#Chara is not someone who did nothing wrong nor is Frisk

[sakuraswordly]

https://www.tumblr.com/nochocolate

nochocolate about-the-colors

undertale-spoilers-a-reference-sheet-for-chara

Red means continues as yourself including Chara. Chara did call you a demon. You the one who made choices and teach Chara what is good? Save or kill? There was a hint that Chara hate humans so that means Chara knew humans' nature. Chara didn't appear and just watch and want to know who the creatures you are. Chara finally know that the player is "Human" that's why Chara call you "Demon". 

Source(Below): Camila Cuevas(Creator of Glitchtale)[To see the big picture even if this is only fan service or AU story]

[askfallenroyalty]

I don't think you did anything wrong. When a story is being written, there are a lot of different ways to adress and express something and maybe that's why you're being misunderstood. I think there are just too many things to adress in this story that maybe some people will get when these things are implicitly implied and some people will not. So when a breaking point comes, they'd think it came out of nowhere. You can see this with the amount of asks you receive asking you often the same thing.

Does that mean it's wrong? Ofc not! I myself was a little bit confused with Frisk's reactions and conduct in general until you explained it in your recent asks, and I thought man, that was what I was missing!

Now, yes I believe some parts of the story could have been explained in a different way, because in my opinion there's a lot to read between the lines. If you don't try to understand the characters, you'll clearly be confused as hell. But that's why I love this story! As you said before, there's nothing meant to be black/white coded, and I really appreciate the world and the character's complexity in general. You don't have some of the answers in hand, an that's when you have to analize! (At least that's what I do haha)

I also really felt like telling you something I've been relating to, so I'm putting the respectives tw if someone doesn't want to keep reading (TW: Suicide mention).

In the DW Arc, when the Christmas and Feylow stuff happened, I realised through Chara that I was doing the exact same thing with a friend of mine. He was going through a lot of stuff, and tried to commit suicide multiple times. I was focusing a huge amount of energy on him because I was afraid to lose him, and when he suddenly stopped talking to me so he could take a break, I felt really lost. Because he was the person I talked with the most, one of my dearest friends, and the idea of losing him and not being there to stop it made me insanely anxious, because that used to be the situation most of the times. Now it's been a year since he's stopped talking to me, and I don't exactly know the reason. But I couldn't keep running behind someone who didn't seem to keep wanting me around. And if it wasn't for you, I couldn't have realized how much this was hurting me.

And now, as much as it hurts me to see him acting this distant and cold with me, I'm okay with it. I really am. Because I now have the tranquility to see him continue, even when things are not okay. I can't force a friendship and I really needed to understand that back then. I trust him as much as he trusts me.

I really wanted to thank you for writing this story because it has helped me in a way I didn't expect, and I'm sure it will help a lot of people too! I'm even learning from your way of taking and discussing things haha.

I just wanted you to have this tranquility I have with this story because I trust it'll work out and explain itself once it's finished. And I just can't express how thankful I am to be reading your story.

Thank you again,

I'm looking forward to more of your work and please, take care! Don't stop doing what you enjoy! 🦋

putting it under a readmore because of how long the ask/response is, sorry!

i’m at a loss of words because wow, this ask really hit in a way i’ve never really could of anticipated. when writing AFR, i write a story about things I felt. I’ve been Chara, I’ve been Asriel and Frisk at points in my life. I write because I need to tell their stories and make it real, specifically for my own sake of getting through my own pain and to tell the world this is who i am and that I will be ok, there is hope in this world. It’s a selfish desire for me, but ultimately that’s what art is i feel. I couldn’t draw this much and put so much time and effort into something without it being meaningful or personal.

but art is communication, and when I write to be seen and to be heard, I know there’s others who are reading and are connecting with the work. (otherwise, I wouldn’t be getting asks right? its a lonely process, i forget there’s the second half of the equation -you guys) and i’ll do my best to make sure people are accommodated and can experience this story without hurting in a way that’s past enjoying a emotionally gripping piece of media. i don’t want people to be upset or hurt for my work, and I want to ensure I can make this without hurting others.

I try to leave a lot of ambiguity and room for people to interpret stories and I don’t mind people missing the point or interpreting things vastly differently than what I intended. that’s fine, that’s what art is all about. i don’t want to hold people’s hands and tell them what’s happening or what they should feel -i want them to choose and decipher and think things over. stories should be stimulating and thought provoking, and i can’t decide what those thoughts are. I wouldn’t want to. Personally, if it means people become more confused and lost over the story -well, that’s a trade off I have to take. if it means the story is more up-to-interpretation, than it’s worth it to me.

i do regret with how fast and punchy the arc ended up, and I feel my hints may have been too weak. asriel/flowey has been bluntly surprised/asking to be killed twice, he hasn’t felt like himself since dying and has lost his support systems ect. as a person who’s Been Through Shit, I thought it was as obvious as the sun what was to come but thinking on it now?

with how distance asriel is, how limited the perspective is to chara (who hasn’t known Asriel has been going thru the same depressive/suicidal thoughts as they have this whole time) it was a shock to the system. and in a way that’s fine in my eyes if the reader was completely shocked as you can emphasize more with chara that way... but in the same sense its horrifying for them, it must be for the reader as well.

and I do feel I should of thought of a way to handle the scenario to where it was less in your-face with Asriel’s decent into desperation and attempts. I don’t want to ever show it on screen, I don’t want to ever go into detail and make it any sort of fun for the viewer. it’s supposed to be disturbing and painful and I tried to show how greatly painful it was affecting both chara and frisk. Suicide victims are victims and everyone involved suffer from it. It’s ugly and never something one should be anything but ugly.

that is my intent for it be that, but as I’ve heard from people it’s still a shock and went too far. Authorial intent doesn’t matter when people react to your stories. yes, the context can be good to have, but people’s feelings and reactions mean the world more. I hope with the added context of the complete story that helps it in the long run, but as it is I’m very unhappy with how I tackled it and I don’t really have a good answer to how I should of gone about it. but at the end of the day that doesn’t matter as it happened and I can’t change it.

i’m sorry about your friend and i’m sorry for the pain you’ve experienced as well. it’s not easy being in that position (nor is it for ur friend as well of course) and it’s perfectly fine to feel hurt and to take time for yourself to address those feelings. You, as a person, matter and your feelings are justifiably important as well. nobody asks to be mentally ill and your friend’s choices aren’t fully theirs because of that, but it doesn’t change how it’s affected and hurt you. Losing someone’s friendship has always been a painful and inevitable experience people must go thru in life. I’m sorry that you’ve gone through that, but I’m glad -so happy that my story has helped you in any amount. I sincerely wish you both the best and to heal, I’m proud of you anon for getting through this.

I can’t really express how much it means as a writer to see how my work helped you. Like I mentioned before, I write and feel like it’s by myself that makes this work but it’s a 2 way street -you guys contribute to the story and the story only exists and is perceived by you. without an audience, it really truly is just me here. what you gain and experience within a story is just as important as the writing of the work itself and I often forget that.

Thank you. This was a really nice and eye opening ask and it’s going to be on my mind for a while, haha. I hope once the story is done and I can post-correct how I handle the story, people can learn and gain meaning to it like you have. Sorry if this was a bit rambly, I’m very thankful for your response (as well as everyone else who’s messaged!) and I’m very happy and excited to continue and to do my best. Thank you all so much.

[askcharaandfriends]

Goldy remind me what toriel did... I can't remember or recognize what she did as bad

Hot Take Warning: It wasn't so much as what she did as what she didn't do. Apologies in advance if this gets lengthy.

Firstly, she abdicated her throne... which was just as much an impulsive decision on her part as Asgore's declaration of war. And counterintuitive too, when you consider that, as seen in-game with their different styles of ruling, executive decisions were Toriel's domain, while Asgore's was mainly PR. Meaning that all the nitty-gritty details of carrying a war out- recruiting soldiers, drafting up battle plans and attack strategies, creating a budget for costs, training exercises, expected losses... Toriel literally could've done more to prevent the war- and the humans' deaths- if she stayed, since all that would've been delegated to her. All she had to do was just say no and that would've been that.

Secondly, Toriel is arguably as responsible as Asgore is for the deaths of the six humans, by way of negligent manslaughter. She knew what was waiting for them, and let them go anyway. Consider: Why didn't Toriel stop them? Why didn't she destroy the door to the rest of the Underground well before the second human fell down after Chara? She hardly has the right to call out Asgore when she not only did nothing to help on her end of things, but also came up with shoddy solutions that weren't any better than what Asgore could come up- in some cases, even worse! Taking a SOUL isn't something you can do peacefully, since SOULs are confirmed in-game to still be people, and that's essentially trafficking at the least. How would you hash out the details of the SOUL's rights? Who would have the right to make that kind of call? Taking the SOULs of criminals is also a bad idea since their minds are trenchcoated with the monster who absorbs them, allowing either violent or deceitful, untrustworthy people to command immensely powerful magic. That is disaster waiting to happen.

But it's also important to keep in mind that neither Toriel nor Asgore were in their right minds back then- how could they be? It was the worst day of their lives. Their kids died, and you don't think straight with that kind of pain. Worse yet, that pain went unaddressed for years and years. A century if you go by the popular headcanon. Both of their mental healths deteriorated, as seen in the game with Asgore's dialogue, and Toriel's alarm clock dialogue outside the game. It doesn't excuse or justify anything, but at the same time, trying to hold either of them accountable with a conventional sense of right and wrong, or crime and accountability, doesn't lead to any kind of good resolution either. Sometimes, we need an "escape clause" from justice. It's the very definition of Mercy. A second chance. It's easy to argue this point because the game makes us take the time to get to know these characters, unlike the people featured in the media who do absolutely heinous things.

And finally... despite all of the above, Toriel is, at the end of the day, a kind motherly figure, who given the chance, is a good parental figure for Frisk to stay with. Think on that conclusion: a woman who lets kids die- someone guilty of numerous cases of negligent manslaughter- is still able to be a good parent, once she actually addresses her pain and gets the help she needs. When she's got her equilibrium, yeah, I'd definitely trust her with watching any kids of mine.

[songfell-ut]

Rrrrrrgh Chapter 18 rrrrgh

I had to re-insert EVERY GODDAMN LINE BREAK ARGH it also took out all the italics. I’ll get those in a minute ;_;

(Watch out for arachnophobia, angst, aaaaand smut~~)

           For the eighth or ninth time, Frisk wished she had just said no. But she hadn’t, and she couldn’t back out now, so she kept walking, arms stiff at her sides.

At least she was almost there: she could hear rustling in the dark up ahead, and faintly musical sounds, like someone twanging a piano wire. Suddenly, her heel stuck on something, her shoe nearly coming off; the next moment, something else tickled her cheek. When she tried to brush it away, it wouldn’t come off her fingers. In the dim light, it looked like…a spiderweb?

           There was a high-pitched giggle overhead, and more webbing dropped onto her shoulders. The child was yanked off her feet, pulled straight up until she slammed to a teeth-rattling stop in midair. Heart pounding, head spinning, Frisk tried to tug herself loose, but it was no use: she was caught in the bouncy, gluey strands of…

…a really, really big spiderweb. And where there was a really big spiderweb—

           “Ahuhuhu~”

           Frisk turned her head as far as she could, and uttered a raspy sound as her gaze met five huge, mirror-shiny black eyes. It was a spider monster in frilly bloomers, ribbons, and pigtails—surprisingly cute, except for its fangs. “My! Whatever do we have here?” The giant spider leaned in closer, and Frisk watched in fascination as her reflection flickered in time with the monster’s blinks. “What brings a bite-sized human like you to my parlor?”

           The child couldn’t tear her eyes away from the spider monster’s eerie, fluid movements. It was balancing on the web, brushing crumbs off its sleeve, and dipping a pastry into a cup of tea it’d just poured for itself, all at once! “A-Are you Muffet?” she squeaked.

           The spider smirked, nibbling daintily on her pastry. “That’s me, dearie. Did someone send you to find me?” Her face creased into a scowl. “If that skeleton told you it would be funny to disturb us, I swear I’ll—”

           Something chittered, and Frisk couldn’t help squirming. Muffet gasped as a tiny shape emerged from the child’s collar. “Alphonse? Oh my goodness me! How did you get here?!”

           Frisk shut her eyes tight as the little spider crawled the rest of the way out of her shirt, followed by another, and a few more, and then what seemed like a thousand others. She could feel a tickly procession streaming up her neck and along her arms onto the web, where they swarmed around Muffet, making rapid clicking sounds.

           “They gave me a piece of paper asking for help,” the human explained, though the spiders were probably saying the same thing. “They were tired of the Ruins, but Snowdin is too cold, and it’s too expensive to get a heated carriage, so I gave some of them a ride to Hotland.”

           All five of Muffet’s eyes sparkled, and she clasped two legs in pure joy. “Oh, what a sweet little morsel you are! You’ve saved us thousands of g, just like that!” Frisk heard more chittering, and found herself being eased free of the webbing and lowered gently until she was back on the sticky floor. “I’m so sorry if I frightened you, dearie—most humans have a nasty habit of squishing spiders, but I didn’t know how very kind you were toward us!”

           “You’re welcome,” Frisk said, trying to pick the webbing out of her hair. The grownups had chopped almost all of it off before they left the castle; she’d hate for them to cut the webs out and make it look even worse. “My name is Kris. It’s nice to meet you.”

           The spider-lady was ignoring her, listening to what sounded like dozens of little voices at once. She didn’t have eyebrows, but her upper three eyes wiggled in almost the same way. “Really, now?” She regarded Frisk with new interest. “You wouldn’t happen to be ten years old, would you, dearie?”

           Where had that come from? None of the other monsters had asked her age. “Um…yes? I don’t know my real birthday, just the year.”

           The spiders must have understood her, because the noise increased, and Muffet tittered louder than ever. “How interesting~”

           “Why?” the child couldn’t help asking.

           “Ohhh, nothing, just a bit of gossip.” Muffet hopped onto a higher strand of webbing, crossing a pair of legs and pouring herself more tea. “Would you like something to eat?” She indicated a table with a pile of iced cakes and a sign reading 9,999 G. “No charge, just for you.”

           Was that a spider leg sticking out of the frosting? “I’m full, thank you,” Frisk lied.

           “Suit yourself, dearie.” For someone without any lips, the monster could slurp her tea quite loudly. “The spider clans don’t communicate with each other nearly as often as we should, but when someone manages to get here from the Ruins, they tell the most fascinating stories. Like the humans’ last visit here, eleven years ago—did you know that your King came with them? Supposedly, it was a group of minor nobles discussing repairs to the border fence, but no one notices spiders – except you, of course – and they hear all sorts of things behind closed doors~”

           The child frowned. “The King was here?” She didn’t think he’d ever been to the Underground; she’d just been glad he hadn’t come on this trip, though she was sorry the Queen was sick. It would’ve been so nerve-wracking to have to behave around him!

           “He certainly was.” Muffet licked a drop of tea from the fine hairs on her forelimb. “Yes, the King paid us a secret visit, and poor Chara was never the same afterwards. There was quite a commotion, you know, after he’d been gone a little while. They had to take her all the way to the Ruins so no one would hear her s—”

           There was a familiar chuckle behind Frisk. “ahh, muffet. putting the spy in ‘spider,’ huh?” Sans held out his hand, and Frisk gladly took it. “yeah, i dunno what she’s talking about, either. c’mon, kiddo, you shouldn’t be here. time to have a ferry good ride back.”

           “On the contrary,” Muffet said haughtily, “this wonderful child is welcome in my parlor any time. I would love to have her over for lunch!” Two sets of arms clapped their hands. “Go on home, dearie. Come and see me again sometime soon.”

           “man. you got a knack for making friends, ya know that?” Sans remarked as they stepped around the webs lining the floor. “i didn’t think she liked anyone who wasn’t rich, or fattening.”

           Frisk didn’t answer. The corridor had just enough bare, echoing surfaces for her to hear the last of Muffet’s conversation. “Not a word to anyone,” the spider was telling her family, or minions, or whatever they were. “I—what? …Why, yes, he would pay for that information. What a splendid idea! We could even give him a discount! Those glasses are so cute~”

           Frisk and Sans looked at each other, shrugged, and moved along to thinking up spider puns to unleash on Pap. It didn’t occur to Frisk until much later that Muffet had said “her”—the smaller ones hadn’t gotten that far under her clothes, had they?

Ah, well. She figured spiders must not know much about human pronouns, and they probably said strange, random things to everyone. It was nothing to worry about.

           Many years later, Frisk would remember that and wish she could smack her younger self upside the head. Not only was it racist, it was very incorrect, not to mention ungrateful. Spiders knew damn well what pronouns were, and nothing Muffet had said to her was random. She hadn’t even charged her for it…

 ~

             The hotel attached to Mettaton’s resort was unbelievably crowded that evening, the air warm and full of amazing smells. Sans had materialized by the fountain in the lobby, figuring it was long enough after dinnertime that there wouldn’t be too many people around. This turned out to be hilariously wrong: the line was still two or three deep at the food counter, the queue winding up and down the room and ending nearly out the doors. There wasn’t enough space for one boss monster to just appear out of nowhere, much less two, but here they were.

“My. Do you think they’ve gotten a room?” Toriel asked dubiously, releasing his arm and nodding to the monsters scrambling out of their way. “Should we check with the front desk?”

Sans glanced around, then relaxed and let his SOUL point him in a direction, like giving a hunting dog a scent to follow. Sure enough, his feet started toward the restaurant on the left side of the resort. “This way,” he grunted.

Luckily, at their size, they didn’t have much trouble getting through the crowd. Nor did they have to say anything to the restaurant’s maître d’: he took one look, bowed so deeply that he almost fell over, and walked ahead of them to harass the seated monsters out of their way.

They soon reached the far end of the room, where Frisk was holding court at a small table with Alphys, Undyne, Mettaton, and a few others. To Sans’ delight, she had perched on the back of a heavy chair, confidently projecting her voice over the other diners. “So I finished the introduction, she came out onstage, and what did she do? She froze right there in front of everyone,” the human said, gesturing with her champagne glass.

This got quite a reaction. “Oh, please,” Mettaton said with a groan.

“Ha!” Undyne thumped the table. “Served her right! What’d you do?”

“I peeked out from behind the curtain, and I looked at her, and I went—” Frisk closed one eye and opened the other as wide as possible, flashing a demented smile, and the monsters cracked up. “She almost started laughing, and it was perfect, because that was where the Queen was bragging about how much everyone loved her!”

“Good evening, everyone,” said Toriel, walking ahead of Sans to join the others. “Forgive me, but, what was this?”

Cries of welcome rang out. “Good evening, Lady Toriel! I was telling them about my friend Mathilda,” explained Frisk.

Standing on the periphery, Sans drank in the sight of his human seated among the monsters, looking adorably tiny by comparison, but completely at home. She was more animated than he’d ever seen her at the castle, her eyes bright and hands in constant motion as she talked. It was everything they’d both hoped for when they came here.

And speaking of drinks, he also had to note all the open bottles of wine and other adult beverages around the table. He remembered ordering several crates of them, but he’d assumed they would be consumed at a slower rate than this; monsters couldn’t handle alcohol as well as most humans. Come to think of it, neither could Frisk.

Mettaton had gotten up to greet Toriel, and was bowing her into his seat; Sans was impressed with his manners until the automaton turned and shooed Alphys out of her chair so he could take it.

Justice came swiftly: Undyne waited for Mettaton to get comfortable, then kicked him under the table hard enough to make a metallic clang. “Never mind him. Here,” she said to Alphys, holding her arm out and patting her lap.

Toriel cleared her throat, and the scientist turned about five shades of reddish-orange. Practical as ever, Undyne got up to grab a chair from another table instead, ignoring its irate former occupant and cramming it between her seat and Frisk’s. “Ta-da!”

When Alphys was happily settled, Toriel gave the automaton and the Royal Guard Captain reproachful glances. “Your friend Mathilda?” she prompted.

Frisk smiled. “Yes, from St. Brigid’s. She wanted me to narrate the part of the spring pageant where she was playing the Queen��have you heard of The Sun Cycle?”

Toriel accepted a glass of red wine from the waiter. “The allegory about the two sisters? Of course. Did Mathilda have a case of stage fright?”

“Right after she spent ten minutes straight telling me not to be shy.” Frisk made another face. “I teased her about that for years.”

Toriel chuckled. “And rightfully so.”

Sans was busy staring at Frisk when she suddenly looked straight at him. “Sans?” He jumped, then scowled self-consciously as she shifted her weight. “I hate to make you stand there—is there anywhere he can sit?” she asked the group.

There was a general murmur and scooting-out to make room, but Sans waved his hand. “Nah, don’t worry about it. ‘s what I get fer bein’ late to the party,” he muttered.

The priestess frowned a little. “Well, if you’re sure…” She indicated a green jug on the table. “You wanted to try some hard cider, didn’t you? Now’s your chance.”

“’m fine,” he said gruffly, and she gave him a short nod before Mettaton reclaimed her attention with a question about human seating etiquette.

Sans wanted to smack himself on the cranium. Typical Frisk: she was mad at him, but still didn’t want him be to left out. Well, neither did he! It physically hurt to keep himself from going over and petting her hair, tucking that one bit behind her ear, asking how she was feeling…

Yeah, this whole staying-apart thing wasn’t fucking working. If he couldn’t have some time alone with her soon, he was going to throw her over his shoulder and teleport them both far, far away, which would probably look a little suspicious. What would it take to—

Alphys coughed. “S-So did the rest of the pageant go all right?”

Frisk sipped her champagne. “Oh, yes. I’ve always loved that story, and I didn’t have to be onstage, so I—” She paused and held the empty glass out, and another waiter swooped in to refill it. “Thank you.” Sip. “It was wonderful. We had a five-piece orchestra playing along, and the Queen’s song, ‘Daylight’s Lament,’ actually brought people to tears.”

Sans wasn’t thinking very straight, or else he would known better than to say, “Is that the mopey thing you’re always singin’?”

Everyone turned toward him, and he shrank back at the priestess’ expression. “Are you a musician, Frisk?” Toriel asked around her refilled wineglass.

“Yes, I was in the choir at school,” the human said, giving Sans a significant look. “The Sun Cycle had just been adapted into a musical, and we all nagged our teachers until they let us perform it.” She grinned ruefully. “It was the best political training I’ve ever had. If you want to delve into the darkest side of human nature, just tell a group of teenage girls that only one of them gets to play the Queen.”

They all laughed, though no one disagreed. “And Mathilda got it?” Sans asked, just to contribute.

“Yes, she did,” Frisk replied. Her feet swung back and forth a few times, drawing his attention again. “She tends to get what she wants.”

Trying to distract himself, Sans remembered something and asked, “Isn’t she the one who’s gonna replace you?” They looked at him in surprise, and he added, “Y’know, if you ever decide ta quit?”

That earned him another glare. “Yes, if I ever do. The only reason I became High Priestess and not her was that my magic was stronger. Otherwise, she’d have been perfect.”

“Now, now. I would think—no, I know that you’re doing an excellent job,” Toriel said warmly, and the priestess ducked her head.

“Wait a sec.” Undyne banged her mug on the table, startling Alphys. “Didn’t you say somebody tried to kill you ‘cause you’re the High Priestess? Aren’t you worried someone’ll come after her, too?”

“Well…not really.” Frisk made a complicated gesture. “It may sound cold, but you’ve never met Mathilda. She doesn’t have time to be assassinated. If the Church didn’t pay for a half-dozen guards everywhere she went, she’d just hire them herself and go about her day.”

“Nice,” said Undyne, but despite Frisk’s light tone, Sans wasn’t so sure about the way she was frowning into her champagne glass. Did she feel guilty for being so cavalier about her friend’s safety?

…No, that wasn’t it. He had a sudden attack of insight: Frisk wasn’t only in danger because she was the High Priestess; she was also in the way of people who profited off monsters. Did Mathilda have different views on the subject – maybe more safe or conventional ones – that would keep her from being targeted?

What about the person who had paid to keep Frisk safe? He still had to tell her about that, too, assuming he ever got the fucking chance!

That was enough of that topic. What else could they talk about? “How’d it go in the lab today, Al?” he asked.

This time, they all looked at him as though he’d thrown dog turds onto the table, and a couple of the other monsters actually got up and left. His stupid, tired, frustrated mind took a second to catch up: everyone knew that Alphys had been testing Frisk’s magic, and as much as they liked and hopefully trusted the human by now, they didn’t want to hear about her barriers.

“Um…” Alphys fidgeted with her mug of spiced cider. “You were r-right. I couldn’t even quantify how much f-force she could potentially withstand. It’s honestly still hard to believe.”

“Yeah, it turns out she’s even better than we thought,” Undyne said defiantly, and raised her mug. “Toast: to Frisk being on our side!”

Frisk raised her glass in reply, downing the rest of the champagne in one gulp, and everyone with a drink quickly followed suit. As the waiter came back for more refills, Sans nodded his thanks to Undyne; she stared at him, then drew her thumb across her throat to indicate that he was dead. He shrugged, agreeing that that was fair.

Alphys fidgeted again. “Actually, Sans, I’d like to t-talk to you about that sometime soon. Alone, m-maybe?”

The skeleton blinked. “Uh…okay.” Now that a few chairs were empty across from Frisk, he walked over to shove them aside and sit down on the floor, putting his eye level only a foot or two below the others. Why would Alphys need to talk to him alone? If she wanted more data, why not include Frisk? He’d have to find out later.

Undyne scowled, half-turning to drape her arm over Alphys’ shoulders; the lizard monster turned a few more colors, then leaned into her. Good for them, thought Sans, with only a twinge of jealousy. “I remember when I was a kid and I used to snoop around in my parents’ room,” Undyne continued. “My mom got fed up and told me there was a human hiding in her closet. Not only did I stop sneaking in there, I’d run past their door to get to my room!”

Sans forced himself to join in the laughter. “Poor Pap,” he remarked. “When he was a kid, I got him that pirate bed, and he wouldn’t stop jumpin’ on it in the middle of the night. I didn’t wanna take it away, so I said there was a human under it ‘n Pap was gonna wake him up.”

“Sans,” Frisk scolded him, but she was smiling now.

“It’s true,” he said gleefully. “The next night, I found him makin’ a decoy to throw into bed so he could go hide in the closet.”

Undyne guffawed, and Toriel shook her head, though she was also smiling. “That poor child! Tell me he isn’t still sleeping in the closet, Sans!”

“He’s not. I made a big deal about talkin’ with the librarian and finding out humans are scared of books about Fluffy Bunny. We read one every night from then on, and whaddya know? The human never got ‘im,” the skeleton said proudly.

They laughed again, and the last of the tension dissipated. “Speakin’ of Papyrus, where is he?” Sans asked, feeling guilty for not noticing sooner. “Hope I didn’t miss ‘im on his way home.”

Mettaton couldn’t drink, so he had spent most of the conversation checking his face paint; he sighed theatrically, putting the mirror away in his chest compartment. “He got drunk already, the poor dear. I sent him upstairs to sleep it off.”

Sans didn’t have to fake a grin. “Makes sense. It only takes half a mudslide to get him started tellin’ everyone how bad my jokes are, and tellin’ the jokes ta prove it, and then gettin’ mad that he knows all my jokes by heart.”

“A ‘mudslide’?” Frisk repeated.

“Yep. ’s one of Grillby’s finest cocktails: magic ‘n mud.”

The human looked puzzled. “By ‘mud,’ you mean…?”

“Wet dirt,” Sans clarified.

“…You…drink…?” Frisk couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. “What does that even taste like?”

Pause. “Mud.”

More laughter. Frisk’s nose was wrinkled, but she was still smiling; that was enough for Sans.

He didn’t want to ruin the mood by saying something else stupid, so he nodded to her and turned to survey the now-half-empty room. It must have been pretty late, because the maître d’ wasn’t letting anyone else in. The nearest table had just one person, and—

It was sitting there, out of nowhere, legs dangling over the side of the table. The demon-child locked eyes with Sans, hands resting on the knife in its lap, and it grinned.

Sans stared back at it, paralyzed. Through the fog of shock and terror, there arose a single thought: Are you fucking serious?! I don’t need this right now!

The thing shook its head. It looked meaningfully at their table – at Frisk – and back at him. It raised the kitchen knife, pointing at the side of its own head, and made a circling motion.

Sans managed to twitch with sheer rage as he recognized that childish gesture. The little bastard had come all the way here to tell him Frisk was crazy?

Its grin faded into a faint, superior smile. It lowered the knife and tapped on its sternum three times. Then it shifted around to face the human; to Sans’ bewilderment, it sat cross-legged and leaned forward on its elbows, ruby eyes glued to Frisk, as if waiting for a play to begin.

What was it doing? …Why was it doing? He had the feeling that it genuinely wasn’t interested in him for the moment. What did it think Frisk was going to—

“Sans?” Her voice snapped him out of it; the skeleton found he could move again. “What’s the matter?”

“Uh…” He looked at her, then back at the demon. It was gone now, of course. “Nothin’.” He glanced back and forth a couple of times just to be sure. What the hell was that about? The thing wanted to tell him that Frisk was nuts and Sans should check her SOUL? But…

Sans shook himself, turning to size up the room. Everyone was slightly to moderately tipsy, but relaxed, probably ready to call it a night soon. There was absolutely no sign of danger anywhere; even if there was, Sans couldn’t imagine a threat too big for him, Toriel, Undyne, and Frisk.

To hell with that thing. He wasn’t going to ogle her SOUL for no reason in front of everyone; somebody would notice and give him crap for it, she’d get embarrassed, and he’d have yet another thing to make up to her.

Toriel took a bottle of wine directly from a passing waiter and poured herself another glass. “Where are you staying tonight, my child?”

           The human brushed her hair behind her ear. Sans glanced at her, and his spine stiffened: she was looking right at him, her finger tracing the edge of her choker. “My things are still at Sans and Papyrus’ house, so I was planning to stay in Snowdin tonight at the inn.”

The skeleton tried to hide his sudden jubilation. She was telling him she’d have her own room, which meant some damn privacy at last! He’d have a chance to tell her things and apologize for being stupid about the chessboard, and then…choker, and—

           “Whaaat? You have an entire new wardrobe upstairs, and you want to go all the way back to that smelly wasteland?” Mettaton complained. Sans gritted his teeth as the automaton reached over to play with Frisk’s hair, sweeping it up with one gloved hand. “You know, darling, if you’d let me put this up for you, it wouldn’t keep getting in your way. Why don’t you stay here another night so we can figure it out?”

           “I’ll be fine, thank you,” Frisk said tartly, pushing his arm away.

           Mettaton pouted. “But what about—”

           “She said no, dipshit,” Sans snarled. “Not everyone has time to play dress-up.”

“Oh?” drawled the automaton. He sized up the giant skeleton and flashed a literally pearly-white smile. “I see. Well, if she absolutely must stop in at your hovel, be sure she has everything she needs. You know, her clothes, a few midnight snacks…plenty of socks?”

Undyne and Alphys nearly spat their drinks across the table. Sans twitched as though he’d been poked in the SOUL—which, in a way, he had. “Ya wanna die, ya friggin’ piece of—”

“Be nice, children,” Toriel mumbled. She covered her mouth for a massive yawn, nearly dropping her wineglass. “Speaking of wardrobes, Frisk, I had enough time after my nap this afternoon to go through Chara’s old clothes. I found several things that should fit you. Why don’t you stay over another night so we can try them on?”

           The human’s face was still red. “No, thank you, Lady Toriel,” Frisk said over the faintest murmur of “Socks” and barely-suppressed snickering.

           The former Queen sighed, too far gone in memory – and alcohol – to notice. “It would be so cute to see you in those dresses,” she murmured. “We can hem them up if we need to. You’re about the same size she was at…goodness, fourteen or fifteen!”

           “Yes, childhood malnutrition will do that.” Frisk accepted yet another refill from yet another waiter. “My mother took no care of me.”

           “You poor thing.” Toriel shook her head. “How I wish you could have stayed and grown up here! We would never have neglected you like that.”

Undyne sighed, propping her head on one fist. “Yeah, that would’ve been amazing.”

Mettaton also sighed, lacing his fingers together and resting his head on them. “For once, darling, we agree. She should know at least five times as many dances as I’ve taught her.”

Toriel hiccuped. Sans had always heard that drunk people did that, but never seen it for himself. “And she could’ve sang for us, too. My poor little angel—such a wonderful child!”

Frisk smiled, until Toriel went on, “Yes, I’ll always miss Chara. Did you ever get to meet her, Frisk?”

