#Iron!Asriel

[random-autie-fangirl]

I drew another Chara- living with the Dreemurrs edition

"The King and Queen treated the human child as their own. The underground was filled with hope."

I don't like this as much as the last one but oh well... I ended up rambling a huge amount in the tag, so if you want details and headcanons about the actual drawing again, you'll have to look pretty far down this time, sorry (Also, I ran out of tags after a while. Tumblr is tired of me, lol. I might reblog this more tags later if I remember what I was going to say.)

[the-determined-daydream]

[ * They pause for a while. ] "I would like to see it... with you." [ * They shift and dig at their lab coat. Trying to seem casual in some sort of way as they keep their hands active. ] "I didn't... create this place. It simply... exists because it does." [ * They hold something else in their hand. A piece of... glass of some kind? They must have taken it from the puppet as well. They shift it in their hands as it almost nearly cuts them again and again. ]

Asriel smiles and chuckles "well, you could've had me fooled...anyways... I didn't get the power I came for, but at least this trip wasn't a complete flop,"

"I'll probably come back later to see what you've done with this place, maybe, it depends if I'm allowed back,"

"Anyways, do you want to come look at the Timeline Mirror now? Or are you too busy?"

---

Frisk: "Oooh, they're gonna hang ouuut, they're gonna be brooos being brooss,"🎶

Flowey: "You're too excited about this potential friendship, you're at 9, I need you to take it back down to a 3, no, a 2,"

[akanemnon]

Now that I think about it, it’s ironic that in Twin Runes (and also a bit in "Standard" Undertale), even though UT!Toriel and UT!Asgore believe their children are dead, both of them are actually "alive" in some way. However, for one reason or another, they can’t (or won’t) reunite with them.

Chara has become a Determination ghost (I think that’s what it’s called), visible only to Kris, Frisk, and perhaps anyone with a red soul. Even though they now have a physical form in the Dark World, it seems implied that they can’t maintain this form in the Light World. Also, I doubt UT!Toriel or UT!Asgore would visit the Dark World anytime soon—unless something unusual happens (like Sans inviting Toriel, or Undyne involving Asgore). And even if they did, I don’t think Chara would appreciate it, considering that UT!Toriel tried to "replace" them with the first human child they came across (seven times, no less).

Asriel, on the other hand, became an emotionless and completely insane flower, to the point of killing his own father (though I doubt he even saw him as his father anymore by the time of Undertale’s events). Even in the True Pacifist Route’s ending, when Frisk meets Asriel after the battle, he asks them not to tell his parents that he’s actually Flowey, further highlighting the emotional distance he now has from them.

I hope I didn’t bore you too much with this long reflection, Akane!

Not at all. I like it when people think about these kinda things. Means that you're really engaging with the story. And that means a lot to me!

[carlyraejepsans]

Do you think Sans have tears. On that topic, what would make him cry?

i think he can, after all payrus seems to be able to cry just fine (post asriel battle when he thought frisk was dead), sans just. doesn't. ever, lol. i think he's much more likely to shut down and go aloof—if not completely unresponsive—than to outwardly show his emotions in situations of extreme stress.

however! i also like to think that his dialogue dropping his font and shaking during the lost SOULs battle meant that he was crying. it's not just a matter of that segment making the characters confront their deepest regrets/problems/faults, it's the fact that they're all very clearly not lucid as it happens. one of sans' distinctive character attributes is the iron grip he has over himself. it's what makes him desperately slamming you against the walls of the battle box at the end of his fight hit so hard. sans doesn't lose it. that's just not what he does. and you have to push him to the edge of his powers, to the edge of his energy resources, at the brink of exhaustion, with his back pressed against the wall and universal annihilation as an alternative, before his grip actually falters.

so. uh. other than that and having his consciousness overtaken by the power of a literal god?

a really bad high probably. wouldn't count on it tho

[pinkalliums]

uh yeah also heres something i drew awhile back...im sure it isnt super original or anything but uhh au where asriel dies and chara doesnt, ironically. they want to save asriel from dying which causes their soul to return to their body and they even die, but determination shenanigans. anyway its too late and he crumbles to dust in charas arms with toriel and asgore watching. unfortunate!

[riftfic]

14. Human

Who will save you now?

Warnings: strong language, referenced suicide, violence

Featured Characters: Sans, Chara/Frisk (Reader), Flowey/Asriel, Wingdings Gaster, Asgore Dreemurr

Note: If you haven't read the previous chapters recently (maybe even if you have outside the past few days), I recommend giving it another read. It's definitely not a requirement, but I added some extra details throughout the story and a few more scenes, most notably in Chapters 3 & 9, that should help the ending feel even more satisfying.

Several years later . . . here's the next chapter.

< Load | RESET | Continue >

From a single strip at the Underground’s heart, Waterfall tunneled away into a boneyard mess of caves. In one direction, the passage to Hotland sprawled in mushroom-light mazes and a boulder choke disguising Tem Village. In the other, a quiet bubble harbored a simple mouse, neck deep in plans to retrieve a wedge of crystallized cheese. Between them, from a silver door that had only been there sometimes, Sans stepped out into a flood of bioluminescence.

Though a door latched shut behind him, dark, damp stone replaced the surface he reclined against now. Its cold, unyielding texture met his fingertips, a reminder that there would be no second visit. 

He clutched the spindly metal bars of that unnaturally gray birdcage. He tucked his chin over the iron rung at its peak, hardly dousing the light of the small monster soul trapped inside. 

The task set before him was unconscionable. Even if he managed to survive . . .

“i can’t do that,” he had resisted. “i can’t kill Frisk!”

“They shouldn’t even be alive,” said Wingdings.

The words took Sans by surprise. He set his heels despite the encroaching void and a minute hand nearing his final stroke of midnight.

“oh, but ya want me to take this soul all the way back to asriel, huh?” he said. “make sure he survives? double standard, if y’ask me.”

"I didn't say it was fair,” Wingdings hardly breathed. His eyes gained urgency. “The human . . . might survive, if they're determined enough. But after you pull the lever . . .”

At that, Sans’ anger siphoned away, leaving behind a fear much broader than the fate of one human child. Their mistake had set so many events into motion. Lives had been built and destroyed, paths forged and buried. The machine could rewrite the course of everything as easily as it could leave the butterfly effect intact. They could remain here in the present or be sucked back to the day it all began. With a phenomenon this unpredictable, just about anything could happen . . . but whatever world they left behind, at least it might survive.

“if i do use their soul to run the machine,” Sans said more calmly, “what’ll happen to asriel, then? to me? to the underground? heck, what’ll happen to you?”

It was clear to Sans by the frown on Wingdings’ face that his brother had already considered this question. Despite his ingenuity, the once royal scientist only shook his head. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I do know what’ll happen if you don’t.”

In the present, Sans beat his fist against the rock behind him. Why did it have to be so fucking twisted? Why his Frisk? And why did he have to be the one to do it? Maybe it didn’t have to work out like this. Maybe there was more time than Dings thought. Maybe he could find another way. 

His phone buzzed rhythmically at his waist. He pulled it from his coat pocket and looked at the screen. The image of Papyrus illuminated those shadowy cavern walls below several missed call notifications. Sans took a deep, shaking breath, then another, and answered.

“pup . . .”

