#he’s supposed to look The Most like asriel but there are other things he shares w the others

[the-meme-monarch]

Does Ralsei (and the other Dreemurs) have goat hands or paw hands, d’ya think? I’m imagining fingers with a hoof on the end instead of nails, but since you’re the most correctest person in the fandom I’m curious what you think

ok i like to make the boss monsters/ boss monster shaped darkners look A Little Different bc i don’t like how they otherwise look The Same in canon, i think it’s implied they all have paws, ralsei definitely does if the leg portion of the mech at the end of chapter two is supposed to resemble him Exactly , but here’s my headcanons (plus my design for chairiel :])

[stainedglassthreads]

It’s interesting to observe the Dreemurr’s faces during their respective boss fights. 

A lot of fanart draws Toriel as openly crying in her fight, but she... doesn’t, really. Her expression is stern and stony, and the narration is full of phrases like ‘Toriel is looking aloof.’ or ‘Toriel looks right through you.’ This is clearly a very emotional moment for her, and her attacks and dialogue do reflect that, but she probably does the best job, out of all the Dreemurrs, of putting on a brave face. (Said brave face does crack if she accidentally kills Frisk, or if she realizes Frisk has killed every monster in the Ruins.) 

Asgore just... point-blank refuses to show his face. His head is down, and his eyes are completely cast in shadow for as long as he’s committed to attacking. He could be bawling like a baby for all we know. 

Then there’s Asriel. Who is... kinda weird, honestly. In a way he mixes Toriel’s skill in projecting a front with Asgore’s sincere emotions. In his very first fight during out first meeting, he has a pretty convincing facade as ‘Your best friend!’, probably created through dozens of resets of practice. As soon as you’re injured, or as soon as he grows too frustrated to keep it up, however, he immediately discards it. 

The Photoshop Flowey fight is more or less the same. He’s convinced he’s in complete control, so he takes his time monologuing, gloating, mocking, taunting, toying. However when the souls rebel, he resorts to screaming that this isn’t supposed to happen. 

There are, however, exactly four or five points where Flowey’s mask REALLY shatters. Where Chara is involved, and when his worldview is upset. After the Toriel fight, he concludes that Frisk is Chara, and becomes a little more genuinely friendly towards them, doing things like reminiscing how they’re still together, or assuring them that his plan ‘isn’t regicide.’ Near the end of No Mercy, where Frisk has acted how ‘his idea’ of Chara would, he is at his most open, helpful, and friendly, sharing the details of his resurrection and resets with ‘Chara,’ and admitting how he doesn’t really care about ultimate power anymore-- he’d be happy with a little house on the surface, if only Chara were there too. In the Asriel Dreemurr boss fight, as well, he starts out playing up the ‘omnipotent god’ angle, but slowly breaks down over how much he misses Chara, as he comes to terms with how they’re really gone and won’t stay with him. 

The other time when Asriel’s mask breaks, however, is when is worldview is upset. When the unexpected REALLY happens. If Frisk kills him after the Photoshop Flowey boss fight, then he’s quite satisfied and accepts his fate. If they insist on sparing him, then he becomes confused and distressed. But if ‘CHARA’ kills him in No Mercy, his parter, his best friend, the one he missed for so long... then he bawls, pleads, screams, imitates Asriel’s face, and tries to make himself ‘useful’ by killing Asgore for them. (He’s convinced Chara would embrace the kill-or-be-killed mindset, but also that Chara would never, ever, ever hurt him.) 

Speaking of Chara... their speaking style is quite reminiscent of Toriel’s. And that’s not the only similarity with her that they share. 

If you believe the Narra-Chara theory, there’s a lot you can read into their dialogue during very emotional portions of Dreemurr fights. In each such fight, there’s a portion where the narration will just be ‘...’ Which is borderline impossible to read into the specifics of, even moreso than Toriel’s aloof act. 

Speaking of parallels between Chara and Toriel... I wonder if the encounter with them at the very end of No Mercy isn’t them putting on as aloof and stoney a mask as she does. There is something to be said, about how Toriel and Chara will read Asgore or the Player, respectively, the riot act about their respective wrongdoings. And something else to be said about both breaking into hysterical laughter at the end of the route where you kill everyone. (And there is no proof that Toriel is just an evil sadist, nor am I implying that, so. Consider that in your musings.) 

It’s generally interesting to see how good all the Dreemurrs are at hiding their emotions. Whatever emotions Asgore feels, he feels strongly-- most notably his joy and sorrow, but also his anger, probably why HE was the one to impulsively declare war. Toriel, too, feels her emotions, but she puts her morals and pride first, always. Asriel’s emotions remain raw and messy as ever, beneath his traumatized and jaded exterior. And Chara hides their emotions so well that they remain something of a mystery. 

[freuleinanna]

trials (and errors)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 AO3

Chapter 4: Liars

A perfect lie does not exist. Untether it from truth, and it's a mere fantasy. Weave truth into it, and it becomes a commemoration, for concealment is just an act of protection, and protection, well, is just an act of love.