           No answer. Sans’ backbone prickled; he checked the other table, but the demon wasn’t there. He glanced at Frisk, and to his alarm, she was almost literally vibrating with tension.

Alphys was also squinting at the human, as if checking her. Whatever she saw made her eyes go wide, and she signaled frantically at Sans. “So, Frisk,” he said, too loud.

She looked up, startled. “Uh,” he said. Crap. Now he had everyone’s attention, and he had to say more words. This time, though, he made himself think first, settling on a topic so safe and dull that nothing bad could possibly come of it. “I just remembered—when I was passin’ stuff out with the Royal Guard earlier, we found a couple small discrepancies in the list,” he said casually. “I made some notes about it. Can you and Tori take a look real quick?”

           “Of course. I’m sure it’s fine, though,” Frisk said, giving him another smile. Then, as he started to reach into his coat for the invoices…

It was the tiniest movement, and he just barely caught it. She took too large a drink and slopped champagne onto the corner of her mouth, which she chose to lick off slowly, eyes on his.

           Sans would think of that moment and berate himself for years afterward. For one thing, he didn’t know or care how openly he was staring at her, or who was watching; more importantly, his hand kept moving while the rest of his mind did a belly-flop into a mire of absolute lust, all his resources suddenly diverted to socks and lace chokers and that cute little mouth…desperation to run his hands all over her again and find out if she still had that weird blood thing going, what her exact criteria were for it being the right time to—

Left to manage on its own, his hand knew only that it was supposed to get something for her out of his pocket. It encountered the papery thing he needed, and then another thing it knew was for her, and dutifully pulled both things out. He didn’t have enough concentration to use magic and send the invoices directly to her, so he tossed them onto the table with a solid thmp. “Pass that t’ Frisk, wouldja?” his mouth said.

A couple shreds of conscious thought worked themselves free, wondering why the papers had gone thmp. Paper wasn’t supposed to go thmp. What had he…

Oh. It was the heavy golden envelope, the one with the King’s letter for her.

           On the table.

…With her full name on the front.

Right by Undyne, who was reaching to pick it up, just like he’d asked.

           Time slowed to a crawl. Icy dread swept over him, and he raised his hand, knowing it was too late—Undyne had handed over the invoices and was already saying, “Heyyy, what’s this, boss?” Before he could stand up or regroup his magic, the Royal Guard Captain flipped the envelope around to read the calligraphy. “Fancy! Is it a love letter for—”

           She stopped. Sans’ SOUL shrank to nothing as the fish monster’s brows drew together. “Hey. Your Majesty?” she asked, raising her voice.

           Toriel finished her drink, trying to set her glass down and missing the table entirely. “Yes, Captain?”

           Undyne gave a puzzled half-smile. “Did you adopt Frisk or something?”

           Frisk looked up from the invoices. The goat monster glanced at her, then chuckled. “Why, no, not that I’m aware of.” Toriel was smiling, too, clearly waiting for a punchline.

           Sans snatched at the envelope with a burst of red magic and shoved it into his pocket. “Hey, Frisk! Guess what? Time ta go!”

           Frisk started, and had to catch herself before she fell off the chair. “What? Why do—”

           “Then how come she has your last name?” asked Undyne.

           Silence. Toriel and Undyne were awkwardly smiling, each waiting for the other to speak and growing more confused as the seconds ticked by.

Alphys frowned, then peered at Frisk, who was staring at the panicky skeleton. “Sans,” the human said softly. “What is she talking about?”

Sans was still sitting on the floor, and couldn’t get up; he felt sick as Frisk stepped down from her perch and came over to him. “What do you have there?” she asked, even softer.

           His hand moved on its own again to pull out the envelope. “’s a letter,” he mumbled. “I was gonna give this to ya later, when we talked about—”

           Frisk snatched the envelope and turned it over. He forced his sockets to stay open as her face went pale, then stark white. Slowly, her head lifted until their eyes met. “I didn’t mean ta get it out yet,” he said helplessly. “It was an accident. I’m—”

           “Where did you get this?” she asked carefully. “When did you get this?”

           “Yesterday. From…from Dr. Serif. He met me in the village to help get all the stuff ready, and the King gave it to ‘im ‘cause he thought you’d be—”

           “This is from my father?” Frisk stared at the dark-gold calligraphy, then at him. Sans just stared back, letting his silence speak for itself.

           Alphys squinted one more time at Frisk’s chest. Then she bolted from her seat, skittered around the table to Mettaton, and latched onto his arm. “You need to get everyone out of here! Right now!” she hissed.

           The automaton quirked a lacquered eyebrow at her. “Are you joking? This is the most—”

           “I said now!”

           Toriel and Undyne watched Mettaton scramble out of his chair, leap straight into the middle of the room, and strike a pose. “Hello, beauties!” he called to the remaining twenty or so diners, giving Alphys a nervous glance. “This is your lucky night! We’re going to have a scavenger hunt, and the prize is me—one candlelit dinner with yours truly! Follow me to Paradise!”

           Alphys breathed a sigh of relief as the monsters trooped out, dragging the waiters and the protesting maître d’ with them, and the doors slammed shut. The royal scientist gestured to Toriel, then Undyne, who had come around to their side of the table. “We should leave, too,” Alphys said urgently.

           “What?” The goat monster frowned at her, and at Frisk, whose shoulders had hunched. “Are you all right, my chi—”

           “Yes!” They jumped as Frisk whipped around, clutching the envelope to her breast, giving them a dreadful smile. “Yes. Yes, I…I’m fine. I just need to—” She gulped. “Never mind. I have to talk to Sans.” She held her hand out. “Let’s go.” He didn’t move, and she said desperately, “Now? Please?”

           A tiny quiver of fear ran through him, and not just because he, personally, was in an absolute world of shit. He could feel the air around Frisk grow heavier, and for the first time in a long time, his instincts were urging him to back away. Her magic was building rapidly, as if she was getting a barrier ready, but she wasn’t doing it on purpose. What did she—

Oh, crap. Not only were they Underground, where magic was naturally stronger than above, she was already at least a little drunk, and tired, and…well, “upset” would not begin to cover the fallout of his slip-up. Was Alphys worried something would happen? But…

Just to be sure, Sans took a long look at Frisk’s SOUL. For a second, he thought something was wrong with his vision, or he was just out of practice; then he realized that, for once, he was not the problem.

Her SOUL was a goddamn mess. It shone as bright and beautifully red as when he’d first seen it, but where it had been rock-solid with determination, it now looked more like a snowglobe that kept getting shaken up before the glitter had a chance to settle. Magic was seeping through her skin and beginning to tint the air around her, and if she was aware of it, she wasn’t even trying to control it.

Fuck. Alphys had been smart enough to keep an eye on Frisk’s SOUL when she started getting agitated about Chara—had the scientist noticed some instability when she was testing the human’s magic? Either way, she’d been scared enough to have Mettaton clear the room.

But it wasn’t as if the monsters should be scared of Frisk, was it? Sure, she seemed pretty volatile right now, but she was still Frisk! She would never hurt anyone! At least, not on purpose…

Sans couldn’t help glancing at the other table. Sure enough, the demon-child was back, grinning and clapping its hands in sheer delight. “Told you so,” it said gaily.

           Undyne coughed. “Uh…Frisk? Why’d your dad call you that?”

           Frisk gestured one more time, and Sans made himself look at her hand with a grim, apologetic shake of his head. His SOUL wanted to tear loose and go hide at the way her face contorted. “You’ve gotta calm down, kid,” he said quietly. He didn’t know how to explain in front of everyone that her magic was too thick for him to teleport her anywhere without touching her, and doing so right now would singe him down to the bone—probably straight through it. “Please,” he added.

           The priestess let her hand drop. She closed her eyes in resignation, pinching the bridge of her nose. “He called me that because I’m illegitimate, and I have to use my mother’s name.”

           Pause. Sans shuffled back a little as Frisk’s eyes opened again, taking in the monsters’ blank faces. “Oh, for God’s sake! Do I need to spell it out for you?” She brandished the envelope at them: FRISK DREEMURR. “That was Chara’s last name, and she was my mother!”

           The world stopped for a moment. Sans watched Toriel, breathless, painfully aware that her reaction was the one that really mattered. If she took Frisk seriously, then the priestess could probably recover her equilibrium and work through some of her feelings. If she didn’t—

           Toriel was frowning in bewilderment. Then…she started to smile, and Sans’ SOUL shrieked in panic: Nonono, don’t do it, don’t—

           The former Queen gave a polite little laugh. “I’m…sorry, my child, but…there must be some mistake.”

           The air crackled, not loud enough yet for the others to hear. Frisk gripped the letter harder, still holding it at arm’s length. “Why do you say that?” she asked, too calm.

           “Well…” Oh, crap. Now Undyne was smiling, too, only stopping when Alphys yanked on her sleeve. “Sorry,” the Captain said, “but c’mon. Chara never even had any kids!”

           “Yeah, she did,” said Sans, and the women looked at him in astonishment. Frisk’s arm fell to her side as he continued, “The humans who visited ‘bout twenty-four years ago had their King with ‘em, and he knocked her up. She hid it till the last second, ‘n then she gave birth in the Ruins so no one would see anything.” He glanced at Toriel. “Right?”

           It was hard to say who was the most shocked. “I thought Chara had me after she left the Underground! You mean I was born here?” demanded Frisk.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” barked Undyne. She looked at Toriel, whose eyes were huge, hands pressed to her mouth. “I-I mean—” The fish monster turned to Alphys. “Don’t humans get really big and weird when they’re pregnant? Wouldn’t we have noticed something?”

           “Not n-necessarily,” Alphys said, fiddling with her claws faster than ever. “It depends on the individual, and how the baby d-develops. Besides, it’s not as if we had other humans to compare her with. She could’ve just w-worn thick clothes and stayed out of sight.”

“Huh.” Undyne stared at the floor. “Now that you mention it, she did spend a few months cooped up in the house before she left. But—”

           “Where did you hear this, Sans?” None of them had ever heard Toriel sound like that, her gentle voice lowered to an almost bestial snarl. “Who told you?”

           Sans grimaced. “You guys cleared everyone out of the Ruins, but you didn’t get all the spiders. They saw what happened, an’ they heard her tell you who the dad was.”

Toriel’s mouth fell open. “Spiders?”

“Yep. Some of ‘em made it over to Hotland while Kris was here, and they told Muffet, an’ she wound up sellin’ the story to Grillby. I don’t think he ever told anyone else. He just likes knowin’ stuff.” The skeleton scratched the back of his skull. “When I asked him ‘bout Chara the other day, he told me everything. I just never got a friggin’ chance to talk to Frisk about it.”

Another long pause. Was it his imagination, or was the air getting hotter? The priestess was only a few feet away, and though he didn’t have the courage to look at her again, that side of his body was tingling very unpleasantly.

           Toriel’s face had hardened, her arms folded at the waist. “Be that as it may, it proves absolutely no connection between her and Chara.”

God damn it. “No, they didn’t know for a fact that Frisk was her kid. But her age matched up, and a bunch of the spiders who rode with her were right next to her SOUL for a few hours. They said she had a buttload of magic, and it smelled like the Underground—way more than any human’s should.”

“It would explain how she’s so powerful,” mused Alphys. “With the capability to use magic from her f-father’s side, and being c-conceived and gestated here, she probably started accruing it before she was even born. She’s already proven that she can convert a monster’s power for herself, so…”

“Holy shit,” whispered Undyne. “So Chara really did have a kid?”

“Yes, she did,” the former Queen said tightly. “We just thought she was ill and shutting herself away for a while. She didn’t tell us how Stephin had betrayed our hospitality until she was nearly in labor, and she begged us not to tell any of the other monsters.” Toriel was gripping her own sleeves hard enough to puncture the fabric. “We gave her two months to recover, and then Asgore sent them both to Stephin. The baby wasn’t very strong, but Asgore was afraid that if we kept her here, Stephin would think we were holding his child hostage.”

No one answered, and Toriel swallowed hard. “A few weeks later, Chara returned to us in agony. Stephin had just become engaged to another woman, and he refused to break it off. The baby had become sick after leaving the Underground, and when Chara started preparing for the journey back here, she…the child didn’t make it home.” The former Queen wiped her eyes with the side of her hand. “I am sorry, Frisk, but there is no way you could be—”

           “Yes, there is,” Frisk said, sounding oddly detached. “Chara lied to you. I didn’t die—she left me with a wet nurse and paid her to be my foster mother.”

Sans wanted to dive out of the way as Toriel took a step toward the human, Undyne and Alphys also shrinking back. “You mean to tell me,” the goat monster said, deathly quiet, “that my daughter knowingly abandoned her child and deceived her family?”

“Yes. She did.” Frisk was standing firm, but the monsters could see the haze coming off her like a golden mist; Sans traded looks with Undyne, who pulled Alphys closer. “If you really think it’s impossible for me to be Chara’s daughter, why did you ask my exact age?” the human demanded. “Why did you want to know how old I was when I first visited, and why did Asgore ask Sans the very same thing? You knew Chara had had a baby girl ten years before the delegation arrived, and then you found out Kris was a girl. Were you wondering if I was actually—”

           “No!” They flinched at Toriel’s sheer vehemence. She gritted her teeth, trying to control her temper. “It was all Asgore’s fault. When Chara returned to us, he had the temerity to accuse her of lying about her child’s death. He told her she was not welcome unless she brought the baby back with her! Of course we didn’t see her again for ten years!” Smoke drifted from between her fingers as she wiped her eyes again. “I still don’t know how he could have done something so cruel, or how he told you about it, but my only regret is that I ever considered the possibility for a single second! I know you are both wrong!”

           Frisk’s eyes narrowed, and Sans jumped as a golden spark flew in his direction. He quashed the reflex to teleport to safety and stood up, only for Frisk to look around him, as though he wasn’t there. “I haven’t spoken to Asgore since I was a child. He has nothing to do with this conversation,” she snapped. “Do you know who first told me Chara was my mother?”

           Toriel tried to give her a tolerant smile. “No, child. Who first told you?”

           “Asriel.” Before the goat monster could react, Frisk pressed on, “He put the pieces together after he saw me make a barrier by accident. He knew that that ability ran in the royal family, and the King had fathered Chara’s child, so he asked her if it could be me. Chara got him to bring me to her, and he told me who I really was.” The envelope trembled in her hands. “He told me I’d come home.”

Toriel’s eyes widened again. She started to speak, but Frisk raised her voice: “Chara said my nurse had told her I’d died, and she apologized to me for how she acted whenever she visited the orphanage or the castle kitchens.” The human’s face had the hard, bitter expression Sans recognized from the time she’d caught him trying to escape. “She was so sweet to all the other children, and then she looked at me like I was some kind of diseased rat! She said it was because I reminded her of her little girl and it made her sad, and she didn’t know it was actually me!”

           “There!” Toriel exclaimed. “You see? The nurse wanted to hide the King’s child for her own gain, and—”

           “Chara knew who I was all along!” bellowed Frisk, and it was the goat monster’s turn to step back. “She knew damn well that I was alive! Why else would she pay my foster mother a hundred dinar every month for ten years? How did she know to check in on me every so often to see if I still existed? Why’d she leave me to be beaten and starved half to death while she kept the thousands my father gave her to support us both and did whatever she liked?!”

           “How dare you say that? My child would never have—”

“She would, and she did! I’m sorry, Toriel, but she lied to everyone, especially you! Chara abandoned me until I was useful for something besides money, and she tore your family apart to punish Asgore for being right about her!”

           “ENOUGH!” roared Toriel. She made a violent gesture, flame sizzling through the air. “I will not hear any more of this! Do you understand, High Priestess?! Whatever you may think happened, I know my daughter, and I know what she was and was not capable of! If you’re going to insist on slandering her any further, perhaps it would be better for you to l—”

           The echoes died. The fury in Toriel’s gaze was gone, a hand coming back to her mouth.

           “Better for me to what, Lady Toriel?” Frisk asked, so gently that Sans cringed. “Should—” Her throat worked. “Should I leave the Underground? Are you going to send me away again?”

           Toriel didn’t have the chance to reply. A barrier screamed to life overhead, and constricted until it formed a dome around them only about twenty feet across and fifteen feet high. “All right. I understand,” said Frisk.

Undyne reacted first, pushing Alphys to the floor and stuffing her under the table. “Frisk!” snapped the fish monster. “Calm down, okay? She didn’t mean it!”

“She didn’t mean to say I was lying?” Frisk inquired, her voice suddenly rising to a shriek: “She didn’t mean to tell me to get out?”

“Frisk!” Sans tried to grab her shoulder, only for a flare of gold to warn him away. “C’mon, sweetheart! Ya gotta stop it! We can talk about this!”

“We just did, Sans!” He had seen her in pain before, but it was nothing compared to the wild-eyed stare she turned on him now. “We talked about it because you couldn’t wait to show everyone who I was! Thank you so much for helping me have this difficult conversation! We’ve finally answered the question of whether someone else I love is going to call me a liar!”

Sans’ SOUL already hurt so much that it took a moment to remember what she—oh, God. She meant when she’d told him she was Kris, and he’d scoffed at her until she stripped down to prove it. Now she’d been forced to reveal her identity to Toriel in the least natural way possible, and she didn’t believe her, either. “Frisk—”

She was smiling, but in a very unhinged way. “No, I should really be thanking you. Life is so much simpler now! I don’t have to waste any more time and energy wondering if I should feel worthless, because the closest person to a real mother I’ve ever had just told me so!”

Sans couldn’t answer: he had to fling himself backward before a cascade of sparks hit him in the face. Frisk drifted away a few steps and sank to her knees, hands still clenched on the envelope in her lap. “It’s fine,” she mumbled at the floor. “Food, presents, bubbles—I already gave you everything I have. If you don’t want me anymore, then…”

Toriel was rooted to the spot, chest heaving. The barrier sank lower, nearly grazing her horns, and Undyne rushed to sling her under the table as more sparks flew. “Sans!” the Captain shouted over the crackle and hiss of human magic.

The skeleton glared down at Toriel, and shook his head as she tried to speak. Frisk was too far gone—anything else the goat monster said would just aggravate her further, assuming she could even hear it.

Meanwhile, the dome was slowly closing in on them, and they couldn’t do a damn thing about it. If he tried to touch Frisk now, she’d just shove more magic at him; not only would that hurt like hell, it’d trap them all between two layers of barrier. He yelled her name again, but she didn’t move.

Shit! Why hadn’t Alphys warned him sooner? Why hadn’t Undyne kept her goddamn mouth shut about the letter? And if Toriel couldn’t accept right away that everything she knew was wrong and Chara was even worse than Sans had imagined, couldn’t she have found a way to deny it without completely destroying Frisk?!

Why hadn’t he—

No, all that mattered right now was getting through to her. The light surrounded them in blinding golden pulses, the barrier crackling like…

Humming. The barrier was making a hell of a lot of noise, and it…didn’t sound like her humming at all. Why was he thinking of that now?

…Because the last time his magic had been out of control, in his prison cell, she’d calmed him down by humming. But he hadn’t even heard her at first; he’d only snapped out of it when she touched his blaster – the physical embodiment of his magic – with her bare hand. He never did explain to her what a no-no that was…

Sans looked at his hand. He looked at his priestess, curled in on herself, lost in misery. The golden dome was so close to the crown of his skull that he could feel his whole body screaming at him to run.

The giant skeleton looked Toriel in the eye. Then he squeezed his sockets shut, lifted his arm, and placed his hand flat on the barrier.

 ~

             Something…happened.

           One second, the pressure in Frisk’s head was intolerable, grief and despair rising to a fever pitch, spurred by the determination to keep the monsters here until they changed their minds, till they were sorry. Then—

           The sensation could only be likened to someone running their finger down the inside of her chest, the most strange and intimate thing she’d ever felt. It should have been horrible, or at least uncomfortable, but…

           But it didn’t feel invasive. It felt like someone giving her heart a gentle nudge, saying in a familiar, gravelly baritone, “’s all right, Frisk. It’s gonna be okay. I promise. But you gotta stop now, ‘kay?”

The feeling slipped away. She stirred, trying to get it back; Frisk opened her eyes and—

           Sans. Her chest gave a happy little shiver as she saw him looking down at her. He was standing nearby, giving her a strained smile and…and touching—the barrier—

           Fear jolted her fully awake. Frisk whistled as hard as she could, and the searing golden light vanished. Her whole body ached, but it was nothing compared with what she glimpsed as Sans lowered his arm. “Oh, God! Sans—”

           “Hey, kitten,” mumbled the boss monster. He had to stifle a grunt, shuffling hastily to turn his back to her. “Tori, could I…get a hand with this? Heh…ow…”

           Frisk tried to get up from where she was kneeling, or at least stop shaking. Green light shone around Sans’ huge form, but she barely noticed; all she could see in her mind’s eye were his blackened metacarpals, the smaller bones not just burned, but partially melted by her magic.

           Her legs refused to work. Frisk dropped the envelope and shuffled herself around in a half circle to see if anyone else was hurt, and whether they had seen her nearly kill her poor skeleton. No one was here…

           “Aww, darn. You were so close.”

           …except for a voice that felt like spiders crawling into her brain. The demon-child sat on the edge of a nearby table, shaking its head at her and sighing. Then it gave her an encouraging grin. “Oh, well. That was still fun—just like old times. Don’t worry, you’ll get ‘em someday!”

           Someone moved behind her. Frisk blinked hard, then shuddered, and pushed herself up onto her feet, standing with her back to the demon.

Undyne was climbing out from under their table and offering a webbed hand to Alphys. “Undyne?” The human moved gingerly toward them. “Are you two all right?”

           The Captain’s eye widened, and her arm shot out, protecting Alphys from…from what? Frisk glanced around them, looking for—

           Her. Undyne was protecting Alphys from her.

And why not? Hadn’t she done exactly what the monsters feared most—trapped them with a barrier, maimed someone, and nearly killed them? Even Undyne was afraid of her now!

           Frisk shouldn’t have gotten up: she felt her body go heavy, legs giving way. She was only vaguely aware that she was going to fall, and that Undyne was hesitating, moving too late to catch her.

A soft, tingling sensation stopped her just short of the marble floor, lifting her higher into the air. To her dismay, she was enveloped in red magic, and Sans was reaching for her; Frisk tried to say, “No, don’t—”

           His arms closed around her, strong and safe, his injured hand settling her against his shoulder. The other drew his coat over her legs; a shaky phalange ran through her hair, and a shakier voice rumbled, “Y’okay, sweetheart?”

           Frisk wound her arms around his neck as tight as they’d go, not caring how his vertebrae dug into her flesh. She was too numb to cry, and she didn’t have the strength to ask what he was doing, or why he was anywhere near her. All she could do was hang on.

           Undyne cleared her throat. “She…is she okay now?”

           “She’ll be fine,” snapped the giant skeleton, and immediately stroked Frisk’s hair again as she trembled. “Shh, s’alright,” he murmured.

“Sans,” Toriel said brokenly. “I—”

The world tipped and swerved as Sans shifted his weight, turning them away. “C’mon, kitten. Let’s go home.”

           “To your house?” Undyne was still shaken, but Frisk heard a warning note in her voice. “Look, I know you’re really emotional right now, but she’s not in any condition to—”

           “To sleep!” he snarled. “I’m takin’ ‘er home, and we’re gonna sleep! Good fuckin’ night!”

           A tiny part of Frisk wanted to tell him to be nice, but she couldn’t even stay conscious. The last thing she heard was Toriel’s cry of “Sans, wait!” before his magic rushed them through space. Then—

 ~

             On her third day at the convent, they finally made her leave her room.

           Frisk kept her eyes on the ground, letting the matron steer her down a hall and out into a courtyard full of chattering girls. The noise dropped a little as they saw her, but when Frisk stayed by the wall, there was a collective shrug, and the chatter resumed.

           The wind was howling. Frisk wiped her nose on the sleeve of her new uniform, wondering dully if it was going to snow out here. The drifts in front of Sans and Papyrus’ house never seemed to go down, no matter how often they tossed her into them.

           Did they miss her yet? Did they even know she was gone? Or had the accident—

           “Excuse me?”

           Frisk looked up. Through her tears, she saw a group of older girls standing in front of her, with a grownup right behind—the Sister must have ordered them to come be nice to the new girl. Sure enough, the speaker was holding out a handkerchief, looking kind and concerned. “Thank you,” Frisk whispered, taking it and wiping her eyes.

           “It’s all right. I know I was very sad when I first got here,” the girl said, a little too loud. She smiled, and Frisk tried not to shudder—she’d gotten so used to monsters that the girl’s pretty blue eyes, golden hair, and rosy skin looked fake, like a doll.

The grownup nodded approval and moved away to yell at another group for telling dirty jokes. Immediately, the blonde girl’s smile sharpened, and she wrinkled her nose. “Keep it,” she said curtly.

That was bad, but at least Frisk had expected it. What really hurt was when the group moved off and the girl said to her friends, “Oh my God, her hair! And did you see her eyes? She looks like a rabbit!”

The snickering felt like a scab being ripped off Frisk’s heart. “Geez, Mathilda,” another girl said quietly.

“Well, it’s true! They’re not supposed to be red! Is she cursed or something?” Laughter. “I’m serious! We all need to say extra prayers tonight!”

…

Would it have changed anything if Frisk had remembered that conversation? Soon after, the King visited and told her everything – how he had thought Chara was at least providing her with basic necessities, and he would be sure she never lacked for anything again – and when she worsened, they decided to remove her memories; the Mother Superior had repeated the most relevant facts about her father and her future education, and Frisk had accepted her new life.

As far as Frisk knew, the first time she met her best friend was soon afterward, when Mathilda switched places with someone to sit next to her at lunch. “Hello. You must be Frisk,” she said, smiling. “Do you, um…”

Frisk watched her in puzzlement. Why was Mathilda Owen bothering to speak to her?

Mathilda fidgeted. “Never mind. I just wanted to say hello.” Why did she look so guilty? Her friends were watching, whispering anxiously to each other, as though something important was at stake. “Would you like to come and sit with us? I hate to see you all by yourself.”

As soon as she figured out that it wasn’t a cruel prank, and she really was making friends with the most beautiful and kind-hearted girl in the entire school, Frisk was too happy to question things further. It took her a long time to realize that everyone knew why the King had been here, and that everyone wanted his daughter to like them, especially Mathilda.

Even then, Frisk had decided not to care. As long as she could earn their friendship by being kind and helpful, did it really matter how it’d started? It wasn’t as if she was only worth something because of her father.

…It wasn’t.

 ~

             …Finally.

She shook the ruby droplets from the kitchen knife, wondering idly why he was the only monster who ever bled, then kicked the dust aside. It was time to move on.

 ~          

                       Frisk awoke in a rush of adrenaline and half-remembered nightmares. It was dark; she thought for a moment that she’d been buried alive, then realized that something huge and leathery was draped over her entire body. No golden twilight through the windows, no blood, no dust…

Ugh. Her mouth tasted like a warm sock, and her head throbbed the way it always did when she’d used too much magic. With great care, the human slithered out of her warm prison for a look around.

She was in Sans’ room, lying on his outgrown mattress, his overcoat loosely wrapped around her. The lamp was on, but he’d draped an old shirt over it to diffuse the light into a soft glow, giving the cold, messy space a warmer aspect; in fact, the golden haze reminded her of—

           A barrier.

Chills swept through her, clearing her head of other thoughts like a blast of frigid air. It wasn’t just a nightmare: she had used a barrier against monsters inside the Underground. There was no coming back from that, no excusing or explaining it away.

Even if Toriel hadn’t really meant it at the time, her order to leave would probably become reality. Her friends might not entirely blame her for lashing out, but there was still no way they could trust her anymore—after she had hurt Sans like that, she’d be angry if he did trust her!

           Frisk slowly eased herself back down inside the coat, as if she could hide from what she’d done. In her bitter, selfish regret, she didn’t even think of what this meant for her peace efforts; all she knew was that the Underground was the only place she’d ever really belonged – her birthplace – and she had lost any right to be here. Back to the humans, then, and her suffocating routine of work, exhaustion, and loneliness, secretly hoping that maybe, if she could be useful enough, someone would love her for more than her money or her pedigree and stay. If she could just be good enough—

           Well, obviously, she couldn’t.

           Frisk wasn’t going to cry again. She was tired of crying about things in general, and in this case, there was no possible way to make herself feel better. Why bother making her headache worse and her sleeves all soggy again? She just burrowed deeper into the huge leather coat, willing her mind to subside into comfortable nothingness; at least she was good at that.

It usually helped to have something small to focus on, so Frisk unhooked her itchy black choker and scratched her neck, flushing at the memory of flirting with Sans in front of everyone. Then came her boots, her stockings, and her earrings…

…which weren’t there. The priestess frowned, fingering her earlobes. She didn’t remember taking them out. Had they come off while she was asleep?

Wait a moment. Sans had put her here, hadn’t he? Her satchel was close by; Frisk stuck her arm out until she could pull it over and peek inside. Sure enough, not only had the boss monster removed her earrings for her, he’d left them atop her folded clothes, where they were both safe and easily found.

For some reason, that one little thing, that bit of care and attention, was the last straw. She took a deep breath, only for it to catch as a huge sob tore loose, partly muffled by his coat. Then another, and—

Sans was suddenly standing by the mattress. “Frisk!” He sat down hard. “Frisk, it’s okay, don’t—”

The human forgot that he was supposed to be scared of her. Moving on pure instinct, she flung the coat aside and launched herself up at him, letting his shirt absorb the first wave of tears. “Aww,” he murmured, folding his arms over her back and cradling her head in one massive palm. “C’mon, sweetheart, ya don’t hafta cry. Everythin’s fine now.”

Frisk pressed her face into his clavicle, furiously shaking her head. It was important to explain to him that nothing was fine and it was absolutely correct for her to be crying, but she was crying too hard to get the words out.

Sans gave a large, soft sigh, carrying her outward and back in. “It’s okay,” he repeated, his voice rumbling throughout her body. She shook her head again, and he ran the side of his finger down her back. “Yuh-huh, it is. Calm down.”

She didn’t want to calm down, but as he kept petting her, Frisk’s sobs slowed down a little. The boss monster made a sound deep in his chest, and she answered him with one that made him squeeze her tighter.

There was that magnetic feeling again, as though she was completely stuck to him. This time, though, she wasn’t frightened. And this time, she felt something else: another sensation was stealing over her, so slowly that she thought it might just be her imagination. It was similar to when he’d accidentally given her his magic, but this didn’t seem accidental, and it wasn’t exactly magic…

She’d felt it when he touched the barrier, and here it was again, washing over her in gentle waves: guilt and anger at himself for kicking off the whole incident, anxiety for her, and…well. He didn’t think she was worthless, or dangerous, or that she needed to do a single thing to deserve forgiveness. His hand didn’t even hurt anymore. …Much.

Even if it did, he still loved her.

Frisk shook her head again, but her sobs grew slower and weaker, gradually coming to a stop. The human leaned away long enough to sniff back a giant wad of snot, then sought a dry patch of his shirt to wipe her eyes. She wasn’t sure how he was doing this, but she wasn’t going to question it right now. “Hand?” she croaked.

Sans was quiet. He grunted, then held his palm up. “It ain’t that bad. Looks kinda like a frowny face. See?”

The priestess gulped, raising her own fingers to trace the pattern of deep swirls and grooves her magic had left in the living bones. “Can…” Frisk had to swallow a few more times before she could whisper, “Can you still move them?”

He paused. She felt a closing-off sort of twinge in her chest, as though he’d decided to stop sharing his feelings so he could fib: “Yeah, pretty much.” His metacarpals waggled back and forth, the smallest of them longer than her entire hand. She poked the base of his thumb and forefinger, where a good two or three inches of bone were fused together. “That doesn’t count,” he said stubbornly.

Frisk shuddered, turning to rest her cheek near the top of his sternum. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Do ya wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and winced as her head throbbed. “What time is it?”

“Last I checked, it was about seven o’clock,” he replied, petting her hair again. “I got up maybe half an hour ago an’ healed you, just in case.” Tap, tap. “How’s yer hangover?”

“…Not that bad, actually.” Frisk yawned. She’d missed being with him so much that it felt like a waste to just sleep, but it was hard to argue with the results. After all she’d had to drink last night, and then…the incident, she was amazed that she only had a headache and an icky mouth. “Thank you for that. It feels like I got much more than five or six hours.”

Sans chuckled, tapping her head again. “That’s ‘cause it’s seven in the evening, kitten. I think we slept about eighteen hours.”

