shine