Can you imagine? The chapter I started the whole thing for? Ugh. Welcome to the circus, aka the courtroom angst, aka Sturrock hardly dealing with those two and those two hardly dealing with each other

The hearing itself is a blur.

If they were to compare memories, both Marisa and Asriel would probably agree that what they remember most is endless bureaucratic gibberish and a whole lot of pretentious words flying about. Illicit affair this, conspiracy to murder that. Asriel powers through the whole thing silently agreeing to at least consider respecting the Authority should he miraculously manifest himself and strike down the bunch of dim-witted black-robed idiots blabbering about marriage institutions and the worth of a human life. Beside him, Stelmaria is unmoving, her eyes glide from one speaker to another, thoughts impenetrable behind the icy facade. Both of them exude the feeling of having much better and more important things to do with their time, which isn’t wrong. Both of them are fully focused on not looking at the opposite side of the hall where Marisa and her daemon are.

They climb their respective stands. They aren’t allowed to be seated. After all, it is a trial, and they are supposed to be defending themselves. Asriel has a feeling that neither him nor Marisa are interested in defense, simply wanting things to be over.

Stabbing each other in the process is just an extra perk.

‘State your name, please,’ Cardinal Sturrock is slumping in his direction. Asriel opens his mouth and doesn’t shut up out of spite listing his name, status, estates, and full heritage up to the seventh generation even when he’s interrupted – twice. His voice thunders through the room. People wince.

‘You did ask, Your Eminence,’ he shrugs coldly.

‘Thank you, Lord Belacqua,’ comes the most thankless tone possible.

Marisa’s answer, against his, is short and dry.

‘Marisa Coulter, née Delamare.’

With the precision of French vowels on née. Whether it’s pride or emotions that make her resort to the accent, or a simple habit of pronouncing it right, Asriel doesn’t really know. I love you, sea creature. He doesn’t look, but his teeth hurt from clenching.

And then it becomes very hard not to look because questions come one after another, and it’s their shared history that gets spilled on the floor.

‘Could you remind the honorable judges of the circumstances of your meeting?’

He stifles a groan. The only thing stopping him from suggesting the honorable judges to shove their honorable questions up their honorable asses is Stelmaria’s tail around his legs. She could have crushed the pathetic daemon-insects between her paws if she wanted, but she is playing impassive for his sake. Asriel burrows his fists deeper into his pockets and clears his throat.

‘It was a social event, I don’t remember which. Both Mrs. Coulter and I were present.’

Well, he made the whole board frown. Again. What, did they expect him to pour out every detail? Who cares, let’s cut right to the chase. They met, they slept together, they had a child, he killed her husband – that’s what everyone wants to discuss anyway. Dancing around the subject just takes the meaning out of it.

‘And how old were you?’

‘Twenty.’

‘And Mrs. Coulter?’

‘Why don’t you ask Mrs. Coulter herself?’ he snaps, patience is leaking out of him despite the decision to stick to his best behavior. Damn his non-existent tolerance for stupidity.

‘It is your account of the events, Lord Belacqua. We will address Mrs. Coulter when needed.’

Speaking of her like she isn’t in the room. The spot of blue color is very still in the corner of his vision as Asriel makes an effort to look straight in the Cardinal’s bloated face. He can’t lick Marisa’s taste off his lips. It’s distracting. Stelmaria moves her head in a warning: focus.

‘I believe, Mrs. Coulter was nineteen at a time.’

‘And is it correct that your affair started a year after that?’

To be fair, Asriel said so himself during one of the previous hearings because it was easier then, one on one with Sturrock and his henchmen. He said a lot of things. Now, however, with Marisa standing witness, the lies become palpable like rough stitches in the air. Seeing them, knowing them, how could anyone believe they lasted a whole year?

The truth is, the affair had started immediately. It’s just that the sex came well after, but she cheated on her husband the moment their hands met.

They would meet at the library. She would pretend to not notice Asriel’s presence until the last minute, but always made sure to wear the most flattering dresses. He would pretend he visited the dusty archives for any serious, adult reason except spending a day with Marisa.

She would smile politely as she saw him and say, ‘Lord Asriel. Here again?’ – in a voice that fit a genderless servant, not a woman of flesh and blood, but her eyes would spark with delight. Sometimes, he would approach to read over her shoulder, hardly seeing the lines from being struck on the head with the scent of perfume mixed into that of her skin.

She would turn her face half-round to ask, ‘I wonder, what do you make of the Bermundsen’s last paper on potential use of natural events, Aurora lights in particular, as a source of renewable anbaric energy?’

He would breathe ‘I think Bermundsen is flying pitifully low’ down her neck.

They would sit across from each other, shamelessly making love with their words and ideas, innocent to anyone who could see.