Frisk’s eyes shot open. “Are you serious?” She leaned back enough to look him in the face. “Is that even possible? I—”

The words faded as their eyes met. Frisk figured she must look pretty awful, but he wasn’t much better. “Did I miss a spot?” he asked gruffly.

The human nodded, reaching up to brush at the dried red on the corners of his sockets. Sans leaned into her touch as she rubbed his cheekbone. “You’re supposed to be a big boy now,” she scolded the giant skeleton. “Do I need to—”

Memory hit her again like a fist. Sans jumped as Frisk suddenly yanked her hand away, trying to push herself off him. “Hey!” he protested. “What’re you—wouldja hold on a damn minute?!” More by reflex than design, his hand tightened around her back, keeping her in place. “It was an accident, goddammit! You’re not gonna do it again!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Frisk thumped his shoulder with her tiny fist. “You don’t understand!” Thump. “It wasn’t an accident! I was so angry, I wanted to keep everyone there, and I didn’t want to control it! I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped me!”

Sans started. “That little fucker,” the skeleton whispered, as if he’d realized something very profound. “I know what it was, Frisk. That goddamn thing was right there! I saw it a minute before the whole name thing started! I dunno if it made me drop the letter so you’d freak out, or if it was plannin’ something else, but it wanted you to go nuts! That’s why—”

“No! It wasn’t!” Thump. Thump. “Are you even listening?! It was me! I did it on purpose!” Thump. “I was already…” Frisk shuddered, shaking her head again as more emotions boiled to the surface. “Do you know how scared I’ve been? We’re halfway through our visit, and I haven’t even talked to anyone about ending slavery! I’ve just been thinking of how to tell Asgore and Toriel about Chara, whether they’d believe me and if I’ve been selfish to keep back something that could help make peace—I had no idea their estrangement was because Asgore knew Chara was lying about me! And I missed you so much—” His arms tightened, and Frisk caught herself on another sob. “I don’t want to go, Sans!”

“No one’s makin’ you go anywhere!” He gave her a very light shake. “We all know you, Frisk! Ya think anyone’s sittin’ there thinkin’, ‘Welp, that was inevitable, let’s go ahead ‘n toss ‘er out now’? Or d’ya think we feel like shit ‘cause we kept pokin’ you till you couldn’t take it anymore?”

“How can you say that?” she demanded. “It doesn’t matter how badly I was provoked! I wouldn’t let you get away with attacking me just because you were angry!”

“Y’already did. Remember?” He stroked her back with one knuckle. “You coulda done anythin’ you wanted once I quit tryin’ ta murder you, and ya put me to bed ‘n fed me.”

…Damn it. “That’s not the same thing! I—”

“Frisk.” His phalange brushed her cheek. “Yer the one who’s not listenin’. No one is makin’ you leave. We’re gonna talk about it with everybody, there’s gonna be a big damn fight over who’s the most sorry, an’ we’re gonna figure out how to get you in to see Asgore. You’re gonna say whatever you need to about Chara and lay out yer big plan to make everything all better. If he doesn’t wanna do it, we’ll figure somethin’ else out before we leave.” His hand rested on her back like a shield. “And I’m gonna quit actin’ like all I hafta do is stay outta yer way an’ let you do everything. From now on, I want you ta tell me if somethin’s botherin’ you before ya go crazy.” Squeeze. “Any questions?”

Frisk thought about it as she sniffled. “Yes. Why couldn’t you have been this sweet when I gave you the stupid chessboard?”

He snorted. “Yer startin’ ta sound like me!” Pause. Shrug. “Short answer? It was pretty much the best thing I ever got, and I didn’t know what to say.”

“Whatever happened to ‘Thank you,’ Sans?” Thump. “I was really looking forward to you opening your gift, and you couldn’t wait to get away from it!”

“I know, I know!” His shoulders hunched again. “’m sorry! I…wanted ta jump you, but that wasn’t exactly an option. I didn’t know what else ta do!”

How could he make her want to hug and slap him so badly? “Well, putting that aside, do you plan to spend the rest of your life running off when you get embarrassed?”

“I wasn’t—” He caught himself and scowled. “I dunno. Just…sorry I was shitty about the chess stuff. It was amazing, and thank you a lot for it. Okay?”

He was so exasperatingly cute that Frisk had to bite her lip. “All right, then. You’re welcome. I…”

Rrrrgggrgrgl.

They both froze as her stomach rumbled. Frisk made a sheepish sound, and Sans chuckled. “Right. I was in the middle of makin’ a couple sandwiches when I came up.”

Frisk nodded. “Where’s Papyrus?” She wiped her eyes again. “Please don’t say he’s planning to make dinner.”

“Nope! I left a note on the door tellin’ him and Undyne ta stay at the inn tonight. I said we’d meet ‘em at the Ruins tomorrow morning.”

They were going to be alone tonight? The priestess felt light-headed, her cheeks burning. Sans must have been thinking the same thing, because she could’ve sworn his bones were getting warmer. “Time ta eat,” he mumbled, and a blink later, they were in the living room.

Still in his arms, Frisk turned her head to survey the kitchen table. He’d set out a loaf of bread, some cheese, tomatoes, and a few other things, obviously dropped when he’d heard her crying. Frisk thought about it, then snuggled back into Sans. There was food, and she was starving, but he was right here, too; she didn’t know which she wanted more at the moment.

Another rumble from her stomach settled the question. “Off ya go,” he said reluctantly, and Frisk sighed, moving her hand down to push free of their stuck-togetherness.

Sans suddenly made a strangled sound. Frisk didn’t understand it, or why his hand had flexed to avoid squashing her, until she looked down: she’d accidentally reached in between his ribs, pushing his shirt through and wrapping her fingers most of the way around his middle rib.

She’d never put her hands inside his ribcage, assuming it was basically a private part, and it seemed she was right. Just like that, his breathing had grown ragged, his bones trembling as her hand tightened. There was no misinterpreting his physical reaction; she could imagine how his instincts to comfort and protect her were deepening into much more raw emotion…

…because it was completely mutual. The young woman tugged lightly on his rib, and felt him shudder again. “Frisk,” he muttered. “Knock it off.”

Frisk moved just enough to brush her cheek against his jawbone. “What?” One finger slid along the bone toward his sternum. “This?”

Sans’ entire frame jerked. “Yes, that!” He caught her wrist in the curl of his index finger. “If I was a human, it’d be like stickin’ yer hand down my pants!”

“You don’t want me to?” she asked, very matter-of-fact.

Sans’ arm across her back was almost hurting her. Not tight enough, then. “Frisk,” he said warningly.

“I’m serious.” She licked her lips, feeling heat spread through her, chasing away the sorrow and anger. “My period’s over, the house is empty, and your magic doesn’t have any negativity at all right now.” Her free hand drifted toward his sternum. “We both need this, Sans. Don’t tell me you’re not interested.”

“I’m not sayin’ that!” To her bewilderment, he seized her with his magic and set her on the couch with a butt-tingling thump. “Just… I want you so bad, I’m about to lose my damn mind!” His entire skull was bright red. “But you’re still messed up from somethin’ that only happened ‘cause I was bein’ a dumbass, an’ I’m not gonna do it when you’re not thinkin’ straight! That would be fuckin’ wrong! Got it?” Despite himself, he stepped closer to touch her cheek. “’Sides, there’s somethin’ we’ve really gotta talk about first. The letter from yer dad is…”

He trailed off as her face twitched. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

“So, you…” Frisk knew this was not the time, but she couldn’t keep the words from bubbling up: “You’d be…fucking wrong?” Her body was trembling again, this time with the urge to giggle. “You already went the extra mile and figured out how to be my size. I’m pretty sure that means you can do it correctly now!”

“Frisk,” he said, scandalized, and covered his face as she snrrrked. “God damn it, woman, I’m tryin’ ta be serious here!”

She didn’t answer, at least not out loud. Sans took one look at her face and gave his scariest growl. “No.”

“But—”

“Frisk.”

“But are you—”

“Friiiiisk—”

A long pause. Frisk sighed in resignation, shrugging one shoulder.

Sans nodded. “Okay. Now, for real, Frisk, I’m—”

“—fucking serious?”

The dam broke: one moment, they were staring each other down, and then they burst into hysterical, snorting laughter. Frisk was sobbing again, but for the right reason, dammit; Sans let his forehead thunk on the floor, trying desperately to stop long enough to say something, only to end up laughing harder.

Eventually, out of sheer weakness, they had to slow down, and reached a point where they could almost breathe normally. “Shit,” rasped Sans, and wiped his eyes on his sleeves. “Oh my God, I love you.”

Frisk’s breath caught, her heart coming to a standstill. She sat up, watching the skeleton realize what he’d said. His sockets widened, but he looked straight at her, almost defiantly. “What?” There went the red again. He looked away…and back. “’s true,” he said, very quietly.

There was no telling what she might have done if Sans hadn’t pushed to his feet and waved his hand at the table. The bread knife started sawing away, cutting the loaf into sandwich slices and assembling the ingredients. “We need ta eat somethin’, an’ then I should go track yer letter down,” he mumbled, trying to rub the color off his skull. “I dunno if someone picked it up, or if it got left up there, or what. You can get some time to yerself—take a bath or somethin’.”

A bath sounded good, decided the one functional corner of her mind. She accepted the glass of water and mostly-tomato sandwich he wafted over to her a moment later, ignoring his muttered apologies for its crappiness. Nor did she pay much heed when he said something else, tapped a knuckle on her shoulder, and winked out of sight.

Alone for the first time in several days, Frisk finished her sandwich. She put the dishes in the sink, went upstairs, and ran a very hot bath, staring at the steam rising from the water. Then she went to Sans’ room, removed all her clothes, and lay down to wrap herself in his overcoat again. She hadn’t touched herself since before they left the castle, and she was even more worked up now than she’d been the night she made herself clear to Sans; being in his room, with the feeling of his bones and everything he’d said to her fresh in her mind, anticipating time to themselves at last—that was more than her body could handle. So…

It took so little time that the water was still hot when Frisk stumbled back into the bathroom. She left the door open a crack before she got in the tub, because…the steam…had to escape. Yes. The door needed to be open. For the steam.

Frisk knew exactly when Sans returned; to her disappointment, she heard an embarrassed mutter in the hall, and the door clicked shut. Just because she could, Frisk splashed louder, whistling his favorite song and letting the notes linger than she probably had to. She let the water out, also loudly, and kept humming as she dried herself and got dressed.

Sans was obviously on his guard when she came downstairs, which was wise: she was wearing his old clothes again, hands in the pockets of his zipped-up blue jacket, though she hadn’t had the nerve to put on any socks. He gave her one glance, reddened again, and turned his head, shoving the golden envelope at her. “Here.”

Frisk swallowed. “Thank you.” She studied the envelope for a moment, then tossed it on the couch and advanced on him. “I’m feeling much better now, so—”

“Nope!” Sans skipped away fast enough to make her yelp a little. He held up his good hand, as if to ward her off. “Dammit, Frisk, I mean it when I say I’m not gonna fuck you yet! Sit down and listen!”

Startled, the human sank onto the couch. Sans scratched the back of his head, collecting his thoughts. “Okay. So. Gaster gave me that thing, an’ he told me what’s in it.” He shut his eyes. “First thing: your King’s been talkin’ about you all over the place. Everyone—all the humans know Chara was yer mom.”

Frisk’s stomach lurched. “I see,” she murmured. Sans watched anxiously as she blew out a long breath. “Well, at least if I start throwing barriers at humans, it won’t frighten them.”

Sans chuckled. “Nope. They’d think it was neat,” he agreed.

The priestess thought it over, and decided that this particular problem could go back on the shelf for now. “Did someone see the letter and start spreading the word?”

“Yep. Gaster says yer dad’s pissed off, and that’s his way of bein’ passive-aggressive.” He indicated the envelope. “He fixed up a bunch of legal stuff with your name all over it.”

“‘Legal stuff’?” Frisk scowled. “Am I being arrested for theft?” She almost hoped so; that was a fight she’d enjoy winning. “If I am, I swear I will burn down the entire—”

“Nope. Just the opposite.” The skeleton took a deep, deep breath. “He…”

Watching his face, it suddenly clicked. “He wants to adopt me?” she asked crisply.

Blink. “…Uh.” Blink. “…yes?” Emphatic blink. “How the hell did you know?”

Her teeth clenched, all her muscles knotting at once, and then she let it go with a sigh. “He hinted at it a few times back when I was teaching Gaius magic. It’s been so long, I forgot all about it.” Mostly. “The poor boy isn’t going to live long enough to have his own heirs, and my older siblings are almost all gone, so… I was hoping His Majesty would name one of his more distant relatives, or pick another of his children.”

“Well, you’re the best he’s got.” Frisk flushed as Sans sat down against the opposite wall. “Is that a normal thing fer humans? You’re gettin’ old and yer official kid is kinda puny, so you grab a backup?”

Frisk crossed her legs, absently enjoying his reaction. “It’s uncommon, but it’s happened before in order to keep a particular bloodline going.” She picked up the envelope and broke the wax seal. “I’ll bet you a million dinar my father says he’s invited Luke and Mathilda back to the castle with their family. He went to school with Luke’s father, so he probably wants to get reacquainted before they announce our engagement.”

The boss monster watched in silence as she pulled out a sheaf of expensive papers, setting aside the copies of her ducal investiture and adoption decree. Frisk unfolded the handwritten letter, read it over carefully, and nodded. “You owe me a million dinar.”

He didn’t laugh. “See? If you end up havin’ my kid, it’s probably not gonna improve yer chances of bein’ Queen someday and gettin’ to set everything right for everyone.” Sans shrugged, eyes on the floor. “Not the kinda thing I can ask you to give up just so I can get laid.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest and rekindled in her middle, where she was still sensitive from her personal time upstairs. “I’m not giving anything up. I don’t want to be Queen,” she said calmly. “I want to become the humans’ ambassador to the monster race and set up an embassy somewhere close by—maybe at the farm on the river.” She set the papers aside and got to her feet, her entire body humming. “And if I do have a child, I’m going to love it and raise it, no matter how hard things get…even if it’s only half human.”

Sans’ eyes went blank. “…Frisk?”

The High Priestess’ heart was pounding so hard that she wondered if he could hear it as she crossed the room. She stopped in front of him, and held her hand out. “Will you stay with me, Sans?”

His hand came up to engulf hers and tug her against him, even as he shook his head. “Ya can’t decide somethin’ like that so quick,” Sans protested. Frisk leaned in just hard enough for him to feel her breasts through the thick blue jacket, and he shuddered. “I-I mean, believe me, I understand bein’ horny, but—”

Frisk reached up to rap on his cheekbone with her knuckles. “Excuse me, sir, but my mind has been made up since I opened the box.” She turned to press her lips to his phalanges. “Take me to your room, please.”

The light in his sockets dilated nearly all the way. Massive hands closed around her, and the world suddenly rushed by, depositing them by the door in his room. His magic pulled the mattress out to the center of the floor, straightening his overcoat in lieu of sheets or a blanket; the skeleton released her and glanced around for a moment, visibly regretting that they weren’t in a more romantic or at least clean environment. “Close yer eyes,” he mumbled.

Frisk complied, feeling and hearing him compress his huge frame down to human size. She opened her eyes just in time for Sans to pull her down to the mattress, setting her in his lap with her calves draped over his femurs. As before, he didn’t seem to care how his clothes hung off him; he simply yanked his sleeves back, then slipped his arm around her waist, the other running through her hair as he mouthed her neck.

That was a good start; the priestess wound her arms around him as Sans pulled her even closer. She made a delicate little sound as he slid his tongue into her mouth, his movements slow and gentle until she deliberately nipped him.

He nearly snarled at her, one hand gripping the small of her back and the other tangling in her hair. Frisk almost purred at the twinges in her scalp, letting him hold her in place as the kiss grew rougher and his fangs grazed her lip. She couldn’t believe how easily this was coming to her, how gratifying it was—all it took was a few little sighs, soft touches, and complete sexual abandon. Who knew?

It was more than a physical urge, though. She couldn’t even guess which of them needed this more, to be held and explored, valued, accepted—

The hand on her back had crept under her jacket, finding the hem of her shirt and then encountering bare skin. Frisk shivered pleasurably at the feel of bones gliding up her side, and at the disbelieving sound he made. “Holy shit,” breathed Sans. “You’re so soft.” His nasal ridge dropped back to the crook of her neck; he inhaled so deeply that she felt a rush of cold on her damp skin. “You smell amazing—” His tongue ran across her throat, his teeth sinking just hard enough to make her whimper and reach up to caress his skull. “I don’t…are ya really sure about this?”

Sighing inwardly, the priestess nuzzled the side of his vertebrae; he sucked in his breath as her tongue ran over the dry bone. Her legs shifted toward him, hips scooting closer as she guided his hands to her waist. Sans accepted the invitation, hitching up his baggy trousers and carefully grinding his pelvis into her so that she could feel his magic more directly.

It was one thing to have undergone a comprehensive scientific education and read dozens upon dozens of romance novels, and quite another to actually feel male parts…or magical facsimiles. The eternal, universal question sprang to mind: how was anything that size supposed to fit in her? That couldn’t be right. If she didn’t know better, she’d dismiss the whole idea as an elaborate prank, and childbirth as some kind of optical illusion. But…

Frisk ducked her head into his shoulder, face burning as his fingers combed through her hair. Luckily, Sans was oblivious. “’s not fair,” he murmured above her. “Everythin’ about you feels nice, ‘n I’m just a buncha gross bones.”

Frisk gave a disapproving snort—this, she could handle. “Here, give me your hand.” Ignoring her hot cheeks, she took his wrist and slid his hand up under her jacket, unable to suppress a tremor as his phalanges traced the underside of her breast. “If I thought you were ‘gross,’ would I be letting you do this?”

There was no telling what Sans thought: his powers of speech had degenerated into a series of incoherent sounds. To her irritation, he withdrew his hand and grabbed at the bottom of her jacket, desperate to pull it over her head…only to blink in confusion as Frisk snrked at him, leaning back and helpfully tapping the zipper.

As it turned out, the joke was on her. In another split-second, Sans had the jacket unzipped and the sleeves pulled straight down her arms, the whole thing tossed aside; before she knew what had happened, he was crushing her against him, his hands back under her white shirt, palms sweeping along her sides and up across her back—

In the heat of the moment, both of them had forgotten about her scars. Frisk tensed as his hands passed over the rough skin, and he stopped dead. “This okay?” he inquired after a moment, giving her a few experimental pets. “Doesn’t feel too weird, does it?”

The young woman shook her head, resting it on his shoulder and reminding herself that he’d already seen them. There was nothing to worry about or feel ashamed of. “You can touch it if you want. It doesn’t feel like much of anything anymore—the nerve endings are gone.”

Sans ground his teeth. “Are ya sure I can’t go kill that bitch?”

Purely on instinct, Frisk placed her slender fingers between his upper ribs, near his sternum; his eyes widened further as she pulled herself the rest of the way onto his bony, baggy-trousered lap. “Please don’t,” she said against his jaw. “I think we have better things to d—”

In one motion, Sans pulled her shirt up to her collarbone and hitched her forward to lay them both down on the mattress. With her face aflame and her heart galloping harder than ever, Frisk stayed still as he rose on one elbow to look her over, jaws parting to breathe more heavily; but to her surprise, when he reached down, all he did was rest his right palm on her sternum, where they could both feel her heartbeat reverberating through the disfigured bones.

Frisk gradually forget to be embarrassed, or cold, letting him see that she trusted him enough to stay exposed. Sans moved his thumb a little, and without thinking, she rested her hand on his, playing with the gaps between his joints. They were both content to stay that way for a few quiet moments, studying the contrast between her skin and his bones.

Soon, though, he had to lean down again to kiss her, and his hand turned to stroke her breast with the backs of his fingers. Frisk made a soft sound and tried to sit up to demand more; to her surprise, he shook his head and slung his femur across her waist, pinning her to the mattress. “Slow down, kitten,” he muttered. “I don’t wanna go nuts an’ hurt you by accident.”

That was cheating. She was already aroused enough; when she reached down to grab his hand, only to have her wrists corraled and pinned over her head with a trace of red magic, she couldn’t help moaning out loud.

Sans’ orange eyes were fully dilated now. He had sat up and partly turned aside, but couldn’t look away from her writhing and urgent noises. “What’d I just say?!” he snapped.

“I can’t help it!” Frisk squirmed again. “Let me go, and I’ll stop! Please!”

With unnatural speed, Sans released her and kicked off his trousers. His full weight flattened her to the mattress, and something pressed very distinctively into her stomach; Frisk tried to look down between their bodies, but his baggy shirt was blocking her view. Was it red like the rest of his magic, or—

His fingers caught her chin, making her look up at him. “Okay, kitten. You ready?” He let go long enough to hook his phalanges in the waistband of her black-and-white-striped pants, and rested his forehead on hers. “I…” He exhaled, his entire body trembling. “I’m just guessin’ on size. Went with somethin’ like this.” His tongue stuck out for a moment. “If it doesn’t work, then—”

“It’s all right, Sans.” Frisk leaned up to kiss his jaw, wiggling her hips to help him remove her last piece of clothing. “Go ahead.”

Sans nodded, taking in the view with his jaws still parted and his eyes burning, but he clearly couldn’t wait any longer. She let him arrange her arms around him, then run his hand over her waist and hips, rubbing her thighs for an appreciative moment before he nudged her legs open.

Either Sans had read up on this process, or the instincts Undyne had mentioned could adapt to human anatomy, because he didn’t even hesitate. He plucked the folds of his shirt out of the way and reached down, and Frisk jumped as something prodded her entrance. She’d gotten a couple of her fingers in there before, but as Sans moved forward into her, she couldn’t help wincing. The pressure quickly grew into discomfort as her body started giving way; she buried her face in Sans’ shirt, and he paused for a second, then leaned in—

Romance novels had absolutely lied to her. The pressure built into sharp, burning pain as he pushed further into her, and Frisk couldn’t hold back a little sob as he moved out, and back in. He shook his head; she tried to tell him it was all right, only to cry out as he sank the rest of the way inside. “God—‘m sorry, Frisk, just—” His hips moved back again, and he started to sit up.

Frisk latched onto his ribs again, legs squeezing his pelvis in the strangest, strongest determination she’d ever felt. She didn’t care if it hurt: he needed her, she needed him, and she’d be damned if she’d let it end yet! “Don’t stop,” she whispered, keenly aware of the effect her voice had on him. Just to be certain, she ran her finger over the back of his skull. “Please?”

There were no more words after that. The boss monster slammed into her again, drawing another near-sob from her. He snarled deep in his throat, hands trembling as they grasped the overcoat behind her head; with a huge effort, he drew out and pushed in more slowly, then stayed still for a moment. Frisk made the mistake of wriggling her hips to try to adjust to the feeling of fullness – of intrusion, really – and he swiftly jerked out and slammed in again.

That was enough for Frisk. She pulled clumsily at him with her legs, and he either took the hint or couldn’t hold back anymore: he snarled in his throat, movements faster and more erratic the closer he came. Frisk held on, ignoring the pain and focusing on the fierce exultation of watching him lose himself in her; when he started to slow down a little, she growled and bit his clavicle as hard as she could, determined to see him finish.

Sure enough, Sans groaned deep in his throat, ending on a snarl; his hips went once—twice—three times more, and his arms locked around her, his entire body shoving her into the mattress as hard as she’d wanted. Frisk let him ride it out for as long as he wanted, waiting till the tension in his limbs finally relaxed and he slumped into her.

Neither one spoke for several minutes. There was no need for him to pull out: she felt his magic vanish, and tried not to breathe too big a sigh of relief. Well, she couldn’t be disappointed in the lack of multiple orgasms or even much pleasure yet—how could she when Sans was lying in her arms, rubbing his face slowly into her neck as his breathing began to slow?

Frisk stroked his skull and shifted her weight where his leg was digging into her, and immediately regretted it as her entire lower half protested. She was going to have many bruises in the morning. They would just have to work on their technique, she thought, resting her cheek on his cranium.

Sans showed no signs of life besides his breathing for several minutes. She was starting to worry a little when he moved his head enough to say, “M’rm.”

The young woman blinked. “Beg pardon?”

He was silent for a long time. “Never mind. I’ll ask ya later.” Sans rose up on his elbow and shakily leaned in to lick her neck again. “Thank you,” he murmured.

There was so much behind it that Frisk didn’t know what to say. Instead, she reached up and pulled his head back down to her breasts, resting his cheekbone over her heart. It made her remember how he’d shared his feelings directly with her before, and what’d happen if he tried that in the middle of sex…

Frisk sighed, closing her eyes. That was another thing to put away for later, to worry about and/or look forward to when she got to it. For now, she closed her eyes, and waited for Sans to say something; then she peeked at him, and saw that she was wasting her time. He was already fast asleep.

[undertalethingies]

Self Indulgent Self Insert Fanfic, Part One

I am sitting in my room, not doing much of anything, (as per usual) when I look up and notice that my mirror has apparently transformed into a solid wall of inky darkness as I’ve been spacing out.

And well- it’s not like I can not poke it, right? There’s a high chance I’ll seriously regret it, if my life has become the isekai it appears to be, but there’s a 100% chance I’ll regret it forever if I don’t touch it, you know?

Everyone always assumes I’m risk averse, that I like to play it safe, but the truth of the matter is I’ve just never found something I really want to take a risk with.

So, I push myself out of bed with a hand and go grab my shoes, because there’s no way in hell I’m touching something that might be a portal with no shoes on. Thankfully, I’m actually dressed for once, rather than being in my bathrobe like usual. 

Once I’ve got my shoes on, I grab my coat from where it hangs by my dresser and walk straight into what used to be my mirror. I hope my parents aren’t too worried by my disappearance. Maybe I’ll be lucky and this will be the kind of isekai that retroactively erases me from existence? That would be kind of nice, to exist without tethers.

The portal (because that’s what it is, I’m pretty sure) feels cool, but not unpleasantly so. Like when you first put on a fleece sweater and it takes a moment to warm up.

If this were a stereotypical isekai story, things would quickly become very unpleasant in this dark void, and some godlike being would reach out to grant me power beyond my wildest imaginings.

I’ve never been one to cave to expectations, though. Not even my own.

The darkness remains cool and comforting, and I continue walking forward because there’s no chance I’m going to turn back now, with so much possibility awaiting me if I only continue long enough.

Eventually, I feel as if I’ve passed some threshold, and something definably changes within me. Can’t say what, though. I’ve always kinda sucked at interpreting what my body is trying to tell me, so I’ll probably have to figure it out on my own.

At some point the darkness and walking grows boring, and so I do what I often do when bored, and curl up to go to sleep. This place isn’t cold enough for me to need a blanket, and I’ve got my coat with me anyway, so I’m fine. Sleeping on hard surfaces isn’t unpleasant, in my opinion, merely a bit annoying, since if you pick the wrong position you’ll inevitably wake up sore.

As always, consciousness takes a while to fade, so I occupy myself with grand imaginings about all the wonderful (and terrible, I’ve got anxiety okay, I can’t help it) things that might await me.

==

When I wake, it’s immediately obvious that something is different. There’s light now, for one, and for two I can feel something soft and organic beneath me. Judging by smell alone… Flowers? Waking up on a bed of flowers in a lit room… Well, I’ve always wished I could live in Undertale, if only so I could chew out the characters for bottling up their feelings so damn much. Hey, maybe if I’m lucky, that one headcanon I have about Sans secretly being a teenager will be right and I’ll be able to flirt with him without it being creepy.

Oh come on, like everyone attracted to dudes and not overly hung up about species concerns doesn’t want to kiss that guy, are you kidding me? Plus, I love puns and I’m depressed, surely we’ll get along.

Oh boy, I’m definitely going to die, huh? Thank fuck for my high pain tolerance and ridiculous resistance to trauma, am I right?

Finally, I open my eyes, because I like to wake up slow and I see no reason to alter my existing routine simply because I’ve apparently been yeeted into my favorite video game. Hey, speaking of favorite video games, will I get to visit Hollow Knight next? No, wait, that would probably suck, wouldn’t it. Ah, well.

The cave is just as beautiful as I always imagined it would be. Though it looked lovely in the game art, there’s truly nothing that can compare to seeing the sight in person, those marble pillars in a half circle around me, that single spot of sunlight in the ceiling far (far, far) above. Not to mention the lovely flowers I’m laying on at this very moment and- there’s a dead body under me, isn’t there. Is Chara going to show up, or am I left to be alone in my head?

Though their narration doesn’t actually start until you meet Flowey, in the game, so I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see.

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

Which human soul am I taking the place of right now? Because I read a fic once where the protagonist wasn’t the seventh, even if it was a fakeout, and I very much do not want to be saddled with the fate of those poor bastards.

Though, maybe I’d be able to talk my way out? There’s no one who’d call me diplomatic, for sure, but I’m pretty great at knowing exactly where to aim an insult to utterly break someone’s spirit. (Unusual skill, I’m aware, but in my defense I was bullied growing up)(I say “growing up” like I’m not still doing it, like I’m not fourteen and trapped in a world where it’s an accepted fact that the protagonist will die, and several times over, too)

My first order of business is Flowey, before I can take the time to freak out, to hold myself tight and weather the sheer panic that Toto, I am not in Kansas anymore.

I get up. I give a last fond look to the beautiful cave I’ve “fallen” into, and I walk to the next room, hoping all the while that I’m not signing my own death sentence.

Once I’m a few feet in, there he is, in all his fucking glory.

Flowey the flower, the soulless remnant of prince Asriel Dreemurr, former hope of the underground, possibly still holder of the ability to control time itself.

Yeah, I’m definitely going to mess with him. Self preservation is for losers.

“You’re a flower with a face,” I say before he can start with his usual greeting. I have it memorized anyway, so it’s not like I’m missing out on anything.

He makes his T-T face, so I know this isn’t how he thought this would go. 

“Wow, human! What gave you that impression?” Ooh, sassy. Literally his only positive trait.

“Well I have eyes, see,” I was planning  to ask him probing questions, but honestly this is just as good. His expression doesn’t change as he says his next sentence, nor does his ever cheery tone, (and holy fuck his voice is just as vaguely creepy as I’d imagined, all that childlike innocence paired with the fact that he’s a mass murderer)

“Well howdy, human with eyes! I’m Flowey, flowey the flower!” He says. I don’t interject.

“You’re clearly new to the underground, and it looks like I’m the only one around to show you how things work around here! Are you ready?” 

…

“I’m really not, to be honest. I’ve got no idea what’s going on,” So my plan here, basically, is to stall until Toriel gets here. Mostly because I’m hoping that if he doesn’t get the chance to do his betrayal, he’ll keep pretending to be nice, which will be hilarious since I’ll know he’s faking the whole time.

Admittedly, this significantly increases the likelihood that Toriel won’t come to save me when he inevitably finds a secluded place to murder me, but if I think too hard about the long term right now I’m going to scream, so.

“Well you see, human, you’ve fallen into the underground, a land inhabited by monsters! Don’t worry though, we’re quite nice,” Oh right, conversation. I wonder how much info I can get out of him…

“What’s a monster? Like, I know what it means on the surface, but that definition is pretty vague, and I don’t want to be accidentally racist,” 

His face pops back to the usual smile. (Side note: his face looks like it was drawn on with sharpie and it’s totally messing me up)

“A monster is a being made of magic!” Ok, that’s… a bit vague, but not really inaccurate. I guess he doesn’t want to get into the science, which is a damn shame, since he probably knows it backwards and forwards due to all his reset shenanigans.

“Woah, cool. Magic is real? How does it work without breaking thermodynamics?” Finally, the question I’ve always wanted to ask. If energy can’t be created, how the fuck does Toriel shoot fireballs from her hands? What is she drawing on, what is the fire burning, how hot is it, how does it keep being on fire, etc. etc. repeat for every magical display in the game.

“Well, a lot of it isn’t super understood. Scientists have mostly been pinning it on ‘dark energy’ like they do with every other phenomenon they don’t totally understand,” I wonder why he’s so willingly entertaining my time wasting antics. I know, in game, he didn’t realize he’d lost control over the timeline until after his first talk with Frisk, so maybe he’s just waiting it out to see where it goes? And then of course he must be planning other things to do with me before he takes my soul and goes to the surface…

“God, I hate dark energy in science. I know they just call it that because not much is known about it, but I’m thirsty for knowledge, you know?” Actually ‘thirsty for knowledge’ describes my mood like 90% of the time. Huh, actually, I have that in common with Flowey, right? Even if his knowledge thirst is just due to boredom.

