#Dusty's Charas

[askswordfrisk]

A few kids in the Orphanage!~

Here are some of the kids that are in the orphanage! Some of them are friends of Stella and Fara.

Dhara (Aka Hyper Demon Chara): Tall 13 year old who 7 feet all. Plan works… In the end they are alone.

Skara (Skeleton Chara): Woke up in an amalgamate infested AU, DT in air made him come to life.

Dalla (Doll Chara): Was stuck in Frisk body, got a new one after their AU was lost and Frisk’s soul was found.

War!Frisk: Victim of second Monster human war in their AU. What happened would be considered a war crime.

Dusty (Insane san’s Frisk): Never once killed. Dust won’t come off for a strange reason.

Frosk (Monster Human Hybrid Frisk): Victim of a dead end AU. Doesn’t talk, doesn’t walk, doesn’t eat, they need physical support due to their severe depression and lack of care in self care.

All done by the amazing @susartwork bless her! Will have more later when we have a chance. ^^

[valkyrieres]

Random thought but Blade probably denied any treatments before they could retrieve Dusty from his crash site...

[wildflowercryptid]

i wanted to draw bea ( gustafa & tris's kid ) before i finished up year 2, i'm gonna miss her being this small. i just hope she'll still be happy as a little kid... 😭

[passive-nightmaresans]

Here's some sketches for the au! (Fun fact Nightmare's vision is awful!)

He refuses to wear glasses so here's him with a monocle lol- and don't mind my awful handwriting it's hard to write digitally-

[what-have-i-unleashed]

the line in-between

yes i am still obsessed with this war au, so you guys will have another meal for it. sequel to this because i can't NOT write about dust somehow.

opening the year with mtt in war au smh this is what transformers obsession did to a freak 😔😔😔

the air in the base is thick with tension and unreleased post-battle adrenaline. dust paces around in his office, his hands tucked inside his pockets, twitching with a barely restrained urge to blast this whole place to smithereens. his eyelights flicker, his magic dying to be freed from its mortal cage.

a mere three feet away from him stands chara, who is shuffling their feet in nervousness but masks it with a defiant tilt of their chin. the sight only makes dust madder, though he can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. red is casually leaning against the doorway, shooing away any nosy soul who passes by.

after a moment of tense silence, dust whips his head towards chara, his eyes blazing. “you don’t touch him!” he snaps, his voice echoing in the room. “i already told you that multiple times! what part of that do you not understand?!”

chara flinches at the sudden reprimand, but stands their ground, their fists clasped behind their back. “i was trying to help you! he was sneaking up on you from behind, so i thought-”

“well, clearly you didn’t!” dust growls, stepping closer to his subordinate. he might be shorter than them, but the murderous intent in his crackling magic is pretty clear. “do you think i’m so weak i can’t protect myself? is that what you think of me? i don’t need your help!”

chara’s earlier defiance starts to falter as their face crumbles. “i- i just- i wanted to protect you...” their voice turns timid, small. “isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? protect each other?”

dust’s eyes narrow as he glares at chara. “that’s not your job. you don’t know what you’re doing out there. and your clear disregard for my orders almost got you killed – or worse, others.” his voice drops to almost a whisper as he leans into chara’s space, making them jerk back. “don’t ever touch him again, do you understand?”

“commander,” red interrupts, his voice cutting through the tension. he steps forward, subtly positioning himself between dust and chara. “the kid’s still new to this. this is their third mission after all. just go easy on them.”

dust glares at red. “don’t coddle them. this isn’t a game.”

“eh, they’ll learn.” red shrugs, but his tone is still carefully measured so as not to poke the anthill. “yelling at them won’t get us anywhere. they made a mistake, but haven’t everyone? that’s what rookies do, and they’ll grow. come on, they got the lesson – they won’t poach your kills again.” he looks at chara. “right, kiddo?”

the human looks back at red, then dust, tears of hurt and frustration brimming in their eyes. “i’m sorry… i thought i was doing the right thing… i won’t do it again, i promise…”

the next moment is blanketed with silence except for the hiccupped sobs of chara, who can’t help but hide their puffy face in their arms as they try to conduct themself in front of the two older soldiers. dust clenches his fist in his pockets, his shoulders hunched as guilt gnaws at the edges of his bubbling anger. he abruptly turns away from his subordinates, his back on them. “get out. both of you,” he says, his voice tight. “now.”

chara makes a confused noise as they peek from behind their tear-soaked sleeve. they look at red, hesitant and lost. red nods silently, reaching up to pat chara’s head. “you heard him, kiddo. let’s give him some space.”

as red guides chara out of the room and the door closes behind them, the silence in the office becomes oppressive. dust’s shoulders sag as the weight of his actions comes crashing on him like a tsunami. he shakily leans against his desk, knocking over a stack of papers, his head cradled in his hands.

you almost killed them, the voice of his dead brother chides him. you almost killed your subordinate.

dust can’t help but agree. he almost lost his control just then and there. he almost hurt chara, almost hurt a kid. the image of chara’s frightened teary eyes flashes in his mind, and his soul twists with shame.

his hands clasps together as he fiddles with the ring underneath his glove – the promise ring he has for himself. seeing killer again has brought up some unwanted memories, most of all the promises he made to both killer and horror. to survive. to meet each other again at the end of this seemingly endless war.

if nightmare has any say about it, it will never end.

but don’t worry, you are nightmare’s lieutenant, aren’t you? all his best soldiers get the best things.

they’ll be yours, by whatever means you want.

you’ll end their suffering by your hands.

memories of killer surges to the surface of his mind. the chaotic battlefield, killer’s tar-streaked, the way he moved like a ghost towards him. the way he looked at dust like nothing else in the world mattered. he looked exactly like the day he deserted nightmare’s army – as if he had never left at all.

dust hates killer for it. but he hates himself more for still caring, and even more for becoming someone who hurt the people depending on him. he dreads the day he has to face horror again – he can feel the inevitability, because this is just such a good cosmic joke to spring upon him. he wonders if horror will be even less forgiving than killer, giving him a strike in his messed-up soul rather than the measly cut in the cheek that killer inflicted upon him.

the door creaks open, jolting dust out of his spiralling. red steps in, closing the door behind him. “they’re shaken, but they’ll be fine,” he says quietly, then comes closer to dust. “you okay?”

dust doesn’t look at red, instead fixing his eyes on his hands where his ring sits in secret under his glove. “i almost killed them, red.”

“yeah, i was there,” red says, taking a place next to dust and offering him a cigarette. “you didn’t though, so that should count for something.”

dust laughs, a bitter sound, and takes the peace offering. “does it? i’m one step away from thinking of transferring them to somewhere else. clearly, i can’t be trusted around them.”

“you’re angry, as you have the right to.” red shrugs, lighting dust’s cigarette for him, his face so close to dust’s that the hooded skeleton can feel the lingering gaze on his nervously chewing mouth. “but i don’t think you’re all that mad at the kid. you’re not the monster you think you are.”

dust glances at red, his voice guarded. “you don’t know that.”

red’s gaze softens, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "i wouldn’t follow you if i didn’t."

the words hang in the air. and for a moment, dust allows himself to believe them. he touches his ring under the glove, finding himself more grounded than before.

"i’ll talk to them," he says finally, his voice quiet. "when i’m ready."

red nods, pushing off the desk. "they’ll come around. kid looks up to you, you know? they want to prove themselves to you. give them the chance."

as red leaves the room, dust closes his eyes and releases a puff of smoke, his shoulders relaxing as his jitters stop crawling up his arms. the war definitely isn’t going to get easier. but for now, he has to hold onto the promises he’s made – both to himself and the people in his life. and one day, he has to make his decision on where he stands in this mess. but that day, thankfully, doesn’t have to be today.

[dekuscalves]

uh yeah the thems

[prehnite-soul]

Hey hey hey my people :) It's time for another long post.

Me and a mutual, namely @corruptinmyself, have been brainstorming how the skellies would show affection. Over the course of two days haha, we ARE normal about them.

Anyway, this list features Killer, Dust, Nightmare, Horror, Error, Cross, Dream, Swap, Ink & Fresh (The last two only platonically :)) Maybe there will be an additional reblog with some of the other skellies (like Fell, Outer, Mafia, etc.)

Please enjoy these ramblings!

EDIT: Turned the list into an ACTUAL LIST, sorry i forgot to do that earlier

Killer:

letting you polish Casandra

letting you use Casandra as a kitchen knife

letting you take care of his cats

letting you touch his soul

regularly wipe his tears off to not stain your clothes constantly

calls you ‘my Juliet’/‘Player 2’

Dust:

taking off his hoodie/scarf

allowing you to fix and wear papyrus’s scarf

lets you in on his and Paps conversations

lets you sing karaoke with him

let you join in his hobbies

would try to seem more like ‘OG sans’ at first, before he’d drop that facade and just be ‘him’

wears non-dusty clothes around you

stops calling you ‘human’ & starts calling you ‘dust bunny’/‘honey bun’

Nightmare:

trying to make you to be genuinely happy

cocooning you

allowing you to touch his dead eye socket

allowing you to eat apples

lets you pet his tentacles

opening up about how experiences of when he was still ‘Passive’

watches you do modern things (I.e. Playing video games, etc.)

reads you to sleep

would call you stuff like ‘my peerless paramour’

Horror:

Asks you to cook FOR him (and vice versa)

allowing you to get him to eat

lets you store things in his skull

generally makes sure you’re okay like he does with Snowdin residents as he views you as someone trusted

tell you about his brother (he usually doesn’t mention his Papyrus as it sets of the other bad sanses)

calling you ‘Schäfchen’ (German cuteness form of ‘sheep’)

Error:

giving your soul back

pausing and translating undernovela for you

allowing you to tug on his clothes to get his attention/tap on his shoulder

sharing chocolate/grabbing special chocolate for you/leaving you some of his chocolate

letting you in on the creators talks

letting you paint designs on him without touching him

stops calling you an anomaly/stops using the title of your AU before your name

Cross:

letting you in on Charas talks

sharing chocolate/grabbing special chocolate for you/leaving you some of his chocolate

he slouches around you (cause he’s used to standing straight as he’s a soldier/royal guard)

he’d call you something along the lines of royalty

Dream:

making time in his schedule for you

trying to conceal his aura so it isn’t him making you happy around him/dropping it completely when you’re around cause he knows your affection is honest

would call you things like ‘Apple of my eye’

Swap:

Picking you up and carrying you around

he makes you a battle body

learning how to make your favorite meal with the same enthusiasm for his tacos

letting you pet his Gaster blasters as he’s quite proud of them

gives a nickname similar to ‘the magnificent sans’

PLATONIC

Ink:

marking down notes about you in bold, colors, and on an easily visible part of his scarf/embroidering it (on a part that isn’t easily torn off)

letting you pick him up by his scarf like a scruff; letting you in on broomies opinions/the creators talks

offering you his ink to PAINT

doodles on you#

calling you their ‘muse’

Fresh:

give you your personal furby

letting you hold his parasite form in general

teaches you how to use heelies/roller skates

tries to get you into 90s fashion and slang

gives you a replica of his glasses

has an entire ‘kiss journal’ just for you

wouldn’t get as anxious when he realizes he has interest in you

takes the relationship/friendship with you serious

wouldn’t get mad at you if you waxed his eyebrows

picks you up and carries you around

calling you ‘home skillet’

[askcorpsey]

SNOWDIN

Things are tense between Frisk and Chara after Frisk died at Toriel’s hands. Chara’s instinct is to defend their mother, but Frisk, traumatized, isn’t having it.