“SANS!” Papyrus shouted. “I’VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR HOURS!”

“oh.”

“I’M NEARLY TO NEW HOME. A FRIEND HAS INFORMED ME THAT THE HUMAN IS IN TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE DANGER! IS THAT TRUE?!”

Sans nearly broke down then and there. Though seeing Wingdings again had restored many of the deeper cracks in his soul, it still felt fragile, even more when considering the path ahead of him. 

“more than true,” he whispered.

A patch of silence followed. Sans dropped his cheek to rest on birdcage bars. 

“tell me it’s gonna be all right,” he murmured into the receiver.

“Sans . . . where are you?” Papyrus asked, more gently than was typical. 

“just tell me, please.”

“It’s . . .” Papyrus sighed. “It is going to be all right. Now, WHERE ARE YOU?”

Hearing the words in his brother’s voice quelled Sans’ fear, enough to return strength to his limbs. He lingered on the phone a moment longer, as if the connection truly placed him at Papyrus’ side.

“meet you there,” he said.

You followed in Asgore’s shadow, watching the folds of his cape sway and collide like cattails in the wind. His silhouette consumed yours. He could hold all of you in one hand, let alone the tiny red soul he sought to claim.

Past the end of that long hallway mirror of the Ruins, the barrier undulated with powerful magic. Its waves of golden white licked the crackled stone as if in search of escapees. It contoured Asgore’s silhouette in a crisp white line as he turned to face you. 

That all-too-familiar smile prickled the fur along his muzzle. Looking up into his apologetic eyes, you remembered his hands on your shoulders, his all-encompassing embrace that threatened to lose you in his fur. The macaroni pictures, the crayon drawings, the sweaters . . . the buttercup pie. You shuddered. 

“Human,” said the king of all monsters. His powerful voice trembled, and the earth trembled with it. “It was nice meeting you. . . . Goodbye.” 

He held his trident firmly in both hands and lowered his head . . . but a stoplight glow kept his chin from falling too far. There you stood, hands outstretched, red soul hovering above your palms. 

“I’m the last one,” you said.

Asgore stared at the heart-shaped spirit as if entranced. Its warmth illuminated your fingers with ruby firelight. It was in the crimson glint of your eyes, however, that he became lost, captured in the clutch of a ghost from years long gone.

“Do I . . . know you?” he asked, bewildered both by the situation and the question itself. 

“Please, take it,” you said. Tears fell down your face. “It’s no good for anything else.”

Asgore’s eyes widened with recognition. “Chara . . . ?”

Intense heat flared in the hallway behind you. Before Asgore could say anything more, a brilliant ball of flame had launched him into the cavern wall. Flecks of gray stone spat out among a field of clouds. 

You swung to face the spellcaster. Toriel stood framed in the doorway, her face scrunched in a scowl like a snarling lion. One smoking arm remained outstretched, clenched in a fist. 

“What a miserable creature,” she growled, “torturing such a poor, innocent youth.”

You hadn’t known what path the timeline had taken or whether your friends would convene . . . yet Toriel had arrived, exactly the same as before. Though you may have jokingly called her “mom,” the name now rang through your head with the purity of a windchime in the breeze. 

Undyne, Alphys, and Papyrus appeared after her, along with a swath of others you had met along the way. You wanted to tell them to turn back, that you did not deserve them, that if they had known the demon you truly were, they never would have wanted to be your friend. 

Your color drained. As they approached, a web of vines crawled after them along the dark ceiling and cavern floors. 

You ran to Asgore, who sat slumped amid rubble and a brand new hallway door in the shape of his back. He grumbled in discomfort. A layer of dust coated his royal robes and golden mane, which he shook like a dog. You slid to your knees beside him.

“Hurry, please!” you blubbered to the stunned monster king. You proffered your soul as if it were on fire. “There isn’t a lot of time . . . !”

Toriel snatched you back by the shoulders. 

“What has come over you, my child?” she demanded. “Do you not know what he means to do with it?” 

“Mom, I . . .” 

“Frisk.” Her eyes had begun scanning the room in fright. “Where is Sans?”

The path to the barrier gave Sans more difficulty than expected. The last time he had attempted these roads with fewer than two shortcuts, he had been a century younger and taking his time, mushroom hunting with young Papyrus. His limbs lagged behind his will. His breath rattled in his chest. Though his fingers slipped against that birdcage no one remembered, he refused to release its colorless patina bars. Everything depended on this.

He took what natural shortcuts he could—river ferries and elevators—but even then, the trip cost more time than he had bargained. At long last, he had reached the innards of Asgore’s home in the capital. He ran, huffing and puffing, down the golden tiles of the Last Hallway. 

Even as he sped past, his heart ached to remember your meeting here. The flare of sunlight on your head, the even brighter smile on your face, the secret passwords on your tongue. . . . The memory of that pure soul compared to the corrupted one he had read beside the rift overwhelmed him, and he paused. He touched a hand to the white pillar that once occluded him.

Who were you now? Frisk? Chara? Both? If Chara truly were your forgotten name, if everything he knew about the tragedy of Asgore’s children had happened to you, such terrible memories weighed down on your tiny shoulders. It did not surprise him, then, that your violence had escalated to remember those horrors. Ferocious thorns had been hiding in the soft petal corona of your soul, and neither of you had known it.

Clinging tightly to the forgotten prison in his hands, he buried his sentiments and tore through vine-swathed hallways into a dark passage. He skidded to a halt just past the silvery stone archway to the barrier, where his bones clattered with shock.

The cavern pulsed in radiant waves like the steady spin of a lighthouse beacon. Twisting, thorny roots filled the cavern like a briar patch, and their position changed with every flash of light. Among the vicious mess of chloroplast, monster figures had been tangled, their souls nearly devoured. 

The dimming pinpoints of Sans’ eyes could not peel away from your small form, crumpled on the floor before a yellow flower. Your red soul snapped among his vines, barely shimmering in a ruby remnant before splitting apart into nothing.

Sans could not stifle the horror that clawed its way out his mouth. He nearly dropped the cage. 

Flowey turned to grin at him. “Trash day already?” he asked, spinning his head in a full circle. 

Sans shook. No. This couldn’t have happened. You couldn’t have fallen to that little heathen daisy so quickly. You couldn’t have lost your determination. If only he hadn’t lingered in the hallway. If only he had kept running . . . !

You blinked at the human soul still hovering in your outstretched hands. It glowed red, though not as brightly as it once did. Still alive. Still yours to give. Not torn to bits by a nihilistic plant.

Only moments ago, you had fallen to a flower, the same flower weaving his way into this chamber of darkness and light. Toriel’s hands rested heavily on your shoulders. Papyrus chattered away, as Asgore pleaded with Toriel to give him a second chance. While they were distracted, Flowey dug his way out of the earth, grinning deviously, ready to spring all over again.

Confusion waltzed with your mind, spinning you gently. You had experienced this rush backward a thousand times before. Just a short step in reverse to let you continue after falling or if you disliked the outcome . . . but you did not have the determination to do it now. You had intended to die. You had meant for one of two creatures to take your power and be done with it. 

It hadn’t been you. 

The world shifted. Time rushed away like the tide, back into the ocean depths. Darkness bled away into golden sunlit tiles and stained glass windows. Birds chirped among a distant rustle of leaves. The air danced with prisms for a fleeting moment before the world reappeared as it had only moments before.