“Hey, human, me too! Learning new things is great!” There’s a loaded sentence if i’ve ever heard one. When was the last time he learned something new? He’s supposedly read every book in the underground, but how much information from that did he actually retain?

“Isn’t it? It’s why I love Youtube so much. Free information for anyone who cares to make a few clicks!” Wait, he probably doesn’t know what Youtube is, actually.

“What’s Youtube?” He asks, cocking his head.

“It’s a service where you can upload videos or watch videos other people have uploaded,” Not the most nuanced explanation, but it’ll do for now. Before Flowey has a chance to respond, a fireball manifests next to him. 

I don’t smile because I’m pretending to be shocked, but I’m laughing my ass off on the inside. The face he makes is even more ridiculous in person.

Enter Toriel, queen of the monsters, mother of no living children.

[yougainedlove]

I got another good imagine if youre up to write!! 👀 Asgore telling his S/O about his past (asriel dying, the six humans that fell down after, etc), and reacting to them giving him a tight hug and thanking him for telling them?? ❤️💞 I love him so much omfg

Sooooo I meant to keep this short and sweet but FUCK, uh...

anyway, I’ll be sobbing in the corner if you need me, feel free to join because I absolutely cried while writing this, mmmMMM,,,

-

                             when youlook, I’m afraid of what you see                                          but you say, “Show me”                                            yousay, “Show me.”

                                      ―IdinaMenzel, “Show Me”

When(Name)sitsdown with Asgore tonight, it’s different.

There’sa tense energy surrounding him, and by now theyknow him well enough to tell that he’s nervous. Hedoesn’t even let them cuddle up next to him like they do in theevenings. Instead, he goes stiff before pulling away, then says in anunbelievably somber tone that he wants to talk to them. He phrases itas a question, an, “Is it okay if we talk…?”, but they knowthat whatever he’s planning to talk about, it’s something heneedsto say.

Sothey put their hand over his paw ―even that earns a flinch ―and say yes.

Ofcourse, they couldn’t predict the heartbreaking tale that was tofollow.

It’ssomething he doesn’t truly drag out, yet he obviously wants to makesure he tells them everything about… everything.Itstarts with his ex-wife, Toriel, who (Name) has actually met, andAsgore living together, with their son Asriel. Although they knew hehad kids at one point, they didn’t know any real details until now.

Oneday, a human child fell, a child named Chara. Asriel brought themhome, Asgore and Toriel basically adopted them, and for a few shortyears, things were… good. Despitebeing trapped underground, everyone was actually full of love andhope.The wistful look on Asgore’s face when he talks about that time isalmost painful. It’s the expression of someone looking back on afond memory that happened before something went wrong.

Theway he talks about it makes it seem like that was the best time inhis life.

Whatfollows proves that as the truth.

Outof nowhere, Chara fell gravelyill. Asgore saysthat neither he nor Torielhaveanyidea what happened; only that suddenly theirchild was wailingbecause their stomach hurt so badly and there were blisters aroundtheir mouth. They screamed about wanting to go home ―that they were going to die, and they wanted to see the goldenflowers on the surface, in the village they came from, beforethey passed away.

Thetears in Asgore’s eyes start when he says that therewas nothing anyone could do.The barrier was still blocking any escape, and even though humanscould get in by falling into the mountain, nobody could get out. Theycouldn’t grant their child’s dying wish.

Hecan’t even look (Name) in the eyes as he says that while they weretrying to find some way to get Chara to the surface, they got rapidlysicker until they couldn’t keep any food or water down and the lifewas visibly draining from their body.

Theydied the next night.

Beingtheir brother and best friend, Asriel was distraught, and wanted tocarry them to the surface to make sure they were laid among thosegolden flowers. His nature allowed him to absorb Chara’s SOUL,creating an incredibly powerful being, and with both of themcombined, he could get through the barrier. And so he did.

Asgoresays tiredly that the next part is something he and Toriel had to befilled in on afterit happened.As it was told to them betweenweak breaths,Asriel carried their body there to the surface, placing them gentlyon a bed of the flowers when he arrived at their village. Hestayed for a moment to look at them, presumably paying his respectsto the sibling he loved so much, and then the human villagers sawhim.

Itwas all a horrible, tragic misunderstanding. When they saw him withChara’s body, a dead human child at the feet of a frighteningmonster, they assumed that Asriel had killed them. In revenge, inpursuit of justice for this poor child, they came at him with alltheir strength.

Asrieldidn’t fight back. As strong as he was in that form, with both hisSOUL and Chara’s, he could have ended the life of every singlehuman who was attacking him. But he didn’t.

Apparently,all he did was smile.

Finallyhe was able to get away, returning to the Underground. He draggedhimself into the throne room, where Asgore and Toriel were waitingfor him to come back.

Hestumbled into the flowers there, managed to whisper an explanation ofwhat had happened, and took his last breath.

Justlike that, Asgore and Toriel had lost their entire family in onenight.

Asother people have explained to (Name) before, they already know thatwhen monsters die, they turn to dust. And Chara’s body remained onthe surface.

Theking and queen didn’t even have a body to bury for the deaths oftwo children.

Bythis point Asgore is speaking through tears and sobs. He says he wassoangry… thatin the moment, he couldn’t feel anything else. That it wasn’tenough the humans had taken away their freedom, but now they hadstolen these two precious children and every shred of hope theUnderground had been clinging to.

Furiousenough was he to declare war on the whole of humanity, promising thatany human who fell down Mt. Ebott would be an enemy, that he wouldtake their SOULs, seven human SOULs, and break the barrier. Once itwas broken, they would show their true power to the humans and takeback the world that rightfully belonged to monsters.

Inthe aftermath of a devastating tragedy, it gave monsters hope. Itkept them going.

WhenAsgore explains that it isn’t what he really wanted, he looks ahundred years older, like the weight of the universe is precariouslyon his shoulders. He says quietly, with his face in his paws, thatshortly after he made that announcement, he regretted it. He doesn’twant to hurt anyone, he never did, and yet, his promise gave everyoneelse a reason to keep going. Something said in the heat of anger andraw grief that he didn’t mean, but felt like he had to stick to. Ifhe took it back, nobody would trust him, monsters would once againfall into despair, they would all die before ever seeing the sunlightagain.

Whathe said cost him Toriel. Immediately after that, she left him.

Asgorespent the years that followed alone in what used to be a happy home.Day in and day out, he waited ―“like a coward,” he makes a point of saying. Over time, six humanSOULs were brought to him, along with bodies. The SOULs he kept injars, ready to be used once he got seven of them, and the bodies heput in coffins, though there was nowhere to bury them. It was theonly thing he could do in an attempt to show respect to those deadhumans.

Noneof the humans who fell down died by Asgore’s hand, but by befallingother monsters and dangers in the Underground. Even so, he stillfeels guilt about every one of them, as well as the way his peoplesuffered. When a child known as Frisk made it to Asgore’s home,willing to fight for their chance to go home, it was the first timehe had to face one of the fallen humans in battle.

Hisshoulders shake with heavy sobs as he talks about not wanting tofight them at all. He didn’t want it, he never wanted it, and itwasn’t long into the fight that Frisk wore him down. Asgore gaveup, telling Frisk that they should take his SOUL and go home.

Friskrefused.

Hesays everything else after thatwas a blur. He says he remembers many people, Toriel included,showing up to stop themfrom fighting.He says he remembers everything going white, and Frisk being asleep,then suddenly the barrier was broken.

Afew more things are said, mumbles of self-hate and messy feelingsthat he probablyisn’tquite ready to talk about. Theway he moves to be farther from (Name) and the way he shrinks, tryingto make himself look smaller, make it clear that he expects them tojust leave him after knowing all this. Whowouldn’t? Who would stay with someone like him? He’s a monster inevery sense of the word.

Aftera long moment, (Name) scoots closer to make up the distance. Theirarms slowly reach up, snaking around Asgore’s neck, pulling himdown, down, down, as close against him as they can possibly get him.He tenses up beneath their touch. They curl their hand into a sort ofhalf-fist, stroking their fingertips and knuckles over the fur on theback of his neck.

They’reboth silent except for the soft gasps and sobs he makes as he triesto catch his breath. Thereare tears running down their face now too, their heart aching forhim. Wordlessly questioning how he’s still standing, how he stillmakes it through the day, how he practically fooled them intothinking he’s happy, after all this hellhe’s been through.

Atlast, they kiss the side of his ear, murmuring right against hisskin, “Thank you for telling me all of this, sweetheart. Thank you.I’m glad I know.”

Notonly are they truly relieved that he’s told them the truth, that hedoesn’t have to pretend around them anymore, this is all usefulinformation. Now that they know so much more about him and what hispast looks like, they know better how to take care of him. How betterto give him all the love he deserves so that he has the best chanceof recovering from everything and trulybeing happy.

Evenif he may never be rid of all that haunts him, they want that. Forhim to be happy and healthy. In any and every way he possibly can.

“Ilove you, Asgore.” It’s just loud enough for him to hear, as theylet their fingers tangle in his hair, continuing to caress him. “Ilove you.”

Andthat’s it. The realization that they still love him, that they’rehere, that they’re staying, that they aren’t going to leave, istoo much.

Thelast pin holding the king of monsters together snaps, and he allowshimself to break down in his lover’s arms.

[decimadragonoid]

The Undertale - RETRACE Rulebook

For those who have read my fan comic project Undertale - RETRACE so far here or on Deviantart, we have reached the end of Chapter 1. Over time, more chapters will be posted. First off, thank you guys so much for tuning in. For those who are just starting to read this comic, welcome aboard! For those who haven't played Undertale yet but are interested in this story, I suggest you play the game through to the end, but it's your own decision.

Before we continue further into the story, there are some rules I'd like you to follow over the course of this comic. I will post this rulebook on existing pages. The rules are as follows...

   * “Is this an Undertale AU?” - No. It's not. This story isn't an AU or alternate timeline, but if YOU want to identify this story as such, then by all means, go ahead. I won't stop you. It’s up to you to decide.

- This story is a new series of events a couple years or so after the original events of Undertale.  * "Why the title 'Undertale - RETRACE?' Why not something simple like 'RetraceTale?'" - As I interpret this story as a new series of events a couple years or so after the Post-Pacifist Ending, calling this story "RetraceTale" or "Underretrace" and sugarcoating it to make my fanmade story known to the fandom doesn't appeal to me, nor is it something I see as beneficial to my vision of the game and my fan project overall. - Long story short, my story is set in the original universe in some way, shape, or form.

   * “What’s up with these new character personalities?” - I just felt it’d be appropriate for the characters to go through certain changes in character development, personality, and intellect. The story is set a couple years after the original Undertale after all.

   * “Are there going to be any RESETS?” - No. Plain and simple.

- In this story, the RESETS no longer exist. Although the word may be reintroduced a couple times or so, no one can RESET anymore, not even Frisk. They decided to willingly discard it forever, and they understand that any future actions will be permanent. They burned this bridge a long time ago.

   * “No! You can’t do that! What if someone dies and it can’t be fixed??”

   * “Keep it, but don’t abuse it.”

- No. Time shouldn’t even be messed with. Not ever.

   * “What’s the purpose of RETRACE?” - The purpose of my Undertale story RETRACE is to create my own interpretation and dig deeper into Frisk’s past to see what life was like for them before they fell into the Underground, as well as unearth a new antagonist.

- Questions include the following…    * What was life like for Frisk before they fell into the Underground?

   *  Did they suffer amnesia?

   *  What were Frisk’s parents like?

   *  What if Frisk actually met a monster long before they fell into the Underground?

   *  Was something or someone responsible for their misfortune before they fell into the Underground and returned to the surface with the monsters, and if so, is that person still around?

   *  If this person was responsible for Frisk’s past events, whatever they may be, is that person still around, intending to bring ruin?

   *  There’s so much ground to cover. This is gonna be one hell of a ride!  * "I really like your art style!" / "Your style for Frisk is awesome!" / "Nice upgraded outfits!" - First off, thank you so much for your compliments on my styles and interpretations for the characters! - I will treat this project as a learning process and improve over time. - As such, I might make slight changes to one or two of my designs, and nothing would make me happier than for you guys to be the witnesses of my improvements and potential design changes!

   * “Frisk/Chara killed everyone! They were responsible for everything!” - Don’t even go there with me. You WILL be ignored.

- You have your way of interpreting the game and Undertale comics, and I have mine. - I've personally seen other comic artists get bashed for their Undertale headcanons, views on the characters, and alignments. This will NOT be tolerated here.

- I can very well choose to depict Frisk/Chara as either a hero or villain if I wanted to. I could even depict the monsters as such. But this comic is not about taking sides. I'm simply making this story out of love for the game, and to tell a story overall.

- Toby Fox left the events and characters of Undertale to our own unique interpretations. There is no right or wrong way to depict the Undertale characters. That’s why comics like this exist. I only write and draw this story out of love for Undertale.

- If you don’t like this comic or my depictions, don’t say anything. Leave. Now.

   * “Can I translate this comic in a different language?” - By all means! If English is not your native language, or if you want to translate my comic in a different language so other people with different ethnicities and cultures can read and enjoy this story, you’re more than welcome to translate it in any language you want.

- All I ask is that you credit me afterwards. Also, be sure to translate this rulebook as well to avoid confusion.

   * “Can I/we dub your comic?” - Absolutely! I encourage comic dubs for RETRACE! All I ask is that you credit me afterwards.

- Show me some talent! ^^

   * “Are there any ships?” - No.

- Here’s the deal… I see the monsters as a huge family Frisk never thought they could ever have.

- And you don’t need ships to do it.

- However, if you say things like, “Oooh! I ship this!” or “This ship bothers me,” that’s okay. I won’t judge you for it. I'm not going to condemn you for shipping anyone. You have your own opinion. But just know that there are no ships to be had in this comic, and I don’t want any problems to escalate.

    * “Which monster do you see as the dad, uncle, mother, etc.?” - You’ll see.

    * “When’s the next page?” / “Bro, you’re taking too long!” / “I wanna know what happens next!” - When I say, “WHEN I CAN,” I mean, “WHEN I CAN!”

- Please don’t ask me this. I don’t appreciate being rushed or pressured, and neither do any other artists out there. It’s disrespectful to me and other viewers.

- If there is any huge delay whatsoever, I’ll explain myself.

- I have other responsibilities besides drawing comics. Of course, this doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy drawing Undertale. In fact, I love it!

- I don’t mind comments like, “I can’t wait for the next page,” “My feels,” “Aaugh!! Cliffhanger,” etc. But please don’t ask me when I’m posting the next page. I’m not a robot. I cannot stress that enough.

    * “Can I use this comic as reference material?” - Absolutely! Just be sure to credit me later!

    * “Can I draw fanart of your comic?” - Absolutely! I 100% encourage you to draw any Undertale or RETRACE fanart! Just be sure to credit me afterwards!

    * “Can I suggest any changes for the story?” - No.

- I have scripted this comic already, so it’s already set in stone. However, I will allow constructive criticism for any visual errors and story errors I might make.

    * “To be continued…?” - When one of my pages says, “To be continued…,” it means you’ve reached the end of a chapter.

- After the end of each chapter, I’ll prepare an askbox so that you can ask questions to any characters that show up in RETRACE or anyone outside the story, whether they be your favorites or any original characters specific to this story.

- This way, I can interact with you all in the most positive and/or appropriate way possible. - In addition, I will also give you the option to dub my askbox and the responses so far, which will be listed in the askbox's description for your convenience.

    *  “What questions can I ask?” - You can ask pretty much anything, so as long as it’s not anything NSFW-related.

- The question can be something totally random, comedic, sad, family-bonding, or related to the story.

- But for the sake of this rulebook, I’ll give you some examples…

    * “Hey, <UT!Character>! How’s life on the surface?”

    * “How’s it hanging, <UT!Character>?”

    * “What kind of hobbies did you find ever since coming to the surface?”     * "What do you like to do with <UT!Character>?"

    * “Any jobs?”

    * “Can I give you a present, <UT!Character>?”

    * “What kind of stuff do you guys do around the house?”

    * “How’s school?”

    * “What are your favorite subjects?”

    * “How did you feel after this happened?”

    * “Will everything be okay?”

- I will randomly handpick any question you ask any Undertale character, original character, or myself. If one of your questions haven’t been answered, don’t repeat the same question over and over again. Ask a different one, and maybe you’ll be lucky.

- If I make up some funny or weird scenario when answering questions, you can add on to the scenario if you want. It’s more fun that way, and it gives me the chance to interact with you all and keep the ball rolling! I wanna hear from you guys, so feel free to ask away!

    * “How many chapters do you plan to make?” - Let’s just say it’s almost as long as Lesser Dog’s extensive neck. When it comes to fantasy, I tend to write a lot. I try to draw and improve my skills as much as I can, but I do exceptionally well with writing it out.

- As such, I’ll also provide Undertale – RETRACE chapters in a novel format after the end of each chapter, if you want it. I'd like to make this project open to everyone who likes Undertale, whether they like comics, novels, or have any preferences, impairments, or even physical or mental disabilities.

- I want everyone to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy making it for Undertale fans, fan artists, and artists in general to see.

Also, I highly recommend you to play the game before viewing this comic. Whether you do or don’t is up to you. Otherwise, welcome aboard! I hope you enjoy this fresh, new Undertale experience! We’re gonna have a ‘skele-ton’ of fun, people! ~ DecimaDragonoid

[rubberduckyrye]

I did not mean to imply that Kokichi is a twisted sociopath. I REALLY don't want to perceive him that way, but a lot of people see him like that. And it kinda feels... unnatural for me. To go to your blog, to see portrayals of him as a leader, as a boy who is rude, callous and a trickster, but who still cares about his classmates with all his heart, who did horrible things out of desire to help others, to see him as a human instead of the evil incarnate. "There must be some kind of a mistake" I

think, "You must have been mistaken about something. How the hell can you interpret him as a flawed, twisted(in later chapters) but still likeable human being? It's clearly wrong because he is a villain" I don't allow myself to even slightly ponder the fact that Kokichi has feelings, that he is not a sociopath that enjoys human suffering, because for some reason it is WRONG. And I don't want to see him as "Nagito + Junko + Hiyoko but worse", but somehow in my head every interpretation of him

other that "sociopathic nazi gremlin" is WRONG and blasphemous. Somewhat like with Chara several years ago when I was into UT. I liked the Narrator/Player Chara theories because they showed Chara as a very flawed individual who did a lot of things wrong but also had many redeeming qualities despite that, because it gave them some depth instead of reducing them to the one-dimensional "for the evulz" villain and also provided an interesting deconstruction of game mechanics(narration, interaction         

game mechanics. But the voice in my head kept telling me that this game mechanics. But the voice in my head kept telling me that this interpretation is wrong, completely not canon in the slightest bit, Chara is pure evil, you are just stupid for daring to assume sth else about them. Because of it, I eventually started to hate Undertale and everything pertaining to it. This is a very simular thing to my Undertale experience. Surfing this blog and finding UT and DRV3 content made me realise that.     

----------------------------------------------------------

All right gonna assume the rant is done here since that last ask looks like the end but tbh it doesn’t really matter because this is basically pushing my boundaries here and I’m getting really tired of this nonsense in my ask box.

Because gonna be blunt Anon, this sounds like a “you” problem.

First of all--this blog, impytricky, has over 900 followers. Meaning that ~900 people follow this blog and agree with the notion that Kokichi is not a terrible person. My blog over at @unweavinglies has over three hundred with a significant drop in total posts on that blog, and my theories there often get hundreds and hundreds of notes. People who don’t even follow this blog or that one will reblog my analysis posts in agreement.

So a lot of people see Kokichi as less “evil” and more morally grey. Actually, I’ve seen more positive interpretations of Kokichi than I’ve seen people making him into a true villain. That’s because making him a pure evil little bastard is kind of really boring and misses the entire point of his character and character arc.

You probably don’t see a lot of the “good” interpretations of Kokichi because you don’t go looking for it/ignore it/dismiss it when you come across it. Probably. Like how I see less of the villain interpretation because I don’t go looking for it/dismiss it/whatever.

Second of all: Kokichi is technically not a villain. While I still go by the policy that all interpretations are valid, it’s not canon that he is a “villain.” Narratively speaking, Kokichi is an anti-hero. An anti-hero is “a central character in a story, movie, or drama who lacks conventional heroic attributes,“ and yes, can be antagonists. Antagonists does not equal Villain, however. Anti-heroes are often marked by the idea of a hero doing bad things for the greater good.

Third of all: Please for the love of god cut that shit out with the Nazi thing. Kokichi is not a Nazi. I hated this stupid misconception before and I still hate it now--it’s offensive, outside of fiction, and it’s just plain inaccurate either way. This misconception comes from the fact that Japan especially tends to romanticize military attire, including attire in WWII Germany, which shows up in Kokichi’s hat in one promo picture. Another reason this misconception is the bane of my existence is because some fantranslator translated Kokichi’s ultimate talent to be “Ultimate Dictator” when it was apparently able to be translated as “Ultimate President” or “Ultimate Leader”. The Nazi misconception is just that--a huge misconception created by poor taste in design and fantranslations being inaccurate.

Please for the love of god, take that thought and unlearn it now. Seriously, it’s offensive. Stop it.

Fourth of all: This is where I see that this is more of a you problem above everything else. From what you’ve said, you seem to deem “morally grey” characters as “evil” or “Villainous” which comes with black or white thinking. From my perspective, what I’m hearing is “I can’t see shades of grey, so this must be black because it is not white.”

Let me ask you: Gonta Gokuhara. Whether or not Kokichi showed him the flashbacklight due to “””Evil””” intentions or whatever, he chose to kill Miu. Kokichi did not “trick” him into it, nor was he able to force Gonta into it via blackmail or what have you. Gonta chose to kill Miu of his own accord. This is a straight up canon fact. He chose to kill Miu because he believed that Mercy Killing her and everyone else before they found out the secret of the outside world would be kinder. This is canon fact that really cannot be disputed.

Let me ask you--is Gonta evil all of a sudden because he chose to kill someone? That he was aiming to kill everyone?

What about Frisk--or the player, in undertale--who has to actively choose to genocide run the game? Are players who choose ths path evil all of a sudden? What about Frisk, who would also be making this decision? Deltarune has implied that “Chara”, or the demon or whatever, is a separate entity that can control the character we play and we can’t control them when they’re in control. Meaning that for the whole Genocide route, Frisk had to actively choose to kill every single monster underground. If you go by the theory that the player isn’t just controlling their movements at any rate, you can see Chara take control in when thy kill Sans and Flowey. Yes, this means that Chara was not in control before then, thus putting the blame for most of the Genocide run on the player, or Frisk.

Yet the choice to do a pacifist run is there too. So which is it? What’s evil, and what isn’t evil? Can you really call Frisk pure good or evil? What about the player? What about Gonta?

That is the complexity of grey morality--the answer isn’t black or white and can’t be so simplified. Because what’s kinder, in Gonta’s case--killing everyone, or letting them find out that basically all of humanity was wiped out off of the face of the earth and the killing game they were forced into was all for nothing? Sure it’s terrible to kill someone, but it’s also terrible to allow people to be mentally tortured too, which the outside world basically did to everyone when they did find out.

It sounds like you’re stuck in the mind set of things being black or white. If you want to see characters like Kokichi and Chara as morally grey, then you need to tell that voice that says otherwise to shush up. No one is perfectly evil, no one is perfectly good. Good people can do horrible, terrible things and still be good people. Bad people can also do very, very good things, and still be terrible people.

I won’t be answering asks like this again. Please refrain from shoving your opinions down my throat. Maybe you didn’t intend to, but you are with lines like "There must be some kind of a mistake" and "You must have been mistaken about something. How the hell can you interpret him as a flawed, twisted(in later chapters) but still likeable human being? It's clearly wrong because he is a villain" because yeah that’s basically ways of saying “You’re wrong about Kokichi and I don’t like your interpretation.”

[ghouliday-music]

To Save Those Who Can’t Be Saved Chapter 8

Beginning

<– Previous

To Save Those Who Can’t Be Saved

AO3

Work Summary: Frisk, Asriel, and Chara go back to Waterfall to solve the mystery of the lone statue sitting deserted in its halls. Along the way, they uncover more questions than answers, and find themselves forced to face their greatest faults and failures.

Chapter 8: The Lies We Tell

Chapter Summary: Chara and Frisk have a discussion that Chara feels must be had.  

Rating: T

Warnings: Death mention, murder mention

Characters: Chara, Frisk

————————————

Chara would never say that they remembered the first time they had climbed Mount Ebott with any fondness.

Despite the fact that humans had forgotten about monsters’ existence for thousands of years, it already had a legend of being deadly to those who ventured upon its slopes. After all, one did not need to fall into the underground itself to disappear. One could easily surmise that its shaded forests shrouded many dangers, such as wild animals and treacherous footing, and warn others, particularly children, to give the landmark a wide berth.

Therefore, it had been the perfect place for a child wanting to be alone. Not alone because they had preferred it, but because it had been better than the alternative.

Chara remembered having thought to themself that even if they happened to disappear while climbing the mountain they would not complain, the prospect of their biological parents’ punishment for venturing out alone with no supervision for hours unappealing.

If they were one to believe in wishes coming true, they might say they received exactly what they had wanted and needed.

It would be upsetting, though, if they did, knowing exactly how they had ended up squandering their second chance at a happy ending. They had been fortunate enough that they had received a third.

Hopefully they would not need a fourth.

But as dark as the memories were, it meant that they were not scared as they scaled the mountain’s slopes, strides as long and fast as they could manage without wearing themself out before reaching their destination. The omnipresent dark did not scare them; they knew the most horrifying terrors did not lurk in the shadows outside of one’s soul.

By the time they found the entrance to the underground that led into New Home directly, though, the darkness was starting to draw back. The horizon was aglow with a gray, almost white, line, slightly orange close to the horizon. The sun would not be far behind. Undyne, by now, was certainly on the hunt for Frisk.

For them, now, too.

Chara had to be swift. They could not count on no one finding out where they had headed, nor could they count on Asriel not to help the others to that discovery.

So they strode into the mountain and turned their back on the lightening sky.

At first, the echoes of their footsteps bouncing off the stone walls was their only companion. But as they neared their old home, they heard a second set, lighter and not as rapid.

They concentrated on walking silently while keeping as much momentum as they could.

When they turned the corner into the throne room, they did not have to search long to see the source of the noise. There, framed in the middle of a dull yellow room not yet bathed in golden light, Frisk crept through the flowers in a vain attempt to avoid crushing any beneath their feet.

Chara cleared their throat. Frisk nearly leapt into the air and spun around, eyes wide and hand resting over their heart.

“Greetings,” Chara said, and noted that their voice echoed through the room in a rather eerie manner.

“Chara!” Frisk did not sound sure whether they wanted to sound shocked or scolding. “You–what are you doing here?” They kept shifting their weight from foot to foot, expression shifting just as often between confusion, nervousness, and relief.

Chara folded their hands behind their back. “I could ask the same of you, sibling. This is an odd place to be at this hour, especially without letting your family know that you had plans to be here so early.”

Frisk winced. “I’m sorry.”

Chara felt an eyebrow raise, almost of its own accord. They did not try and fix their expression into something more neutral, though, as it seemed to wrong-foot Frisk further. “Are you, now? How interesting.”

Frisk blinked, looking for all the world like that had been on the bottom of the list of what they had expected Chara to say. “I am!” 

Chara folded their hands behind their back and channeled as much sternness as they could into their gaze. “What does Mother always tell us about apologies?” They paused just long enough for it to sink into Frisk’s mind without making it appear anything but rhetorical. “She tells us that an apology always involves changing your behavior in the future to avoid harming the other party in the same way again. And we both know that you would not and will not do anything different in the future.”

Frisk frowned. “Wait a minute. I never ran away before this.”

“Perhaps not.” Chara took a step forward, the flowerbed rustling as they stepped onto it. “But that is not what I was discussing.”

Frisk’s nose wrinkled. “What do you mean?” They leaned backward, seeming to force themself to not back away from Chara while still keeping as far away from them as possible.

Chara folded their hands behind them and arranged their expression to have a smile that was just a bit too wide, despite having no positive feelings toward this encounter. “I am talking about what will happen after you have had your fun running about the underground and scaring your family to death.”

The words seemed to give Frisk quite the dose of guilt, as they stepped back just the slightest amount. “I was just going to load back to before I left,” they admitted, voice too quiet to have any sort of echo. “No one would’ve had to worry.”

As Chara had expected. Hopefully the glare that they give their sibling conveyed their feelings about that. “Yet even after, it still would have happened. After all, your memories and our déjà vu had to have come from somewhere, even if you did load over the events. Am I correct?”

Frisk took a step forward, nervousness replaced by annoyance. “I never just load saves because I feel like it. I only do that when it can make things better for everyone.”

Chara laughed, just once. It echoed through the room, and they noticed that while they were trying to stand their ground, their shoulders were tensed and they kept shifting their stance as if preparing themself to flee at any second.

Good. It was only fitting that they feel the same concern for themself that they caused their parents and siblings to have with their reckless and thoughtless behavior.

“Since the barrier’s fall, you have loaded saves when either one of our parents looked less than perfectly happy, when you accidentally misunderstood what Monster Kid had wanted for a birthday gift even when they had genuinely enjoyed the one you had given them instead, when you accidentally stepped on another ambassador’s foot and felt you had given them the wrong first impression.” They took a moment to take a deep breath and collect themself. “You load for every minor inconvenience that you deem makes your vision of a happy ending less than perfect, without regard that some of these events truly do not matter in the long run. Forgive me, but it feels more like you are doing these deeds to make yourself feel better rather than out of the goodness of your heart.”

Frisk shook their head, forehead creasing as they leaned forward. “No, I do it because they do matter! If I have the power to make it so that no one has to be unhappy for more than they need to, don’t I have to do it?”

Chara wished that they felt angrier when they heard this. Oh, how they wished they felt anger. Instead, it felt like their soul was empty, all emotions replaced with resignation that rang dull in their chest.

It seemed like you only felt anger when you truly had hope that you could change a person’s mind.

“And anyways,” they continued, taking a step forward and letting their fingers curl at their sides, “this is really important! There’s at least one monster that needs help! And I just–I just can’t sit there and wait for someone else to help them when I’m not doing anything!”

“I suppose you feel it is worth all the worry you caused Asriel and I, our parents, our friends.” Chara shrugged, keeping the gesture loose. Appearing calm during the discussion seemed to unnerve Frisk more than any harsh words. Perhaps such an emotion would force them to stop and consider, as reason had proven unhelpful.

Frisk winced as they shuffled and forced themself to keep Chara’s gaze. “Once I figured out how to save that kid and any other monsters who needed help, I was going to load back to before I left, and then–”

“Then what? Would you explain to Mother that you used your powers to run away without consequence? Or would you run away a second time to try and save them your way?”

Frisk suddenly decided to drop their eye contact, opting instead to gaze at the highly fascinating tops of their sneakers. “I didn’t think that far ahead.” As fast as they had lowered their gaze, they met Chara’s eyes again with a face set with determination. “But I couldn’t just do nothing and pretend everything was okay! Not like you!”

The accusation did not cause Chara’s soul to shrink back, as Frisk has intended. Instead, it felt firm and unyielding, fixing their feet more firmly on their path. “Tell me, do you do something about every issue on the news that you see?”

Frisk blinked, head tilting to the side. Their gaze narrowed as they appeared to analyze the response as if the words had been written in the air between them, and they were not sure what they meant.

Chara did not need Asriel’s extensive experience in reading body language to know that they had taken Frisk off-guard with their question. They pressed their advantage. “Yet even when you did not intervene, many of those issues were still resolved, sometimes not to the perfect conclusion, were they not?”

Frisk nodded, the gesture defiant. “Yeah, but this is different!”

Chara held back a sigh. Irritating that Frisk could not admit that they were in the wrong. “How so?”

“No one’s been able to find this kid for ages now.”

Chara could not help but add, “You mean less than a week.”

Frisk seemed to puff up as their shoulders raised like it would make them seem taller and more intimidating as they shot Chara a glare so sharp that for a moment they looked almost unrecognizable from their usual self. Chara could not help but feel satisfied that this rankled them. “It’s still several days they’ve been alone and afraid! And so far, I’ve been the only one who’s found them, the only one they’ve talked to. I forgot them once, and I refuse to do it again!”

“Both times you and this child have met by pure chance. Do you not think it is unlikely that you will find them again when you have no clue of where to search? Never mind these other monsters you remain convinced exist and need your help and your help alone.”