A flicker of uncertainty crosses Chara’s ghostly face. “She did not mean to. She’s not like that,” They say, not meeting Frisk’s tearful eyes. “She was trying to protect you.”

“Oh wow, and she did such a great job of that!” Frisk seethed through watery eyes. “That’s what all great moms do, murder their own children.”

“She wasn’t--”

“But you don’t care, you hate me!” Frisk whirls on Chara, nose to nose with the startled apparition. “Bet it was real fun to watch me get burnt to a crisp, huh? Bet it was just hilarious thinking about how I might’ve never-- I… I might’ve never seen my family again…” The hot, furious energy deflates out of them, replaced with an embarrassed hand wiping away their tears.

Chara reaches out a hand, unsure and caught off-guard. The hand hovers there for a moment, then retracts. Frisk takes a shaky breath and continues down the corridor.

They don’t see Corpsey again in the ruins, but his ominous, raspy laughter follows them wherever they go. 

That night, as Toriel tosses and turns in her bed, unable to shake a profound guilt that she cannot place, she is visited by the rotting corpse of her long dead child, who taunts and mocks her inability to fix anything, to keep anyone safe. She wakes up the next morning shaking, convinced that it was just a nightmare. But there are muddy shoeprints on the floor next to her bed that she doesn’t remember seeing before.

In Snowdin, Frisk meets Sans and Papyrus. Sans warns them that the residents of the town are jumpy these days, with a few murders that took place recently and rumors of a demonic ghost haunting the town. The brothers help with diverting Royal Guard patrols from their path (Papyrus’s lieutenant status helps with this). 

Frisk tries to keep a low profile, but after getting into an argument with Chara, gets jumped by Doggo who assumes them to be the evil human ghost that’s been haunting the town. Frisk, their death at Toriel’s hands still fresh on their mind, kills him in self defense. This drives a further wedge in between Frisk and Chara.

“Load back,” Chara says icily.

“What? No, he tried to kill me!” Frisk’s knuckles go white as the snow at their feet as they grip the dusty plastic knife for all its worth. 

“Because he thought you were a threat,” Chara bites back. “Which clearly, you are. If you could just explain--”

“Explain what, exactly?” Frisk snaps. “That I’m not an evil haunted zombie? That I’m a regular human? Haven’t we already established that the entire Underground wants me dead?”

“You have power. You are functionally immortal. You have a responsibility to use that power to minimize harm.”

“So I’m not allowed to defend myself now? I’m just supposed to let these people kill me?”

“Yes,” Chara hisses out. “It is the least you could do for them after everything your people have done to them.”

“My people?” Frisk asks, bewildered. “What did my people do?”

“Your people. Humanity. You killed millions and then trapped the survivors down here to rot.” Overwhelming hatred distorted their expression.

“First of all, my parents were Columbian immigrants, I’m not sure what a bunch of white people did a thousand years ago, but my family had nothing to do with it, and it’s bullshit to say that I’m responsible for it,” Frisk says, taking a step forward. “Second of all, newsflash, Einstein, you’re human too. So if I’m responsible, then so are you. Why don’t you die for them?”

“I DID DIE FOR THEM!” Chara’s form distorted beyond recognition, for a split second they looked almost demonic as they loomed over Frisk, who stumbled backward in fear.

It was only for a moment, though, and they flickered back to looking like an angry, grief-stricken child. “I did die for them,” Chara repeated. “And it was not enough.”

Frisk looked down at the dust mingling with the snow, guilt bleeding in now that the initial fear had worn off.

“Please,” Chara pleaded, sounding exhausted. “Please load back. Try to end the fight without either one of you dying. Just try.

Frisk thought about whether they could go home and look in their mama’s eyes and tell her they had killed someone. Could they live with themself if they didn’t try? “Okay. Fine. I’ll try.”

Frisk loads back and is able to pacify Doggo. Unbeknownst to them, after they move on from the area, Corpsey kills Doggo.

Sans’s warnings turn out to be true, with Snowdin’s residents being very jumpy. Simultaneously though, Corpsey has gathered a mini cult following of cryptid enthusiasts, with Papyrus being the leader. He dresses Frisk in a Corpsey mask and a Corpsey fanclub shirt as a disguise. Frisk explores the village and gets a gauge on the monster population. Most people are scared of the evil ghost demon child that is rumored to be behind the disappearances, other people are skeptical and assume there’s some serial killer and have distaste for the royal guard for not solving the murders. 

In the Papyrus hangout he reveals that he’s actually friends with Corpsey and insists Corpsey is actually a really good guy! People are just scared of him because he’s stinky and spooky. He’s not a murderer! He’s just quirky. Papyrus started the Corpsey fanclub in order to improve Corpsey’s public perception. It didn’t help, it just attracted the cryptic/true crime/conspiracy theory lovers. Oh well.

Undyne shows up to investigate the report of Doggo’s disappearance. She gets on Papyrus’s case about the whole Corpsey fanclub thing and sees straight through Frisk’s disguise and attacks! She insists that Frisk murdered Doggo, and when Frisk can’t fully deny it, Papyrus reluctantly sides with Undyne.

During the fight, Frisk appeals to Papyrus’s conscience and insists they didn’t kill Doggo, getting his guard down enough to flee from both of them

[ichiwashername-o]

What Are Friends For Ch. 28

An Undertale fanfiction

Written by ichiwashername-o

Summary: The final chapter, an ending.

Rating: Viewer discretion advised.  Contains swearing, trauma, and psychological horror

Cast: Undyne, Papyrus, Sans, W.D. Gaster, and others

Chapter 1

Previous

AO3

---

And finally, FINALLY, my story has finished. I hope everyone who's been with me through this enjoys.

For all the times Frisk had made it here, they never really knew where exactly here was. Or if it could even be called a place to begin with.

They stood with Asriel in a black empty void that stretched infinitely all around them, and though Frisk felt their feet stand on something solid and there , it gave off the impression that maybe what they were standing on wasn’t actually a physical thing at all, merely the suggestion of what should be.

So already their plan to get back to Sans and Papyrus’s house was falling apart because how could they get there if they didn’t even know where they were to begin with?

Asriel heard their concerns and simply shook his head. The small goat monster looked so sad, even though he was doing his best to keep smiling.

“We’re still in the Underground,” he explained. “It’s just that–when I took all the souls, it just distorted the world around us. But we can get back to Sans and Papyrus’s. It’ll be easy.”

Asriel held out his hand and Frisk took it without hesitation. 

And just like that, they blinked and they were in Snowdin, standing outside a very familiar house with twinkling lights and festive decorations. Frisk’s eyes went wide in surprise, and Asriel just laughed at their expression.

“With all the monsters’ powers within me, well, I can do just about anything,” he said. 

Sometimes it was easy for Frisk to forget, as small and unassuming and innocent as Asriel looked right now, he had all the power of a literal god. Frisk shouldn’t be so surprised, given everything they’ve been through, but even now they found new mysteries of the Underground.

They stepped around the house and to the back door which led down to the basement. As they walked, with Asriel nervously fidgeting with his hands, he spoke out loud.

“I remember Gaster. Before he got erased, that is,” he said absently. Frisk slowed their pace, listening carefully. “Even when I was young, I always got the sense he was a very troubled monster. He always looked so sad. And angry. But . . . he could also be really nice. I–I didn’t have many friends growing up. Not until–” he stopped, his voice choking a bit from the memory. “But he was a friend to me and Dad. He helped tutor me. He taught me sign language, because I had a hard time understanding his accent. But when he met–when he met Chara–” Again he had to pause to compose himself. “He really hated humans. Just like they did. Because they hurt him so badly.”

Asriel stopped, turning, and Frisk paused as well. They looked at the young prince, whose expression was overcome with resolve. 

“I know he did a lot of bad things. Things a lot of monsters won’t ever forgive him for. And it doesn’t excuse it, but I know how badly he was hurting. And if he’s really decided to be a better person after all this time . . .” He took a deep, steadying breath. “He really was a genius. And when he’s back, he can do a lot of good not just for monsters, but for everyone.”

Frisk smiled, nodding their head. “That’s why we’re going to bring him back.”

Frisk extended their hand and Asriel took it as they stepped into the basement together. 

Along the far wall, buried underneath a whole slew of dusty old tarps, loomed some strange machine. Frisk had no idea what they were looking at, but it looked like a great big metal arch with tubes and pipes running all around its perimeter, a computer on its right with a keyboard and screen. 

This had to be the time machine, but Frisk had no idea how to work it. Asriel clearly did as he approached what Frisk assumed to be a control panel and started pushing some buttons.

“I remember this working a few times before,” he said out loud as he furrowed his brows in thought. “Give me a moment, I just have to power it up.”

“You remember how to work it?” Frisk asked in surprise.

“Not really. But Sans does,” Asriel said “And now that his SOUL is in me, I know what he knows.”

Frisk nodded in understanding. “Right.”

In just a few short moments, the machine was activated with a low and steady hum. The circular gate-like machine was now fully operational thanks to the preemptive work of Papyrus and Sans. And with Asriel at the controls, it was working perfectly. The arc was filled with a shimmering blue iridescent light that sparkled like the ocean waves in the sunlight.

Frisk stood back, admiring the massive metal machine with awe.

Asriel extended his hand, placing it against the metal exterior, and shimmering rainbow vines began to cover it all over, the vines sinking into every nook and cranny it could. The vines pulsed with a beautiful cascade of rainbow colors as they glowed brilliantly. 

He turned back to Frisk. “I can’t go with you. I need to stay here and keep it running. It has to work on my own SAVE file. But once you go in, you should be able to find Gaster.”

“Gaster said himself he’s scattered all across time and space,” Frisk thought out loud. “So we’re going to have to go all over to gather up all the pieces of him and put him back together.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Asriel said with a grin. “Are you ready?”

Frisk nodded, feeling that familiar warm surge of determination within their soul. “Ready.”

“Ok, just step right through. And good luck, Frisk.”

Frisk nodded, looking up at that swirling maelstrom in front of them. The electric hum tinged the air as they felt their hair stand on end as they approached, static dancing on their skin. They could almost smell the charged ozone the machine was emanating.

They took a deep breath, closed their eyes.

And stepped through.

They felt themselves falling. And then they were pulled, as if swept up in some great powerful current, their tiny body hurtling along some great unknown cosmos. They felt themselves being flung every which way, their arms flailing out to grab something– anything to steady themselves. All around them was a bright shining cascade of colors and sounds and sights too incomprehensible to decipher. 

They were traveling across the timeline, seeing each and every possible past, present, and future playing out simultaneously before them.

The chaos was deafening and maddening. Frisk felt tears prick at their eyes as the world around them grew far too much to bear. But they hung on, searching for something–anything– anyone –

T̙he͚͓re yo̯̬u̬ are̯̦̰.

Something grabbed them, steadying them. Though Frisk didn’t see so much as sense it, they knew Gaster was there beside them. A hand that clamped around their arm, firm yet steady, guided them through the chaos of time.

And then they were pulled out of it, out of all the noise and sights and sensations, out into somewhere abyssal and black and nothing.

So staggering was the sudden whiplash between too much stimulation and none at all that Frisk needed a moment to reorient themselves, the stars of their vision fading and the ringing in their ears lessening. 

They stood(?) besides Gaster, the skeletal monster that looked like he was barely hanging onto his own existence. Though as fragmented and distorted as his shape was right now, Frisk could see that glimmering beam of his own determination dancing in his black empty eye sockets.

Frisk shook their head, getting their senses back to them. “Gaster,” they said. “Am I glad to see you.”