Sans realized suddenly that he stood in the Last Hallway all over again. A glittering pocket of magic danced like a handheld star beside him, where he had touched the pillar and remembered you. It had not been there before.

Air filled his ribcage in jagged gasps. His soul burned as it usually did when you reset time, though somewhat gentler. His hands shook around the bars of that monochrome birdcage with fear, confusion, and exhilaration. 

He had just turned back time. He could feel it. And if that were the case . . .

He ran. He sprinted faster than ever to reach you, but you lay still on the floor again. Though uncertain how, and though it hurt him, he turned back the clock a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. Every time, the flower tore apart your soul like a horror movie on repeat, until finally, Sans arrived one split second earlier. Your soul spun a circle above you as if hanging from a string, and a ring of white pellets had only begun readying itself to deliver the killing blow.

Before Sans knew what he was doing, he was charging Flowey through a rough shortcut, foot extended to drop-kick the weed down into his roots. That cursed dandelion’s shriek had never sounded so satisfying. Sans’ dragon skulls had already manifested over his shoulders, jaws aflame—but when they blasted blue-hot magic out their mouths, Flowey had already disappeared into the earth.

A whip of green struck the ground where Sans had stood. He skipped out of the way in the nick of time, then again, and again, and again. He punched his free hand to the ground, and a wave of long, white magic bones crashed down through the air like meteorites. They speared into the cave floor with enough force to run cracks through the ceiling. Clouds of rock sprinkled down onto his shoulders. Flowey’s grip on his friends and family slackened just an inch.

Flowey surfaced again, undamaged beyond a few frayed petals. 

Sans panted, his adrenaline quickly plunging. His bones began aching again, though his raging soul burned brightly through its seams. Sweat slipped down his skull into the neck of his shirt. He didn’t know if he could withstand this much longer. He did not know if his soul could survive another time jump.

“Ha,” chirped the little flower. “Looking pretty rough, there, old pal." His eyes glinted red within the skull-like hollows of his face. "Poor, flimsy little monster souls. Why bother trying? Even Chara was no match for me, and they were a million times stronger than you’ll ever be!”

Sans knew he was right. He did not have the full resilience of a purebred human. Even you had to try several times before making it past this bitter herb. Who in their right mind would bet on him: half blind, right arm nearly useless, only one HP? Just like every moment in his life, he would find a way to fuck this up. Just like every other time before, he would be useless to help. 

His hope dwindled down, as did the fire in his soul. He could not find the strength to evade the string of bullets shooting toward him, but they were serendipitously blocked by a fence of small white bones.

“DON’T LISTEN TO HIM, SANS!” said Papyrus through clenched teeth. “YOU. CAN. WIN!”

“We are here to help you,” said Toriel. “No matter what happens.”

“Statistically it’s impossible,” said Alphys, “b-but you’ve beaten the odds before! I know you can do it!”

“Fuck you, Sans,” said Undyne. 

Everyone looked at her. She shrugged.

“Sans,” said Asgore. “Listen to me.”

Sans clung to the bars of the birdcage more tightly, eyes glued to the smirking flower afar. 

“You are not just your father’s son,” said the king of the Underground. “You have more than magic running through your veins. Remember that . . . and stay determined!”

Sans’ white pupils snapped to Asgore’s blue and brown at once. The statement had struck him somewhere deep beyond the monster white shell of his soul, and still more words passed between them unspoken. Sans then dragged his gaze across all his friends, who looked back with steadfast confidence, even Undyne.

Flowey coiled down on himself, pretending to be scared. “Urgh, no!” he whimpered. “Unbelievable! This can’t be happening! I can’t possibly withstand all of you . . . you . . . !” His face contorted into his evilest grin. “Idiots.”

His vines snapped taut around every monster, and yet another thorny coil snatched Sans from the ground as well. Through ropes of green and brown, Sans watched your red soul go down the flower’s throat, sealed behind hungry white fangs within a golden crown. Then, everything became lost in a flash of white. 

Clang.

Sans moaned. Between that blitz of light and now, he had dropped to his hands and knees. His palms felt scorched—and dreadfully empty. Ahead of him, the last withering wisp of gray silver bars dissipated into the air as if made of smoke. Seeing it clawed the magic away from his bones with every mounting breath. His eyes became hollow. 

The cage was gone—really, truly gone. Not even a step backward in time could bring it back, and with it, Asriel’s soul. Sans felt the world bottom out. Had he really failed, after everything?

A voice cackled overhead. “Finally,” it said. “I was so tired of being a flower.” 

Sans looked upward and blanched. Aside from a few drawings you had scribbled out as a child, he had never witnessed this ungodly creature of countless souls. Sans had only been consumed by him, a coal block among many to fuel his hate. Now, Asriel Dreemurr hovered overhead in all his glory, raging with deathly power in a kaleidoscope of energy. No wonder you had nightmares.

Past the wreckage of their earlier fight, your body still lay heaped on the floor among stone and dead vines, seemingly asleep. As Sans crawled close, tears threatened to form. 

He bit them back. No. He needed to hope. He needed to dream. He needed to be determined that he could call you out from the darkness, just as you had done for him a hundred times. It was his turn, now. Everyone would make it to the other side . . . including Asriel. 

“Huh?” Asriel grunted as he caught wind of Sans below. “What are you still doing here? I ate your soul, you dirty lawn bag!”

“grass not,” said Sans as he stood, dusting the dirt from his jacket with his left hand.

“Ugh.” Asriel pinched his muzzle exasperatedly. “So annoying. How many times have you died now? Thirty-five? Thirty-six?” He thrust a rocket’s flare at Sans with a wicked smile. “Thirty-seven?!”

Sans gathered your body into his arms and stepped into a last-minute shortcut, safely away from that raw magical surge. After hiding your figure inside an Asgore-shaped wall hole, he flitted through the blue light of a portal once again. He reappeared in the air, directly in Hyperdeath’s path, only inches from his head. 

“bone apétit, fucker,” he said and threw a handful of small bones at Asriel’s face. Though they caused no significant damage, they certainly got his attention.

Sans landed on all fours and scrambled. Bullets, fireballs, shooting stars, and lightning strikes raged after him. They left craters in the ground and drove deeper cracks into the ceiling overhead. Stalactites fell and shattered. Sans dodged every one of them. His body thoughtlessly followed the part of him that knew how to survive but had no time to ask permission, so begged forgiveness instead. 

As Asriel Dreemurr took a moment to lift his hands, Sans struggled to catch his breath. His hood smelled of smoldering keratin. Holes had been burned through his sleeves. His body felt slick and ashen against his jacket’s cotton interior. The bones he had tossed like a scoop of dog biscuits into Asriel’s face had been the last magic he could muster. Whatever great power the prince of the Underground gathered now, Sans doubted he could survive it.

The world darkened. Sans could no longer see Asriel or the barrier, not even his hands if he raised them. Everything had become silent except the paddle of his own breath. 

A skull three times his size suddenly materialized from the shadow. In appearance, it reminded him of those he and his siblings had mastered, though its horns and features mirrored Asriel instead. It laughed in his face—a grim, bone-chilling sound like grating rocks—but Sans stood firm. Brilliant red rage and determination surfaced among the cracks of his soul. How dare Asriel steal from Papyrus? How dare he turn Sans’ own family magic against him?