Frisk shook their head, hair flying all over before settling in their face. “I’ll find them, no matter what!”

Chara could believe that Frisk would try anything from the look on their face. Any nervousness or doubt had vanished, leaving only pure determination.

Perhaps that was why Chara felt their soul grow tired and worn.

“I was thinking of true resets the other day.” The words seemed to flow from Chara’s mouth on their own; they had had enough of stifling their concerns back for a sibling who seemed they only cared for them because of how they added to their vision of a perfect ending.

Frisk’s set jaw and jutted lip turned to a puzzled frown, their lowered eyebrows drawing together. “I don’t–”

“I was thinking about true resets,” Chara continued, “and how little you remember from them. How you cannot tell with certainty which one of them was your first, if you even recall your first at all.”

Frisk shook their head. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this.”

Chara paused to collect their thoughts, clasping their hands behind their back. Their gaze shifted away from Frisk and toward the ceiling. The cracks in the rock which were shaped like a flower were now crawling with overgrown roots and revealed a pale gray sky, not magical energy as there had been in the days when the barrier still stood. “Those few incidents you remember tend to have repeated themselves in all timelines, correct?”

Frisk paused, then nodded.

Chara closed their eyes, the better to choose their words. “Fighting or fleeing from Undyne, Mother attempting to keep you in Home, the first Froggit that crossed your path… While the outcomes differ, the basics remain the same, do they not?” They swallowed. “And while those incidents tend to come more easily when called, the moments in between are easily lost to the resets. As are your memories of what happens after leaving the Underground after the barrier breaks.”

Frisk finally spoke up. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this.” Their voice wobbled a bit. Did they fear where Chara was going to take this, or upset that they were facing the consequences for their actions?

Chara took a deep breath and met Frisk’s gaze again. The confidence, the determination, had seemed to have fled their body. Their shoulders were no longer raised, and they seemed to have drawn back somewhat. They looked smaller than they had when Chara had last seen them.

For a moment, Chara considered stopping. Perhaps they had made their point?

But no. There was no use backing down now. Frisk had to understand the consequences of their actions, present and past, and how it affected those for which they claimed to care. In any case, they would likely press the issue until Chara continued speaking.

Chara swallowed and shifted into the main point of their dialogue. “So if something that did not regularly happen, say, giving bodies and souls back to two children otherwise trapped as part of another’s soul or in the body of a flower. Hypothetically, of course.” They faltered for a moment, but then forced themself to stand firm. No turning back. “If you were to believe that someone needed your help, and your help alone, and that a true reset was the only viable way of providing it…” They took a breath. “Should you come to the conclusion that their need of help makes this ending not as perfect as you would hope, and you believe that it is possible to repeat the actions needed to save us eventually, then what is to stop you from making another true reset?”

Frisk swallowed, their fingers curling toward their palms. Chara could tell from their expression that the understanding of what their vow to do anything to save the missing child and the other monsters had meant had dawned on them.

“And what is to say that this has never happened before, and we have forgotten it to the true resets?”

Frisk opened their mouth. Closed it. Raised their hands. Watched them shake. Let them fall.

“I would never…” They trailed off their whisper, maybe from shame, maybe from the effort needed to speak.

They did not look convinced of their own statement.

“Would you not?” Chara could not speak this as loudly as they wished. Instead, it came out as a whisper, not so much a hypothetical question as a plea for them to say they would not.

Frisk dropped their gaze to the flowers that bent beneath their feet. “I… I don’t…”

And then they turned and fled.

As the thunderous sound of footsteps racing away slowly died from where they echoed around the hall outside the throne room, Chara wondered if, perhaps, they had just ruined yet another happy ending with their thoughtlessness.

[emberwolves69]

New Territory Chapter 2: The Start of the War

The silence that came was deafening and in a way Frisk was even more worried now then she had been before. Surely someone should have come in saying what had happened, saying which side had one. Frisk moved farther back into the room and hid behind some shelves just waiting for her boss to tell her that it was safe to come out.

Frisk jumped when she began to hear shouting from the bar, she couldn’t make out any of the words but it didn’t sound good at all. She hated not knowing what was going on. But just like the fight outside the shouting stopped all at once and Frisk felt true fear take over. She also said a small prayer that her boss was alright. He was a decent man overall and it would be sad if something happened to him.

A moment later Frisk heard as someone was trying to open the door to the room that she was in. Moving back farther she heard as something hit the door with what seemed like a decent amount of force. Frisk could only assume that whoever it was was attempting to break the door down. She was grateful that her boss was a bit paranoid when it came to his stock so the door was reinforced pretty well. She had never heard of anyone being able to come close to even damaging the door.

‘Its ok they cant get in here. Its safe.’ she tried to remind herself.

As soon as she felt the slight relief from that thought there was a flash of red light from beside the door. Frisk slowly, and silently moved so that she might peak around the corner of the shelf that she was hiding behind.

She wished that she hadn’t.

Standing near the door was a huge figure. Male from the looks of it. Frisk was pretty sure that the male would have had to duck to get into the room if they had used the door, he was that tall. Frisk could think of less than a handful of men who would even come close to matching this figure in height.

She heard a thoughtful hum from the male before hearing as the door was unlocked and then opened allowing more light to pour into the room. Frisk let out a silent sigh of relief at not being noticed so far before she silently moved farther back into her hiding spot using the shadows to the best of her advantage. “alright start grabbin’ what ya can.” Frisk heard a deep male voice say and not long after she heard as more figures entered the room and it sounded like they were taking some of the alcohol and other supplies that were stored there.

‘If I stay here they will find me. If they find me in here I wont have anywhere to go… I need to get out of here before that… Maybe if I can surprise them and get out of the bar I can get away.’ Frisk thought to herself. She was fairly sure that they didn’t know she was there and she was also pretty sure that they would kill her or worse should they find her. After all they must have killed everyone else so far, otherwise she would have heard someone, right?

Frisk made up her mind, she silently moved to where she could see where the others monsters were in the room. The moment she saw a clear opening Frisk took a breath and then sprinted as fast as she could out of the room and headed towards the exit of the bar. She heard as startled monsters began to shout and give alarmed warnings about her. But thankfully she was able to avoid being grabbed by anyone.

Frisk was close to the door allowing herself to hope that she was going to make it but what felt like just inches from being outside she felt a sudden weight on her chest before she went flying backwards. Frisk let out a terrified scream as she flew and moments later she was back on her feet once more, not far from the bar.

Frisk had no idea what had just happened, she tried to take a step but found that her body wouldn’t listen to her, it wouldn't move at all. Frisk’s heart was beating rapidly as she watched as a large variety of monsters began to approach her, she wasn’t sure what they were going to do and that terrified her.

“whats wrong dollface? don’t like us monsters?”

Frisk felt chills run down her spine at the deep voice that came from behind her. The same voice that had somehow gotten into the storage room with her and unlocked the door. Frisk turned her head to look at the large figure and thanks to the light she was able to see a lot more about him. For starters he was a skeleton, one with razor sharp teeth and in his left eye socket there was a glowing deep red orb that seemed to glow brightly even in the well lit area.

As the monster moved around to stand in front of her Frisk noticed that he had a single gold tooth on the right side. His shark like smile seemed to only widen as if he knew just how terrified she was, as if he enjoyed it too.

“what’s wrong? skeleton got yer tongue?” he asked with a chuckle that didn’t help Frisk’s fears at all. There was humor in his voice but there was an air about him that screamed death.

“Look mister what ever is goin on here, I ain’t got nothin to do with it, so just let me go.” she tried to hide the fear in her voice though she didn’t think that she was too successful at it.

The skeleton chuckled seeming to become even more amused by her words. “Sorry dollface, I cant do that. Ya’see I ain’t supposed to leave anyone here. Which means that I cant just let ya go.”

Frisk felt a new fear cling to her heart as she was sure she was going to die, the only question was what would happen to her before they killed her. Her thoughts of what might happen were cut off as another monster, a large dog came running in. “We got another group of humans on their way.” Frisk was pretty sure that the dog was female, if the voice was anything to go off of.

“they got here sooner than expected.” the skeleton said glancing towards the messenger. After a second he sighed and looked over his shoulder at Frisk “sorry doll our conversation will have to continue in just a minute.”

With that the large skeleton turned and started to walk away. Frisk felt a brief moment of relief as this should allow her time to figure out a way to escape, that is until she felt that same pull from earlier that forced her across the room once more. It seemed that the skeleton was taking her with him, probably to make sure that he could keep and eye on her.

Frisk soon got used to the feeling of being carried by whatever magical force that he was using. Did she like it? No. But at least she wasn’t freaking out over it at the moment. On the list of things, this wasn’t too bad. There could have been a lot worse happening to her, so she wasn’t going to complain at the moment.

As soon as they were outside Frisk felt sick. She could see several bodies of people who obviously hadn’t survived this little fight. It felt like everywhere she looked there was some poor, dead, soul. Frisk turned her gaze away from all of that and focused on the skull of the skeleton in front of her. It was better to look at that than the bodies.

“This ain’t your territory monster!”

Frisk looked up instantly at a voice that she knew well.

Chara.

As kids Frisk and Chara had grown up together, they had lived on the same street. Chara was always a bit more forceful than Frisk and really they always seemed to balanced each other out. Frisk took more risks because of Chara, and Chara was probably still alive from Frisk talking him out of some stupid situation or another.

But the biggest thing was that Chara had always looked after Frisk. While Frisk had never been able to stomach the violence that came with the mob and gangs in this city, Chara went looking for it. And in the end Chara was able to get in good with the right people who ran their part of the city. He was able to move up in rank pretty fast too thanks to his skills and the fact that he never had a problem with hurting others, something that Frisk had always tried to stop. And it worked, as long as she was around to do it but now, Frisk knew that there would be violence and worse of all, she would be right in the middle of it with no way to talk both sides down. The monsters had declared war with their actions this night and from experience Frisk knew that it wasn’t going to be pretty.

The skeleton rocked back on his heels for a moment seeming like he was thinking about what Chara had said and then he gave a short laugh. “ya see kiddo, this is our territory now. And we wont be leaving it anytime soon.” He said and that told Frisk all she needed to know. The monsters were determined to expand their territory into the land of the human mob that ran this part of the city. There was nothing that could stop the fights that would come. Countless humans and monsters alike would be slaughtered in the streets. She had seen it enough times to know that would be the outcome. It was a bold move for the monsters, one that she really wished she wasn’t in the middle of at the moment.

Frisk noticed then that she didn’t feel that weight on her chest and she tried to sneak away while the skeleton was distracted but she didn't get more than a few steps before she found herself held in place, once again by that familiar and unwelcomed weight on her chest. Frisk wanted to curse but didn’t dare at the moment. She didn’t need any more attention on her than there already was. In a time like this it was best to just be forgotten.

“If you think you can just come here and do whatever you like monster ya got another thing comin.” Frisk didn’t know who the man who shouted that was but as he did he had started raise his gun. Frisk had no idea how, but before he got the gun even half way up large, sharp, red bones erupted from the ground and impaled him multiple times.

Frisk let out a startled shout absolutely horrified by the sight. She had never seen nor heard of anything like that happening. Sure she knew that monsters had magic that they used to attack and what not but it was completely different to know that and to actually see what one of them could do. If all the monsters could do things like that then Frisk was even more worried and slightly curious as to how they hadn’t taken over everything yet.

It was then that Chara seemed to actually notice Frisk. She was able to see as Chara’s expression darkened and Frisk only got more concerned this wasn’t going to end well. She knew what Chara was capable of and it had always been something that had scared her, but now she also had to worry about the monster with the strange hold over her. She didn’t know what all he was capable of and she feared that unknown even more than she feared what she knew that Chara was capable of.

“Let the gal go monster, she ain’t got no part in this fight.” Chara demanded and Frisk felt a slight tug before she was being pulled by that unknown force to stand right beside the skeleton. She really hated not have any control over her own body especially now when she felt like nothing more than some rag doll that could be tossed around with no effort at all.

“who this little one? I figured that I would keep her for a while. Might have some fun with her.” the skeleton said as he wrapped an arm around her. Frisk was tense and terrified of what was about what would happen and just what this monster was planning but no matter how much she fought against that strange weight she wasn’t able to do anything. Frisk felt her heart beat began to race faster than it had been even just moments ago.

Chara’s eyes narrowed right before Frisk heard three gunshots go off. She had no idea who had shot but out of pure instinct she closed her eyes waiting for something to happen and some kind of pain. But what happened instead wasn’t anything that she could have expected. She felt as the ground seem to disappear from under her feet and instantly she was falling. It was terrifying and felt like it went on forever even though it couldn’t have lasted anymore than a few seconds before she felt the ground gently appear once again under her feet as if it had never vanished.

Frisk thought that she was crazy before she opened her eyes and she had no idea where they were. She was in some kind of an alleyway, that much she could tell but other than that she had no idea. “Where are we?” she asked doing her best to keep the fear out of her voice. Not that it was particularly easy given what just happened but she still tried.

“Don’t worry doll we ain't that far right now.” The skeleton said as he looked around as if he were waiting for something, or someone.

“That doesn’t answer my question. I demand that you…” Frisk didn’t get to finish that sentence as she felt as the weight pulled her once more but this time it was right into a wall. Thankfully there wasn’t enough speed for any serious damage to be done but it still hurt and Frisk was sure there would be a few new bruises.

“You demand?” the skeleton chuckled as he turned to look at Frisk “That's funny dollface, especially since ya ain't in a position to be makin any demands.” His sockets were completely empty now.. If Frisk wasn’t already pinned to a wall she might have take a step back in fear of the sight. She didn’t fully understand why that look terrified her so much but it did.

The skeleton stepped towards her towering over her by at least a couple feet. Whatever he had been planning Frisk would likely never know since at that exact moment a loud voice rang through the air.

“SANS! THERE YOU ARE!”

Frisk looked around and it didn’t take long to spot the one who had shouted and her eyes widened at the sight. Another skeleton, not that she was too concerned with that. What surprised her was the fact that this one was extremely tall. And unlike the skeleton that was directly in front of her he wasn’t wide, which was probably a good thing. If he had been Frisk was sure that he would never be able to get around a lot of places, especially in the human city. Not with his height of at least 12 feet tall and could very likely have been taller than that. His voice was higher pitched and unlike Sans’ it didn’t hold any humor in it when he spoke.

“hey boss, ya done with yer stuff already?” Sans asked and Frisk could have sworn that she saw the taller skeleton flinch a little at being called boss. She was probably imagining it.

“OF COURSE I AM. WHAT DID YOU EXPECT…” he paused as he seemed to notice Frisk for the first time and he frowned. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT HUMAN SANS?”

She wasn’t sure if she liked the tone in his voice, one that said that he probably wouldn’t approve no matter what the answer was, or not. If it stopped anything bad from happening then she would be happy but with how the night was going she wasn’t too hopeful.

“That is simple.” Frisk jumped at the sound of a third voice from the opposite direction and she wanted to just shrink away and be anywhere but here. Another skeleton entered the alleyway and was slowly walking towards them.

“Sans realizes that this human could be a good source of information for us. After all she seems to have some connections to some members of the human mob who have a decent standing in it.”

The skeleton stopped just a few few away. He was taller than Sans but still much shorter than the other one. When Frisk looked at this one she felt cold as his eyes seemed to look through her causing a shiver to run down her spine.

“Look I don’t know what you fellas are thinkin’ but I don’t…” Frisk stopped when the newest Skeleton stepped closer to her causing her to shrink back, or at least attempt to.

“Now then miss. I am going to ask you a few questions and you will answer. Fail to do so, or lie to me and you wont like what happens.” He said and Frisk said a small prayer, to whoever or whatever might be listening, that she would make it out of this alive and with all her body parts still attached.

[[Previous]] -- [[Next]]

[advocatewrites-blog]

Into the Unknown Part 3 Chapter 5

Into the Unknown

Fandom: Undertale, Coraline (book), Over the Garden Wall, Paranorman, Gravity Falls (season 2)

Characters: Frisk, Norman B., Dipper P., Mabel P., Coraline J., Wirt, Greg, the Cat, the Frog; Sans, Toriel, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore,; the Other Mother, the Beast, Agatha P., Bill Cipher, Asriel D., Chara D.,

Pairings: Not the focus. Alphys/Undyne, with mentions of Papyrus/Mettaton, sans/Toriel/Asgore, and Wirt/Sara. Due to the nature of Undertale and the dating segments, there is also interpretable Papyrus/Wirt, Undyne/Mabel, Alphys/Dipper, Napstablook/Norman, Mettaton/Norman, Mettaton/Mabel, Sans/Dipper, Sans/Norman, and Sans/Greg.

Rated a high +K for violence, mild language, horrific elements that may be disturbing to younger readers,  mentions of child abuse and bullying, character death that is sometimes permanent, and mentions of suicide that may be triggering. These elements remain relatively unchanged from their source material, which most all are for children, but discretion is advised nonetheless.

Disclaimer: Undertale was created and owned by Toby Fox. Coraline was created by Neil Gaiman and owned by Bloomsbury and Laika. Over the Garden Wall was created by Patrick McHale and owned by Cartoon Network. Paranorman was created by Sam Fell and Chris Butler and owned by Laika. Gravity Falls was created by Alex Hirsch and owned by Disney. Any other work mentioned or homage are property of their respective owners. This is a fan-made, nonprofit work that only seeks to entertain. Please support the original franchises.

Start from beginning / Previous chapter / Next chapter (on hiatus)

Chapter 5

It’s not long now.

King Asgore will let us go.

King Asgore will give us hope.

King Asgore will save us all.

You should be smiling, too. Aren’t you excited? Aren’t you happy?

You’re going to be free.

The monsters did not follow him into the next room. There were quite a few of them now; Monsters of all shapes and sorts that joined Norman as he entered New Home. In a way, he needed the company.

“Are you not coming?” Norman asked.

One Whimsalot spoke up. “There is nothing we can do now. It is up to you.”

They turned. Some gave him a few more bits of gold, as if he needed it now. A Vulkin tried to encourage him until she was swept away by a Tsunderplane. Norman was alone.

“It’s alright to be afraid,” his grandmother had said once. “Just so long as you don’t let it change who you are.”

He wished he remembered when she had said that. It felt so recent but so far away. Everything back home felt so far away.

Norman took the next step into the corridor. He could already see why the other monsters were hesitant. The last hall was as bright as the sun, stark against the usual dark of the Underground. Spotless golden brickwork and intricate stained-glass windows catching and reflecting artificial light to make it shine like a sunset. The air was deathly still, yet it did not feel intimidating. The sounds of church-bells echoed outside.

And all of a sudden, Norman was not alone.

“I’ve got a question for you. Do you think…even the worst person can change…? That anybody can be a good person, if they really try?”

It took Norman a minute to process a question had even been asked. And he wanted to say yes. It was a near automatic response.

Then he thought about it. Nobody on the Surface had changed for him. The kids would still bully him. The adults would still talk about him in hushed tones. He may end up like Mr. Prenderghast, living in a dump friendless and alone. Would they change? What would make them want to?

Napstablook had been a good person. Shy and lonely, but good. He attacked because he was scared, but he still gave Norman a cool hat and shared his music with him.

Mettaton, perhaps, was a good person under all that. He certainly seemed like he wanted to try.

Papyrus had always been a good person. One on the wrong side of the battle, but one who would probably be mortified if he found that out.  Undyne had been a good person. She had to change a bit, realize the human was not as dangerous as she believed.  Even Alphys looked like she wanted to change.

If they could change, anybody could.

With a shaky voice, Norman said “Yes.”

The figure in front of him seemed to contemplate his answer. They tilted their head back in thought, allowing a skeletal smile to show.

“I’m glad you think that way. Because now it is time for you to decide. Whether the monsters go free, or whether you return home. Our fate, is in your hands.”

sans pat him on the shoulder as he walked past.

“don’t worry kid. whatever you decide, it’ll be right. and if it’s not, well…it won’t be your fault.”

sans was almost out the door when Norman found his voice again.

“What do you think?”

sans froze.

“i used to know,” said sans.  “now, i’m not too sure.”

sans was gone. He did not walk out the door, or turn back and leave the other way. As quickly as Norman blinked, he was gone.

Norman took a deep breath, shook off the lingering questions and fears, and walked away.

The throne room was thick with garden. Golden flowers and leaves filled so much of the room that the throne looked like an afterthought. Norman’s eyes fell onto its sole occupant.

“Dum dee dum…oh? Is someone there? Just a moment. I have almost finished watering these flowers…here we are!”

The King of All Monsters turned to Norman.

“Now, how can I—”

King Asgore stopped as he saw Norman. He flinched, ever so slightly, as if Norman had struck him. He turned away from him, eyes looking down on the flowers.

“I so badly want to say, ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’” said King Asgore. “But…you know how it is. You know what we must do.”

Norman nodded, because he was not quite sure what else to do. He followed the Boss Monster past the throne room and into the dark corridors behind.

“How tense,” said the King. “Think of it like…a trip to the dentist.”

The corridors weren’t as dark anymore. Sunlight, real sunlight, trickled in from above.

“Are you ready?” asked the King. “If you are not…I understand. I am not either.”

“What other choice do I have?” Norman asked.

The King let out a noise. It was too breathy to be a laugh, but too quick to be a sigh. It sounded bitter.

“Then, if you are ready…”

Asgore turned back to Norman. The canisters of Souls raised behind him. He lowered his head and raised his trident.

“Human…it was nice to meet you. Goodbye.”

The fight lasted a long time, longer than Norman would have thought. Just because he was determined to get home did not mean he was not facing the King of All Monsters. It took him a while to figure out just how much the king was holding back on him, waiting until any attack would become a fatal blow.

When Asgore fell to his knees, Norman felt a wave of emotions crash in him. They settled into guilt when the goat monster looked back at him, eyes tired and pained but accepting.

It turned into panic when a wave of bullets surrounded him, collided with his Soul and turned him to dust.

“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” Flowey’s voice was unmistakable, even if it had been so long since he heard it. “In this world, it’s kill or be killed.”

Everything went black.

The space did not feel real, nor did Norman feel real in it. It felt more like a dream.  His mind went back to the incident in the dump. Another vision, perhaps?

All of a sudden, Norman was not alone.

They could not have been older than five they were so small. The threadbare sweater, the ripped shorts and the dirt-caked skin made them seem a lot smaller.

Their eyes widened when they saw Norman. They waved. Their hand flexed in a variety of patterns Norman recognized as sign-language, but could not decipher.

And everything went black.

*RESET

[skeletorific]

Underswap Headcanons

So I’ve been thinking a lot lately about Underswap and how I differentiate it from Undertale. I’ve never really had the words to it before, but something I’ve come to understand is that I think while the characters maintain the external personality and appearance of the person they’ve been swapped with, their dark side, their insecurities, the lines they’ll cross, the parts only close friends and family know...they are retained from their Tale selves. This underside, however, expresses itself through the lens of the externals, creating a fusion that at times can resemble both but allows the personality to become its own. I’ll be writing some basic profiles of the major characters, including some of those that I don’t write for often. I will be leaving out Chara and Frisk though. Not because I don’t have headcanons for them, but because in order to understand my swaps for them, you’d have to understand my Tale headcanons for them, which is a post in its own right.

(may do this for Swapfell, but then I’d have to get into the whole Fellswap Swapfell thing and that’s a whoooole can of worms)

Asgore: Alright, in fairness, Asgore and Toriel have always been pretty similar. Maybe its because they spent so much time as a couple. Still, there are some differences. In Underswap, Asgore has UT!Toriel’s caretaking instincts for lost souls as well as her more stringent ethics (there is right and wrong and very little in between). He also inherits the love of puns. From his original self, however, he gained a certain unacknowledged resignation. While he has a stronger sense of right and wrong than his Tale self, he shares a similar sense of doom, and that no matter what he desires, in the end, what will happen is what will happen. He will not fight as hard to keep the human there, nor does he connect as strongly, because he seems burdened by an understanding that he cannot save them. All of his children leave, and rather than trying to cloister them, as Tale!Toriel did, he in the end builds more walls around himself, tries to provide for them without getting his heart broken. He returns in the True Pacifist ending ultimately because he decides he is tired of trying to protect himself. That this is not what his son and Frisk would’ve wanted. He also resents Toriel less than Tale!Toriel resents her ex. While he still finds her actions despicable, there is a subconscious part of him that envies the fact that she still had the strength to care for their people while he shut down.

Sans: (special thanks to @nighttimepixels for putting my thinking on this track)Externally, he’s identical to Tale!Papyrus almost to the point of caricature. Bouncy, enthusiastic, optimistic, the Underground’s ray of sunshine who seems like he’s never had a bad thought in his life.....but the truth is, no one’s that perfect. Blue is pretty naturally upbeat. He prefers to see the best in people and though he’s often let down he finds that when that trust is rewarded its worth it. But in many cases his reputation outpaces his actuality. Still, the largest thing he inherited his Tale!Sans? The desire to keep secrets. To protect himself, to avoid problems by just hiding it all under a more digestible front. Even Papyrus doesn’t totally know how low he can get. How garbage his self-esteem can be. How isolated he can feel from others. Because the lower he gets the higher in gear he kicks it. More bounce! More pizazz! More magnificence! He’s Sans the Skeleton, everyone’s support system! He...he doesn’t get low days. Honest! From a more positive perspective, Blue is a little less dependent on the opinion’s of others than Papyrus. As long as they aren’t upset, then honestly they can have whatever opinion of him that they want. To clarify, he of course wants to be seen as impressive, kind, and a force to be reckoned with, but he copes a bit better with his lack of popularity that Tale!Papyrus, and is less desperate to please. While both have a strong code of ethics, Blue is more likely to burn a bridge over a violation of it (though of course hoping they will come around), while Papyrus has a harder time doing that.

Papyrus: The first time he meets Tale Sans, Sans can’t help but feel a strange rush of envy. Stretch is lazy, sure, lives like garbage and can’t commit to much. But he’s so damn charming. He seems to have retained Original Papyrus’ showmanship instincts just enough to talk his way into anything, leave just as much of an impression as he wants, or go ignored if that’s what he desired. And while in general he’s as directionless as Tale, when he wants something he rarely has trouble getting it. Motivation isn’t his default but it is a reservoir he has immense capacity to draw on. Still, there’s a lot (a LOT) Stretch doesn’t show. That dependency on people’s opinion that Blue missed? Guess who inherited it. Because yeah, he walks around like he doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks of him, like he’s got it all figured out and could talk circles around you if he wanted. But Stretch is CONSTANTLY assessing himself and other people’s perception of him. Even if he doesn’t want to be adored, he wants to be remembered, thought of as funny, clever, or hell, even annoying, just as long as its the impression he wants to give off. He walks a fine line of wanting no one to see the real him while wanting someone to just see him for who he is and VALIDATE it. His self-confidence struggles are tangentially related to Tale Sans, but while Tale tends to just shrug and write himself off as a lost cause, Stretch can’t stop himself from trying to micromanage his own personality. He has a fixation on controlling himself. In light of the RESETs, its one of the last things he can control. Even the smoking habit was intentional. He wanted a coping mechanism, as well as a good reason to be alone when he wanted to be. It sounds cliche, but if Stretch really wanted to quit he could’ve done it no problem years ago. He struggles with anxiety as opposed to Tale’s depression, and is quite a bit more extroverted.

Muffet: Muffet’s similarities to her Tale self largely relate to motivations. She works her bakery/bar to provide money for her spider family members in Hotland. As the strongest of her kind only she could bear Snowdin’s cold, and it allowed her a business opportunity (given that Swap Grillby has a stranglehold on the Hotland food market only barely broken by Napstaton’s resort) to provide for her family. Outwardly, she is near identical to Tale Grillby. Quiet, responsible, with an unexpected humor only a select few regulars are privy to. Still, she kept her Tale self’s cutthroat side. While she’s a decent person and generally is willing to help others, if the choice came between an innocent and any member of her family, she would give up the innocent practically instantaneously. She’s also a tightfist and can be extremely unreasonable about money. Stretch doesn’t talk about it much but there was an incident where she came to him about his tab and he treated the matter a little too light-heartedly.....she apologized afterwards but he’s never let the bill stand that long since. To her, nothing is more important than her ability to provide and protect for her people. 

Alphys: She’s got all of Tale Undyne’s rough and tumble, “FIGHT ME” intensity, as well as her softer, gentler desire to help all monsterkind. But this dinosaur doesn’t have nearly the same confidence. Not that she’d ever admit to it. But Alph struggles with her belief in herself. She believes in Blue, in Toriel, in Undyne, in all of her friends, really. But rarely in herself. Toriel never needed to correct her during training, Alphys berated herself, often way past what was necessary. She can do a hundred perfect moves, trip once, and that’s the only thing she’ll remember. Still, she covers that lack of confidence with quite a bit of aggression. Though Tale!Undyne had her angry moments, Alphys can come off as downright cranky. She also retained a tactical brilliance from Tale!Alphys, and a secret nerd side that she represses. No one is allowed in her room because that’s where she keeps all the....*whispers* books. Part of what drew her to Undyne was that she’s allowed to openly love what Alphys feels she must keep to herself. After all, warriors don’t READ! Right?!?!?!

Undyne: Awkward, shy, nerdy, stammering......and full of PASSION! Seriously, she keeps it on the DL, but she is almost as intense as her Tale self. Pencils she chews on end up bitten in half before she knows what she’s doing. She’s thrown laptops across the room in her excitement over new breakthroughs. And that’s not counting all the broken mugs. She definitely does not know her own strength. She also has Tale!Undyne’s tendency to make swift judgments (like with Frisk and Papyrus to an extent) and stick to them until she has no choice but to reassess. A prime example? Mettablook. Once she determined that their cousin was a better candidate for the robotics project....well, she wasn’t exactly rude, but she could be a bit callous. Frankly, she didn’t have much use for them, and could be unreasonable about their requests for her to make them a body, saying curtly that she didn’t have the resources to spare for such a secondary project. On the more positive side, while she’s definitely awkward, she doesn’t struggle as much with confidence as Tale!Alphys. Her isolation is more incidental to her focus on her job (and, well, the internet). Socializing isn’t nearly as agonizing for her. She keeps in touch with Stretch despite them not working together. She simply doesn’t let people get too close so they don’t find out about the little surprise in her basement....

And speaking of Mettablook....

Mettablook (Hapstablook?): (sidenote, I’ll be using he/him pronouns since that’s what Mettaton uses in-game) When it comes to Napsta and Metta, I see their Swap being more role than personality focused. Like, Metta definitely got more of Napstablook’s shyness, but in general he is very close to how I imagine pre-robo Mettaton. He has a flair for performance, a love for anything that sparkles, and a fierce loyalty to his circle of friends. With one major difference. He wasn’t the one who met Undyne first. That was his cousin. As a result, Napsta was the one chosen for the robot program. While Metta....was stuck with the farm. As opposed to Napstablook’s crushed self-esteem, though, his route to coping with being....well, abandoned by one of the few people he thought would stick around for ever, is active denial that it hurt even a little. No, really, he’s very happy for his cousin. No big that they never call or write or visit....really, he’s sure they’re busy or something. He honestly can’t be bothered to think about it with all his responsibilities. Really. Its total bullshit and everyone knows it, but he’ll hold fast to that exterior. And while his confidence isn’t quite as shattered, he’s not nearly the performer he used to be when Chara finds him. He’s trying to rationalize why his cousin wouldn’t take him with them. Was....was this their way of letting them down easy? Are they trying to tell him that he was never as good as he thought? He still practices, but he’s far more private about it. The way you would know he’s ready for MERCY is if he shows you one of his poses, actually.

Napstaton (they/them pronouns) There’s two sides to this DJ. Their on stage persona is actually very laid back, something of a very optimistic surfer dude. They’re go-with-the flow, has tousled robo hair (okay, its been engineered to look tousled) and in general just happy to meet you. While Tale Mettaton’s emphasis is on performance, Napstaton’s first and foremost concern is the music they play and write. They don’t do television shows, but concerts and music specials. Underneath the cool exterior, though, this bot is a HOT MESS. All Napstas, regardless of universe, struggle with low self-esteem and the fear that everyone secretly hates them. When they got their chance at celebrity they had hoped this would be less of an issue. But its not. If anything, its worse, because they’re worried every minute that they’ll mess it up, that the penny will drop and everyone will see them for the garbage heap that they are. They can’t let that happen. So they focus on everything to do with their career. They hole up for days agonizing over their music. They spend hours choosing outfits carefully so they don’t look like they took hours to choose. They never see their cousin anymore, and visits with Undyne are rare and usually as short as they can make them. It makes them something of a selfish person, focused entirely on their image and how they interact with the world. Still, they have a very sweet nature that comes out especially after Chara gives them their wake up call, and they really do love their friends.