Gaster simply hummed. W̖͚̤ẹ͖ ͕̖hav͈e̞̦ ̪̙̼muc̬h ̝̯w̰͖ͅork̥͇ a̭̙h̰̲͙ead̮͉ ͚͍͕o̪f u̳̤̺s̗͎,ͅ he said. He then turned upon the small human, and they saw light returning to his eyes. But̘͙͉ ͉̝b͔ͅefo͉ṛḙ͍ w̱e̳̲ ̖̠beg͈͖̘i̥̙̟n̫͚,͖̼ I h̫̻a̲̫̮v̳͉͕e ͔a few ̥͎th̳in̘̣g͕̱͖s̞ ̩to͇̮̗ a̦͚s̠k ͙̗of ̰̳y͕̪̗o̬̻u͔.̬͉

Frisk swallowed. “Um, ok, what’s that?”

F̟͈̱i̯rs̜ṭ͙ ̦of̱ ̭̻al̺͚̘l͉̼̲,͍̬ do̗ y͍̲͓our b̤̥̱e̩s̱t̙̰ t̗o̳̤ ̮̭not ͉͍͕g̘̬͉eṯ di̲͇̻str̞͕act͙̟ẹd and̞ to͖̙ ̬̥͉sṱ̰a̝͈͓y o̟̱̳n̮͎ ̥t͓̤a̱͔ͅsk.̲̤̘ It̫̩ ̲̮i̹̗s͉̟ ̤d͕̼i̜̳f͈̲f̳i̦̜cu͔͙l̰ṭ ͍en̤ou̻g̭h̯͈̳ ͔̩t͍͕o na͓̪͔v̥̠̙i͓̰̬g͓ate ͕t̝h͈̦̣e ̼̝̘vo͖id ̤̳͍a͍s i̥s̩̞.̺̼

Frisk frowned, very nearly pouting. “I’m not going to be distracted.”

S̳̬͉ec̻̙̙on͍̭d̮̹ of a̳̳ll͍̻,͙̻͕ ̜ Gaster went on, as if he hadn’t heard them. I ͉woul̮͚d͈̜ ̮̪̩li͍̬k̻̺ͅe ̳ͅy̙̘ou̩ ͔̝̤t͉͈o ͉̘̝h͓old͚̻̰ o̺n ̹̼to a̜̮ ̭f̹e̗͈͇w̲̯͖ ̟̫t̹̱̱hi̗͇n͖̖̤gs͎͍.̟̦

He raised one of his skeletal hands and reached inside . . . somewhere and pulled out two envelopes, sealed shut. Frisk blinked. 

Where did he get those?

I ̻͔͔n̥̝ee̺ḏͅ ͓̩͚y͕̖ọṵ̮ ͉to̗ h͈o̳̬͔ld̗̗ on̺̲t̰̲̱o ͓͖̦t͕̪hes̫̲e̠̹ fo̩r̮ me. As ̗̫a ̯favor̤̜,̻͚ Gaster said calmly. He extended his hand, holding out the envelopes to the human. Too curious for their own good, Frisk took them, seeing that one was addressed to them, and the other–

The other was addressed to Grillby.

Now Frisk was completely confused. “Why do you want me to hold onto these?”

I̳̮n̯͍s͖u̥͕̲r̰an̳̯͙c̣̪͙e,̩ Gaster said simply. I ̘am͖͚̠ ͕̮n͚͇͚o̲̖t̺ ̟̠͎g̞oi̼ng t̥o̻̯ ͙̼p̬̝̬r͚et̻end̲͖̙ ̜̫th̬͓ạ͖t th̩̞is ̲jo̹͈̘u̩rne̤̭̺y ̳w͔̦o̘͙n’̺t͔͉̮ ̞̼͚b̩̞e ext̪̮raor͕͓̗d͍in̜͇͎a̻̺r̳ͅil̪y ̫̟d̠̝a̲͎ͅng̜e̱r̟o̮us͓̭.̺͕ ͅI̭̗t͖̟̟ coul͉d̩̤ ͖very̘̰̱ w̟̗ell͈̺̪ ̹ͅde̘ș͔̬t̰̠ͅṛ̱͇oy͎̦̤ m͍e.̦ A̭̮͉n̥d̟͎̰ j͎̝̱ust̳̻ in ̣͉c̼̖a̳s̤͖͔e it̞̪̱ ̞do͙̜e̱͉s . .̲̯̘ ̣̦̩.̖ I̺ ̗̦n̪e͉̝e̬̜͚d͎ yo̠͖u̜̮̥ t̺o̙͚̰ ͇h͕o̮͙l̻͙d ̪̩̥o̖͔̬n͚̳͚ ̰t͓̣̭o ̜̱t͉hese.̰

“But nothing’s going to happen to you,” Frisk insisted, shoving them back towards Gaster. “You’re getting out of here. Then you can hand this to Grillby yourself.”

Gaster didn’t move as Frisk continued to shove the letters against Gaster’s semi-blobby, semi-static form. 

Plea͚̫se ͉͖̩p̪̹̻u̻t͔̤ a̩͍si̭d̖e yo͉̲u͓̭͍r stub̭̻̦bo͇̤r̟̞n̘ness̖̠ ̫for ̥o̞n͎̝͈e m͕̺o̟͖̬m̙en̠̘t and̺ li͍ste̺̹͎n,̙̬ Gaster said lowly. I͚̻ ḍo ͙̦͙no̰̹͚t̰ ͉͚̲i͖n̞t̥͇e̬̜n̖d̗͔͕ ț̤̞o ̫̜̱lẹa̙̠ͅv̩e ̜̭̥a͙̠n̪͈͎y ̮b͚us̝ine̲s̰s͚ inc̖̥͙om̦̻ͅpl͔͕͕ẹt̫e̘̝, ̯̜b̪̲ut so to̮o̼ mu̘s͙t I ̦͍a̼̝͎c͈̰k̤̹n̻ow̦͍̦l̹e͙d̹̤̬g̥̦̪e̙ ̟̰̥t̻̲h̭̭̫e ̺̯i͎̜n͉̜̱n͚a̞͇̣t̯͉e da̹ng̲͓͙er ͔͙of ̹o̟͙ͅu͕͈̠r̘ ̺̲̠mi͍s̻sion̝̹͓. ͎̯S̮͈̭h͕̩̭ou͕͖̻ld a̫̻̗l͖l̜ g̠̻ͅọ̳̦ ̭̗̻to̺̝ ͔̤̙p̼̜l͈aṋ̯̞,̦ ̩ͅt̰̖h̼͙e͚n ̞̺̹you ̺̺ne͍̥e̩d ̭̺n̦̖͙ot do an͓y͇̞̺th̞̭̲i̼̳ng͕͙̞. Bu̫t ͙i͈f̩̤̟ no͍̪͓t .̥͓ . ̻ͅ.

He let the warning hang.

J̳̮̱ụs͉̮̜t͇͚ d̮o̪ ͉͍me ̤̦t͙̜h̲̟͙i͇s͙͎ ͉̦o̺͚n̯̲e̜͇̟ s̼m̹̳̤all ̲̮͖g̮͔͎rac̙̦e,͓͎ ͕͉p͚l͔̻ea̖͓̯se.͓̜̬

Frisk frowned, but begrudgingly shoved the letters into their pocket. “As soon as we get back, I’m giving them back to you.”

Tha̮͙t ̼̜i̤̻s̭ ͎̤more ṱha̘̱n ̬̺f̩a͇̤̳i̬̱r. O͇̤͚hͅ,̗̥̜ a̮̗͙n̰̗d̹̟ ̩o̩ne l̤̦͇as̪t͍ ̪thi̗n̻g,͎ Gaster said, raising a finger.  I̟̙f͇̥ ̦I ̩̼̟can̖n̖ot d͈̻͔eli̗̥̗v̖̩e̬̲r̯ͅ ̜͈the̮̘ l̖e̗̥̗t̤t̹̩e̘͔r̟̙͉ m̺y̲s̺el͚̗f–̰̺m̞i͔̲nd ͓̱yo̩͉͈u̖, I s̟̩̥a̗͈id ̪͖I̭F,̮̪ he snapped, to prevent Frisk from interrupting him. T̯͔̹ẖ̘̫e̦re ͉͎̫i̻ͅs̘̘̟ ͙on̗̺͚e ͕ț͖̙h̬̮i̘̫̺ng I n̥e͓ed you͎ t̘o t͍̬̲e̗̖̙l̟͓ḷ ͅGr̖͇i̩l̰̯͍l͖by̥̱̺.͎͖

“And what’s that?” Frisk asked.

Teͅl̗͇̹l͉͇͎ ̝̩ͅh̩͕i͚̺̟mͅ ̮̩t͈̰o̹̯͍ ̤͙̭r͍̞̞ea͙͈d m͕y͚̼ let͍͍te̞r in it̟s̳͎̯ ̠̫enti̗͖̤r̝̲e͍̫t̩̞͈y̺̟̥. Ma͈̠̺kͅͅe͚͎͈ him̖ ̼̣prom̹̹̘i̜̟ͅs̺͉e̤̪ ̖̲͈to̼̻ d̠o̤̘ so̫̹, Gaster urged. 

Frisk felt their brows contort together in confusion. “What?”

I f͎̙ear̞͓̥ h͉̜e m͕̞̹ay͔ ̼̪̹b̝̥͚e a ̮̳̱b͈̗̭it . . .̹͉̹ ̞̥i͔̤̲nc̩̼̗en̺̺sed̪̗͎ ͎͖̣t̤o ͕̯s̱̩ee̯̩ m͖̱͍e̹̙̥ ̞reac͕̼͔ḫ o̼̺̮u̻̳̪ț̬ to͍̲ ̠̖̲hi͖̮m, a͍n̹d͓̪ ̟thu͔̜s ̮̗̞wo͙̫͓ul̗̜ḏ ̯͕̦b̯u͎̘̝rn͚̣ͅ ̼̜͕m͇y̲͓ let̖t͍e̘͍ͅr͔̗ ̳t͔o̞̹ ash͈͇ ̯̟͈bef͔͓o̲r͈̤e̮̙͚ ̟̠͚he͎͓ ̘̟eve̤n͙̰ͅ o̗̰pens i̗̖t͙̗̮, Gaster admitted. His expression contorted, his sockets shifting upward in mourning and regret. I͍͓̻ d̮̞ͅo ̫͇̮no̠̤̰t bla̳̦̮m̗e̪ ̘̬̱h͈i̝m̲͈. Bu̠͇t̩ the͇̮̫re ̲is̝̦ much I ͅwo̝͈uld ̞͓li͇k͓̳̟e̲̺̼ ̜͚t̯o͙̳͇ ͉̘sa̞̟̪y to̪̟ ̳hͅim̥̬–̱̭so̲ b̮̪̥e͇̹̞fo͕re y̹̼ou g̱̬̘i͇̲̼ve̯ him͕ th̟e̝̥̙ ̯͖let̪̠t̳e̬̩͉r͎,̱̦ ma̱͇̣kͅe̙͕ h̠͓i͍̫̭m̯̪͉ ̯̞̫s̱̠we̘aṛ̭ ̪̜̱he͕̼̥ wi̘̖ll rea͎ḏ it͙̞ ̼̙thro̩ug̗̯h͚͚̥.̳̗ͅ ̹And ̪o̖͙̥n͔͙ce̦̱ ̖̯ͅhe ̠̠̫d̺̗͍ọe̫s .̤̯ ͍.̦ .̺ ̜̮h͖̥̪e m̻a͔͙̩y ̰̻ͅdo̟̟̥ w͖it͉̰͚ḫ̜͍ ̦it͕̮ ̭̯̜wh̠̣̗at h͔e̫̪ p̖leas̪̙ẹ͙s.