Waves of light drew into the open bowels of its snakelike gullet. Debris ran past his ankles, recalling images of a lab in shambles, a brother consumed by a beast of timeless indifference. He braced himself, ready to dive into the darkness as he did then and save the ones that mattered most.

A flash of brightness burst over him once more. This time, it ripped the soul from inside him and shattered it into pieces.

His mind floated through an abyss, bursting with the fireworks of everything at stake. He thought of Papyrus, never seeing sunrise; Toriel, never knowing the love of a new family; Alphys, never seeing the true greatness inside herself; Undyne, never free to explore the world; Asgore, failing his people. He thought of you, swallowed in the belly of the very thing you had sought to save. He thought of the entire world, destroyed by the god of hyperdeath, eaten alive by a hungry rift in time. The pieces of his soul quivered in a glow of crimson, ready to disperse. 

*But it refused.

The shards sewed back together. A burst of bright red coursed through him like a new flame that had waited a lifetime to be struck. He had to live. He needed to live. He wanted to live! The darkness faded away, and soon the pulsing light of the barrier greeted his eyes once again.

He gaped at his shaking hands, eye sockets wide with confusion and amazement and, more than anything, determination. His soul felt aflame with a ruby-red blaze that forged the bleeding cracks of every pain, every hardship, and every sorrow into an armor stronger than the thickest alloy.

Asriel’s final form hovered ahead of him. Giant wings had sprouted from his back, flaring with blues, reds, greens, and purples. His teeth bared in needle points to rival Undyne’s, seething with fury and frustration. 

“YOU . . . GARBAGE BIN SKELETAL FREAK!” he screamed. “WHY? WHY CAN’T YOU DIE?!”

Sans realized very suddenly he couldn’t move. Asriel’s true power had run rampant through the air, cocooning him in a chrysalis of magic he could not escape. He struggled with no result. With no way to resist, Asriel’s attacks barreled into him again, and again, and again. Every time his brightly burning soul rebuilt itself, a little was lost along the way. 

“I can feel it,” Asriel growled with relish. “Every time you die, your grip on this world slips away. Every time you die, your friends forget you a little more. Your life will end here, in a world where no one remembers you.”

Sans thought of Windings, lost in a hell of the same description. He recalled how determined his brother had been to hold that same world together in one piece, forgotten or not. Sans could not fail him again, not here, not now, not after how hard Dings had tried, not when all his hopes were so invested in his success. His brother’s words rang through Sans' head, the last he would speak before the ghost of a gray door had separated them.

“I want you to know,” Wingdings had said, “I believe in you more than I believe in anyone else.”

“heh, yer jus’ tuggin’ my tibia . . .”

“For Tesla’s sake, Sans,” Dings snipped. “Can you just, for a second, let me spoon-feed your imperceptibly minuscule single-cell petri dish of a trait you call your self-esteem?” He took a deep breath and steadied. “I know it might seem like you’re my only option,” he said, “but you’re the best option I could have ever hoped for. My big brother. The one who sticks it out through thick and thin. The one I could always rely on to come through for me. You can do this. You can save everyone. I know you can. So, please . . . 

“. . . don’t give up.”

Sans closed his eyes and reached his heart out to Asriel’s amalgamation of souls. His friends and family were there somewhere. He could save them. They believed in him. Dings believed in him. His determination to save everyone bled through the confines of Asriel’s magic, and deep inside that monstrosity, something began to stir.

Darkness closed in and images of his friends materialized, though their faces could not be seen behind swimming, fragmented blurs of pitch. Toriel, Papyrus, Asgore, Alphys, and Undyne stood like statues in a ring around him. Under their breaths, they mumbled their deepest wounds aloud: loss, rejection, loneliness, guilt, and captivity. 

Sans stared up at his little brother’s towering silhouette, shaken to see him so reduced. 

“hey, puppy . . .” he began. He inched nearer. “‘member me?”

Papyrus did not acknowledge him beyond summoning a few bones, which promptly flew in his direction. They were nothing compared to what Asriel had been punting his way. Sans stood perfectly still to allow a large blue femur to pass harmlessly through his forehead, then teleported behind him. He wrapped his arms around his waist until his face lay cradled in the lower curve of his spine, as if it were fashioned to hold his head.

“is that any way to treat your big bro?” he asked quietly. He searched his head for his worst possible joke and turned to the remaining souls. “uh . . . w-whatcha all starin’ at?”  He whipped out a finger gun as nonchalantly as possible. “never metacarpal of skeletons before?”

A long, silent moment passed. Then, Papyrus groaned. So did Undyne. Toriel giggled alongside Alphys with a snort. Asgore only sighed. 

Sans beamed, then dodged what he saw as a well-deserved barrage of attacks from all five of his monster friends.

“hey, undies,” he said to Undyne past the quick flash of a blue spear. “i liked the tuna your piano. think you can teach me some scales?”

A similar response. Another wave of dangerous magic. 

“knock, knock,” Sans said to Toriel. A hand of fire tried and failed to snatch him off the ground. He brushed off the heat. “i’ll take that as a ‘who’s there’. it’s yer local sentry, sans gaster!”

Toriel mumbled incoherently, but her last words sounded clear: “. . . Sans Gaster who?”

“yeesh,” Sans said, tugging at the neck of his shirt. “and i thought we were friends!”

Toriel laughed, then, revealing her face in a glorious burst of joy. Papyrus groaned more loudly than ever into existence. 

“THAT’S ENOUGH BOONDOGGLING, SANS!” he shouted.

“i think you mean bone-doggling.”

“I DO NOT!” Papyrus stomped his foot.

With that, the rest of his friends returned to themselves, holding their stomachs or their heads in laughter. Sans wiped a joyful tear from his eye. By then, Papyrus had swept him off his feet into the tightest hug he could muster, which might have broken a rib were they more than specters. The remaining crew piled in: Toriel, Alphys, Asgore, even Undyne. In that one gesture, Sans’ soul swelled with hopes and dreams and burned brighter than ever.

“You’re d-d-doing great!”

“We’ve got your back, punk.”

“We believe in you.”

“heh . . . i’m rootin’ for me too, i guess,” Sans agreed bashfully.

“THAT’S THE SPIRIT,” Papyrus said, then lifted his eyes over Sans’ shoulder. “ONLY ONE MORE TO GO.”

As he said it, their images dissipated. Sans turned to follow Papyrus’ gaze. Another figure stepped from the shadow, eyes burning red through a shifting black cloud. A blood-red knife glinted in your hand. Your ruby soul quivered in the pit of your chest, a beacon through the dark. 

“kiddo,” Sans breathed.

You shambled forward and blindly slashed for his neck. He side-stepped the sloppy cut. Your blade lodged into the unseen ground, so deeply it took a few tries to pry it out. Like a marionette, you lolled about to face him.

“It’s all my fault,” you murmured. “All my fault.”

“that ain’t true,” said Sans. He grimaced and ducked another swing. “you’re a good kid. you’ve always been a good kid.”

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled.

“why?” he asked. “you saved us. you saved me. you gave up your resets for it!”

Your razor-edged swipes and stabs began to falter. “My fault . . .”