Toriel: Gracious, wise, powerful, and in charge. She has all the qualities the Underground seems to require. Along with Tale!Toriel’s impressive dedication to those she cares about and her maternal instincts she combines UT!Asgore’s utter devotion to their people. The killing of children is not something she takes any pleasure in. But she tries to bury her it in the hope of her people. With each SOUL they get closer and closer to freedom. Surely that has to be enough. She also commands a lot more respect than UT!Asgore does, and you are not likely to hear her referred to as “Queen Fluffybuns” anytime soon. Still, she didnt just carry over Toriel’s good qualities. While UT!Asgore mostly wrestled with his own guilt, Swap Toriel is overwhelmingly lonely. Which seems odd. After all, she’s surrounded by people. But there is a certain distance that she has to maintain as a ruler, that prevents many from getting close. With Asgore’s desparture, she’s lost the last person that she felt she could emotionally connect with. Its turned her....a little desperate. And a lot overprotective. Alphys had to fight for years  to get her permission to join the Guard, simply because she didn’t want her hurt. Undyne has a tough time of it keeping the Amalgams hidden because Toriel is always visiting and sticking her snout in every direction. Even when they hit the Surface she has a tendency to hover over Chara’s activites and make up reasons to show up at Asgore’s house. Someone give this woman a hug and let her know everyone’s gonna be okay.

[pumpkins-s]

Not As Simple As A Happy Ending

Read on AO3 Here

Read the Other Chapters On Tumblr Here

It’s just a ribbon.

Just a plain red ribbon, absolutely nothing special about it.

At least, that’s what Sans tries to tell himself as Frisk stares up at him, their expectant look slowly morphing into confusion while he sits there frozen.

In which Frisk isn’t the first human Sans meets, nor the first he befriends, nor the first he kills.

And being Sans in general is complicated.

Fandom: Undertale

Characters: Sans, Papyrus, Alphys, Undyne, Frisk, Toriel, Asgore, W.D. Gaster, Grillby, Flowey, Chara, Blue Soul Human, Light Blue Soul Human, Yellow Soul Human, miscellaneous

Warnings: Canonical character death, non-graphic violence, bucketloads of angst (y’know the drill)

Other Things Worth Noting: Non-linear Narrative (though primarily set pre-canon), canon compliant, assumes post-pacifist run following an almost-genocide run for post-canon settings, Sans-centric with other characters being viewed through his eyes

Chapter 18: Conjecture

((Author’s Note:

Heyyyyy. Long time, no update!

(I'm back.)

Apologies for the interim between updates, it's been a weird few months for me, and I really needed a break from this fic to clear my head by working on other things and to deal with some personal issues. Given that, and the fact that this chapter (and the one following it) are possibly two of the most important chapters in Act 2, and I really wanted to do it right, finishing the update took a while.

Before we begin, some extra content and fanart to present!

First up on fanart: Adorable character cards Celestialfeathers surprised me with at Emerald City Comicon this year! You can check them out here!

Next, two gorgeous sketch sets of Wind, Rose, Sans, and Integrity by katthesmall, which you can see here and here!

We also have, by lieu of me googling Not As Simple on a dare, some pieces of fanart featuring Integrity I discovered by saphira123 (If the artist is reading this, I don't have accounts on any of your preferred media to thank you directly, but just know I found them and I love them!!). You can check out their gorgeous art of Integrity here, here, and here!!

In terms of bonus content for you guys, more exciting stuff!

First, to accompany the last chapter, Wind now has her own playlist here!

Second, and possibly most excitingly, Not As Simple now has its own song!! My little sister commissioned one of my favorite independent musicians for me as a Christmas present, so I am overjoyed to present to you guys Lost Time, the official song for Not As Simple, which you can find here!! (The musician in question is amazing and I would absolutely suggest checking out the rest of her stuff!)

That's it! Now, I'm happy to present to y'all chapter 18! ))

“I’m… pretty sure that’s wrong.”

Gaster frowns, turning and squinting at the whiteboard. “…No?”

“Nah, he’s right.” Wind says from the table next to Sans where she’s perched, legs crossed and thick book open in her lap. “Top row, G. You didn’t carry the four.”

Gaster hums, tilting his head and staring up at the section in question. “….Bollocks. You’re correct. I can’t believe I missed that.”

Wind snorts loudly, turning a page in her book, and Sans rolls his eyes, going back to entering the data on his notepad into the computer in front of him.

Sans is fifteen, and some days it feels like they’re no closer to breaking into the rules of the barrier than they were when he first came to the labs.

…Ok, no, that’s wrong. It’s not a case of what he feels, though that certainly plays an inevitable factor.

No, it’s more like they logistically, honestly have little more of an idea of what the fuck they’re looking at than they did three years ago. Never mind the fact Gaster had already been working on this puzzle for at least another two decades and then some before Sans was even a factor.

It’s exhausting, and frustrating, and Sans knew the mystery of the space-time bubble that is the Underground wouldn’t be solved in a day, but sometimes it feels like he’s losing his goddamn mind.

Then again, he notes idly, as his eyes flicker to the two other people in the room, it’s not like this was a job built for the sane and healthy. To learn the truth, to even get close to it, you had to be willing to become damaged goods— And that’s just what they are, him and Wind and Gaster, the byproducts of witnessing the unfathomable and walking out the other side.

Smugly, Wind points out another error in Gaster’s math, laughing loudly at his outraged spluttering, and Sans can’t help but stare quietly, drinking in the bright sound of Wind’s laughter, her rustling wings as her shoulders shake with mirth. Across from her Gaster is loudly animated, coat twirling as he turns and chucks a marker at her, shouting indignantly.

They are so alive. Sometimes Sans has trouble understanding how he got lucky enough to be graced with this.

Wind had become something of a staple in many of his and Gaster’s research sessions ever since their little heart-to-heart during the first annual inspection he was present for, slipping into the mix of languages Gaster meshes together on accident during his ramblings and partaking in the easy, insulting banter, with a grace that alludes to her experience with it. It speaks to just how long she’s been around Gaster, Sans thinks, and of how much time she’s had to learn his patterns. Perhaps it had always been like that, before Sans had arrived. He hates to think he accidentally made Wind feel she could no longer be Gaster’s first support, that whatever had come of sharing her memories led Wind to feel she had a permission, one that she never needed in the first place, to be around them, but at least… things are alright now.

Honestly, Sans had never realized the true depth of Wind’s intelligence until she had quietly intruded upon his and Gaster’s work sessions, offering corrections and assistance. She may not be a scientist, but there’s a clear kind of innate brilliance and quickness to Wind that makes sense for someone Gaster would take an interest in.

Regardless, her presence definitely helps, and there’s a kind of openness in what she’s seen, what she’s chosen to stand for, that makes it easy to share with Wind the research into the barrier, into human souls, that they cannot with the others. She has thrown her lot in with humanity as much as himself or Gaster, and there’s an innate kind of trust that comes with that.

The only research Gaster pointedly does away from all eyes but his own and Sans’s is of that into the timelines. Even Wind is kept well away from every piece of it, and while Sans was never shared Wind’s memories of her time with Gaster as his assistant, she does not, as far as he can tell, know of this one little secret. For all that she may know of the barrier, of the deaths of the humans and of the blind loyalty of the guard, this piece of the puzzle is one Gaster has kept hidden.

It’s protection, Sans thinks. There’s a kind of closeness between the two of them, one that makes sense with the knowledge Gaster has known Wind since she was a teenager, and for every moment Gaster seems parental-feeling towards Sans and Papyrus, there is something of a matching moment there for Wind too. Gaster may not ever admit to it, defensive bastard that he is, but it’s plenty obvious he desires to care for the people around him. And for Wind, who has already seen so much of this nightmare, this is the only shielding he can offer her.

Sans doesn’t know if it’s right, to keep the truth from Wind like that, or from any of them really, but he does understand it. He has done, and continues to do, the same for Papyrus, for Grillby. He cares about them too much to ever tell them, as hypocritical as that sounds.

No, the secret of the timelines was one Sans shared only with the human, and now, he supposes, with Gaster.

Sometimes it feels like a bit of a sick trade off— Sans lost a sister and gained… What? A parent? A father?

That word brings hesitation, whenever it crosses Sans’s mind, much like when Rose’s touches to his cheek feel too maternal. He’s… scared. To risk that label, with all the consequences and costs it could bring.

A guardian, then… A guardian in Gaster, and in Rose, in a way. Someone to trust, in Wind, people to call something like family, in Gamma and Ficus, and a friend, in Alphys.

He has all this, and it is invaluable, and yet what he wants most is something he cannot have back. How selfish.

Still, while he cannot change the past, at least so far as he knows, Sans is painfully aware of the variability of the future. If they want to protect the next human who will inevitably fall down here, they must beat the clock, and crack the barrier first. It’s the only option.

…If only it wasn’t so fucking complicated.

Alphys’s familiar stutter paired with an aggressively loud voice greet Sans when he enters the main lab, leaving Sans gritting his teeth against the assault on his hearing, only adding to the headache that’s already been lingering the last few hours from watching Gaster work through walls of data without any success. Sans is well aware not every day is going to produce some sort of breakthrough, even a minor one, and most days don’t, but today has been… particularly frustrating.

And now this of all things.

A startled squeak followed by a nervous-sounding “Sans!” alerts Sans to the fact that Alphys has noticed his arrival, and, reluctantly, Sans stops in his tracks, turning to face her and her guest.

“Oh, it’s you.” Says a second, rougher voice, its occupant hovering just behind Alphys, arms thrown over her shoulders.

Sans sighs. “Hello to you too, Undyne.”

She grins, sharp and wide. “Fuckface.”

“Fishbitch.”

“Please.” Alphys says despairingly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose in a sign of exasperation she no doubt picked up from Rose. Undyne whines in complaint, dropping her head against Alphys’s shoulder, causing Alphys to flush pink, and Sans shrugs lazily, earning himself a glare from Alphys.

“She started it.” Sans says easily, ignoring Undyne’s outraged squawk of protest. Alphys rolls her eyes, and he snorts. “I’m just getting something from Wind’s study, anyways. Just go back to… whatever you two were doing. Or… whatever you were doing that Undyne was creepily watching you do?”

Alphys twitches in annoyance, an embarrassed blush scrawling further up her cheeks, and Undyne pops her head back up to point angrily at him. “I’m not creepy!”

“Nah, just annoying.” He answers, walking past them and shutting the door to Wind’s office firmly behind him. Leaning against it, Sans lets out a small sigh of relief, dropping his head and staring at the floor without any real purpose or recognition. Running into Undyne is always a bit jarring, her presence loud and demanding no matter how somewhat used to it he may get. Which is exactly why Alphys is supposed to give him some kind of warning before bringing her over, Sans thinks with a kind of half-hearted annoyance.

Honestly, it’s amazing things between them have even progressed enough that Sans is able to tolerate Undyne’s presence, and Undyne the same for him, even if she still seems to take a kind of vicious pleasure in insulting him (Not that he, admittedly, doesn’t do the same). He blames Wind, really. After seeing her memories he couldn’t help but look at Undyne’s position through new eyes. He still isn’t really clear on the details, but Undyne does seem to spend basically every day hovering around Asgore, and while Sans is pretty sure she isn’t living with him like Wind had been (particularly given Alphys had off-handedly complained about Undyne’s group home once or twice), Asgore does seem to be all she has.

And… Sans can’t fault her for that. Not when he knows what it feels like to be alone and desperate for anyone to place your faith in, and not after Wind. Undyne isn’t to blame for what Asgore and their world taught her— Asgore makes victims, both intentional and unintentional, out of everyone he touches, that’s just the way it is. The Underground is poisoned with his hate, and as it stands, most monsters are just too blinded by faith or too stupid, whichever or both, Sans doesn’t know, to question what has been done.

To turn, monsterkind will have to see the truth, and that’s what Sans and Gaster and everyone else in the labs are here for, after all.

Besides, it also doesn’t hurt that Undyne has calmed down some over the last couple years. Not much, but she’s at least stopped trying to fight Sans at every given opportunity, has learned not to shit-talk humans in his presence. And in turn, Sans has learned to bite his tongue when she slips up and praises the Guard and the future death of humanity.

It’s all… a work in progress, at the end of the day. But they’ve reached this, at least. A place where they can easily insult each other and shove each other around cheerfully and, most importantly, stand in the same room without trying to kill each other.

It’s almost ironic really, Sans thinks. The two of them have achieved this kind of mutual truce, and yet they stand in such opposing positions. Undyne hadn’t joined the regular guard when she turned fifteen, or even when she turned sixteen or seventeen, like Sans had thought she would, instead she stayed at Asgore’s side, training directly under him. There were whispers around the castle, Alphys told him, that Asgore would step in and immediately promote her to Captain once the current head of the guard retired.

And then there was Sans. Sans, who trained under Wind and learned under Gaster, who had a soul that lived not just for the future of monsterkind but for humankind as well. He is the product of Asgore’s greatest mistakes, his greatest betrayals to people that once loved him, and he has every intention of being the thing that takes Asgore down, one day.

In essence, Sans is the epitome of everything Undyne is not, and yet, he thinks, they’re not completely different in their positions. They just placed their faith in different people.

…Of course, Sans likes to think his own choices in what company he keeps are markedly much improved over Undyne’s. She is just a pawn in Asgore’s Underground, and Sans… he is no one’s to use. Not even Gaster’s.

Sighing, Sans straightens up, getting off his resting place against the door and taking the few steps he needs to drop heavily into Wind’s desk chair, sparing a small grin when it spins a couple loops as his weight hits it. Never let it be said Wind didn’t make excellent interior design choices. Her swivel chair was one of the best things in the labs upwards of the ridiculous shit that could be found on Gaster’s floor.

Speaking of… bending down, he trails his finger-bones down the drawers on the left side of the desk, pulling open the third one. There was an old storage drive Wind had somewhere here with some old work she’d done on studying shield magic like her own and comparing it to the barrier that she thought might help. Spotting the item in question, Sans grins and grabs it, sitting up and allowing himself a victory spin on the chair. Glancing at the door, leading back to where the others wait for him, Sans takes a deep breath and stands up.

He cannot become bogged down in introspection and frustration. He needs to do this, there is no one else but himself and those waiting for him in front of Gaster’s whiteboard who can.

He must do this.

Sometimes, Sans can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Admittedly, he’s always been a bit like that, and his time in the loops with the human had only made him more paranoid, fearing an enemy at every turn, but this is… different.

It feels more like an observer, than an impending threat, something unobtrusive and invisible, but undeniably there. It’s an odd sensation, to feel as if there are eyes on him but find nothing, and too often he chalks it up to his worries getting the better of him.

Occasionally, at night, he dreams of a presence, one that sits across from him in the hollows of his consciousness, hidden by shadow. It’s hard to put a name to it, really. It reminds him instinctively of the human, the same kind of curling, inexplicable power in its form. But… More than anything, when he reaches out and pokes at its consciousness intruding upon places it should not be able to, it feels most like himself— Not a perfect match, but close. Like looking in a distorted mirror. In a way, that makes sense. Sans, in his glitching, sparking magic, can jump through the spaces between reality without hesitation, and this… thing, in its own way, is doing something much similar.

It doesn’t belong to the physical Underground Sans lives in, and yet it walks in and out of it, hovering on the very edge anyways.

Its visits are infrequent, and sporadic. Sometimes, it feels as if something is following him for days on end, and on other occasions he’ll go months with only the barest flicker of its presence once or twice in that whole time for only seconds.

When it happens, he is reminded of the creature that once wandered into his nightmare, years ago, abolishing the shadow-form of his sister with ease, and of the ghost Wind had joked about after she’d shown him her memories.

Most of the time, Sans thinks he’s being obsessive over something that is not there, so set on finding another enemy he must keep his guard up around that he’s gone and invented one. Or… perhaps so desperate for another ally he’s done the same thing. It’s hard to tell which.

Occasionally, though, he feels as if there is another player in the chess game he and Gaster only fleetingly understand the rules to. Something else moving pieces as himself and the others hurriedly do their best to find a way to checkmate Asgore.

He… doesn’t know what to do with that potential concept, beyond hope that whatever it is, if it actually exists, is on their side.

God, he hopes it’s on their side.

Sans hits the ground with a yelp of pain, shoulder colliding painfully against the stone floor before he rolls over it and up, tensed in a crouch and magic crackling readily at his fingertips as he braces them on the ground and glares up. Across him, Wind straightens up, sighing and stretching an arm over her head languidly. “You’re way too slow. That wasn’t even a glancing blow, I hit you dead-on.”

Sans huffs, curling his spine up and resting his forearms on his thighs, still crouching. “If you just taught me shielding magic— “

“My shielding magic is a kind unique to my species, and one that takes years to master.” At Sans’s scowl, Wind’s expression softens. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, Sans. Your magic reserves are the kind most monsters couldn’t even dream of. I’m just saying it would likely be exceedingly difficult, not to mention strenuous as hell. Shielding takes up enormous energy, it’s not the kind of thing you do frequently in fights unless it’s your specialty or you have no other choice.” She tilts her head. “Look at it this way. Have you ever seen me maintain my shield between blows?” Sans reluctantly shakes his head, and Wind beams. “Right, because it’s the kind of thing I wouldn’t risk draining my energy unless I had no other choice to keep it sustained indefinitely. Shielding magic is incredibly useful, but it’s not reliable as your only form of defense. Hence...” Wind sweeps down, lowering herself until she’s crouching at Sans’s level, leaning forward with her wings spread out behind her for balance, a picture perfect form of a lithe, graceful soldier. “We learn to dodge. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sans grumbles, and Wind grins.

“Good. Now, again.”

Wind flies forward, leaping up and at him with purpose, and Sans barely has a second to dive sideways and roll out of the way before Wind’s foot slams into the spot where his head was moments ago. Jumping to his feet, Sans ducks under Wind’s arm as it makes an arc over his skull, and manages two steps to the left before a wing curves in from the right and hits him solidly in the chest, sending him flying through the air. Sans barely has a moment to brace for inevitable impact against the wall and send a quiet thought of apology to Papyrus for dying on him so soon, before a pair of wiry arms catch him and the buffet of wings catching on air fills the sound around him. Carefully raising his head and opening his eyes, Sans stares at Wind’s concerned expression as she gently lowers them both back to earth, setting Sans down slowly once her feet hit the ground.

“That’s six times I’ve gotten you today, Sans.” Wind says patiently, in an annoyingly forgiving way that makes Sans grit his teeth in frustration. “If I was a Royal Guard, that’s six times you’d have been dead.”

“I know, I know.” Sans mutters.

“Do you?” Wind crosses her arms, frowning down at him. “In a real fight, your opponent isn’t going to give you a chance to catch your breath, and you may not have anyone to watch your back for you.”

“I know!” He snaps. “It’s not like I’ve never fought for my life before or anything!”

Wind winces, and Sans sighs, ducking his head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“No, you’re right.” Wind says. “I should be the one apologizing. I was… pushing you too hard. If you don’t want to do this I— “

“No!” He yelps, head snapping up to stare wide-eyed at Wind. “I need this. I need to be ready. Don’t start babying me because of one rough day. I asked for your help and I’m going to keep asking until I’ve learned everything I can.” Taking a deep breath, he takes a step back, assuming a defensive position. “Again.”

Wind hesitates, and then lunges forward. Sans ducks under her leg as she aims a flying kick at him, diving behind her and jumping up onto the wing that sweeps out at him, using it as a platform to propel himself up and over Wind’s head. He hits the ground rolling, jumping up and breaking into a sprint as Wind takes off after him. He’ll lead her around the room, he thinks, tire her out— Survival is the name of the game with this exercise, the idea being to evade Wind’s attacks for a full five minutes. He grins at the sounds of Wind behind him, confident for once that he’s got the upper hand, and then there’s the flapping of wings and a tall figure slams into the ground in front of him.

—Guards everywhere, cornering them in the tight caves of Waterfall’s hidden crevices. He dodges right to avoid a barrage of flying arrows, the human right behind him, hand in his, he searches the perimeter desperately, looking for a way out, frantically moving until— There! On the left, a gap between the soldiers stands out, leading to the entrance of another cavern. He dives forward, dragging the human behind him, sights set on the route of escape. They’re going to make it, they’re so close, and then a guard slams into view from seemingly out of nowhere, wielding their spear as they thrust it forward and straight into Sans’s soul, shattering his conscious instantly. He hears the human scream, but everything is going black, and he can’t move—

Sans comes back to himself stretched out on the floor of the training room, head pillowed in Wind’s lap and limbs spread out haphazardly. He flinches as cool fingers prod the edges of his skull clinically, checking for injuries, probably, and slowly Wind’s worried face swims into view above him.

“…Sans? You back with me, buddy?”

He winces, sitting up carefully, Wind’s hands going to his back to steady him. “Yeah, more or less.”

“Where did you go?” Wind asks, voice knowing and soft as she runs a gentle hand down his spine, patience and understanding in her whole being.

He shrugs helplessly. “Back.”

Wind purses her lips, choosing not to press him. “I think that’s enough for today.” Sans opens his mouth to protest, and she shakes her head. “You’ve been out of it all morning, and it’s never a good sign when you start having flashbacks. Trust me, I’d know.”

“I suppose not.” Sans mutters reluctantly, and Wind sighs.

“You’ve been running yourself ragged, kiddo. You’ll burn out if you press too hard. So you’re having a bad day, that’s fine. Take a break for once, yeah? Clear your head.”

Sans snorts. “I’ve tried, believe me, but I feel like every time I leave this room I’m staring at more dead-end equations.”

“Then get out of the labs for a bit.” At Sans’s incredulous look, Wind rolls her eyes. “I know you hate being in Asgore’s potential sights, but the Underground’s a lot bigger than his immediate reach. It’s not healthy to live your life down here fulltime. There’s reasons why Rose always bullies Gaster into doing sample collections for her outside the labs, a little change of scenery is good for him, and, for that matter, for you. Take the day off— Go visit Grillby in Snowdin, go to a market in the Capital, go… Fuck around Hotland, I don’t know! My point is, do something.” Wind pauses, sighing. “Sometimes the way to solve a problem is to come back to it with fresh eyes.”

“Yeah, alright, point taken.” Sans says, ducking his head. “I’ll— I’ll try.”

Somehow, Sans suspects when Wind advised him to take some time to himself, this isn’t what she meant.

Muttering under his breath, Sans curses as he trips over another outcropping of rock, stumbling none too gracefully over the thin stream running through the ground beneath his feet. It’s embarrassing really, just how clumsy he’s gotten. What he once navigated with deadly precision and artistry now leaves him falling over his own feet— This is the first time he’s set foot in the lower pools in… God, months.

He’s been neglecting it, and his place in it, this expanse of caverns that was once his home. Was once their home, his and Papyrus’s, his and the human’s.

It was only a few years ago, when he knew the watery songs of this place down to the marrow of his bones, and the core of his soul. Frequently now it feels like a lifetime ago, sometimes it feels like it all just happened.

Very occasionally, Sans still wakes up and expects to see a cavern ceiling and feel the weight of a hand on his sternum, to find the world has reset itself and turned back time once again.

…Honestly, Sans doesn’t know now whether he would be relieved or horrified if that happened. Maybe both.

He has not accepted her death; he will never accept her death, not for how it happened or what was done to her, and in turn to him. And yet, he doesn’t know if he could ever go back to that time. This is so much bigger than one life, one soul to save, now. He’s seen and learned so much.

This is not just about Sans himself or the human he came to call friend and sister. This is about all of them. Humans, monsters, the souls lost to Asgore and the people of the labs he now calls something like family and the fates of the next to fall. There are individuals to protect, those he loves and those he has not yet met but sworn to guard with his life when he does, and there are whole nations to save, that stand to fall if he doesn’t find a way to stop this war.

Patience, he reminds himself. The barrier wasn’t built in a day, and neither will it be destroyed as such. Nor, he thinks, is it as simple as pulling a switch and shutting off the power to whatever keeps them trapped here. Destroy the barrier without learning how to control it and they will only unleash Asgore’s war between humans and monsters that much sooner. They need that power to bend it to their will, to use the barrier as their bargaining chip against the crown. Right now the cards are stacked in Asgore’s favor, and they desperately need to produce an ace.

“Will you kill him?” Sans remembers overhearing Wind ask Gaster in a hushed discussion one night, when the overhead lights were dimmed and they believed he’d fallen asleep in the plushy chair in the corner with his book.

“Not unless I have to.” Gaster had said. “His words have considerable sway among the people, sway that can be played to our advantage if we can control his message to the public, and regardless I’d rather not stoop to his level.”

“What will you do, then?”

“Get him to step down from power, obviously.” Gaster snorted. “He’s too dangerous to try and control him while he holds power. You and I both know we could never successfully make a puppet king out of him. We’ll have to cut the strings or risk getting strangled in them.”

“…Then what?” Wind had offered eventually, her words quiet. “Who will replace him? Monsters have never had democracy, we have told our needs to the royal family and they provided. Our supposed good nature kept us in peace with one another. They will balk at such a human way of government, and in the wake of the destruction of the barrier it will not be the time to try it out. They will need a leader.”

“Yes. They will.” Gaster agreed.

“So I ask again. Who’s going to lead them, Gaster? You?”

“Me? God no. Never. Never me.”

Wind had frowned, crossing her arms. “That’s not an answer and you know it.”

Sans sighs, sticking his hands in his coat pockets and staring up at the cavern ceiling above him, contemplative. He’d couldn’t help but ask Gaster, after Wind had left and the other had come to pick him up and tuck him into his bed for the night.

“Who will lead?”

“…So you were awake.” Gaster had stilled, hesitating and then picking Sans up anyways. He’d squirmed halfheartedly, wanting to protest he was not a small child and yet enjoying the soothing contact too much to protest it.

“Who will lead?” He asked again, once he was settled in Gaster’s arms, his small stature even for most young monsters easily dwarfed by Gaster’s considerable height.

“…Wind will lead.” Gaster had said finally. “She is strong, and intelligent, and has the heart to hold a whole kingdom. Her status as the last of an elite military family, and of a revered species of monster, will give her the backing she needs to reasonably take control, so long as her old records disappear.”

Sans blinked, and as if sensing the unasked question, Gaster bowed his head slightly. “I will advise her, if I can, but my reputation as the nutcase who protected a human proceeds me. Wind’s hands are cleaner, less involved in this mess.” He sighed. “It is more than possible that Asgore will not relinquish his power easily, and if things go wrong someone must take the fall. I will go down as the one who destroyed Asgore’s throne if I must, and from the dust Wind will rise as their savior.” His gaze fell to Sans’s firm glare. “If that happens, Sans, you must let it. Do not go trying to save me from my own choices.”

“The entire Royal Guard and half of Asgore’s advisors know me as the kid who fought their troops for a human.” Sans said, tinges of something close to wry amusement crawling into his words. “My hands are no cleaner than yours. If you fall, I’ll damn well plan on falling with you.”

“Sans—“

“If you want to protect me then don’t let anything happen to you.” He returned firmly, cutting Gaster off. “Do not ask me to… Do not ask me leave my family again. I won’t. I can’t.”

“…I know.” Gaster said. “I know.”

Wind isn’t aware of Gaster’s potential plans for her, Sans knows, and it leaves him with an uncomfortable taste in his mouth at the thought. She would refuse if she knew, he’s sure, which is likely also exactly the reason Gaster never chose to tell her, and in knowing this much about Wind himself too, Gaster has also bought Sans’s silence, prudence winning over his desire for transparency.

Ironic really, given all the times Sans has pressed Gaster for honesty between them.

Sometimes, Sans looks back on the memories Wind had shown him, of her first meeting with Gaster, and wonders if the other had planned this from the beginning, the very moment he met Wind and saw what she was, what she offered.

It would not surprise him if that were the case, honestly. Gaster acts continuously in the best interests of the future, but that can drive him to be manipulative, to keep his cards close to his chest, even if largely unconsciously. After all, the initial agreement between them that brought Sans to the labs was more a business arrangement than anything else, a peace treaty between temporary allies. The later developed familial affection was an unexpected consequence, or bonus, depending on how one looked at it.

Regardless, those are both matters of the past, and of the long-awaited future. He cannot change Gaster’s actions in the past even if he sought to, which he doesn’t, really, and the potential scenarios where Wind might find herself granted Asgore’s royal power, chosen or not, look to be years away. It’s a non-issue for now, at least until they find a way to break the barrier.

…Which leads him to why Wind had booted him out here to get some metaphorical fresh air in the first place.

The utter frustration at their lack of progress, the frustrating itch in his soul telling him he is missing important clues, puzzle pieces he needs to find the answer.

The presence, Sans thinks, the one that haunts him like a half-imagined daydream, or perhaps a lingering nightmare, would know, does know.

He’s not even fully confident it actually…. well, exists beyond the scope of his paranoid delusions, but if it does, if it is real, then it holds the answers he seeks. He is inexplicably, completely certain of that.

It’s crashing into a sign that smacks him firmly in the face that pulls Sans from his musings.

“Ow, fuck.” He growls, tripping blindly away from the offending obstacle and rubbing at his sore skull. After a moment of cursing and waiting for the pain to dull down, he opens his eyes, spots the sign, and groans, slumping forward.

Of course... Of fucking course.

“Why.” He deadpans, staring at it.

It seems he really is just as consistent as Gaster in some behaviors.

And apparently, when he needs the hard answers, Sans’s subconscious only knows one place to get them.

The head Tem’s sharp-fanged smile borders on gloating when he comes to her, eyes trained on him and expecting, as if she knew he would come here.

…On second thought, he decides, scratch the ‘if’. She was the head Tem, she knew about everything that got within even a fifty-foot radius of her village the second it did so. She knew he was coming here before he himself even did.

“Ah, my favorite expendable life-form.” She drawls, voice sickly-sweet. “How lovely.”

“Save it.” He sighs, flopping down into the chair across from her and fighting off a shiver at the predatory curiosity in her gaze.

The Temmies, Sans has come to realize over the last couple years, seem to… like him— As much as Temmies can like something aside from themselves, at least. At best, he figures, he’s something between an amusing distraction to them and an obedient pet they’ve grown fond of. At worst, a toy they’ve decided is worth not breaking during their play.

Honestly, none of the above descriptions stick out to him as particular definitions of valuing a person’s life, but from what he had gathered from Gaster, the first time the latter came back from meeting with the head Tem to sort out Sans’s potential debts to them, the Temmies showed a certain lenient interest in preserving his continued existence they didn’t really hold for most monsters outside their own kind. It appears those years of work for them had paid off, in their own way.

Still, even knowing he holds something like their favor, that doesn’t stop Sans from being fucking terrified of them.

…And with good reason, he thinks, as he watches the disarmingly small form of the head Temmie as she sits across from him.

“What can I do for you?” She asks, tilting her head faux-innocently, and Sans snorts. As if the Temmies do anything without a cost.

“I need information.”

The grin on the Temmie’s face grows wider. “Information is expensive.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just…” He pauses. It’s useless to ask about the barrier, of course, that he knows. If it was as simple as bartering an answer out of the Temmies, then Gaster would have done it years ago. There’s some things even they don’t know, he supposes.

No, it is something else he seeks explanation on, and yet something just as elusive.

“…This is something I’m not sure even your Temmies will know anything on.” He says, choosing his words carefully, and winces when the head Temmie twitches slightly at his words, clearly less than flattered at his implication that her knowledge of the Underground is less than complete. “Not that your sources are… lacking. I’m just not sure any record of this thing even exists.”

The Temmie raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Sans groans. “Look. If you have something to offer, I’ll do the work for it, but if I tell you about this thing and you don’t have any information, can you take our longstanding… business relationship into consideration and just be honest with me before I go and do a job for you that’s not going to give me anything.”

The Temmie sniffs haughtily. “Tems do not lie, especially about information. That is not a part of our principles. In light of the benefits you have served to the Temmie agenda in the past, I will tell you if I can, in fact, offer you anything on the subject of information you seek.”

He sighs, slumping. “Thank you.”

“So,” She quirks an eyebrow, looking borderline intrigued by the concept of something so mysterious that Sans could think even eludes her, “What is it you seek that you find so confounding?”

“It’s…” Sans pauses, trying to think of a way to accurately describe the presence. “…A creature. I’m not sure if it’s monster or human in origin, or… something else. Hell, I’m not completely sure it’s real.” The Temmie’s eyes narrow, and he shrugs helplessly. “I’ve only met it once, it invaded a nightmare and intervened.”