Gaster’s plea was so earnest and desperate that Frisk understood immediately the severity in which Gaster spoke. So they nodded grimly, gripping the letter tightly.

This letter was so important to him. It made Frisk feel so small to be entrusted to something so dear.

“But you can tell him yourself, face-to-face, when we get back,” Frisk insisted.

Gaster smiled. T̘ha͙̣̙t̩ i͙̬̯s̭ t͚̱̖h͖͓e ̭h͇ope.̱

He then extended his hand out to Frisk, who grabbed it without hesitation. His hand felt so strange, flickering between solid and not-there and static and everything in between. Gaster really did look like he was going to fall apart at a moment’s notice. And Frisk knew it was by some small miracle that he hadn't by now.

Let ̗u̺̙s b̤̮̺e̼̪̰ ͓͎o̯̣̦ff͎̱, he said.

And then they dipped right back into the time stream, stepping out of the void and back into chaos. Frisk squinted their eyes closed, bracing themselves as they tried to shut out all the noise around them.

They didn’t know how Gaster knew where to go, they simply had to trust the monster. And once they found his pieces, they could start putting him back together–

Slowly the sights and sensations around them began to come together into a more coherent image. They saw flashes of Alphys in the lab, experimenting with a yellow flower. They saw Asgore at the end of a golden hall, facing down a small human child clad in yellow. They saw Toriel run from the palace, her expression twisted in a furious mix of rage and grief.

Frisk blinked.

Just when were they going?

The scene before them began to grow clearer and clearer. They were at the throne room, the two massive chairs of the king and queen of monsters currently empty. Light filtered through the many stained glass windows of the halls. They could hear birds singing lightly in the distance.

And through the far door, a figure loomed. It approached, staggering and limping. It towered above Frisk, even as hunched over as it was. And as they stepped into the lush green throne room, the light spilling on its face–

Frisk’s eyes widened in recognition.

It was Asriel. But not the small young goat monster Frisk knew them as. He was in his godly form, long curled horns arching over his head and black stripes crossing his face. 

His body was badly damaged, sliced apart from many gashes and wounds, arrows burrowed deep all across his body. Every step the prince took was one of sheer agony as he pushed through his fatal wounds to return home–

Return home with the tiny unmoving body of Chara clutched in his hands.

Frisk could only gasp. “What–what are we doing here?” they asked breathlessly. They heard of the moment the young prince died so many times, but to see it for themselves-!

Gaster didn’t answer. They just watched on, their eyes narrowed with grit and focus. His expression was a tight grimace, one hand reaching out as if in anticipation.

Frisk watched him carefully. “Wait, is a piece of you here?”

Asriel collapsed to his knees, one last mournful smile crossing his face. He closed his eyes, and with one final sigh, his body crumpled to dust.

Above the grass where his dust laid, Frisk saw it: two souls, one red, and one white. The red vanished in but a blink of an eye, but the white soul lingered for only a moment more. And Frisk immediately knew what they were looking at. 

Asriel’s soul. 

It burned with all the radiance of a star, hovering in the air with a faint tremble. 

So̜me͍̦da̪̜y, ͕̮̫p̠͔er͉ẖ̝̼aps̻ yo̙̫u ̬̞wil̪l̫̩̬ ̣̝f̺͕̘or̯̞͇g̞iv̹͎e̗̜ me̗͍̖.͓̦

Frisk didn’t understand. Not until it was too late.

Gaster’s hand snapped forward, his fingers latching around the soul and digging deep into the unbridled force before him. He screamed. But on he held, his eyes flashing wildly with magic as he grabbed the Soul and began to drag it, his body shredding into flakes of nothing as the overwhelming power of the soul threatened to rip him apart.

“What are you doing?!” 

Gaster could not afford even a moment of his concentration to waver as it took every single bit of strength and grit he had left to simply hold on. But he pulled, pulled himself and Frisk and Asriel’s soul through time and space–

Back to the time machine. 

Back to the small monster waiting just on the other side, his eyes wide in shock and horror.

With one final desperate cry, Gaster reached out, slamming the soul into Asriel’s tiny body.

Asriel screamed.

Gaster, with one final contented smile and a sigh of relief, fell into oblivion.

And the world around them went white.

–

“Frisk! Oh, Frisk, please wake up!”

Frisk groaned. Their entire body ached, and their head pulsed painfully. They slowly blinked awake, shaking off the haze of confusion and disorientation.

It took many seconds for the world to come back into focus. Everything around them was so blurry and discombobulated, the voices around them muffled and muted.

They tried to sit up, and a gentle hand assisted them, pressing onto the small of their back. They blinked again, screwing their eyes up in concentration. There was nothing but a blur of white in front of them.

“Human! There you are! We were so worried! We didn’t know if you’d wake back up!”

Frisk groaned, rubbing their head. Their senses were finally coming back to them. “ Urgh . . . Papyrus . . . ?”

“It is I!” the skeleton announced bombastically, his wide toothy grin finally coming back into focus. “You’ve been through quite the ordeal! But I am glad you’re back to the land of the living! You gave us all quite the scare!”

Frisk shook their head, gathering themselves. They were back in the final corridor just before the barrier, right where they were when they fought Asriel. Surrounding them was Alphys and Undyne, but Sans, Asgore, and Toriel were nowhere to be seen. Frisk looked around for them.

“Where’s everyone else?” they asked immediately. “What happened?”

“We were hoping you could answer that,” Undyne said with a smile. “We were facing down that flower, there was a bright light, and then we were back here, with–”

“Everyone else is back in the throne room,” Papyrus said. “They didn’t mean to leave you here, but I promised to look after you, and, well –”

Frisk looked up at Papyrus, trying to figure out just why he looked so damn guilty. But no time for that right now, they shoved themselves to their feet and took off back towards the throne room, the three monsters hot on their heels. 

They could hear voices, loud voices. They couldn’t tell if they were laughing or sobbing over all the shouting and screaming. Frisk ran faster.

They burst into the room to see Asgore and Toriel on their knees, their arms wrapped tightly around a third figure between them. Both were openly weeping, fat wet tears rolling down their cheeks, but they were both smiling so wide and so brightly. Frisk froze.

“I don’t believe it– I don’t believe it!!!” Toriel was saying between gasps of sobs. 

“It’s a miracle! You’re back!” Asgore was somehow sobbing even harder than Toriel. He had to pull away several times just to wipe away his eyes. “Oh, my son, you’re back!!!”

Frisk could only stare. In between the clutches of King Asgore and Toriel . . . was Asriel. The young goat monster was clinging to the both of them with all their strength, refusing to let go as he sobbed in his parents’ arms. 

Standing behind them was Sans, who was looking on silently and with a sense of fondness.

It wasn’t long before Frisk’s presence was noted, and Asriel looked up at them with big red eyes. He smiled ear to floppy ear, finally at last pulling away from his parents to greet them.

“Frisk!”

He ran right to them, hugging them fiercely. Frisk hugged them right back, still too stunned to do much else, but they pulled away, gaping at Asriel.

“I–what– how?!” was all that they could stammer.

“I’m here! I’m really here!” Asriel said, pulling back slightly but still holding tight to Frisk’s hands. “Gaster and you–! You got my soul! You got it back to me!”

It came back to them. That moment in the hallway with Gaster, who reached through time and space to grasp the young prince’s soul and return it to his body.

“So you’re here? You’re really . . . you?” they stammered.

“It’s me! It’s really, finally me!” Asriel said, tears threatening to spill once again. “I–I can feel again! I can feel everything! I’m not a flower anymore!”

And they just held each other for a long moment still, Frisk’s head still reeling. But finally, after what seemed to be hours of all of them reveling in the young prince’s miraculous return, Frisk turned back to address all the gathered monsters, examining all their faces. Everyone was a mix of surprise and sheer delight, but behind those proud contented smiles of the skeleton brothers . . .

There was a look of deep and profound sadness. And guilt.

“Where’s Gaster?” Frisk asked, turning towards the brothers. “I went back to save him, so where is he?”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” Sans said with a quiet sigh. He shook his head. “Ah, kid, there’s no easy way to say this–”

“Gaster’s gone,” Papyrus said sadly. 

“What?! No he’s not!” Frisk protested furiously. “He was right behind me–! We were going to bring him back, he promised–!”

“He lied to you,” Sans said softly and with a great deal of patience. “He never had any intention of coming back.”

Frisk felt a terrible weight bear down all around them as if the floor beneath their feet had fallen away. “So–this entire time��ever since you stepped out of that door–”

“Please forgive us,” Papyrus said mournfully. “But it was Gaster’s wish.”

And so the brothers recanted what happened behind that silver door

–

Sans was not in a mood to talk. Hell, he was barely holding it together and admirably restraining himself from bringing down his entire wrath upon the one monster responsible for all of his suffering. To speak nothing of the devastating harm he inflicted upon Papyrus.

But Papyrus, ever optimistic, stupidly naive Papyrus, heard him out. He listened. He empathized. Empathized . With that bastard .

I c̖a̞n ͔̪̥st̠and ͈h͙ere t͈i͔l t̪͇he ̘̱̱e̝̺̫n͇̪d̫ of t̰̖ịm̯ḙ̖ t̠͓o ̦v̭̞o͈i͚̞̫c̠͉e ̥͇͉my̥͚̫ ͎̗r̳̟eg̮͍r͖̟̝ets̗̠ ̖̱an̙̮d͉̖ ̯so̙̻͉r̘̝ͅrow̥s͚͖̭,̠͖ bu̖t ͎̞͙not̹̠̤h̝̱ͅing ̙I̭ ͇ca̝n̦͓ sa͓̳ͅy̟̳̪ ͔̰̻w̺i̭̝l̯l̩ mạ̟ke̳̳ ̙̹ͅy̩̝ͅou f͙o͉̦r͈̖gi͙ve͓͕ me̳̪͇, ̜̞o̠̟̭r̮ eṿ̩e͔n̞ ̝̺͔b͎̗͎eg̘̳̘in to̯̱͈ m̤̠a̩k̳͍e̳̯ ̙̤up f̘̭or ͔ẉ͔̝h̥̟at ̻̩I̭̞’̞͓v̜͖e ̯͇̭d͍̻o͔͔̮n͓̤e̯͙̫,̳̳ Gaster was saying. B̪u̜̙͖t ̻ͅh̤o̗we̬̖v͔e̱͈r em͕̥pt͚y ̪͈̩you͖̜̩ m̠̱̖a̯ỵ͎ fi̜̗̻n̮̥d̟ ̱̹th̙̠̪es̱͉ͅe͕͕͍ w̘̹̤or̖̘ͅd̥s, ̬do̼̙ ̥̠kn̬ow̲̙ this̱̼̝ ͈̰͎ṭo̦͚͎ ̝̘b̺̯e͕ ̱t̹̥ru̬̟e–̼̜I ̪re̟͓g̙͇͈ret̟̯̝ ̻͇͈a̖͙͉ll ̹I͍ ha͙̯v͍e̬ ̤̼d̹one ̙t̼o ̦y̮̦ͅo̭u̩.̝ ̰͉͖A̹n̥͔̩d I wi̥͕s̘̲̺h̪ to us̘̻e ͓͙̙m̝̣̩y ̹̗̭f̩in̦͖̖al̮ ̲̱fl͓̩͙e̠̭̤e͖̖ting̘̭̩ ̝͓̦mo̫͙m͍͖eṋts̳̰ ̝̠̻o̫f̗ e̹͓xi͍̣s͖t̲e̼nc͈ͅe̦͓̞ ̘̜t͖̥̘o ̙d͉̲o̼ o̟ne̙ f͓̗i̙n̦al̰̖̲ a͙͈̳c̼̲t o̹f g͕̩oo̪d̦̘.