“the only thing you’re at fault for is trying too bleedin’ hard.”

Though shaking, you continued to jab and swing your dagger with reckless abandon, and he continued to evade its path with infuriating precision. Whipping air and shuffling feet echoed through the dark as if you fought in an empty chapel.

“c’mon, bud!” Sans panted. Sweat had begun to gather on his forehead. “it’s me, sans!”

“Sans?” you replied in a fog. “Sans is dead. I killed him. It’s my fault.”

“i’m not dead. i’m right here.” 

He came close, a breath away. Your knife grazed his cheekbone, revealing a stripe of red that trickled down into his shirt collar. As your arm passed his shoulder, he caught you around the chest and held on tight. He buried his face into your neck. 

“i’m right here.”

At this, you froze. You held your knife shakily over his head, prepared to strike down into his back—but you didn’t. Though the black, jagged strokes of paint shifting about your head did not cease, the red of your eyes had dimmed. 

“frisk. chara.” 

He cradled your hiding face between his hands and looked into your eyes a long, long time. You could feel him reaching through your soul, judging you, reading you from cover to cover like an unlocked diary.

“it’s not your fault.”

As the words sank in, tears sprinkled down from that stormcloud between you, raining over your shoes and his. That dreadful, bloody knife clattered to the ground, and soon you followed. You sat seiza at his feet and clung to his coat, your face no longer shrouded. You sobbed into his t-shirt, broken, yet overjoyed to see him alive. 

He hesitated, then slipped his fingers down into the deep brown thatches of your hair.

“You’re really here,” you said, looking up into his face. 

Sans crouched down to your level and shrugged. “think so.”

“Am I dead?”

“uh.” He scratched the back of his skull and winced. “ya ain’t in yer body, that much is for sure. hopin’ you might join me on the way back, though . . . if you’d do me the honor.”

You hugged him again, even more tightly than before. Conflicted by memories old and new, shame hooked onto your soul with claws sharper than the dagger at his feet. His hand in your hair was all that kept you solid.

“I’m sorry.” Your tears fell faster as you considered the road leading you here. “I made you fall into the rift . . .”

“that one’s on me,” Sans said. “i knew what i might find down there.”

Your face sombered. “Did you find . . . him?”

Newfound brightness ignited his eyesockets. “he’s . . . alive,” he said quietly. He could scarcely believe the words. “trapped between time and space. it’s just like i thought.”

You were never more relieved to be proven wrong. Still, questions encircled your head like stars. Where was his brother, now? If Sans had gone to that place, how had he returned? How had he survived the rift, and Flowey no less? Was he the one turning back the clock? That should have been impossible. 

As you extended a hand to smear the streak of red you had carved into his face, a terrifying thought occurred to you. 

“Determination,” you breathed. “Sans, you didn’t—!”

“no,” he said.

“Monsters don’t bleed,” you said firmly in an attempt to call out his bullshit.

“not full-blooded monsters, no,” he agreed.

Several moments passed in which you digested these words, and what they implied. 

His smile slowly fell into a grimace, a mix of regret and weary sadness. He sat down in the darkness across you. Here, the two of you were truly alone. He breathed in, breathed out. 

“skeletons are kinda hard to come by,” he began hesitantly, “if ya hadn’t noticed. we’re only born under certain circumstances . . . with . . . certain parents.”

He lifted his head to the darkness above as if he might see the sky. A piece of him drifted away into nostalgia on Noctis wings. Bittersweet was the only word you could surface for his expression now.

“hardly look nothing like dad,” he began with a half-hearted shrug. “he was like . . . a dragon made of blue stars, a constellation in a nebula. huge, bigger than asgore. gast clan always was, compared to the dreems. i see him in my magic, though, sometimes. his face in my blasters, even if just the skull.”

You couldn’t find words. Surely he didn’t mean what you thought.

“don’ hardly look like mom, neither,” he said with a partial smile, “but we got her bones. we got her structure. i got some of her determination.”

“You’re half human.”

“i’m all me, thanks,” Sans snipped. Talking about it seemed to crawl over his bones like a spider bake sale. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, genuinely hurt.

He paused and picked at the healing cut on his cheek. He rubbed the red fluid pensively between his thumb and forefingers. “everyone down here knows what it means to be a skeleton,” he said quietly. “i thought you knew too, at first. we all did. a lot of folks thought it was why you shacked up with us instead of tori.”

Your shoulders relaxed.

“by the time i realized it . . . honestly, i didn’t know how to tell ya, kid. it's a sensitive subject.” He drew his coat around himself more tightly. “we’re the only ones left, y’know; me and puppy-dog. and dings. when the war started, humans went for families like ours first. papyrus was a bean, dings was just the right age for it to hit him later, and i . . . i remember everything, as always.” 

Your guilt ascended all over again. 

“we were just kids," he went on, "but nothin’ scared those purist humans more than a fuckin’ mule.”

“i’m sorry,” you said.

“don’t be,” he murmured. “not your fault.”

“But it is,” you insisted. Your tears began rising again. "I’m human. I’m responsible. After everything humans have done—after everything I’ve done—I don’t deserve any of you. I don’t deserve to be here. You shouldn’t have saved me . . .”

Sans gently wiped your face with his sleeve. “lemme finish, kid,” he said quietly. He heaved a long, drawn-out sigh, as if releasing a toxin trapped inside his ribcage. “i got a reason to hate humans, sure. they drove us down here. they blocked us in. hell, even monsters gave us a hard time for that half of us. papyrus was so bent on catching a human just to prove what side he was on. thought people might like him more.”

You felt sick.

“but,” Sans said, forcing you to meet his eyes, “my human parent sacrificed everything to save us. she stayed behind so we could get away. so many of us are alive because of her. you wanna tell me that was wrong? you wanna tell me she was responsible for everything that happened to us, just for being human?”

Your tears continued to fall. 

“you can’t help where ya came from,” said Sans, “but you can choose where ya go. and boy have you gone to some good places.” 

“Like the dump,” you quipped with a faint smile.

“heh, yeah,” he said. “like the dump.” He hung an arm over your shoulder. “so maybe you’ve made some big mistakes . . . but your heart was never in the wrong place. you want to make up for it. you want to be good. that’s what really matters, right?”

You sniffled and nodded. You had said the same to Alphys. Were you really beneath your own advice?

He gathered you into his arms again. After a long time kneeling there, faces in shoulders, he helped you back to your feet. 

“gonna need you to step in from here on out,” said Sans. “the chances hyperdoofus listens to me are about a million to negative one.” He smirked. “think you can handle it?” 

You took his hand and squeezed. 

“Only if you stand there with me,” you said.

His heart swelled in his chest. “i can do that."

Holding onto one another tightly, you stepped out from the darkness into a rainbow of light.

Notes:

And thus we have arrived at my third and final head-cannon: skeletons are what happen when a monster loves a human. I think my nervousness about dropping that bomb contributed to the delay in a latent sense, haha. Sorry for that again.

The idea of skeleton monsters always puzzled me, because in most folklore and fantasy contexts they have a direct tie to humans. Undead, more specifically. But in the context of the Undertale universe, undead didn't sit right with me. Skeleton monsters that conveniently mimic human anatomy didn't either. Then I had this thought. It explained several things for me: the blood from Sans' cut in the no mercy run, the reason he's so powerful, that "fourth wall" breaking tendency he and Papyrus both share... I massaged things some for the narrative here, but yeah.

