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Charles worshipping Edwin's scars.

I wish there were more fics that focused on them having physical scarring. Because there are so many interesting stuff we can do with it.

The insecurity, the trust you need for showing them.

And we already know Charles adores Edwin's flaws. He doesn't just accept them, he loves Edwin's flaws- him being bitchy and mean is genuinely a flaw and Charles loves that about him.

Charles would've loved kissing all of Edwin's scars👀 maybe scars from hell, or scars from being tied up.

He would've loved staring at him with heart eyes thinking he's the most perfect thing ever.

It doesn't have to be sexual, I just want them adoring each other's form. Loving each other's flaws and everything. Because they would. They would adore each other's flaws.

So. Just saying.

Living this out in the air.

If anyone wants to write that....

Please @ me.

Echo flowers were not just beautiful; Callisto found that they smelled quite lovely as well. The scent stuck to their clothing like pollen, and when they left they’d find it hard to be rid of the pleasant smell. Not that they’d want to get rid of it.

Callisto marveled at the flowers for a long time, then, listening to the soft harmonies of echoes. They hadn’t heard that nickname in many years.

Letting out a quiet, appreciative sigh, Callisto trailed their fingers along the velvety, glowing petals again.

“Hey, Little Moon, you need some help with that?”

“Daaad, I got it! Hurry and get the door, we’re gonna miss it!”

Callisto stood up, brushing the dirt from their bottom absently.

“Dad! Dad come back out you have to see this! It’s starting!”

They suddenly felt very badly that the monsters down here couldn’t see the stars.

They wondered if Gaster had ever seen the stars.

“Hey, Gaster...?” Callisto started quietly, finishing dusting themself off and standing straight. “Have you ever seen the stars?”

It wasn’t as if they had pictures to show him if he hadn’t... But maybe, maybe if they talked to Asgore... Maybe Gaster--maybe no one--would need pictures.

Redolent fragrances wisped around the two. Motes of pollen wafted around their soft-spoken conversation, twirling slowly in the air like starlit dancers to the dulcet tones of their voices.  

“… H o w  i s  y o u r  v i e w  o f  t h e  t w i n k l i n g  s t a r s  t o n i g h t  …?”

Tranquility cradled the moment and Gaster committed it to memory; every emotion to his heart, and every expression and word to his mind. 

“…T h e y  s h i n e  j u s t  f o r  y o u , L i t t l e  M o o n …”

The nickname was nothing more than that to him, but at seeing Callisto’s reaction to it he thought it must hold a much deeper meaning to them. It was little more than a breath, those two words.

And Gaster wondered at the importance of that nickname, and he wondered how a child could be as entranced by the echo flowers as he was.