“The human wishes to bring you back,” Papyrus was saying. “If we can somehow find all your missing pieces that were scattered about–”

A̙̣̜nd wͅh͈̜̠at̯? Gaster said with a scoff. P̖u̘̗t ̪̲ͅme ͔ba̭̮ck͈̫ ͕̟tog̰̮eṭ͍he̳̤r̹ ̯̖̩like̼̞ s̜om̞̪̺e j̯͙̱i̠͉͈g̳sa͔̠͍w ̠pu̳z͍z͓͕̜le?��̘̥ No. I̞͉ h̫̱ạv͈͓̦e̫͎ ̣͍l̠̬ong ̼̳si͔̮͈nc̫̜͈e p̘a͙s͈͈s̘e͇̦d ͎͙̬the ̲͍͔po̙͇i͓͇nt͈ o̦͖f ḇei̻̜n͈g͇ re̟̝̘s̺to͔r̹ed.̦͔

“So what exactly is it that you want to do?” Sans said, unable to keep the venom from dripping from his voice.

I w̮͈i̯ͅsh͍ ͔t̳͓̩o̰ ̪̣s̮͍a̝͔̣v̭̪ẹ tḥ̯͙e ̟̺͎one m̰ons̩̲̤ter ̯̥who̲ i̟̪s̩̘ ̫̣tru̯͕ly ͔d̗̙̼e̪̪̙serv͖in͓g of̙͈ ̯i͓̺t̳̠, Gaster said. I w͍̺̫i̲̻͎s̹̹̙h ̪̙̱t͓̪̯o ̫̻̮r͙es͔ͅt̗o̻re Pr̟̠inc̞ͅe̺͚̦ ̭̙̗As̼rie͔̯l.͉̥

The skeleton brothers stared at him.

“You’re–you’re insane. It’s not possible–”

I͍ͅt is. I̥̫ ̮̤̪h͙a͙͎v̟͕e ̬̥̝s͙̮̮e͓en̪̬ͅ ̟t̝̣h̠̺̦e fa̖l͔l̦̠ ̖̣̹o͇f̯̗ ̬Aș̳ͅr̦̥ͅiel̩̥̖ ti̘̺m͍͕e͎̫ and͎̮ ̞̻͉ti̜͖m̠̙͚e͚ ͅag̹̯̞ḁ̱̳in,̰̩͙ a̺nd i̪f̱ ̠͙͕I w̲̬e̙r͎̳e ̝̺t̺̫o̯͇ be ̪̗t̙̗h̞̰͈ere͈̭ at ̻t̹he͓͖ ̪p̭̝rec̼is̖e̮̙l̟͔͙y ̼r̟i̬gh͍̭̰t͓̥̜ ̼͇ͅm͈̗̤o̼͇m̘e͕̻͙n̩̣͖t . ̼. .̟̙̙ He trailed off. It̤͉̹ ̬̗̤c̹̤an̦͇̺ ̮̫̯b͎̻e ̩d͇o͍̬̼ne.͕ ̰̮B͔͖ut t͈̱hi̳s̰̤ s̺̻hall̟ ̭f̩͚̤i̝nạl̖͎ly̖, ͔̯̳d͈efi͖n͙it̩̫̪iv͎el̹̞͙y͕,̫͙͇ ̯̝̣be͚̣ͅ my end̳.̪̺̮

The brothers glanced at one another. Shock and disbelief still settled over them like an uncomfortable static. 

“What do we tell the human?” Papyrus finally whispered.

S͎̹̭ho͔̬͚uld t̤he̮y know̭̠ my͍̩͉ p̝l̗a̯̭n,͎̲ ͍th͉͉e͖͙͙y͕ ̗w̙i̤l̩l̦̺̯ ̬n͕e̺̘v͎̫ͅer a͙͍gr͕̘e̦e ͈͇̻to it.̯ S͎͈u̩͚ch͕̼͚ ̤̬stu̜̱̹b̥b͎͕̗orn̗͈n̻ḙ̭̰ṣ̺s͖ ͈̺.̫͍ͅ ̗. ̼̫̮. Gaster said with a heavy sigh. I͓̦̹t͍ͅ r̥͓emḭ̭n̦͖̯d̬̞s ̦͙me̥͈ ͇.̟ .̮̥ ̦̫͈.̳ ͖̘̝of ̺̗a̟͈ ̤de̺̭ͅa̦̲r̗̮̤ st̥̮u͔̲d̥̦ent ̙̤̯ofͅ ṃin̫̯̩e̱͚̘.̥̥ͅ

He shook his head.

T̝h̰̬e̟͈͈ hu̱m̹ͅa̤n͇̝̭ ̞̼͎can͍n͇̻o̰͇̺t ̫̖k̫̫͔n̖ow̙̭ ̗ou̘͔̞r ̞͍t̝̙͎r̝̳ͅu̺̗͎e ̲͕in̙̫̪t̪̥̺e̹n̖̤ͅt̜͙ͅ.̤ T̝̰̰h̤̦ḙy ͈̝̼w̪͇̰ill ̠̳̬never ͍͓͈ag͈̘̩r̫̗e̝e̯̟ͅ ̝to ̦͕it.͕̯̙

“So you want us to lie to them?” Papyrus protested fiercely. “We can’t do that to them!”

Kn̞o̦̪ẉ͓i̪͎̠ng ͔th̳̹̫em,͚̼̠ ̠t̮̬h̦̞ey ̜̞̙w͉i̹̹ḷl͎ nev͉̬͇e̥̯r̳̰ ͕̩a̮cc̰e̳p̝̝t̮ t͙̮̘h̺is̲̫ outc̦o̠me.̣ ͖͎ͅThe͕̮y wil̙l̜̲ ͈̜.͓͙ ̘.͔̘ . ̠͈i̫n͙̣t̮e̞r̻͇fer̦e.̼̤ A͉̠nd then ͍̫͈m̘̞y͉̜͔sel͔f̗ ̙̯a̜̞̹nd ̟̳As̞ri͙e͔l ̝̺wi̩͙ll̯̫ ͍b̪e͈ ̹̖̖ḷ͕͔o̫st f̣o̼̭̳re͕v̗er.̙̫̞ His gaze hardened. Th̻̦i̩s ̗̬͉is̬̭ ̬ͅmy̻̺ ͈̱͔f̬i̦na̩̣l ͓̱̬w͇i̬̦̼sh̠. ̳̩͙My d͔̣̯e̫cͅi͙s͈͕ion͈. ̹̙͙M̹̼̦ỵ̹̣ ̻̳c͓̭̮hoic̰̬̭e ̟̲̫t͔̩̦o̬ ͈̫d̟o t͎̰͈his ̥̱one las̗t th̯͈i̖ng,͔͚̩ f̮͎or̘ ț̠̼ḫem, an̪̩̣d for̤͚ ̪̬̦th͓̱̝e w̭o̪̣̫rld̺.͇̻̞

Sans let out a bitter laugh. “So. This is your ending, huh? You get to die a hero?” Sans balled his hands into fists. “You don’t deserve that! You don’t deserve forgiveness!”

I̻ ne̥͓̻v̙͔e̹̫r sa͔i̳̠̠d̼ any̝͈t̠͔̫ḫ͎̱i̖ng̺̣ ͙ab̯ou̲̺t͙ ̣͈f̳̫orgi̩̗vene̫̙̖s̠̠s,̩̬ Gaster said calmly. I͚͎̙ am͍ well pas̰̞̝t̖̰̼ ̺t̫h̦e͈͕̗ ̮̱͉p̭̹o̱͍int̘ of͍͍̞ ̱ṛe͉̻ͅde̳̗̮mp̫t̺̠i̥̪o͎̫̪n o͔͓͇r ̗ͅsa͓̞l͈͚va̼͙t̺̼̹ion̺͇.̩̜ I ̞kno̭w I ̳c̤̣͉ann͍o̲͓̠t̘̼ ̝̜̳b͉̼e͖ fo̩̫rgi̘̩v͇͕e̱̳͕n̥͖ f̳̻o̫̣r w͈͇͔ha̝t ̭̪̞I’v̯̣̙e̹̝ͅ ̝ͅdon̜̟̤e. But̯̟ a̜̦l͚͎low ̫̯͉m͉̜e̗̤̘ ṭ̦o g͕͈i̟v̱͙̱e a se̺̗͚c̹͈̪o͙̗̠n̪͔̲dͅ chanc̜̠͖e̩ ͕to̼ ̹̠ͅth͉̮̞e̼̥͖ ̮o͎̲͎ne̮͓ p̣̗̲er̠̲̱so̯̯n̮̳̞ ̭̝̮w̖̬h͓̼͔o t̲͈͕r̤̞u̳̼l͈̥̝y̞̺ de̻s͙̥̞e̜r̭v̯̣es͕͇̭ ̜it.͖

Gaster’s features, as warped and distorted as they were, had been stoic and still, but at this, his expression contorted into one of true sorrow and grief. His brows shifted with sadness, the light in his flickering eyes desperate and pleading. 

P̘̙̰le̝ase. L͚e̘̠t m̘̞̺e͍̱ͅ ͈̳s̪̯av͚̫ͅe ͍͙̤hḭm.͙͎̼

–

Frisk and Asriel listened to the brothers tell their story, struck silent. Frisk couldn’t help but feel . . . betrayed. And used. It was such a filthy underhanded thing to do–

But in their heart of hearts, they knew Gaster was right. If they knew, they would have protested. They would have fought back with all they had–

Still.

It did nothing to lessen the sting. It hurt so bad, knowing that they couldn’t save him–

But Papyrus, seeing their torment and pain, put a hand on their shoulder comfortingly. “Frisk, please do not be upset with him. You’ve given him something he’s been waiting for a very long time now: peace.”

Frisk shuddered, closing their eyes and composing themselves. It was still so hard to accept. But was it not the case that in every other ending, there was always someone left behind?

Their gaze turned to Asriel, who had been listening on, also wrestling with his own grief. 

“I also believe that Gaster gave you something?” Papyrus added.

The letter! Frisk ripped it out of their pocket, feeling a hot lump build in their throat. The bastard had of course planned this and had lied to them from the start. They pulled out the letter addressed to them and ripped it open, Asriel peering over their shoulder.

Frisk began to read it out loud.

Dear Asriel and Frisk, 

By the time you read this letter, I will be dead. And my plan would have undoubtedly succeeded in doing what I intended to do from the start: To give the one monster in the entire Underground who is truly worthy of it a second chance.

I understand by now you must feel deceived, and for that I am sorry. But I knew if I had conveyed my true intentions, it would have jeopardized the mission. Frisk, as kind and as compassionate as you are, I know that bull-headed stubbornness of yours far too well. You would have never agreed to any of this if you knew that I would be forfeiting my own life.

You truly are the blood of my dearest student.

But I give up my life freely and gladly, without regret or remorse. Frisk, I know how much you wanted to give me that second chance. I know you wanted to SAVE me to make reparations, to start anew, to redeem myself. But you did not heed my words when I told you I wanted none of that. I have lived a very, very long life. I had my chances. I made friends, I’ve loved, I’ve lost, and I made my choices. I had my chance to live.

But Asriel has not. His life was cut so bitterly short, so young and so full of potential.

If anyone deserves a second chance, it would be him.

Asriel, you truly deserve this, do not doubt it for a second. I remember you when we first met. You are kind, compassionate, intelligent, and will undoubtedly grow into a great and honorable monster.