“And you’re sure this wasn’t just your subconscious taking pity on you?”

He winces. He had considered that for a long time, but… “No. My nightmares… Don’t ever stop like that, and it’s only happened the once. It wasn’t me, it was an outside consciousness with autonomy over my dreams. Or, at least, it had that power in that moment.” The Tem nods, and hesitantly, he continues. “I don’t know what it looks like, it was like it was cast in shadow and its face was just…” Sans waves his hands around his own pointedly. “Not there? Distorted. It had a magic signature, though that was kind of static-like too, as if it wasn’t flowing properly— Powerful, I could tell that much, at least… similar to my own, maybe? I’m not completely sure, I’d never felt anything like it.”

“…And did this creature have a name?”

“It called itself… a remnant.”

The Tem frowns, brows furrowing, and Sans watches almost hopelessly as she looks down at her desk and taps it with an idle paw, considering his words. There’s frustration scrawled across her features, and that’s enough to basically give Sans his answer. Temmies as a rule are in the business of knowing everything, and the only thing that truly frustrates them even more than a situation out of their control is something in the Underground they know nothing about, a true wild card.

“No,” She says at length, “I can’t say I have heard of it.” She jumps off her desk, causing the two Temmies standing at the entryway corners of the room to straighten up almost imperceptibly, but she simply pushes open a crudely-painted bright orange and blue door set against the back wall amongst the rabble of overly-cheerfully colored things in the room, and disappears inside, voice slightly muffled as it rings out again. “You said it had a powerful magic signature?”

“Ah…” He shifts, glancing at one of the guarding Tems, who looks as confused as he does, from what little he can gain of their expression, at least. “Yeah.”

There’s a shuffle, and then the sound of something being pulled off a shelf and of pages being thumbed through. “You live in the castle laboratories, yes? You interact with incredibly strong monsters on the daily. Would you classify it as more or less powerful than the stronger signatures you’re familiar with?”

“I… More, maybe?” Sans frowns, and shakes his head ever so slightly. “No, not more, just… Different? Monsters’ signatures all hold some similarities, even slight ones, but this was completely its own equation.”

“Estimate, then. Just on your initial impressions of raw potential.”

He shudders, doing his best to recall the fading glimpses of the remnant’s magic that single time it had interfered in his mind. “At least around Asgore’s, boss monster capability levels of magic.”

“Hm…” The head Temmie hums, pushing back into the room with a large, well-worn book balanced on her head. “Interesting.” She jumps back into her seat with surprising grace, the book barely wobbling from its position before she lifts it off her head and sets it with a none-to-gentle thump on the desk, flipping through the pages with purpose. “Did it have a soul?”

“…What?”

She peers up at him, a distinct lack of amusement scrawled across her features. “I said: did it have a soul?”

“No, I heard what you said, I just…” He runs a hand nervously over the back of his skull, fingers catching on his jacket hood and drawing it over his head on instinct. “It must have, right? Nothing can survive without a soul.”

The Temmie blinks. “Do you remember the presence of a soul?”

“I—“ He slumps. “No, I don’t, but I wasn’t exactly looking for one, anyways.” He feels a shiver up his spine at the implications of his own words. “What are you getting at?”

With a slight frown, the Temmie looks back down at the book, finally landing on a page and smoothing it out before turning the book around to face Sans. “It is not an exaggeration to say my knowledge of this Underground and its inhabitants is likely second to none. If such a powerful creature were loose in these caverns, no matter how elusive it may be, I would have heard about it.”

“…Alright.”

The Tem sighs, nodding to the book, and Sans’s gaze falls to it, eyes widening at familiar handwriting. “There is a… theory, one that was originally developed as a matter of study on the surface before the war, about the nature between consciousness and soul, and whether they can be separated. “

Sans leans forward, grabbing the edges of the book and pulling it forward. “This is… Gaster’s handwriting.”

“But of course.” The Temmie nods towards the book. “The theory was all conjecture originally, but it became a matter of interest for the first Royal Scientist, whom your Gaster studied under. It was thought that if the theory could be put into action, it might offer a way to a means of escape from the Underground.”

“The lost soul effect…” He mutters, reading the words at the top of the page and peering over the book, taking in Gaster’s messy handwriting in the odd-shaped symbols of his native language. “You said it was about separating the consciousness and the soul?”

“Yes. It is generally assumed the consciousness resides in the soul, particularly in regards to Monsters, as our physical forms have no definable neural systems as humans do.” The Temmie pauses. “This research, however, postulated, among other things, that it might be possible to disconnect the consciousness from the soul, and to exist as a separate entity, so long as the soul remained intact.”

Sans furrows his brows, glancing up at her. “Is it?”

“Do you really think that, were it proven possible, we would not have capitalized on it?” The Temmie says pointedly, and Sans winces in answer. “The theory is absolutely impossible to prove correct within any reasonable bounds of experimentation— Monsters souls are the culminations of their beings, to attempt to separate a monster from their soul would result in an overwhelmingly likely chance of death, and, even back on the surface when human souls were accessible, the conjecture was still too risky to test on them. The only way to prove it true is if a naturally occurring case was found.”

“…And you think…?”

“What you described— A creature capable of thought but without a physical form, with a magic signature but no discernable presence of a soul tied to it, what does that sound like to you?”

“But…” He frowns, fingers running over the symbols at the bottom of the page. “It says here that magic is connected to the soul, not the consciousness, and that severing the two would cut off a monster’s access to magic. This thing definitely had magic.”

The Tem tilts her head in acquiescence. “Magic is channeled from the soul, but the assumption that separating consciousness and soul would separate consciousness and magic is conjecture. It is sound, logical conjecture, yes, but only conjecture. As is this.” She purses her lips, shaking her head. “I am not positive on what it is you believe yourself to have found, but if what you say is true, then whatever it is, it is outside our constraints of how monsters and humans work. It takes incredibly powerful magic to influence the psyche, and to interfere with your sleeping conscious this creature would have to share some bond with your own soul, or at the very least your magic signature.”

Sans’s eyes flicker back down to the page, darting over scattered symbols for soul, magic, mind, body. “…It knew my name. It knew me.”

When he looks to the Temmie, she only stares back impassively, and he sighs, idly flipping the page in the book, and scanning the contents, taking in a similar set of notes and charts. “…What’s this?”

The Temmie glances at the book, and blinks. “Ah. The even more outrageously speculative sister theory to the previous one we just discussed. It suggests potential ways to keep a monster’s consciousness alive during the loss of a soul.”

That catches Sans’s attention, and he skims the page, grimacing at the overly-complex diagram filled with a multitude of numbers and symbols revolving around a central circle with only the symbols for what roughly translated to will-to-live variable set inside it. “How would you give a monster a will to survive after they’re already dying?”

“Human souls survive after death, by the means of something within their own makeup.” The head Tem offers. “This was the idea that, if said something could be isolated, and given to a dying monster, it might revive them. Or, in its more wild concepts, that an object given that isolated human element that allows the soul to persist might allow the object to develop a consciousness.”

Sans shakes his head, sitting back. “That’s more fantasy than logic. Maybe, maybe, you could revive a dying monster, if there were some miracle drug sourced from human souls, but you can’t create a living being out of nothing, that’s just like… something out of one of Gaster’s bad animes. Hell, you could sprinkle monster dust over that item and you still wouldn’t get anywhere, not without a soul, or a residual magic signature at the very least.”

The Tem hums in agreement, and he groans, bringing his hands up to rub wearily at his eyes. “I can’t believe Gaster never told me about any of this, half of our fucking research revolves around the nature of souls.”

…Admittedly, that research was focused on the timeline properties of human souls, not on consciousness and soul, but… Well. It’s not like the Temmies needed to know that little tidbit of information.

“It is possible that he did not remember.” The head Tem says, leaning forward and shutting the book. “These were inane theories his predecessor studied for a short period of time then abandoned, nothing more. I doubt he even remembers trading a spare copy of the research notes in exchange for… a favor.”

Sans grunts in something like concession, not bothering to ask why the Temmies would want the notes to such a seemingly pointless bunch of theories. To them, such things didn’t have to be practical or applicable to be desirable. They coveted knowledge, in all its forms.

“Yeah, I suppose. Not exactly the type of thing someone would try out for a laugh, even him.” Sighing wearily, he pulls his hands away and cracks an eye open. “So, how much do I owe you for even showing me that?”

“Nothing, so long as you inform me of anything further you discover on the subject you came asking me on.”

He blinks, sitting up and staring openly at the Temmie. “Wait, really?”

She scowls. “Do not take this as some foolish form of kind-heartedness. I dislike not knowing about anything in this Underground, particularly things that may have more power than they seem. This creature you speak of… It has peaked my interest, to say the least.”

“…Huh.” Sans returns at length, mentally shrugging and deciding not to question the small mercies in life. The less time he has to waste doing odd jobs for the Tems, the better. “Alright, deal.” Almost idly, he stands, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Well, I should get back, I was only supposed to be out for a quick walk.” The head Tem tilts her head, granting him permission to leave, and he turns, ignoring the ever-unsettling gazes of the guarding Temmies as he goes.

He makes it to two steps before the door when the Temmie’s voice calls out again. “Sans.” He startles slightly, because the Tems almost never use his name, and goddamn is that creepy to hear, and looks over his shoulder, meeting the glimmering stare of the head Tem.

“Your Gaster has never tried to give an inanimate item consciousness or tried to revive a dying monster, true, but that does not make him any less of a stubborn fool, or as forgetful as you or I might give him credit for.”

He swallows nervously. “…What do you mean?”

The Temmie grins, sharp and wide, and once again Sans is reminded of the cold, calculating being she really is. “The dog. Toby. It is not like the other dog monsters of the Underground, you know this— But that is because it is not a monster at all.” Her fangs glint. “It came here many, many years ago, with the human Gaster called his own, and the dogs of the surface, mere pets, do not have such long lifespans as their masters. That dog should, by all reason and logic, be dead, and yet it is not. Do you understand?”

It takes a moment, and then the bottom of Sans’s stomach plummets, a horrible, lurching feeling taking over as the implication of her words, of the words on that book still clutched between her paws, fall into place.

“…No idea what you’re talking about.” He forces out, turning and yanking the door open. “I… I have to go.”

He runs, seeking the quiet of Waterfall, away from this place of cursed ideas and suggestions and of obnoxious facades, away from theories on time-worn paper that bring fear and nervous realizations and paranoia crawling into his throat.

Above all, he pretends not to hear the laughter of the Tems as it chases his heels.

[dragonandtiger]

Undertale - Risen Child - 06

Spoiler warning for Undertale True Pacifist, Neutral, and No Mercy endings.

Frisk couldn’t help but marvel at how different the trip to Snowdin felt when she wasn’t constantly battling for her life. While her countless resets had boiled each fight down to a science, it was still a stressful affair where one wrong move could result in her death. However, with Toriel by her side, no one dared attack the human child again.

But it wasn’t just Toriel - Frisk had the entire canine sentry squad as her escort. After picking up Greater Dog with very little fuss and a large amount of pettings, the human child was soon completely surrounded by bodyguards - with the strongest of them all standing directly beside her, holding her hand.

Jerry never tried to make a second attempt, nor did any of the denizens of Snowdin that traveled the woods. Gawks and stares accompanied Frisk, safe in her protective bubble, as she was guided through the snowy landscape towards the town proper.

As Toriel carefully escorted Frisk over the bridge, the human child glanced upwards instinctively for signs of Papyrus’ ultimate puzzle - the one he never used on her, regardless of who was the dominant force in her body during that particular run through the underground.

It’s kind of sad, Frisk thought. I didn’t really get to play with Papyrus at all. We would’ve been doing his puzzles by now. Even though she already knew how to solve the puzzles, spending time with Papyrus and Sans was always fun.

A glint caught Frisk’s eye at the end of the bridge, reminding her of a crucial detail that had slipped her mind in all the excitement. She ran ahead of the others, heedless of Toriel’s startled cry, to kneel down in front of the hidden camera embedded into the side of the faux wooden bridge. “Alphys, if you’re watching right now, please tell all the monsters to evacuate to someplace safe. There’s someone dangerous underground who wants to kill everyone!”

There was no response, not that Frisk expected any. Hopefully Alphys was monitoring them at that moment and not getting distracted by Mettaton, or anime, or shitposting online, or…

Frisk sighed and shook her head as she returned to her feet. At least they could get Snowdin evacuated once they got there.

“Please don’t run off on your own like that, my child,” Toriel said a little breathlessly once she caught up to Frisk. After what happened the last time the little human ran off alone, she was relieved to see no threat. “What were you doing there?”

Frisk pointed at the small circle of glass framed by metal that rested in the shadow between two rocks painted to look like wooden boards. “That’s one of Alphys’ hidden cameras. She’s the head scientist for Dad, and she’s always been the one who evacuates monsters all over the underground in case of emergency.”

A small chill ran up Frisk’s spine as she finished speaking. She knew that simple fact that Alphys prevented Chara from killing every single monster personally had been a point of irritation for the fallen child. That made Alphys a major target as well, not just for being one of Frisk’s closest friends.

“We…” Frisk felt her mouth go dry. “We should hurry to Snowdin.” They had to get ahead of Chara before someone else was attacked.

Toriel made a quizzical sound as she looked into the camera, then furrowed her brow. “What an… odd place for a camera. Are there many of these?” After speaking, she paused as realization dawned upon her. “...Ah. I suppose she uses these to help ‘hunt for humans’.” Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at the dog sentries out of the corners of her eyes. “Am I correct?”

The blank look worn by Doggo and the rest of the canines did little to soothe Toriel’s irritation. The dogs looked at each other and then at their surroundings, failing to spot any cameras on a painted canyon. The boss monster let out a heavy sigh before she straightened up. “I see.”

“There’s cameras all the way from the ruins to the castle,” Frisk said as she took Toriel’s hand and gently urged her mother and the others to keep moving.

“And I suppose that idiot allowed her to do it,” Toriel said, stiffly.

Frisk bit back the urge to sigh. It was always sad to see the progress Toriel and Asgore made to reconcile on the surface erased once they returned to the underground. “D… Asgore took her on as royal scientist when she told him she created an artificial soul.” She paused for a moment, considering her words. “He told me, a long time after the barrier broke, before the timeline reset again to this, that he was hoping she could create artificial human souls so he wouldn’t have to kill anymore humans to break the barrier.”

Toriel went quiet for several moments, her expression once again becoming unreadable. But then, just as quickly as before, the look of steel returned. “And yet, for all his wishes, six children were still killed… and he still attempted to kill you.”

Frisk didn’t have a response for that. Her first thought was to recall how Asgore had succeeded in killing her more times than she could count, but there was no way in hell she would ever let Toriel know.

Just like she would never tell how many times Toriel unintentionally burned her to death.

The rest of the trip to Snowdin was made in awkward silence. With Toriel unwilling to relent and Frisk unable to argue, the subject was instead left to linger over the group to the point that even the clueless canines noticed it and could only look at each other in discomfort.

Frisk was more than a little relieved to see Snowdin in the distance, its quaint little buildings and happy decorations a welcome distraction. Of course, that relief was short-lived when she noticed right away that the citizens of the town were still very much present; they hadn’t been evacuated, and appeared to be going about their daily routines without a care in the world.

That fact alone made Frisk very uncomfortable and concerned above all else. It meant that Alphys hadn’t responded to her message, though it didn’t give any indication as to why. There were several options - she hadn’t been paying attention, she didn’t trust Frisk’s warning, or she was unable to do anything. While the first two could easily be rectified, the human child couldn’t entirely put her faith in the hope that either was the case.

Chara wouldn’t allow it.

At the very least, Frisk thought, Alphys can’t be dead… yet. Chara wouldn’t just kill her and be done with it. Not after everything. She wouldn’t go through all this trouble of letting me have control back unless she still planned on making me watch her kill everyone I love.

It was hard to imagine that Chara could have made such quick progress all the way to Hotland, especially when she had just attacked Papyrus outside the ruins. There was no one else who could have done it - the only possible culprit was Chara.

Of course, there was no way to know how long Frisk had been unconscious, and how long Chara had to prepare. The fact that Chara had somehow separated herself from Frisk in and of itself was unimaginable and downright terrifying. There was no telling what the other human could do at this point.

“It doesn’t appear that this Alphys heeded your warning,” Toriel said, drawing Frisk’s attention back to her. “No one has been evacuated.”

Frisk stared up at Toriel, inexplicably off balance. The fact that she had the ability to tell others about what was going on in this part of the timeline was surreal as it was, but for people to actually believe her… it filled her with all sorts of intense emotions.

“Perhaps she simply didn’t know whether or not she could trust you,” Toriel said as she glanced to Frisk. “After all, she would not recognize you at this time, would she? She must have been quite surprised to hear you address her by name.”

Frisk sighed as she rubbed her head, willing to disorientation to disappear; she couldn’t let herself be thrown by such drastic differences to the timeline. “I was hoping that by using her name she’d take me seriously, or at least let D… Asgore know. I think he knows about the resets like Sans does, so he might’ve told everyone to evacuate. Or maybe they would’ve panicked at a human knowing too much?” She trailed off on an awkward note, knowing she was grasping at straws.

Frisk’s eyes drifted away from her mother to the snow crunching beneath her feet as her steps slowed. “Honestly… I’m not used to being able to tell all of you anything about what’s going on. I’m not sure how much I should say without… making you all afraid of me.” The memory of the look Sans gave her sent a chill through her body that had nothing to do with the cold. “Or hate me.”

Toriel made a thoughtful sound in the back of her throat as she looked down at Frisk. “Well, it would seem that everyone’s already worked themselves in a tizzy over you as it is, so you really can’t blame yourself over that, my child. Even if I find it very strange and confusing, I also can not deny… that I feel as though known you for years. I see no reason not to trust you, and even less reason to fear you.”

Tears pricked behind Frisk’s eyes as Toriel’s words grasped tightly at her heart. Moved by the sudden surge of emotion, she threw her arms around her mother’s side and buried her face in the queen’s dress. Words failed her, so she merely embraced her mother’s side.

“Nice to see a human showing some love instead of LOVE,” Sans said, his abrupt appearance startling both Toriel and Frisk out of the hug. “Heh, don’t let me interrupt. I’d rather watch a human hug a monster than stab ‘em. Right, old lady?”

Toriel fixed Sans with a pointed stare. “Indeed. Perhaps monsters could learn from Frisk, present company included.”

Sans chuckled as he gave a casual shrug. “Hey, who am I to complain about being in good company? How about we all catch a bite at Grillby’s while we wait for my bro to get back? I don’t think we need any sentries keeping watch when the human is right here with us.”

Doggo looked over at Toriel, trying to hide how eager he was for a break from all the strangeness. “The food here is good, Your Majesty. The royal guard can attest to that.” The other dogs in his squad made barks or nods of approval.

Toriel’s initial response was to agree but instead she paused. While it was true that Frisk was not a threat, the human child had insisted that there was another that was. And the fact that this other human had attacked the skeleton brothers was the entire reason the one before her showed so much hostility towards Frisk in the first place. It was a threat that she could not ignore, even if she had no physical evidence to support it. The old queen considered her options before she turned to Frisk. “...Perhaps we should order the evacuation instead, and not wait for this ‘Alphys’.”

Sans glanced at Frisk. “You talked to Alphys, huh?”

Frisk could see right through Sans’ casual question. “Though the cameras, but if she was watching at the time, I don’t think she listened when I asked her to evacuate the monsters.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Sans said with a shrug. “I doubt someone like the royal scientist would be interested in taking orders from a random human anyway. Maybe all she needs is to get the order directly from royalty, like, say, the queen.”

Toriel was silent for several moments, before she gave a nod. “Perhaps that is precisely what I should do.”

“Great,” Sans said, his grin widening. “How about I show you the way to the lab while the dog squad here get some treats with the human. They could teach them how to play poker while you go save the underground from the human who wants everyone dead.”

Toriel’s mouth stretched into a thin line. “Thank you for your suggestion, but I believe I will keep the human child with me-”

A terrible scream cut off the queen, though it was a fair distance away. The familiarity of it hit Sans with a terrible sense of déjà vu that had him turn a glowing eye towards the child directly in front of him then in the opposite direction where Papyrus’ scream came from. He disappeared just as the others started moving.

Frisk didn’t hesitate to run, despite what happened the last time Papyrus screamed. Dread overflowed her rapidly beating heart as she reached the border of Snowdin and Waterfall. She expected the worst, a repeat of earlier, but it wasn’t Papyrus on the ground bleeding dust.

It was Undyne.

The heavy armor Undyne wore looked as though it had been thrown into a thresher while she was still wearing it, gashes mangled inward and twisting her limbs until she lay helpless on the ground, hissing through her sharp teeth. Her helmet was gone, crushed by her side and exposing her face covered in cuts, but her gaze wasn’t on her ruined armor or her own wounds. Her attacker stood only a few steps away, facing not her, but Papyrus.

“Chara!” Frisk shouted as she charged at the other human child, only to freeze in her tracks when she saw Chara held a knife, the knife right at Papyrus’ neck. This wasn’t the toy weapon from the ruins - no other knife had the same glow or blood red shadows that constantly rippled and danced across the surface of the blade.

Chara turned to face Frisk, a sadistic smirk spread across her face. At the sight of the other human, her smile grew impossibly wide, showing off her white teeth and glowing red eyes. There was something off about her, her body swaying slightly - jerking involuntarily in ways muscles didn’t move - even as the human child held her ground with her knife a breath away from the skeleton’s neck bone. However, before Frisk could even properly reflect on the unnatural twitching, Chara’s spoke, her words echoing as if it were a chorus of voices rather than her own.

“YoU aLWayS weRe So pREdicTAble, pARTner.”

“Hold it right there, human,” Sans said, startling Frisk. Frisk had been so focused on Undyne and Papyrus she failed to notice his presence. She noticed too how his eye glowed and his hand was extended towards Chara, but nothing was happening save for a bead of sweat forming on his brow. His magic grasped for Chara’s soul, but he could no more grasp it than take hold of the ocean.

In spite of the obvious strain on his face and the sweat beading his brow, Sans tried to sound casual, failing to hide his fear. “Hey, uh, I don’t know what you think you’re gonna accomplish by swinging that thing at my brother all the time, but I promise you, if you don’t put that knife away, you’re going to have a bad time.”

“S-Sans, wait,” Papyrus said, his voice shaking. “I’m sure we can simply talk with this human, just like we did with Frisk, and-”

Papyrus never got to finish his statement, as the knife sliced his neckbone neatly in half, causing his head to fall from his body as it went limp and burst into a cloud of dust. All the while, Chara fixed her gaze firmly on Frisk, her expression never wavering.

Sans’ eyes went dark as, for all his words, the fight left him completely.

“No!” Frisk shrieked as she watched in horror as Papyrus turned to dust.

“What is going on!?” Toriel demanded as she hurried to the scene, having lagged behind the others as the dog sentries followed her. “What is the meaning-” All at once, the wind was knocked out her as her eyes settling on the twisted human before her and recognition hit her harder than any attack. She stumbled to a stop, her expression going blank as her hands fell limply to her sides. “C… Chara?”

“P… Papyrus…!” Undyne gasped, her crushed armor making every breath labored. “Damn you…!”

“S-stand back, your majesty!” Doggo shouted as the guards moved between their queen and this newest threat, all drawing their weapons.

Chara didn’t acknowledge her mother at all, nor any of the other monsters. She kept her gaze firmly on Frisk, a haunting giggle escaping her. Even the humorous sound was distorted, more so than normal, but the feelings behind them were unmistakable.

“I-it’s fine!” Papyrus said even as his head too began to crumble away. “It’s fine, I-I am sure we can still-”

With a sick crunch, Chara stomped on Papyrus’ skull, which crumbled as dust coated her foot.

Frisk’s gaze fell to the dusty orange scarf fluttering in the breeze and the merciless heel grinding it into the snow. There was no question what she needed to do.

Frisk reset.

---

Before, in the void, Frisk would easily find her save file - a nice and neat font framed in a box hanging in the air. However, as the human child appeared in the blackness of the abyss this time, something was undeniably different. Instead of Chara’s sick representation of a videogame that Frisk had become so familiar with, she instead found nearly a dozen stars - the same golden stars that allowed her to save.

“What is this?” Frisk asked aloud, instinctively expecting to hear Chara respond with some sort of sarcastic or sadistic explanation. Only silence answered her, and even the abyss seemed to swallow her voice almost immediately.

A sickening sense of trepidation weighed down Frisk’s steps as she approached the nearest star. The game had changed and she had no choice but to play.

With determination in her heart, Frisk touched the star and the abyss fell away.

Frisk found herself back at the Ruins, standing before the small mound of ground she regarded as Flowey’s hill. It was disorienting to appear someplace that wasn’t one of her usual save points, particularly one that suggested that she was going to have to confront Flowey again. She fully expected him to pop up out of the ground any second now and taunt her for Papyrus’ death, but he never appeared.

His absence set Frisk on edge, but she couldn’t let it keep her still. As she stepped cautiously forward, her mind raced to figure out how to stop Chara and save everyone when something was amiss with her power to reset.

A single step was all Frisk took into the staircase entryway before she froze dead in her tracks. Upon the blood red pile of leaves was an all too familiar regal purple gown covered in dust.

“Boy howdy, ain’t that a shame?” a familiar voice chirped, seconds before Flowey appeared from beneath the ground to stand beside Frisk. “Getting cut down so ruthlessly like that…” He turned to grin at Frisk, even as the human didn’t look at him. “If only you hadn’t been standing around stupidly, you might have been able to save her.”

Frisk twitched at the cruel barb. Of course Flowey would show up to twist the knife; the only question was when his words would strike. It was pointless to ask him if he cared at all about Toriel’s murder. “Asriel-”

“Aw, you’re still trying to call for him?” Flowey asked as his face warped into a horrifying visage of teeth. “Hate to break it to you, but Asriel’s been dead for a long, long, long time.” In an instant his face turned cartoonishly adorable as he winked. “It’s just little ole me, Flowey.”

Frisk had to pause to take a deep, shuddering breath to calm herself, but her fingers still curled into fists. “Don’t you remember me at all?”

Flowey stared hard at Frisk for several moments before he tilted his head, sticking his tongue out. “Oh, sure I remember you! You’re the idiot who just let someone die~!”

Frisk closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t have to stare at that mocking face out of her peripheral vision. “Just what is it about being on the surface that takes away your memories when we come back?” she muttered more to herself than Flowey, as she knew any answer he gave her would coated in poisonous thorns with nothing of substance at its core.

Flowey barely got a chance to let out a syllable before Frisk turned to him, her brown eyes blazing with determination.

“Even if you forget me a million times, I’ll still save you every time, Asriel!” Frisk shouted. “Even if this cycle goes on forever, I’ll never stop fighting to bring us all to the surface again. I promise.”

Flowey hesitated, taken aback by Frisk’s words. He was quiet for a moment before he gave a derisive snort. “You’re such an idiot.” With that, he disappeared into the ground from whence he came, cutting off any opportunity Frisk had to reply.

Frisk stared at the empty ground covered in dust and leaves as a shuddering breath escaped her. She turned to Toriel’s gown, her gaze lingering on the dust covered gash, always in the same spot.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” Frisk said. For once she was able to say the words aloud after Toriel died instead of only thinking them in a torturous silence.

After wiping the dampness from her eyes, Frisk reset and returned to the abyss.

The next star Frisk touched created a cruel transition not unlike her battles with Omega Flowey. In one instant she stood in blackness and the next she found herself suspended by cold magic seizing her soul, staring down into Sans’ pitch black eye sockets in the snowy woods.

“That’s a weird expression you’ve got there,” Sans noted, his dark eyes scrutinizing the human scathingly. “You’ve got the face of someone who’s been through this before.”

Though initially disoriented, Frisk immediately realized where this reset loaded her and instinctively looked past Sans to see Papyrus sprawled out on the ground, alive, but not yet completely healed.

“N-nevermind that!” Frisk sputtered as she tried to get her bearings in spite of Sans’ dark expression. “I’m not the one who hurt Papyrus! Chara was, and if we don’t work together to defend each other, she’s going to kill him again!”

“‘Again’?” Sans repeated darkly. As deep as his anger was, the shift in the human’s attitude was enough to give him pause. She seemed sincere in her fear, but it was clear that the emotion wasn’t directed at him.

Frisk unsuccessfully suppressed a grimace at how suspicious one word could be, but forced herself to accept Sans’ anger towards her the same as choking down awful medicine. “The timeline keeps repeating because of a human called Chara. She wants to kill everyone, and she won’t stop until she does!”

“That a fact?” Sans said slowly as he assessed Frisk’s words and body language.

“YeS, THat iS a FAct.”

There was no chance for Sans or Frisk to react to the distorted voice beyond a flinch and a glowing eye when the knife streaked past Frisk’s face, carving a notch into her ear and cutting away strands of hair in its deadly path. However, it was clear she was never the target, as the blade buried itself to the hilt into Sans’ left eye socket, extinguishing the dual colored glow as the tip burst through the back of his skull with a spray of dust and bone shards.

Sans didn’t even have the chance to cry out, but Frisk saw a glimpse of his remaining eye carrying shock before he burst to dust. His magic died a second later, dropping Frisk roughly to the ground in a cloud of dust and heavy clothing.

“S-Sans?” Papyrus asked weakly, his disoriented mind grasping to understand what had just transpired. It took him a moment to register the sight before him, tiny fragments of his own brother’s corpse disappearing in the wind and snow, before shock and horror became clear on his face. “Sans-!?”

Another giggle escaped Chara, but her entertainment was not Papyrus’ shock and horror. The sight of Frisk covered in dust was what made her smile widen and twist into a wicked curve of white teeth.

Frisk coughed up the dust and felt like she was going to vomit from knowing what she had breathed in. She sat up, trying to get away from the dust that stuck to her with the melting snow as a black pit of hatred bubbled up inside of her. “Stop it. Just stop it, Chara! You’ve already killed everyone hundreds of times! Thousands! What more do you want?!”

Chara didn’t respond verbally, instead holding Frisk’s gaze as she moved her arm about to point the knife at Papyrus, even as the injured skeleton struggled to get to his feet.

That gesture said it all; Frisk reset before Chara could have the pleasure of murdering Papyrus once again.

Chara’s smirking face disappeared into the darkness as Frisk returned to the abyss, where the twinkling stars awaited her.

Again and again and again Frisk used different stars to load another save, but it all led to death. Doggo was sliced across the eyes as they arrived at his station. Lesser Dog was decapitated while Frisk had her hand on his head. Dogamy and Dogressa’s entrance repeated twice for Chara to kill one then the other with stabs to the chest and back respectively so that each of them could see their lover die. Even Greater Dog had the knife driven into his head before his initial emergence from his hiding spot in the snow.

Each moment was like a stab in to Frisk’s own heart, inflicting an injury that followed her through each reset. It made her dread each one, knowing what was about to happen even as she desperately fought against it. So when the scenery once again changed to the familiar field of flowers where she had first fallen, she instantly leapt to her feet and rushed forward into the darkened cavern to reach Toriel before she had to watch her mother die again.

Frisk found herself immediately greeted by the familiar scene of Flowey on his hill, waiting for her as he always did after every full reset that brought her back to the very beginning.

“Howdy!” Flowey said, with great - and completely false - cheer. “I’m Flowey! Flowey the Flower-”

“Asriel!” Frisk shouted, skidding to a halt just short of the homicidal flower. “Stop it! You don’t have to keep watching people die to feel anything! You don’t have to hurt anyone anymore!”

A slash of the knife ended Flowey’s mockery, carving a jagged cut between his eyes. His entire body twitched, sounds of confusion eeking from his mouth as he belatedly registered the pain, before a cruel heel slammed into the divide, roughly tearing the flower in half through sheer blunt force.

Chara ground her heel into the remnants of Flowey seconds before he burst into dust, her eyes still focused exclusively on Frisk. Her twisted smirk taunted her ‘partner’ as her eyes reflected not only amusement in its crimson surface but defiance - daring Frisk to stop her.

Anger and frustration bubbled over inside of Frisk and she barely managed the willpower needed to fight the urge to lunge at Chara and throttle the demon, screaming and crying. She knew all too well that violence was not the answer.

Unfortunately, when it came to Chara, neither was mercy.

“I’m going to stop you, Chara,” Frisk promised with roughly hewn words ground out between clenched teeth.

Chara’s only response was a giggle, her lips curling up in a sneer.