I had been building to this a little bit as a possible reveal, then considered sidestepping it, but then as I really hammered out my ending it became an essential fact. I added more scenes and details in earlier chapters to get a little more traction on it, hence why I recommended rereading. :) Either way, I hope you find it at least interesting.

Thank you again to everyone who held on until now. Only three chapters left!

Next Up! Chapter 15: Determination.

< Load | RESET | Continue >

[wilhelm-laugh]

not to post about Undertale in 2024 but I just keep finding little things in this game I never noticed before. Like how it clearly hints the player character is not the same human as the one in the opening cutscene because look

the human in the cutscene is lying on the bare ground whereas the player character landed on the bed of flowers that if you interact with say “they must’ve broken your fall”

but obviously there could be no golden flowers in the Underground when Chara fell, the first one appeared after Chara and Asriel both died. And how ironic that this bed of flowers that broke our fall is their grave now

I just find it fascinating (as much as it always confuses new players) that the character we play as and induce with our own personality is the one who already has a name. And the one who has a pre-established history, who’s dead before we even start the story — is the one we have to pick a name for

[promise-keeper-papyrus]

The true reason why Frisk wasn't given a personality, why we know so little of Chara and why we never even see the faces of the dead human souls... It's because the creator wanted to dehumanize the humans... While ironically humanizing the monsters, by giving them personalities, backstories and relationships!

Because if Frisk and the other humans were given proper personalities or canon backstories (especially tragic ones) or if it's mentioned that the humans have friends/families waiting for them on the surface... It would break the illusion that UT is trying to hold up, when it says: "Monsters are loving and humans are terrible!"

I'm not saying that monsters are the evil ones. But they are racist and morally grey. And it's a dark shade of grey, considering that most of them enjoy trying to kill a child and want to commit a genocidal war on a whole species.

Humans made mistakes. They started a war and trapped a whole kingdom inside a mountain, because one monster absorbed seven human souls. Monsters made mistakes. They tried to start another war and commit genocide, because a village (believing that Asriel killed Chara) killed Asriel. Both species were being idiots.

Yet the actions of the monsters get sugarcoated, because we can talk to them. Thus, many people find the monsters funny and charming, but we can't actually talk to the human characters, mostly cause they are dead. The closest thing we have to a human interaction is either the human souls (in their silent heart forms) helping Frisk defeat Omega Flowey or Chara's corrupted spirit helping Genocide Frisk destroy everything.

[kooki914]

What do you think will Toriel's relationship with Mrs. Holiday be like? A foil situation maybe? It's kind of strange that for a family so closely tied to the Dreemurr Toriel never has talked about any of them. Wonder what she actually thinks about Noelle?

All good questions, honestly! I believe Toriel isn't really the type to seek out super close friendships with people to begin with (her friendship with Sans seems to almost be an accident in both worlds), and Rudy mentions how their families have drifted apart over the years. I feel like part of this can be attributed to her and Asgore's divorce (as him and Rudy are close, breaking up with Asgore probably made stuff awkward between Toriel and Rudy), but another part is also Dess' disappearance I think (her and Asriel were close, and it's been hinted that after she disappeared, Kris stopped hanging out with Noelle too, and it might've given the parents less incentive to stay in touch with each other overall).

On the question on mayor Holiday and Toriel specifically, I DO kind of see them as foils already? Toriel is a smothering and loving parent while mayor Holiday is strict and cold. The one thing they have in common is they're both reactionary (Noelle being afraid her mother would take away her console if she saw her crying over a game, contrasted to Toriel taking Asriel to church every day for a week because of a first kiss), and they both seem to have a need for control over nearly everything. With mayor Holiday it's not even subtle, while with Toriel it's less overtly "control freak" vibes and more specifically someone who's so used to having all responsibility on her shoulders alone, that she doesn't even notice she's doing it to herself most of the time.

If they were to be proper foils, I'd like if it were an extension of the themes around freedom and control, honestly, and not even in the parental sense. Deltarune seems like it has a lot to say on free will vs predeterminism, and I think marriage - holy matrimony - is an interesting vessel to explore that through. Toriel as someone who ended her marriage for personal reasons, which can be misconstrued as selfish if you don't take into account her feelings and needs as a person, contrasted to mayor Holiday who seems to have an iron grip on her family's dynamic, which can be misconstrued as people-oriented if we fail to take into account the effects that has on Noelle and Rudy (and possibly even Dess when she was around). The Holiday household seems pretty toxic, with Rudy constantly in the role of mediator, Noelle in the (psychological) role of "adaptive child" (see The Entire Snowgrave Route for why that's horrendous), and mayor Holiday seemingly in the role of judge, jury and executioner.

Basically, Toriel as someone who liberated herself and mayor Holiday as someone who refuses to let others be liberated, sort of. A hint of it can even be seen in how they treat someone like Asgore. Toriel privately shittalks him but isn't really cruel to him to his face (which gives him the wrong idea, sadly), while mayor Holiday is "lenient" with his rent payment while being clearly cold and cruel about his personal plights. Toriel is someone who wants to move on and make as little of a mess as she does so, while mayor Holiday could be someone who prioritises a "safe" stasis over any kind of change to the detriment of everyone around her. Toriel is "mean" but empathetic, mayor Holiday is "giving" but cruel - possibly another commentary about how being "nice" isn't always a good thing, how some people do it out of necessity (Toriel) while others do it as a manipulative tactic (mayor Holiday), and how overall issues are always more complicated than they seem. More complicated than someone who, say, just tells you to "sell more flowers" would think they are, based on her limited willingness to see from anyone else's point of view.

(This is offtopic but this is really interesting symbolism to me: if we look at Asgore giving people flowers as a metaphor for giving people love and attention, *selling* more flowers wouldn't even directly help him, in a narrative sense. He's giving Toriel flowers and she keeps throwing them away, EVERYONE does, because they fundamentally don't need or want them. Asgore is someone the community doesn't need anymore, and the mayor's solution to that is "put a price on it", because to her (I speculate) ALL relationships are transactional. She thinks his problem is that he's TOO loving, that he's TOO giving, rather than that hes throwing his love into an endless black hole that will never return the gesture. Anyway, that's enough rambling about Asgore on a Toriel post, sorry!)

Oh, and I nearly forgot to answer: I don't think Toriel would have particularly strong feelings towards Noelle? Toriel's nice to every kid she knows, but I think the inverse, what Noelle thinks of Toriel, is a more interesting question. Knowing Noelle's issues with mother figures, does she see Toriel as aspirational, or does she think Toriel is faking it and using kindness as manipulation (like mayor Holiday may be prone to doing)? Is Noelle weary of Kris' mom, hence not coming over to their house often, or is she nostalgic about the bond their families had and remembers Toriel more like an aunt than a mother? Since we know she's scared of her mom, is she vaguely hoping her own parents will separate, or did Toriel set a "bad precedent" in her eyes and she dreads her family being pulled apart further? All very very interesting questions, in my opinion, and I hope we see more of the Holiday/Dreemurr dynamics as the story goes on.