Now, my dear Prince, my final words to say to you are this: you must not dwell and despair on the actions of your past. Take solace that at this moment, they did not happen. Your friends and family are alive, they are with you, and they love you. Do not despair. Share their love and joy.

Ah, but that is so easy to say but so very hard to do. I know. Because it is not that easy, is it, dear Prince? You may find it easy to blame and hate yourself for your sins, but that is a dark and terrible place to tread and I urge you not to descend that path. There is nothing there but horror and despair.

If you truly wish to seek redemption and reparations for your transgressions, then find it in the good deeds you do for others. Find redemption in kind acts to others,  find it in the love you share with family and friends. Let go regret and guilt and give selflessly. You may wish to seek forgiveness. You may wish to earn it, but forgiveness is not something that is earned. It is given freely and willingly. And most important of all, you must be able to give it to yourself.

There is so much I wish to say, so much I want to tell you. But I have full confidence the both of you will lead monsters and humans alike into a new era of peace and prosperity. You will do great and wondrous things, I have full faith in that.

I do not do any of this in the name of redemption or repentance or forgiveness. I do this because it is right , and because this is my final wish: To make one life better from beyond the veil of existence. And if I can accomplish that, then I am content. I can pass in peace knowing my final act was helping another. That is all I wish for.

Enjoy the stars and sun for me.

Dr. W.D. Gaster

Frisk finally finished reading, looking up from the letter with fresh tears brimming in their eyes. Asriel was already crying, messily sniffling and wiping at his nose. 

“Gaster always seemed to know just what to say,” Asriel whispered between his sniffles. “I was feeling so guilty because of everything I did–”

“But now you can start over,” Papyrus encouraged. “And you can count on your best friends to stand right by your side whenever you’re feeling down!”

Asriel smiled. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do! Or I am not called the Great Papyrus!”

Asgore and Toriel, both composing themselves from what must have been an incredibly emotional moment, gathered to discuss what to do next.

“Now that the barrier is down, all the monsters can go free,” Asgore said. “And . . . it would be my great honor if I could continue to rule monsters with you by my side, dear Tori.” He extended his hand to her, looking on expectantly. Wishing. Hoping. Praying.

Toriel took a moment, many thoughts crossing her mind. She still resented Asgore for what he did after her son’s death. Asgore had lashed out in pain and grief and she didn’t think she could ever forgive him for that. But what she did afterwards–running away, abandoning her people, locking herself away, letting her entire kingdom and her dear husband fall into despair–well, that had been cruel of her, hadn’t it?

She gave Asgore such grief for not taking one human soul and passing the barrier to gather the other six he would need, but seeing what happened to Asriel–how could she expect Asgore to face anything different? How could she expect Asgore, radiating great and terrible god-like power, to just walk up to humans and ask them for six souls? What would she expect humans to do?

It also didn’t escape her notice that if she so chose, she could have left the Ruins at any time. She could have escorted the ones that fell down here to the barrier herself. She could have lead Frisk here and faced Asgore–

But she didn’t.

She made her choices, too. And now, she had another one to make.

Toriel would be lying if she said she didn’t miss her husband’s company dearly. And seeing Asriel look up at her, practically begging her to say yes . . .

She wanted nothing more than to be a family again.

They would have much to talk about, much to amend, but right now she wanted nothing more than to be with her husband and child once again.

“I accept,” she said, taking his hand. She pulled close, a small smile crossing her muzzle as she touched her snout to his. “You’ll always be my King Fluffybuns.”

Asgore laughed a deep booming full-bellied laugh as he gripped Toriel into a hug. “And you I shall love and cherish for the rest of my days.”

Asriel made a sound of mock-disgust. “Ugh! Parents!” he laughed. “And what about Frisk? Can they stay with us, too?”

Asgore and Toriel looked at the human, exchanging a quick look between them. 

“Well, I suppose that is up to you,Frisk,” Asgore said carefully. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

“And if not,” Toriel spoke up. “I know we’d love to welcome you as another member of our family.”

Frisk didn’t even need to think about it. “I want to stay with you,” they said. “If–if you’ll have me.”

The Dreemurrs didn’t have to say anything. They just wrapped up Frisk in a mighty hug.

“Welcome to the family,” Toriel said, nuzzling Frisk.

Frisk let themselves relax and bask in their warmth and love. And finally, finally , they felt . . .

Fulfilled.

“Alright, enough of this mushy sappy CRAP!” Undyne suddenly shouted, causing everyone to jump. Frisk honestly forgot they weren’t the only ones in the room at the moment. 

“I challenge all here to a race outside!” Undyne said, her mouth splitting wide into a great toothy grin. “Last one out of this dumb cave is a rotten crab apple!”

She took off in a dead sprint, but Papyrus was not to be outdone. Quick on the draw as ever, his form crackled with an explosion of orange magic and his form shifted instantaneously into his Blaster form–

His normal Blaster form, the one Frisk had grown so accustomed to seeing. The one that was truly Papyrus.

The great skeletal dragon overtook Undyne before they were even out of the throne room, practically scampering up the walls as he took the turns at a full sprint. Undyne shouted from behind him.

“OH YOU GREAT BIG CHEATER!!!”

Papyrus responded with a series of loud barks of laughter.

Frisk and Asriel watched them take off, laughing at the sight. Frisk could tell how eager everyone was to get out of this cave, but they still had a few more things to do first.

“We should let everyone else know. Tell them the good news,” Frisk said to Asriel, and Asriel nodded eagerly in agreement.

“We’ll wait for you right here,” Toriel said. “And then we can go see the sun together!”

Hand in hand, Frisk and Asriel took off to make their rounds all throughout the Underground. Every monster they met, they spread the good news that the barrier was broken.

And that Prince Asriel had returned.

Frisk had no idea how to explain that to everyone, so they simply . . . didn’t. No one needed to know the truth about Asriel’s existence as a flower, so when the inevitable question arose, they simply shrugged and shook their heads.

Who knows? Does it matter? He’s back, and that’s all that’s important.

It was the least Frisk could do to ensure Asriel got that fresh new start that Gaster wanted for them. 

So on they traveled. All throughout Hotlands, telling all the guards and residents. News of their freedom spread like wildfire and soon the entire Underground had erupted in celebration. By the time the two finally made it to Snowdin, the entire town was alight with festive celebration and jubilant merry-making. Already monsters were packing up and readying to move out into the world above.

The two were showered with praise and admiration. They could barely make it two steps before the residents descended on them, insisting on shaking their hand or giving them a hug or simply wishing them well. After what felt like hours talking to every single monster Frisk had ever met, they finally broke away and stole into Grillby’s bar, desperate for a reprieve.

Asriel and Frisk giggled as they snuck away, hoping the bar would be fairly empty with everyone out and about. It would either be dead or packed to the brim with celebration, but Frisk had another reason for being here.

They had a letter to deliver.

Much to their relief, the bar did happen to be mostly empty, though a monster or two lingered at the booths as they shared a celebratory drink. Working away at the bar was Grillby himself, busily cleaning the many glasses on his shelf and even he seemed to be sorting thighs to be packed up later.

Frisk approached, greeting the fiery bartender with a wave. Grillby looked up and dipped his head in silent greeting to them. Asriel was right behind them, and Frisk could very nearly see Grillby’s “eyes” widen considerably at the sight of the young monster. Asriel gave a sheepish wave, to which Gaster gave a small bow to the prince, placing a hand on his chest.

“Hey, Grillby!” Frisk greeted, crawling on top of a barstool. Asriel saddled up right next to them. “We’re here to share the good news that the barrier is down and we can all go free!”

Grillby gave another nod, the flames that made his body brightening and sparks dancing off his head in a clear sign of his joy. The bartender had always been a monster of few words.

He set down his glass and gestured to the bar, silently asking Frisk if they wanted anything to eat or drink, but Frisk shook their head.

“Ok, thanks, but I’m good, we just needed to sit down and catch our breath,” Frisk said, gesturing to themselves and Asriel. “We’ve been all over the Underground talking to practically everyone. We’re exhausted!”

Grillby’s mouth crackled like a warm fireplace as he laughed. 

“But I actually have something for you,” Frisk said. Grillby tilted his head curiously as Frisk pulled out the letter, handing it to Grillby. Grillby raised a hand to take it, but Frisk snatched it away. Grillby blinked, his eyes quirking with confusion.

“It’s from Gaster,” Frisk said slowly, and at the mere mention of Gaster’s name, Grillby’s flames grew red hot in anger and sparked in a much more violent fashion. Steam hissed from his jagged mouth and those white piercing eyes narrowed into white-hot circles of fury. But Frisk was not intimidated.

“He wanted me to give you this,” they went on. “But I need you to promise me you’ll read it the whole way through. And then you can get rid of it if you want. But you have to promise.”

Frisk once again held it forward, but kept it out of Grillby’s reach as they stared the monster down. Grillby’s flames were still red-hot and Frisk could feel the heat from where they sat, but with a resigned and frustrated sigh, he nodded.

He reached out his hand, but once again Frisk pulled away.

“Do you promise?” Frisk challenged.

Grillby hissed. He closed his eyes, his shoulders squaring, and he dipped his head.

“I . . . promise.”

Satisfied, Frisk handed over the letter.

Grillby ripped it open. Despite his promise, Grillby couldn’t help but smoulder the edges of the paper as he held it between his fingers. To his credit, he did not instantly vaporize it, and his eyes quickly scanned over the writing.

Grillby didn’t talk much. And sometimes it was hard to read emotions on the flame elemental. It was easy to read him at the moment, given his anger, and that anger sustained for a moment as he began to read.  But that fiery anger softened, muting back down to a more subdued level. And then the fire nearly died down completely to the intensity of a flickering candle, Grillby’s eyes widening and a hand raising to his mouth. The flames around his head turned a soft and gentle blue as he read on. His shoulders heaved. His hand shook.

Frisk didn’t know if Grillby could cry, but they imagined this was what it must look like.

Grillby finished reading, drawing one final shuddering breath as he folded up the letter and carefully–oh so carefully and gently–folded it back up and tucked it away inside his vest. He looked up at Frisk, his expression one Frisk could only describe as . . . grateful.

“Thank you,” was all he said.

Frisk and Asriel didn’t stay much longer. Grillby informed the other patrons he’d be closing up soon. He had much to attend to, much to plan and pack up.

And surely much to think about.

With Frisk and Asriel finally making their rounds, they returned to the throne room where Asgore and Toriel were patiently waiting for them. Everyone had already gone up ahead, not that Frisk blamed them, but now together once more, they made their way to the exit.

They were free. It was over.

It was finally, finally over.

They stood at the mouth of the cave, high atop a rocky cliff, looking over a spectacular scene. The sun was rising, casting a golden glow on everything around it. A thick luscious forest surrounded the mountain, and far, far off in the distance there was a city, metallic skyscrapers piercing the sky and glistening and shimmering like jewels in the morning light. 

Frisk could stay up here forever to admire the view. 

They weren’t alone with that sentiment. Papyrus, Sans, Undyne, Alphys, Asgore, Toriel, and Asriel, all standing shoulder-to-shoulder, looked over the world sprawled out before them, taking it all in, enjoying the sun after so many years beneath Mount Ebott. 

“It’s so bright!” Papyrus said. “Say, what is that thing, anyway?”

“That’s what we call the sun , Papyrus,” Sans laughed. 

“Wowie! I can’t believe I’m finally meeting the sun after all this time!”

“And smell that fresh crisp air!” Undyne said, taking a deep breath. “Ah, man, I can’t believe we’re finally here!”

“It truly is beautiful, is it not?” Toriel said. “But we should start to think about what comes next.”