There was nothing more for Frisk to say before she reset once more.

As the world came into focus, Frisk found herself in the chilly yet familiar surroundings of Snowdin. The disorientation lasted only a second before she realized that Toriel was standing beside her, holding her hand tightly as she glared at the shrugging skeleton in front of them.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Sans said. “I doubt someone like the royal scientist would be interested in taking orders from a random human anyway. Maybe all she needs is to get the order directly from royalty, like, say, the queen.”

Toriel’s expression remained just as hard as the last time as she met Sans’ casual barb with suspicious disapproval before she gave a nod. “Perhaps that is precisely what I should do.”

Frisk jerked as she immediately recognized the scenario, and realized what was about to happen next.

“Great,” Sans said, seemingly unperturbed by his queen’s disapproval as his grin widened. “How about I show you-”

Frisk took off, releasing Toriel’s hand. She heard her mother call after her, and glimpsed at Sans’ startled face when she ran past him, but she only shouted. “Chara’s after Papyrus and Undyne!”

There was no time for further explanation. Frisk tore through the town, jumping over presents in the square and dodging past monsters milling about as they stared after in confusion. Only her instincts brought her to a halt once she reached outside of town when a blur of motion and the familiar sound of something sharp cutting through air was the only warning she got before a spear of magic landed in front of her. She barely had a moment to focus on the weapon as she skidded a few extra inches across the snowy ground before she was forced to dodge an entire volley of magical spears.

The black armored profile of Undyne immediately greeted Frisk, her red ponytail sticking out the back like a tassel as she held another spear at the ready, crouched and obviously hostile. She didn’t have to do more than point as her magic created countless jutting spears beneath the human’s surprisingly nimble feet.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait!” came Papyrus’ panicked cries, drawing attention to him as he waved his hands. “There’s been a mistaaaake! That’s the good human!”

Although Frisk was relieved that Undyne wasn’t injured and Papyrus wasn’t dying, she couldn’t give it more than a passing thought before she was forced to jump and run from the magic erupting from the ground and trying to skewer her.

Through the frightening visage of her helmet, Undyne’s voice came with a metallic echo that made her sound grave. “There’s no such thing as a good human, Papyrus. Go home and let me take care of this.”

It was Undyne’s turn to be blindsided this time. A burst of fire flew right by Frisk with deadly accuracy before slamming into the fish woman. It was not the tame sort that Toriel had used against Frisk, but a roaring inferno that promised only pain as it began to melt the armor.

Toriel stood beside Frisk in an instant as the human panted for breath, the boss monster’s fist clenched as it was engulfed in flames. Her eyes seemed to blaze as well as they glared down at the downed Undyne. “You will take care of nothing.”

Undyne let out a groan as her now warped helmet fell off, but she recovered quickly with sharp teeth curving into an almost manic smile. “Oh hell, yeah! And here I thought this fight would be be bor…” She paused as she took another look at Toriel. “Wait, you’re not a human.” Confusion immediately switched to anger as she jumped to her feet. “What’re you doing!? Go home! Don’t you know there’s a couple of dangerous humans running around!?”

Toriel gave a sweeping gesture of her hand, and a burst of fire surged out around her and Frisk. The snow immediately melted, turning into steam, as a ring of fire danced in an obvious threat. “The only dangerous one I see is you.”

Frisk attempted to step forward to get between Toriel and Undyne in case the captain of the guard decided to attack anyway, but the flames provided a barrier that was impossible for her to cross.

The unpleasant heat from the flames made Undyne wary, but she would not give a single inch. She directed the point of her spear directly at Toriel’s face. “Look, I don’t know who you are and what you think you’re doing with that human, but you’re standing in the way of everyone’s hopes and dreams!”

“Waaaaait!” Papyrus shouted again as he hurried over to the armored leader of the Royal Knights. “Undyne, that’s the queen! You can’t fight the queen! That would be...” The skeleton man’s jaw dropped as he clasped his hands to either side of his face. “Very bad!”

“I don’t care if she’s King Asgore!” Undyne snapped. “No one is gonna stop me from…” She paused for a moment to shift her gaze from Papyrus to Toriel and back. “Wait, did you say the queen? The queen? The one who ran off to the ruins forever ago and never came back?”

Toriel’s eyes narrowed. “Who I am does not matter. I will not allow you - or that fool you call a king - to harm my child.”

Undyne outright gawked at Toriel. “Your child? That’s a human!”

“My child,” Toriel repeated, her tone as dangerous as a knife.

Undyne let out a frustrated grunt. “Okay, look, lost queen, adoptive mother, I don’t care! We need seven human souls to break the barrier!” She directed the point of her spear to Frisk. “And that human right there is the last one we need! I’m not about to let anyone get in the way of our freedom.”

“You ‘do not care’?” Toriel asked as she held her hand out towards Undyne, a warning of what was to come if she so much as sneezed in Frisk’s direction. “You ‘do not care’ that you are killing innocent children?”

Undyne let out a snort of laughter. “Right. ‘Innocent’. Like the ‘innocent’ child that nearly killed Papyrus?”

“A-ah, but… they didn’t!” Papyrus said as he raised his fist triumphantly. “As you can see, the great Papyrus is still very much alive, so that does not count!”

“Or ‘innocent’ like the humans that trapped us down here?” Undyne pressed, as though Papyrus hadn’t interrupted. “Or the humans that keep falling down here killing monsters until only King Asgore can put a stop to them?”

“The other humans killed monsters?” Frisk whispered, shocked. Admittedly, she tried not to think of what happened to the six souls who had fallen before her, but the fact that the other humans chose to kill was as surprising as it was completely, tragically heartbreaking.

Not everyone had the determination to refuse to kill anyone.

“You say that as if the humans were not attacked first,” Toriel retorted, with surprising venom in her voice. “You attack those terrified children, then blame them when they defend themselves! Had you not instigated violence from the start, there would have been no bloodshed!” She net out a snort. “But clearly, that does not matter to you. You simply intend to twist the situation in order to defend yourselves - defend Asgore - even as it turns the Royal knights into nothing but murderers... child killers.” She then clenched her hand, the flames flickering about it as they glowed white. “And I suppose the ‘irony’ that you are proving the human’s fear of us to be well founded would be lost on the likes of you.”

Undyne let out a derisive snort, her eye narrowing. “Heh. Figures the queen that ran away and hid for a century instead of standing up for her people would become a human-loving traitor! I’ll bet you armed the humans yourself hoping they’d kill King Asgore so you could take over, you coward!”

Things were spiraling out of control; Frisk she needed to diffuse it somehow, even if she knew that no mere words would ever convince Undyne to trust her. Only actions might prevent her friends from hurting each other and she could only think of one act that might make Undyne pause “H-hold it!” she shouted, raising her hands into the air, palms open. “We don’t need to fight. I’ll give myself up without a fight. You can take me as your prisoner to King Asgo-”

“You will do no such thing,” Toriel said as she moved in front of Frisk, without looking back at her. “I will not allow him - or anyone else - to kill yet another child! Let alone for such a foolish act of suicide!”

Frisk cringed at her failure even as she felt a swell of love for her mother’s fierce protectiveness of her.

“I never planned on taking prisoners anyway,” Undyne snarled as she held her spear in both hands, bouncing on her heels in anticipation of a fight. “Now go back to your hiding place! You heard the human - hand them over so I can bring their soul to King Asgore and finally break the barrier!”

“If you wish to fight, then so be it!” Toriel said, raising her voice as the fire intensified about her, further melting the snow and depriving Snowdin of its namesake as browned blades of grass and dirt appeared beneath the smoldering steam. The citizens who had dared to gather at the edge of town to gawk were quick to scamper from heat as suffocating as the mounting tension. Even the canine royal guard cowered far behind their furious queen, not daring to step between her and their leader. “Let us see how a bullying coward such as you fairs against a true opponent!”

Undyne laughed as she readied her spear. “Fine with me! I’m tired of talking anyway!”

Toriel narrowed her eyes. “As am I.” Without waiting for a response, she threw her hands up and sent another blast of fire at Undyne, blowing her backwards as the very ground itself turned to ash around her.

“This is bad, this is very bad!” Papyrus sputtered as he clasped both his hands over the top of his head. “What am I supposed to do?” He then whirled to his brother, desperate. “Sans! What am I supposed to do!?”

Sans didn’t reply or even seemed to be paying attention. His eyes were closed, his breathing even with his head bowed. At first, Papyrus assumed he was in deep contemplation, but a gentle snore dispelled the illusion.

Papyrus jerked before he grabbed his brother by the collar of the dirty blue hoodie to shake him violently. “Sans! How can you sleep at a time like this?!”

Sans opened an eye with a startled snort, but quickly recovered with an easy smile. “Sorry, bro. All this excitement just wore me out, I guess.”

“You… you lazy good for nothing!” Papyrus snapped before he released his brother and turned back to the fight. Even the other members of the royal guards cowered away from the fight, uncertain and a little afraid to choose between their captain and the queen. “I… it seems that I, the great Papyrus, will be left to… to deal with this situation myself!”

The skeleton’s pomp and posturing would have had more impact, if he hadn’t immediately cringed back with a yelp from a burst of fire as it detonated nearby - though thankfully not near enough to do more than send his scarf fluttering in the aftershock.

“You go, bro,” Sans said placidly. He knew Undyne would never hurt Papyrus and given what he knew of Toriel, the queen would never forgive herself for harming someone as sweet and innocent as Papyrus.

Sans knew he wouldn’t.

Wreathed by flames, Frisk could only watch helplessly as Toriel and Undyne threw magical attacks at one another. There was no turn-based system to slow either of them down now that the facade of a videogame was gone, and the rate of attacks were dizzying. Any spears that came her way or tried to come up from the ground were instantly burned away by fire before she could even dodge. Even as Toriel created a mesmerizing display of complicated dancing flames, she still managed a perfect protection of the human child everyone wanted dead.

It was all too clear to Frisk how much Toriel held back during every battle between them, and even Asgore’s patterns paled in comparison. Her mother showed unimaginable power and control, which had never been more apparent than when Toriel had tried to discourage Frisk from her quest. Despite the constant hail of flames, it was only when Chara usurped control during moments that Frisk dropped her guard and threw them both into the flames to die that she was ever in any true danger.

And often those moments were meant not to torment Frisk, but Toriel herself - to shatter her confidence in her self-control, and make her kill the child she tried so hard to protect. The flames didn’t hurt nearly so much as the look of pure shock and horror Toriel had worn each time she saw Frisk die by her magic.

While Undyne had, in previous resets, exiled the queen back to the ruins during her particularly gruesome failed runs, it was made all the more clear to Frisk that Toriel had gone willingly, without any sort of resistance. She had lacked the motivation - the determination - to keep fighting. But now, that those powers were in full force and aimed at Undyne with intent to save. Toriel was not holding back and fully in her element; she was not resigned or succumbing to nihilism. Her determination glistened in her eyes and the flames she summoned effortlessly with each gesture, focused wholeheartedly in protecting Frisk from the attacker before her.

Undyne may as well have been trying to stab the fire itself, for all the good it did her. Every spear she launched exploded upon collision with fireballs and though she used all her training with Asgore to prepare her for such patterns of attack, there were too many - a hell of flames coming at her on all sides that scorched her armor and skin, regardless of her strength and determination to fight.

Undyne tried to close the distance between them in an effort to physically assault the queen when it was clear distance attacks would fail, but the large boss monster was surprisingly quick to bring up a wall of flames, forcing Undyne to retreat before she ran headlong into it.

It became all the more clear that she was not fighting a monster, but a force of nature itself.

It was too much for Undyne and she knew it, but sheer stubborn pride kept her climbing back to her feet even as the heat seeped into her armor and turned it into an oven that baked her. Even as her back bowed from pain, body smoking, and her movements turned into a crawl, she refused to stay down. “I won’t… give up… on everyone’s dreams!”

A single ball of flame, less deadly than the others, smacked Undyne in the head like a newspaper swatting a dog that piddled on the carpet, and she fell backward.

Frisk felt her heart twist for Undyne, and she tugged on her mother’s robe. “Mom, that’s enough! Please. Undyne isn’t a bad person… I’ve made friends with her too… before time reset.”

Toriel paused at that, though her expression remained serious. However, even as she kept her deadly gaze on the fallen fish warrior, she lowered her hand to take Frisk’s in her own and give the child’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “Leave. Now.”

Undyne let out a hiss as she struggled in the heat as flames surrounded her with menacing promise. She couldn’t speak, but the murderous glare in her eye conveyed her feelings far better than any word could. It was only when the magical fire backed away enough for the air to cool around her that she could return to her feet, unsteady and weak. She shrugged off Papyrus when he offered a helping hand, but muttered a short word of thanks when he healed her wounds.

Toriel met Undyne’s glare with one of her own, neither wavering nor flinching. “And tell Asgore that I am coming for him.”

There were no further words exchanged, just the sound of metal clanking against scorched ground as Undyne turned and stiffly walked away.

Although her life had been spared, Frisk still felt a surge of fear as she watched Undyne leave. “Undyne!” she shouted, causing the captain to halt, but not turn around. “Be careful. There’s another human who is trying to kill monsters, so please warn everyone to take shelter and to not fight her - they won’t be able to beat her, and she won’t show them any mercy!”

A lone eye glared at Frisk from over Undyne’s shoulder, but only for a moment before the captain left. Although there were no words spoken, the look spoke volumes of a hatred of humankind that seeped deep into the underground from wrongs made centuries past, and a cry for justice and revenge that would not end with this defeat.

Toriel breathed heavily through her nose in a sigh. “I am sure she did not believe that you, in fact, are not the human to fear… but I suppose it does not matter. The results will still be the same.”

Frisk nodded ever so slightly as she watched the flames surrounding them wink out one by one. As long as everyone lived and reached the surface, the monsters could think whatever they wanted of her.

No matter the cost she paid in the end, Frisk would save everyone and stop Chara for good.

[lovetale-redemption]

LOVEtale Chapter 2 (Final Part): Last message.

Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=02w3IBKxkBQ The scene takes places in Waterfall, fifteen minutes after Sans and Frisk’s death... Flowey: What a bunch of idiots, both of them ! I warned them, I knew what was going to happen, but did they listen !? Nooooooo ! And now look at this stupid mess... because of that trashabg I can’t even use my determination to reset this garbage ! It’s just... why didn’t they listen !? Why ?! I don’t understand ... Why did they put their life away like that...? Frisk... Chara... what’s wrong with your brains... giving your life for others... I don’t get it.... I just can’t... even Sans now... I thought he was like me... lost... sinked with violence... after what we endured... I thought, him too would lose his humanity... he proved me wrong... tsss... Why am I so frustated about that ? It’s just... it was like that day with... Chara... them too took all the cruelty of the humans... in the end I am all alone... it was not worth it... Ha...ha...ha... I bet Sans did the same with Frisk... and that idiot despite being unarmed decided to go with him....      WHY !? NOW THAT YOU ARE NOT HERE WHAT AM I GOING TO DO !? Life will become deadly boring again... ..............................     Wait... I hear a voice... I think I know who it is...    I followed the sounds through the caverns, I finally reached where they were coming from....

Flowey:............................................... ................................................... ................I can’t believe, that I am about to do this... ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aksTXH78iQ0 Sans and Frisk died in front of me, and again I couldn’t do anything. I felt so broken. Shiny was trying to wipe my tears clumsily... I stood there on the ground, looking at the empty floor... Sans vanished like a dream when you awake... all was left was his coat... I hold it close to me... In my mind I was trying to get them back,..  but they didn’t...  there were just this unbearable silence in the plains... The wind stopped howling, the flowers stopped dancing... It was like the whole world was sad from this...  I decided to put Sans’ coat on my shoulders without putting it... Like this, I felt like he was still here near me. The coat was ripping on the floor a little, it was way too big for me ... I finally stood up, looking at the almost full moon. I was alone again... I finally thought I could be happy, for once, I was for a little while. Maybe the others were right... I am cursed...    At this moment Ankell, got close to me, I looked at him without  any expression... Ankell: Mah girl... I truly am sorry for this, I know it won’t bring back the one you loved... I have nothing else to say... I am the only guilty here... You can take my life, even if it appeases you only for a second... Don’t hesitate... He reached to me his broken sword, the part with the handle. I looked away... I was not in the mood for his childishness... Araelle:... Ankell:... I killed your friend, mah girl... why don’t you take the chance ? Araelle: I’m sorry, but do you really want to share this hate and violence Sans was talking about... he told me, he’s been through hell and when I saw him, so kind despite the weight he was caring with him... I was in awe. He is an example to follow... I truly hate you Ankell but I will never let my hate overwhelm me. I don’t know what kind of King you really are, but I know that people appreciate you despite not even knowing who you really are. I don’t know why you feel bad about yourself, but this hate you shared against yourself, Sans was a victim of that... I won’t let myself be consumed by it... It’s already been too many times, the hate took my friends away... I’m sorry. Ankell looked down sadly in agreement of what I was saying... Ankell:...Mah boy wanted to open the barrier... free his friends... Tomorrow, mah girl, in the end of the morning, I will open it... after telling the rest of the population my identity. It’s time to stop hiding... mah girl, I want you to be here when the monsters will be free. I’m sure mah boy would love it. That’s he wanted. I walked away in the direction of the city, without looking at him I answered. Araelle: I don’t know if you noticed... Sans was injured... if monsters could use magic properly, using his was draining his HP. Ankell: ... I... didn’t noticed... Wait ! Do you mean ...? Araelle: When Sans used his magic to save me... he drained all the HP he had left... he was already dead when your sword hit him... in fact I was the one who killed him... I’m sorry... I’ll be here tomorrow...  Come on Shiny, it’s time to go. The angel followed me and went on my shoulder, Ankell was still standing on the plains when I left... ///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2OqigCz2S1w The underground was heartbroken, we lost a true friend, a true hero... The freedom we just got was completely soured by the last goodbye of Sans. The screams of encouragement and excitment that were rushing through the caverns became silent, it was just the desperate moaning of the cries overflowing the caverns... It was like that day when Chara and Asriel died. The flashbacks were coming to me, the memories, the nightmares...  the monitor was shut down... there were no hope left for them... Everywhere the feeling of guilt was overwhelming us, we should have stopped them...   When Rini woke up, we had nothing to show him but disappointment and bad news... that poor child, finally fell back to sleep after crying for thirty minutes straight. Valye  was trying hard to stay strong but, the tears of her son really got into her. Alphys also fell asleep from crying... Gaster tried what he could to restart the monitor but it was no use... It was painfull to see him losing hope as the time went on. I hugged him. I know too well how hard it is to see our child die in front of us, his nerves broke during the hug... he was repeating that he was a failure, and that he should have stopped them to go... I had nothing to say, I felt the same way... The worst part was Red, she was looking at the statics at the monitor, without a sound, without crying just aimlessly looking at the screen...  I tried to talk to her but, it was like she wasn’t here...   It’s been one hour since Sans and Frisk died... It was a long day and now we were clueless of what we were supposed to do... It was at this moment that someone knocked on the door. It was Papyrus, his eyesckets were still wet from the cries, he just lost his brother... he must have been so devasted... Papyrus: HI... I hugged him with all the sorrow I had telling I was so sorry for him, he gave my hug back, thanking me. Papyrus: MISS TORIEL, RED... WE HAVE TO MEET A FRIEND OF MINE IN WATERFALL, HE WANTS TO SHOW ME SOMETHING IMPORTANT IT SEEMS... AND HE WANTED THAT YOU TWO CAME WITH US. Toriel: Papyrus, I don’t know if it’s the best time for this now... Papyrus: APPARENTLY IT’S RELATED TO SANS... Red looked silently into Papyrus direction and finally came without a word... Papyrus hugged her tight, telling her it was going to be fine. I supposed he was the older brother now... Red didn’t move nor said anything, I hope maybe this thing that was related to Sans, could give her back her spirit, she looked like an empty shell... Toriel: I see, well we better go... Doctor Gaster do you want to come with us ? Gaster: Just... you’ll tell me... I have to prepare ourselves for the opening of the barrier, we still have a lot to do... Toriel: Right, don’t push yourself too hard, doctor... take some rest, you need it. We finally go to the waterfall, it was all deadly quiet... We stayed silent during the travel, Red was looking down, like deeply thinking. Papyrus was trying to go fast but he didn’t wanted to quit Red. At some point he took his hand and tried to comfort her, but nothing happened. She was really worrying me. We finally reached a place in Waterfall where a river was rushing aside and a bell was sticked to the wall, near the way of Snowdin. A yellow flower was on the middle, looking away... Flowey: You took your time Papyrus, I’m usually not that patient... Papyrus:  SORRY FLOWEY. SO WHAT DID YOU WANTED TO SHOW US ? Flowey: Before I show you, you better be prepared. Especially you Papyrus, I know you loved Sans. You probably questionned yourself why did he do this... am I right ? I’m sure all of you did. Toriel: That’s true, but what are you trying to tell us. Flowey: The answers you are looking for are here, it might change your vision of the world but I’m pretty sure you won’t go back... So you take this flower bridge right here, and go straight, you’ll find what you want. Papyrus: ARE YOU NOT COMING WITH US ? Flowey: No... I gotta go. See you later.  The flower went through the ground and vanished. Papyrus: ARE WE GOING IN ? Toriel: I don’t know, but I think it might be better to check it out.  Red went in first and we followed her near. We reached a room with a lonely bench and an echo flower lighting the cavern with its glow. A voice was coming from the echo flower. It was Sans’ voice, he must have recorded this before he went out. We put ourselves in front and listened the flower. Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AkQb-07jeXI  Sans: The kiddo is still sleeping... Well here we go... Hi guys... so huh... I record this just before Asgore’s speech. If you found this message, it will probably be after all of this, whatever happened. This message is destined especially for Toriel, Red and Papyrus. First of all, I hope you liked the lollipop I gave to you three. You might wonder why I gave them to you, and not to the others. Well, it’s rather difficult to explain. During the speech, I will or rather I talked about “an endless cycle of violence”. A lot of people won’t understand this... I don’t blame them I got lost into it myself. Well I make it simple, imagine our timeline like a white board, you can write on it, right ? Like this our tale is written, normally we can’t erase this white board.    But one day, a little child came from the surface, the eighth human, their name was Frisk. A human like no other, with a hidden power, the determination. The one who got the most determination in the world can reshape the timeline. In other words clean the white board, it’s called a reset. Like this erase what was done and go in a past timeline, canceling everything that was done before. Frisk had that power. When Frisk came underground, Chara fused with their soul, they were inseperable, helping each other. At first, they were using their power to help people, they befriended all the monsters and freed us. Despite saving the monsters they wanted to save one last person, the prince Asriel. Again and again they repeated the timeline in other to find a way to save their friend. The violence we were showing to them and the one they feeled from the humans outside, it finally turned into a massacre, the genocide of the monsters.       Strangely, I was the only one remembering the timelines. It was more a curse than a blessing, seeing my friends and family diying in front of me... I finally got overwhelmed by hate and vengence despite being friend with Frisk. I attacked them again and again, turning my back to them when they needed the most help, and finally was killed. But when everybody was spread into dust, they reset the timeline and start over the massacre perpetually repeating the same endless carnage. Despite everything, I tried different ways to stop them but it was no use, everytime they died, they reset and it all started over again... You probably don’t remember any of it. I was tired, hopeless, at some point wasn’t even fighting anymore, a terrifying idea appeared to me one day. Maybe, if I killed the monsters before they do, I could maybe stop them for good. What kind of  monstruosity am I ? In desperation, I said to myself: “ One last time... I’ll try one last time to save Frisk.”. Thank goodness, Frisk despite all the violence that was overflowing them and Chara, they sacrificed their life and fused with my soul. We reset one last time to bring back the victims and put an end to the genocide runs after 849 timelines...     Please, don’t blame Frisk nor Chara, like us they were victims of the humans’ violence, of our own violence.  If I tell you all of this, it’s for you to understand, all of our actions have an impact and we have be responsible... Heh, it’s funny to say that after I almost murdered all of us... Everytime I pass in front of a mirror, I just want to tear my own face off, remembering that thought... How could I forgive myself for that ? I asked myself... The answer was obvious, give to my family what they always dreamed about, the surface, as a thank for all they did to me and as a sorry for what I almost did to them. Finally cleaning my sins while doing so. I don’t plan to put Frisk into this, I want to assume the weight of my sins by myself, I just hope I’ll succeed. You guys know already right ? If it did work. If my plan was initially to die fighting the humans to show them that we were not dangerous, and Frisk ultimately could always convince them afterwards, it became also the only way to forgive myself. I don’t know if you’ll understand this, just know that you have nothing to feel guilty for. If I succeeded, enjoy your freedom if I failed, sorry guys, was a dumb dummy until the end.  I don’t want nor cries nor thanks for me, my soul is rotten, since the genocide, corrupted by vengence.         So it all brings back to the lollipops, why you ? Why not the others ? I spend 849 timelines observing everything, remembering everything, Toriel , Red , Papyrus, you are the only three persons in the Underground who never did any mistake, always listening to your heart, unconsciously you kept me in the right path for a long time. With the lollipops comes a price, just as your souls are pure, you must show the way to the others, and bring a real peace between our species. It’s a lot to ask I know, and I’m not in the position to ask anything. But I really hope that story convinced you that violence only leads to violence, hate leads to hate.  The kiddo found an interesting name for us... Redemption, because we were trying to clear what we’ve done wrong... I don’t know if that’s a good name, for a kid that don’t have nothing to feel guilty for. Maybe I’ll know in the end if it was a nice name. Well I think that’s everything, hope that flower recorded everything, good thing this one has such a low metabolism. Frisk: Sans ... are you awake ? Sans: Hey kiddo, how is it going ? Ready to go ? Frisk: Always. I really hope we’ll free them, for good this time. Sans: I warn you again it might be dangerous. Frisk: I don’t care, we have to do this, for them. Sans: Heh, that’s what I like to hear. Let us go.   The flower stopped talking here and restarted again. Papyrus and I were astonished and depressed, we didn’t how to react to this, it was quite puzzling and sad at the same time. But we both agree that Sans wasn’t responsible for any of this. Our violence submerged us, we must show the rest of the monsters how to act, or this might happen again someday.  Red went out without a word, Papyrus tried to go for her, but I blocked him. Papyrus: RED WAIT . Toriel: I think... she needs to be alone for a while. It was a long day for us and for her. Papyrus: RED...

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lsBKaT6Egi8&index=81&list=PLoq58GDeKElcdxUImxXYKqG91vdxzwrBH     The way home was long, but since Shiny was with me. I didn’t get into trouble. I was focused about what happened a few minutes ago, that images were stuck in my head, the sword going through Sans, the red flowers... When I arrived home, I wanted to clean up the tears I still had in my cheeks. I surprised myself when I looked at the mirror, my eyes looked like those of Sans, all black with a little white dot glowing lightly. People might not enjoy this or call me demon, but nothing could please me more that to have the same eyes of the Angel who came from underground. I smiled a little.      The eyes didn’t hurt at all and I could see everything clearly. And to think that this morning I was half blinded, with my other eye blurred, Sans really did changed my life entirely in just one day. He saved me from a rob, he healed my eyes and finally saved me again in the end. On the other hand, I really did nothing to help him out... I felt sad again, I was holding the coat. Shiny was trying to make me smile but it was not easy. I went on the kitchen to take a cup of water, when I realised that something was on the table. It was a note: “ Stay strong, don’t give up and remember, we are always here for you. We’ll come back soon.” signed Sans and Frisk.    I cried on the paper, I knew they were not coming back... it was over...  Shiny suddenly pulled up my lock. Araelle: No ! Shiny ! Hi hi hi hi ! Not here ! Hi hi hi. It tickles. Hi hi hi ! Stop. I’m sorry. Hi hi hi.  The angel let it out and took a pen and started wrote something behind the note. Shiny: “Don’t cry. Sans wants you to smile.”   It then touched my forehead, it was sharing with me his memories. It was before Sans and Ankell started the fight, when Sans stunted me. Sans: Little angel, whatever you do… please take care of her. The images stopped there. I remembered what Sans said when Shiny relived:  Sans: I’m sure ... It’ll never leave you... It will... always... shine  your day and keep you company... with it you’ll never be alone...   Shiny went up and pulled out my lock again making me laugh from the tickling. But it wasn’t just it, I finally realised, I wasn’t alone anymore. Shiny was with me, and it brings with it all the love and attention of Sans and Frisk.

Thank you, for everything. I’ll never forget you.                                                                                      LOVEtale Chapter 2 END

[naomyart]

Chapter 2: Responsibility.

I was still tired after spending weeks crying, my eyes were swollen and I was worried about the future. I never wanted to think what would happen when my father died, even though I'm 19 years old, I still feel like a child in need of protection, my sister barely leaves her room to eat or talk with our royal advisor, now that my father passed away it's my older sister's turn to claim the throne, however, I still feel that she is too sad to even think of being queen, she is filled with regret against my father.

FLASHBACK

-Why did you kicked out Asriel's family dad?! - my sister who is usually too quiet looked like a wild beast facing our father in the middle of the throne hall, the underworld royal family left yesterday right after our king declared war at them, I never saw my father like that before, he was furious although I'm not really sure why, once we noticed he was arguing with King Asgore.

- You don't have to understand, you will never talk to them again – he had a severe look, kind of scary but my sister didn't seem to care.

- They were kind with us, they were not bad persons, why would you kick them out and declare war at them? I was so furious, raging in front of everyone at the court looking at each other. Many of them sdid not agree with my father's decree, however, they were not brave enough to say something.

I won't talk about this matter anymore ok? Don't go near that family nor anyone from the underworld, mainly to the prince Asriel is that clear?

My lord, I don't mean to disrespect you nor defy you, but I don't believe we can afford a war against the underworld people, as a reminder, there are many mages amongst their people. My father's right hand, the scientist and sorcerer Gaster was one of the most admirable man from the royal court and his opinion was always the first my dad would listen to, a tall and slender man, with pale skin and really dark eye bags, he was always wearing black, that made him look gloomy but he was trustable and if there was someone to make my dad understand, that was Gaster.

Do you want to contradict me too Gaster? If they fight against us using magic, so do we, you are in charge to develop a strategy to defeat the underworld people, you and your sorcerers will design that plan – his look was filled with anger and there was nothing capable to change his mind, he looked at Chara angry – As for you, I don't want you to talk about it anymore is that clear?

- I... I HATE YOU DAD! My sister ran out of the royal court without making eye contact with no one, and even though our baby sitter tried to stop her, she was far enough out of reach, my dad saw her leave, and even though he was still mad, I could see sadness in his eyes.

Gaster bowed to my father and even though he didn't agree with the order that was given to him, he accepted it – as you order my lord, me and my crew will work on it as soon as possible – he left the court after that, it could still be heard voices with discomfort due to the king's decision, however, no one seemed to wish to defy him.

FLASHBACK END.

I went into my sister's bedroom, she was staring at the window with an empty look, how long has she been like that? I lost count since she doesn't talk to me unless it's something necessary.

-Sister, I understand you don't feel good, but you can't stay like that, you might get sick- I held my sister from behind, although I was also feeling bad since our father died, but I couldn't lose focus and lose myself into sadness, I had to be strong for both of us.

- Frisk, do you think we did the right thing fighting against dad? She was still not looking at me, but she had a broken tone of voice, as if she couldn't stand talking more.

- I think it wasn't right to declare war... but they locked themselves underworld and we had no option, that was a long time ago though, it's no use for us to remember it anymore, dad loved us both, even if we were mad at each other, she caressed her head and talked to her slowly, she didn't want to say something to hurt her even more, but it was too hard not to be honest, she couldn't resist it and started crying.

I believe... we could've avoid it...I believe that war was wrong, but I also miss my father a lot, I wish I didn't fight with him...I...still miss Asriel... he used to talk about his kingdom – as she was telling me this she was crying even more, she turned around and hugged me hard- I miss Toriel a lot... I miss Asriel, he became my only friend... I miss mom!...she could've be a better queen than myself! I MISS THEM A LOT! She was crying comfortlessly, all I could do was hug her tight until she felt asleep, I was feeling really bad, she will be crowned in a few days and even though she is 2 years older than me, she was the same spoiled child and that was too much pressure for her.

She completely felt asleep and I left her resting on her bed, followed by that I was able to go to my room, I couldn't sleep during the night, in reality, I also missed the Dremuur family, I missed Asriel, my mom and my dad, but I swore my mom not to lose focus. The next morning, I dressed up to visit my sister again, once I got into her room I was shocked!

-Chara?...

FINISH CHAPTER

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