[krispdreemurr]

purely a for fun ask

what do you think Kris, Susie, Noelle and Berdly's favourite movies are?

the issue with this is that fundamentally I don't know any movies. i am so bad at watching visual media. so this will be more classes of movies than specifics

kris: not hugely into movies, so mostly thinks fondly of ones that came w family bonding watching together. since Asriel, that means a lot of fantasy. still really likes the lotr series. fondness for obscure anime movies too

susie: b action movies. she doesn't want a plot or coherence or more than 50 dollars spent on special effects. she wants to see 80s guys fight each other on a beach for unclear reasons and then something explodes

noelle: has a huge and curated library of horror movies. favorites tend towards classic slashers. ironically deeply hates the Hallmark Christmas movies because her big business mom moved to a small town and discovered Christmas but that did no one any good

berdly: the mcu

[viciousgold]

[ 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 ] ― sender wraps a soft blanket around receiver’s shoulders @asrielbelacquaaaa

Marisa gazed up at him for a moment, a crack in her mask of iron showing through. Her features were soft in that moment. Fragile and delicate.

"Thank you." she murmured quietly. She had met Asriel a few months ago, and though her complicated affair with him was the closest thing she ever had to a real relationship, Marisa still struggled to show him an ounce of vulnerability. But tonight had been different. Earlier today, something had managed to get under her skin, and it almost seemed like Asriel sensed it. Clearly, something was bothering her with how pensive she had been tonight. "I'm fine, really." she insisted, feeling the need to assure him.

[justali-anne]

What I think the Undertale characters could really use: Part 1

Frisk: A councillor. This poor child has been through so much, from monsters trying to murder them (and sometimes succeeding), to potentially abandonment, being essentially kidnapped and taken hostage, being stalked by several characters, having to choose between their life and the salvation of a whole society... Yeah, I imagine Frisk might be a little messed up. They're a fighter (not literally... mostly), though, and really resilient, so I think a counsellor would help them get around their trauma.

Flowey: Compassion. As twisted as he is, Flowey has also been through a lot. He probably hasn't been around compassion in a long time, whether it's because he can't feel it anymore up to rejecting the notion of compassion altogether after what he went through as Asriel. However, as shown in the Pacifist Route, he's pretty easily swayed by someone with genuine compassion for him - he's fond of Papyrus, who's practically compassion incarnate, and as Asriel, he gets redeemed by Frisk's care and compassion as well. He needs someone to care for him, and not just pity him.

Toriel: A purpose. Poor old lady isolated herself for who knows how long, waiting for humans to fall down so she can futilely try to protect them, only to end up failing time and time again. Years of doing that would definitely diminish one's sense of purpose - it would have a profound impact on Toriel's self-esteem, self-worth and mental health in general. If she's not about kids, then who is she? Sans' knock knock jokes definitely helped her a bit, but I think what she truly needs is a reason to move onwards, to look forward to life again. A different purpose that extends beyond motherhood. The school she created on the surface is perfect for her because she not only gets to work with kids, it's also her dream job, and she gets to work with a lot of adults too! Taking care of a school is more than just looking after children, even if that is one of the primary goals. It's perfect for her.

Sans: Safety. Poor guy... Between the reports of timelines stopping and starting to the prospect of everything suddenly ending, him knowing you're resetting the timeline, the fact that you could kill anyone if you wanted to, especially his sweet, precious brother, and judging by the bits of pieces we got of his backstory, losing an ENTIRE FREAKING DIMENSION, he probably hasn't felt safe in such a long time. Seriously, though, if you were in Sans' position, you'd be scared out of your wits! Sans desperately needs stability, and he's grasping at that with his constantly going to Grillby's, making jokes with Toriel, working 5-6 jobs... his daily routine. He's quite a paradox, isn't he? He comes across as calm, lazy, relaxed... but at the same time, I get the sense that he might be trying to keep himself busy? Ironically, what the slacker really needs is a chance to relax. Genuinely relax. He needs a safe, stable environment, so he can heal, and love, and live again. Luckily, we have the power to give this to him. If we just don't reset after the Pacifist Route...

I'll add part 2 later.

[theowlthatwrites]

Yet Another Insane Deltarune Theory

I've figured out many different reasons for why Ralsei's an anagram of Asriel, but isn't actually Asriel. Most of them have to do with the other anagram of his name.

As @patchwork-crow-writes has suggested, the Asriel-Ralsei connection may be a trap to make us think that he really is Asriel; we don't know what Asriel looks like at all; he might look completely different than the Undertale Asriel; he might even be an adopted child, like Kris is!

So, why, then, does he still resemble Asriel and have an anagram of Asriel's name as his? I have a few ideas on this topic.

Asriel is an anagram of "serial," and when connecting this with his last name and adding the two anagrams together, you get "serial murderer." Personally, I think that this is a way of telling us how he's viewed in human/monster society; when the monsters tell their story, before Frisk fights Asgore, they tell of how Asriel was mortally wounded by a group of humans that thought he had killed Chara.

And when he transforms into Flowey, he is also viewed by monsterkind as a serial murderer; the first thing that any other character than him says is "What a horrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth..." This is horribly ironic; after committing such an amazing deed, he is still viewed as a horrible creature by both monsterkind and humankind, ignoring the remnants of his soul that still remain.

The first reason for his resemblance to Asriel, as @patchwork-crow-writes has suggested, is because this is to show that Undertale is independent from Deltarune, and he's probably right, but there are a few other reasons I'd like to propose alongside that one.

"Serial" has many meanings, all of them implying grand things:

Deltarune itself is a serial game; it's released in chapters, and has not been released as a full game yet.

It could mean a criminal offense repeatedly committed and done in a predictable behavioral pattern. This has implications of something sinister; perhaps his serial sweetness will put the party in grave danger sometime in the future, and he'll have to deal with his mindset to fight of a dangerous threat, even worse than the King he thought he could save through kindness. It could also reference his suspicious nature, and how that could cause a player to be suspicious of him!

When you follow the "one in a series" definition, It could mean that Ralsei is a progression of Asriel, as a series of similar characters; perhaps this is foreshadowing for yet another character that looks like Asriel... maybe even in a future game by Toby Fox.

Note that he is "serial" but not a "murderer." This also has grand implications.

It's used to show how Ralsei's stuck in place with regards to how he's seen, and as a way to contrast him with how Asriel/Flowey is seen. He's shown to be very courageous and brave, but he is often seen as "cute." Perhaps this is hurting him internally, but he can't tell the party for fear of breaking his friendship with the other two people he travels with!

It's used to show how we think he could be evil, and how our view of him is stuck in place, despite there being no evidence so far that he could be.

His name might also have been made from pure intentions; perhaps whoever named him wanted Kris to be loved, or for Kris to trust him more; maybe he was the one who named himself, for the same reasons listed earlier!

Patch has suggested a whole bunch of other reasons as to why Ralsei resembles Asriel; I've just been adding onto his work. Go to his tumblr page and type in #analysis in the search bar for more.