“Of course,” Asgore said. “Everyone, this is the beginning of a bright new future. An era of peace between humans and monsters. Frisk, I have something to ask of you. Will you act as our ambassador to the humans?”

“Of course!” Frisk said without pause. “I can do that! And you all can help me!”

“We’ll be sure to make a great first impression! I’ll be sure to dress my Sunday best when we get to meet all the humans in the city!” Papyrus said.

“I have no doubt you will!” Frisk laughed.

“Well, off I go! I’m going to greet as many humans as possible!” Papyrus said. He spun sharply on his heel and began to race down the mountain at a break-neck pace.

Sans chuckled as he watched his brother go. “Welp, someone’s gotta keep an eye on him. See you around, kiddos.” He then turned down a different path to go down the mountain, which was, funnily enough, a much shorter path than the one Papyrus took.

“Hey! Wait up! Don’t think you can get away from me so easily!” Undyne shouted, chasing after Papyrus. 

Alphys called out excitedly, she too giving chase. “And wait for me, too!”

Now it was just the Dreemurrs and Frisk standing together on the mountain, watching their friends head off to make good on their new start in a new bright shining future. Never before had Frisk felt so happy, so satisfied, so . . . relieved. 

There was still much they regretted. They regretted that it took so long for them to finally get here. They regretted that they weren’t able to save Gaster. But they couldn’t waste their life wallowing in despair. 

The whole world was waiting for them. Their future was theirs for the taking. And together, with all the loving friends and family Frisk could ever want, their future felt unlimited.

Frisk took Asriel’s hand.

“Let’s go make the most of it.”

And they walked off into the sunrise, their soul brimming with DETERMINATION.

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: I didnt like how so many ppl treated UT Yellow like direct canon. I've people get hate or made fun of if they didnt portray The Justice & Integrity souls how they were portrayed in UT Yellow.

Really dont like that its caused canon Integrity to be viewed like like some monster killing maniac based off their tutu being dusty in 1 line of flavor text. Hey maybe thats what the text is implying but it just feels like the Chara mischaracterization all over again.

[inbarfink]

Flowey is meant, I think, to be a sort of a representation of the Player. He has just slightly less Determination than we do and he was filling up that exact same role before Frisk fell into the Underground. He was the one with the power of RESETs and SAVEs before we came along, so he was basically playing his own ‘prequel’ to Undertale over and over

First aiming at getting a 'good ending' -

But since he was unable to see anyone else in the Underground as a real person (what seems to be some sort of combination of the lack of a SOUL, being unable to process his Massive Amount of Trauma and the repeated time-loops allowing him to notice the repetitiveness and limitations of everyone’s reactions) he started moving into choosing crueler and cruller options.

Despite his affinity toward sadistic gloating, it is important to note that Flowey’s main motivation is actually boredom. Although he will only open up about it to Chara, the real reason why he’s out to harness the power of the Human SOULs and destroy everyone - essentially his equivalent to a Murder Route - is because destroying the world is the one last thing he hasn't done yet. The one option he hadn't seen yet.

Which mirrors the mindset of many who start on the Murder Route, as Sans himself points out.

Important to note here is that despite Flowey talking about how he ‘killed everyone’, he never actually completed his ‘Murder Runs’. Like both in the sense that he never got to destroy the Entire Universe like the Player does at the end of a Murder Route and Flowey tries to in the Neutral Ending, and in the sense that the reason why he couldn’t is because he never got his vines on the Human SOULs before the events of the game. So there must’ve always been someone that stopped him before he got there. The implication is that it was usually either Asgore -

Or Sans, as usual playing the role of a Murder Route final boss -

The fact he could never beat them might have something to do with his plant body being weaker than the Player’s Human body or whatever - but I think it is probably mainly a matter of Determination. Again, he is slightly less Determined than the Player is - so he would logically be slightly more prone to quitting. Flowey is basically equivalent to a Player who has done everything in Undertale but never actually completed the Murder Route cause he rage-quitted at the Sans Battle.

His relationship to Papyrus can also be a mirror to the Player’s. Since Papyrus is the one character who is always willing to befriend the Player no matter the circumstance. In the more dusty Neutral Runs he is characterized as being in the dark (or in denial) about how terrible his ‘friend’ actually is…

And that is basically also the relationship he has with Flowey in the current timeline. Papyrus is the only one who thinks of Flowey as a friend (and, well, the only one to know he EXISTS in this timeline), but he is totally in the dark (or perhaps willfully ignorant) to this ‘friend’ and his true nature.

Meanwhile, Flowey's behavior once he regains his Asriel form in the Pacifist Route mirrors the behavior of a Player who is replaying the Pacifist Route. He became so attached to the Player that he refuses to let the ‘game’ end.

Instead resorting to a plan to reset time and the Player’s memories over and over again, with the Player doing the exact same things again and again -

Just so Flowey won’t have to say goodbye.

That is basically the mindset behind replaying the Pacifist Route after already achieving everyone’s Happy Ending. Within the fiction of the game, you’re ripping them all away from their happy ending, resetting all of their progress - just because you have a hard time moving on from the game, just because you want another chance to play with them.

And the Route ends with the suggestion of a possibility that Flowey might be able to redeem himself and start caring about others again.

Just as a Player might be able to prove a genuine care to the characters on an in-universe level by being able to resist the temptations of the True Reset.

But they also might not…

Flowey is a third-person-POV demonstration to the Player of how a Player-like entity would be like in a video game world. An immortal time god who knows everything about everyone even while no one really knows them. Someone who has experienced every single reaction anyone could have to anything until they have become unable to see others as anything but predictable lines of code. Someone who prioritizes their own sentimentalities for others over these others’ actual desires. Someone who will destroy the entire world just because it’s something they haven’t done yet.

And I think Asriel, as part of this metaphor, is a demonstration of how this concept of the Player as an Amoral Time God within the fiction of the game does not necessarily translate into a condemnation of the actual real-world morals of the actual person playing the game.

Because Asriel and Flowey are the same person. The difference is that Flowey had Consequences-Free Time God Powers and an (supposed?) inability to care about others in the Underground as real people. In other words, Asriel is the self that interacts with the world as the real world - and Flowey is the self that interacts with the world as a Player in a Game. So while Flowey might be a mirror of the Player, Asriel might be closer to who we are in the real world.

And also…

I wonder if the scene where you have a chance to forgive or not forgive Asriel for what he has done as Flowey is also meant as a chance for the Player to self-reflect and forgive or not forgive themselves for the things they did before that True Pacifist Run. You know, whatever characters you might have accidentally or not-so-accidently killed in previous runs, whatever decisions you regret, whatever previous True Resets you might have done… If you believe Asriel can be forgiven (and most players do) for his actions - because he feels genuine remorse and he’s trying to do better now, then the Player can also forgive themself.

Well, outside of one little thing… There is one bad deed the game won’t ‘forgive’ you for. And it is the one thing that the Player can do and Flowey never could…

Finish a Murder Route.

[luminologism]

About your moonkids - were they at all inspired by land of the lusterous? I didnt want to assume but the thought had me very 👀👀👀

I love your bunny kids theyre adorable <3

Question also about their lore; what kind of thoughts do you have on their capes? Like any design elements they follow or anything?

ty for the ask!!

about land of the lusterous - it was totally unintentional, but i very much enjoy that series! it means a lot to me, so i think my appreciation of the artistic themes leaked through subconsciously! it wasn't an intentional move to be inspired by land of the lusterous, but it definitely shows, doesn't it? >w< the designs are most certainly similar, but the lore i have for my skykids are decidedly different! i have an absolutely terrible memory due to having a fried brain, so often i find that visual motifs or silhouettes that i really like lodge themselves in my memory without remembering what i am exactly pulling from in my head, and then it shows through in my art! recently i watched alien stage as well, and i unintentionally pulled a lot of visual cues from the character sua in my recently rozen maiden ocs. about my lore for moonkids - i think the basis for moon skykids capes is that they tend to be very fluffy, or at least built for warmth. they are also built for holding light in and floating in low gravity, opposed to flight in a high gravity environment like normal skykids. setting aside the reality that the moon would be freezing, i think moon skykids would be prone to being cold, so heavy or warm capes are likely paramount. i view the normal skykids as being born of warmth and sunlight, and i view the moonkids as the reflection (since the moon is a mirror!). so, i think their light is cold and maybe even icy, sort of distilled maybe? since moonlight is just a reflection of the sun. i think all the moon skykids i have, not just the buns, are always freezing cold!! so their cape design philosphy is that the capes are build to be warm! my non-lore chara design philosophy for the bunnies were that they were meant to be like dust bunnies (the moon is dusty!). i envisioned them floating around more opposed actual flight, like dandelion or dust particles in the air. this was just compounded with the lack of strong gravity on the moon - so i think their capes, regardless of design, are usually not built for actual flight since everybody just bounces and floats about on the moon ^_^ i think their capes can look like anything really, just like how normal skykids can look like anything too. but much like how the brown cape is the moths default, the fluffy dust bunny cape is the default for the bunnies!

[4harv3y]

Yay it will let me send asks now! Anyways how does clover react to all the changes on the surface? A LOT would have changed after all (especially if they were REALLY a cowboy)

Actually, I made separate concepts exploring Clover’s Homelife. Including the dialogue from In-game.

Concept 1.

If Clover was REALLY a Cowpoke (Yes, there IS a neutral word for Cowboys/girls, they’re also known as Wranglers or Ranch Hand!) then I would think that Clover depending if you wish to include Flowey from the previous posts about the AfterMath; Would be confused, but would also try to wander aimlessly trying to find their hometown/house, for they prioritize getting back home SOON as possible, the news about the human souls? The monsters? Those can wait.

I doubt anyone will notice a kid that has missing for a COUPLE of years, but I bet they will surely notice the sentient flower with a face of course. But since it’s [Insert what year you think.] I bet Clover and Flowey will be given suspicious stares and glances. They think it’s a Halloween costume 😭

Until maybe, somehow. Someone will recognize the child that looks awfully similar to the kid that disappeared in Mt. Ebott OR maybe someone realizes that KID has a REAL gun on their hands, maybe which may in a cause. Might get the police involved.

Fun fact: Me and a moot discussed that, when Frisk buys the Gun and Cowboy hat from Batty and Catty, they can have to option to return those two items back to Clover when they both meet again in a cutscene during Undertale.

Which of course made me split the scenario AGAIN, into 2 alternate time-lines.

Scenario 1. (Clover and perhaps Flowey get taken to the police station for questioning)

Or…

Scenario 2. (Clover and perhaps Flowey escape the police, making them wanted by the police.)

Take note, This AU takes place during the Pacifist Route of Clover, so Fighting the Police is a BIG NO NO.

(I also wanted to detail Flowey telling Clover to attack, like what happened between Chara and Asriel. Which reminded him about it.)

Either way, Both scenarios and concepts will only lead to ONE THING. Clover and Flowey get into Hiding.

This leads to Concept 2. Based on this information what on what could presumably Clover's home life be.

Concept 2.

This could be the reason why Clover was so PRONE to be able to get persuaded to stay with Toriel or ANYONE.

Clovers parents were probably poor and weren't treated right, which would make sense as to why Clover wants Justice. Or perhaps Clover didn't really HAVE parents and was probably in a cramped orphanage.

Nevertheless, Concept 2 digs into Clover's home issues. Even though I wish I could explain more, but in a short story.

Clover DOES find their house, there's only one floor, no windows, and it looks abandoned. Flowey questions it, and Clover shrugs and states ‘💛Always been like that.’ Making Flowey so DAMN suspicious about Clover's home life. And once Clover opens the door, it just all-in-one room, no walls to have privacy, just like Starlos house. But way more dirty, dusty, and cramped, there are some broken glass on the floor which Clover avoids, scattered garbage and papers, a typical thing you see for a hoarder type room.

Or Clover was just homeless kid who lived with poor and cramped conditions that they felt like they got robbed of something and wanted justice not for themselves but for others too.

Either way, Flowey takes notes of it and looks uneasy and nervous about Clover’s home life. Which causes Flowey to talk to them about the situation they are in.(Maybe making a fanfic or comic about the convo.)

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Ya know I could read a whole fic about Chara and Killer’s partnership in the Something New timeline before they inevitably went to shit. From beginning to the end and beyond. Killer being so incredibly lost and confused as he adjusts to this new existence, Chara here to guide him.

And at first it’s fine. It’s a slow going mess, Chara has to teach Killer things he would’ve known had he still been Sans, and teach him things Sans does not and would refuse to know. And they have to be careful, test what Killer does and doesn’t know—what is the tipping point that could bring back Sans, what could turn Killer against them, what could break him completely and leave him basically catatonic.

It’s not outright any obvious abuse or torture at first, there are no signs on Killer’s body to point to what he endured previously as Sans. The Reset dealt with any physical evidence, and a lot of the torture was targeting him mentally and emotionally—tearing down, corrupting and degrading what made him Sans. And all of it which led to the creation of another identity in the dust of a fallen star.

There’s an established, unchallenged power dynamic—not even any pretense of being partners. Killer doesn’t have any personal ambitions or goals of his own, so he has to cling to Chara for stability in the world wind of life—their wants become his own. He doesn’t know a time where he didn’t want what they wanted. Perhaps Killer gets about a solid two or three years before ever experiencing his first remembered death or Reset.

And this is actually the longest Chara had gone without Resetting or going back, this is the longest they had ever allowed things to move forward, in a very long time—which had been exactly what Sans had wanted all along. Maybe some part of them struggles with how easy it was to just..move on. Live again.

This is the most Chara remembers being happy in a while. They’re enjoying not being alone, pretending that they’re just any regular person who dies and doesn’t come back and can’t mess around with time. They’re enjoying teaching Killer and getting to know this..strange version of Sans.

They can almost forget about the Player. About how we’re bound to get bored or curious enough to attempt something differently. To Reset, just because we can, and because we can, we feel like we have to. Chara can almost forget.

And like, basically a fanfic following Killer’s (unknowingly) second childhood and it initially starts off fine—Chara is teaching Killer how to read and write, and he isn’t allowed to leave this designated area or interact with anyone that isn’t Chara ever—but there’s sense of rising tension and it all gradually devolves into a psychological horror with manipulation, gaslighting.

The lessons escalate into murder and violence and escalating torture and abuse until Killer’s completely lost the plot and any sense of stability and reality and the only think that matters is Chara until something or someone starts shaking his sense of self once again and shakes those dusty memories off the shelf in his mind and realizes he wasn’t always this and he can also be something else if he wanted.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

of freedom and of pleasure 2/?

i can't stop thinking about this au..... help me.... HELP!!!! chara and killer interacting briefly before the big shift comes rip to killer i guess

part 2 of 4... for now..... (part 1 here for anyone interested)

(cw: war crimes the series, child soldier chara, prisoner of war killer, suicidal ideation)

killer hears them before he sees them.

a muttered conversation just outside of his holding cell. the sounds of boots shuffling away. then the rustling of the canvas flaps as they part, revealing a cloaked figure holding a lamplight. it is dark outside, killer notes absentmindedly. he has almost lost his sense of time in here. how much time has passed since he was captured? a day? a week? a month? no one has done anything to him except treating his injuries and feeding him his prisoner’s rations. killer wonders if they are even going to do anything at this point – if dust is going to do anything.

nevertheless, the sight of the chara stirs something in him. he’s bored, anxious, and fatigued all the time – maybe it’d be good to have some good conversation around these damp, oppressively silent spaces.

“didn’t expect to see you here, cadet,” he says, his voice rasping due to disuse. “what’s the matter? couldn’t sleep without checking in on your favorite prisoner?”

chara’s face twists with irritation. they cross their arms. “shut up. i didn’t come here to hear you talk nonsense to me.”

“well, yet here you are anyway, listening to me talking my nonsense.” killer shifts, the magic-inhibiting chains clanking heavily as he leans against the central post with a strained grin. “something tells me this visit isn’t exactly sanctioned by dear old dusty.”

chara’s glare intensifies. “stop calling him that, you… worm.”

“ouch, i’m so hurt. did i touch a nerve there?” killer’s grin fades, but his voice remains light. “let me guess. you’re here to yell at me for trying to kill dust for the… third time? fourth time?”

“sixth time,” chara snaps, their voice sharp. “six times you tried to kill him. don’t pretend this is some joke.”

“it’s war, kiddo. death is kinda a joke around here. everyone else has given me the threats already before you.” killer chuckles, a hollow and humorless sound. “you know, maybe seventh time will be the lucky charm, eh?”

chara doesn’t say anything. their jaw tightens and their fists clench. after a few seconds of breathing, they finally shoot back, their voice steady. “what are you to him? why is he keeping you alive instead of killing you outright?”

killer raises his eye ridge, then blinks slowly and tilts his head, a sardonic drawl in his reply. “i don’t think you’re qualified as an interrogator, kid.”

“don’t dodge the question.”

“dodging’s what us sanses do best,” killer shrugs. “though i have to ask: why the question? are you jealous? insecure about what you are to him? tell me, kid: what is he to you?”

chara’s body turns stiff, their lips turned into a thin line. bingo. killer lets a smile grace his face.

“you’re derailing,” the human says, gritting their teeth.

“am i?” he replies, one eye closed as he props his chin on his fist. “we’re just getting to the good part. you’re the one coming here with questions, but not for me – they’re for you. i don’t think you’re ready to hear the answers.”

“i-” chara hesitates, a look of frustration passing through the face. “this isn’t about me.”

“is it?” killer asks lightly. “what do you expect to hear from a guy who tried to kill your commander six times? you’re here for something, and it’s not me.”

“stop acting like you know me!” chara snaps, taking a step towards the bars. “you don’t know me! and you don’t know him!”

“oh, but i do,” killer murmurs, his eyelights unusually bright as he stares at the unfamiliar familiar face in front of him. “i know what it’s like to be someone else’s weapon. to be molded to be exactly what they want you to be.”

“stop- i-” chara freezes, something vulnerable in their expression showing briefly before they mask it with their usual anger. “i’m nothing like you. commander- dust is not using me. he’s not.”

“i never said anything about dust,” killer grins faintly. “you’re the one saying it. but it rings true, doesn’t it? you’re the one fighting his battles for him. and what are you? fifteen?”

“i’m not a kid,” chara repeats, though the sentiment rings hollow. “and commander isn’t using me. i volunteered for this.”

“did you? and even so, i know what war does to people, especially kids. nightmare’s got you out of your universe not out of the kindness of his soul, but because of that special ability you have to turn the tide of the game – nothing more.”

chara’s face flushes with anger. “you don’t know about that! at least nightmare saved us, unlike the council you work for that deemed us too dangerous to be worthwhile!”

"sure," killer says, his voice dripping with cynicism. "because nothing screams ‘savior’ like sending a kid to do his dirty work. and dusty? he’s fine with it. following orders like the good little soldier he’s always been. never questioning why you’re out here bleeding for someone else’s war."

“i said stop it!” chara screams, the air around them buzzing with magic that it gives killer pause, but only for a moment.

“he doesn’t care, kid. or at least he doesn’t care enough. you think he’d go against nightmare’s orders if it meant keeping you safe?” killer’s voice becomes softer. “take it from me, cadet. you can’t blindly trust anyone – not dust, not nightmare, not anyone. everyone has their own interests in the war. everyone wants to rule their own piece of the world. if you give someone all of yourself, you’ll have nothing left when the war is over. if the war will ever be over.”

chara’s shoulders tremble, their voice shaking, on the verge of crying. “i don’t need advice from someone like you. you’re a traitor and a coward.” they spit the words like venom, but it isn’t the first time killer has heard those insults.

“maybe.” killer shrugs, a self-depreciating smile on his tear-streaked face. “but even cowards can see the truth when it’s in front of them.”

silence falls upon them. killer turns his head away, pretending not to hear chara trying to heave back the sobs threatening to claw out of their throat. after a few uncomfortable minutes, chara coughs and takes a shaky breath, their red eyes trained upon killer with much intensity.

“you’re wrong about him,” they say, their voice low. “and you’re wrong about me. i’m not just here to talk.” with trembling hands, they reach under their cloak and pull out a knife tucked at their side. “i’m here to kill you.”

killer blinks, and then he lets out a disbelieving laugh. “you’ve got to be kidding me!” he guffaws, holding on the post for dear life. “so you really want to prove yourself to dust then? you think this will make him proud? ha-ha-ha!!”

chara’s grip on their knife tightens as they move closer to killer. “you’re dangerous,” they whisper. “you’re a threat to him – to all of us. if commander won’t see it, then someone has to. someone has to kill you.”

“go ahead then, cadet.” killer smirks, his body relaxed. “what are you waiting for? kill me.”

chara approaches killer carefully, like a small housecat sizing up a bigger predator in the wild. they put the lamplight down on the ground, then continue pointing the knife at killer, swallowing as they stop a few steps away from him. for a few minutes, both of them – captor and captive – only stare at each other, frozen in time. killer can see the small tremors in chara’s knife-gripping hand, their knuckle so tight it turns white. with a deep breath, they jump on killer, swiftly wrestling him down and grinding his head in the dirt, the knife pressing at his neck and drawing thick viscous blood mixed with something else. but then, they stop, only breathing shallowly on top of killer and not dealing the finishing blow.

“what’s the matter?” killer asks after an oppressive silence. “having second thoughts?”

“no…” chara breathes out shakily, their grip on killer’s skull tightening. “i need to do this… he’s compromised. i just know it. i need to…”

“don’t tell me you’re having cold feet now.” killer says, his voice mocking. “or did you realize killing me won’t solve whatever issues you have in your head? are you afraid of what dust will do to you if he finds out you broke his rules?”

chara jumps off killer, their body all jittery and rigid at the same time. they snatch the lamplight and, without a word, run out into the camp, leaving killer behind with a still bleeding gash in his neck. one minute. then two. then five goes by without any indication of the human returning. killer slowly sits up and presses his hand to his wound, apathetically watching the pattern his blood has created on the ground – the only form on entertainment he has around here in quite some time. he sneaks a glance at his soul – it has wobbled to a circular shape at some point without him knowing. that’s not good, a voice speaks to him somewhere far away, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“you’ll figure it out later,” he mumbles to himself, leaning against the post as he prepares to meet any further unwanted visitor for tonight. there goes his sleep again.

[grapemoon]

Yknow what i think would go hard? An undertale species swap au (what did they call it, uppertale? Humantale? Idk) where all they really need is One boss monster soul to break the barrier, but they don’t know the difference between a regular monster and a boss monster and the only two Boss monsters to fall were Frisk and Chara, and all the other children that fell down were regular monsters. Makes it a little more tragic that way imo, rather than having it just be undertale reverse edition.

Like, the tragedy of knowing that you really only need ONE monster’s soul to break the barrier so long as you have seven willing humans’ souls, but the last one to come through was over a hundred years ago and every time a new monster appears its a child, and it ends up dead, and the soul breaks instantly. Can you imagine how dusty the coffin room is? Do you think Asgore learned how monsters care for their dead, perhaps from Chara, long in the past, just to honor these fallen children?