[random-autie-fangirl]

#dreemurr is an anagram for murderer

:0

I did not realize that, but I probably should’ve hah, oh dang, but thanks for the spelling tip :)

And Asriel is an anagram for serial! So together it makes serial murderer =) (Can you imagine Chara bursting to a fit of giggles just after realizing this (like right at the beginning of the Asriel fight?) "Oh, the universe does have such a wonderfully ironic sense of humour at times, does it not?" An inapropriate but very Chara response)

And then we have the rest of the family, Asgore is very obviously a murderer (as the six souls can attest) and then Chara....you can count attempted murder, but I think I have something more interesting actually.

Okay so, due to file attribution theory, we know that Chara had their own save file but they just never used it, (which makes sense since Asriel describes determination as the power Chara was trying to stop and they think very negatively about people being above consequences, and resetting helps negate consequences), I think that Chara might have been able to reset back to the beginning and save both themselves and Asriel when they died to the villagers, but they didn't. Because his and their deaths were the consequences of the plan failing, and that they didn't see the point of continuing or trying again once they had already failed. (I mean, think about it, Chara is confused about being alive again specifically because their plan failed).

To put it bluntly, Chara got to the game over screen, saw the will you persist question and clicked no. But Asriel was with them too, and by letting themselves die, Chara also chose to let Asriel die when they could have saved him, and that to me is what makes them a ...Dreemurr. (and yes, murder-suicide still counts as murder).

Which is sort of why I don't like the old adage "Chara only killed one person. Themselves." No, they killed their brother, no matter what timeline you're talking about, they killed Asriel. Don't forget that. C and A, ....Cain and Abel, maybe it was always meant to end this way (or maybe it didn't have to, if it was anyone else, but Chara seems to think the very notion of defying fate is blasphemy). "I would follow in your footsteps, I would erase myself from existence" But the first time round, Asriel didn't have a choice, did he? He had to follow in their footsteps, because Chara dragged him along with them.

And then we have Toriel, Toriel, no matter how you cut it didn't kill anyone but well...she divorced Asgore before the game started and she says in the game itself that she doesn't consider herself nor want to be a Dreemurr anymore,

So it might be an unfortunate truth that the Undertale dreemurrs are murderers but I guess Toriel got away and dropped the name before the family curse could get her. Good for her!

And...yeah, the Undertale Dreemurrs, there are some edgy theories about Kris accidentally killing Azzy or whatever but I just think it's like...Undertale and Deltarune are different games, Toriel's name is still Toriel despite not being the Tutorial segment anymore so I think the anagram didn't carry over between games and it doesn't mean anything anymore. (plus surely if the dreemurrs are murderers thing carried over, it would surely apply to Deltarune's version of Asriel and Asgore)

Anyway, you're welcome for the spelling tip! :)

[the-fabled-void]

Once again remembered this song and had a realization

Warning Dreemurr sibs angst ahead

The Dreemurr siblings. Post-genocide Chara talking to Flowey

I mean. Hello???

"Oh, brother of mine /It's been a long, long time / Since I've seen my face in your eyes" this is not just about the time that passed since their death, but about Flowey and how the only thing he sees is this twisted caricature of who Chara used to be

"Oh brother, I've returned / To my burn scars of birth / Charcoal and iron brought me back"

They returned. Both to the flowers on the surface, their own death brought them there - but also to life, in the no mercy route, thanks to the human's actions

"And I watched the burning grow as my hair filled with grey / From the ashes that fell / The mountains I knew so well"

I imagine Asriel died while still carrying them. His dust didn't spread on just the flowers, but his sibling too

"Oh brother, I see / You burn like me / The singes on our skin like a brand"

Soulless siblings gang, both fucked up by something they never wanted to happen

"Oh brother, I confess / There is little of me left that could care about dousing the wildfire"

Chara is beyond caring anymore. They'll continue letting the human complete their mission. It's too late now to do good anyways.

"Brother, I watched the sky burn / And all I learned was smoke fills the lungs like a disease"

Maybe they learned about the apathy that comes with what's being done to monsters

"Oh brother, did you know / You could just strike a match? / Hear him scream my name one last time"

"Oh brother, I am home in the fires of our youth / I could care less if it hurts you anymore"

They start in the Ruins, in Home, which they used to live in. Flowey 'recognizes' them there. They see themselves in the mirror. They go to New Home, where Asgore resides - with the way everything is there, it's almost like they're young again. And yet, that's where they strike Flowey down.

[transesyourgranddukes]

Delicious in Deltarune AU ramble !! Long post !!!!

(Ft Chimaera Hippogriff Dess doodles done in whiteboard)

Noelle, Kris and Susie end up retreating after getting to a lower level of the dark dungeon and encountering a darkner creature too difficult for them. They get separated from Dess, whom to their knowledge was severely injured before they got teleported by Noelle to the surface. After they recuperate and go on their way down again, they encounter Ralsei and Lancer, who join their party and help them along their journey.

Instead of monsters in the dungeon, it's darkners. Characters aren't specifically placed into dunmeshi character roles, but more so put into the world of dunmeshi. Deltarune's world and rules get adapted/intertwined with dunmeshi's. More info under the cut!

Kris - the leader. human knight with significant knowledge on darkners, can't use magic very well. Came from a family of royals. Their brother Asriel is a renowned knight.

Noelle - deer mage, specializing in healing + ice magic, beginning to get the hand of offensive magic. Comes from a rich family and went to magic school with Kris and Dess.

Susie - the party's tank, and 2nd magic user; a well known reptilian fighter among adventurers. Came from a poor family that she has since left behind.

Dess - the party's former leader, a deer mage with expertise in fire/light magic, but she can't use healing magic very well.

Ralsei - a royal mage with healing magic, main cook for the party. He's secretive about his past

Lancer - a runaway prince; he scouts out the environment/landscape for the party

Other characters/misc

Sans and Papyrus are searching for their missing sorcerer relative, who went mysteriously missing along with his party of 4

Berdly reluctantly joins mage Catti and fighter Jockington's party of two after realizing he can't venture through the dungeon alone. They don't want to admit that he's slowing them down however. When Kris' party find them, they’re facing off Queen and her minions.

I'm thinking some of the 'monsters' Kris' party could encounter would be different darkner bosses (I really wanna make them face off beast Spamton)

The layout/floors of the dungeon could be based on different dark worlds ??

Still figuring that out along with the dungeon's legend/prophecy (rn I'm thinking it involves a bit of the monster and human in the opening of undertale and a bit of the delta rune prophecy)

Here's the Dess doodles and also sorcerer Gaster. The caption above him was added by a friend lol

ID: Sketchy drawing of Dess as a hippogriff chimera. She has big antlers and long wavy dark hair. Below her neck, it transitions into a huge feathery body, with chicken-like front legs and taloned feet, and her hind legs and body resembling a deer's. She has huge feathered wings and a spotted tail. There is purple glint in her eyes. End ID

ID: Chimera Dess from a side profile view. She has her jaw unhinged, and reaches out with a clawed hand. The purple glint in her eye has grown. Surrounding her are other drawings other people have made on the whiteboard. End ID

ID: Chimera Dess from a partial front view, looking ominously below at something. End ID

ID: Gaster wearing a button up, dark colored vest and pants, a purple cloak with a determination star clasp, and iron boots and gauntlets with the determination star engraved on. He is looking to his left with tired eyes; his arms are at his sides, with his hands balled into fists. He has fangs, and short wavy hair made out of fire. Above him is all caps text that reads “I have always believed it to be morally sound to hit people with hammers“. End ID