At times, she would make for the stepladder to take another book. He would take it for her, reaching over her head, almost pressing her into the shelf in the process. Their eyes would meet, and there would be that look in hers, all at once calculating and genuinely content, impossible to decipher all the way through. Not daring to allow their fingers touch over a book, they would pause. In the air, an instant collapse waiting to be released. They would both stand, undoubtedly imprinting one another in memory to imagine late at night for their own raw, secret pleasure. Adding a throbbing sensuality to that image on purpose.

At the end of the day, they both knew exactly what they were doing.

It’s a force Asriel, with his scientific mind, cannot comprehend or break down into a handful of co-applying laws physics has to offer. Something possesses him to take a look, something not entirely lost, that’s still trying to live and breathe despite his best efforts.

Marisa appears withdrawn. Empty, like she isn’t there at all. The harmony of deep blue with the gold of her daemon would be fitting to a saint, except that wearing a color besides black only paints her more of a sinner. Deep within, Asriel is admiring the defiance. His admiration is of dark, self-torturing quality.

Under a delicate hand, the golden monkey seems to have lost all life. Therein lies the Marisa effect.

‘Lord Belacqua?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Is it correct that your affair started a year after you and Mrs. Coulter had met?’

‘Yes. Yes, that is correct.’

***

Mrs. Coulter, he keeps saying.

I briefly collaborated with Mrs. Coulter on one of my branching research, she was providing theological base to…

When Mrs. Coulter and I had become involved…

… there was no paper correspondence, Mrs. Coulter insisted…

…Mrs. Coulter…

…Mrs. Coulter…

Some other woman she must be, that Mrs. Coulter, because Marisa doesn’t recognize herself in what Asriel is saying. The person he talks at such lengths about sounds rational and cold, plotting her way through the affair down to every breath she takes, and not at all in love. She remembers being in love. How does one pick memories clean off the carcass of that giant dead thing?

Bones are there, alright, but Asriel is lying. Tiny details get cloaked sometimes, and sometimes grand ones. Marisa isn’t fool enough to think it a protection, instead pulling herself together against what it really is. An erasure, utter and complete: of her, of what they were. Matter-of-factness, with which Asriel answers the questions, ultimately retelling the story in a way a dust-dry librarian would retell the plot of an exciting novel, is an act of killing. She is reduced to an outline, a character – someone unimportant, and only vaguely familiar.

A stranger, in a word. A stranger whose name he pretends to have never tasted on his tongue in moments of disarmed tenderness.

He said he wouldn’t spare her. Who knew it was to be like this.

Despite the indignation it pokes alive, his flow of immaculate half-truths has another effect, an unexpected one. They carve Mrs. Coulter into existence out of thin air, and the more Asriel speaks, the more real she becomes, allowing Marisa to dissolve in the image. Soothing her until she enters a state of tranquil trance, her tyranny buried into the golden fur. How easy it is to pretend uninvolved. It allows her some control – maimed, disfigured, but control still.

So she listens, and doesn’t object. Her hatred, now cool and steady as opposed to the fiery eruption before, listens too. Grasped by curiosity almost unhealthy, it wonders how much less emotional Asriel can make the whole thing sound.

And then, suddenly, it’s her turn.

And then, suddenly, it’s a full-blown interrogation.

Air grows thicker, as if molecules knit themselves closer together with every pair of disapproving eyes landing on Marisa. She tenses.

‘Mrs. Coulter, do you agree with Lord Belacqua’s account?’

Down to the detail, except where he left out that we actually had hearts, she says, yet the words transform in her mouth and leave it as a plain, ‘Yes.’

‘Very well,’ Sturrock locks his ring-laden fingers, leaning over them and resembling at that moment a fat hawk on the search for a prey. ‘Could you say for how long you had been married to Edward Coulter prior to meeting Lord Belacqua?’

‘Six or seven months.’

‘Are you not sure?’ the hawk frowns.

‘Seven,’ Marisa corrects, even though it’s not true, because the whispers start swishing and she needs some merit. Yes, she was still very freshly a wife when she broke all her vows, but at least she can track her own marriage. That must count for something, must it not?

It was, in fact, six months and eighteen days. She spent endless nights wishing she’d just waited for six months and eighteen days longer before allowing Edward to put a wedding band on her finger. Or that Asriel had come along that exact amount of time earlier. Either way, a fruitless endeavor, but it kept her up for hours.

‘And would you say you had amicable relationships with your husband?’

‘Quite.’

‘Mrs. Coulter, I’m afraid I need you to elaborate.’

They say, when vultures come, it’s already too late. Marisa stands surrounded by vultures, painting and repainting her cracking mask of humbleness to not let fury taint it. Even in death, Edward traps her. Say a few good words about him, and her sins become appalling in comparison. Say a few bad ones, and she’s obviously besmearing his memory with lies to save herself, a malign creature whose only hope is to pray for forgiveness. In a convent.

Very carefully, her voice treads across rows.

‘My husband was a man of politics, as you know. Often away. Amicable is the exact right word, Your Eminence, for we didn’t have much in common, nor did we spend much time together. There were always…other duties.’

‘Is that why you chose to betray your sacred union by infidelity?’

Damn you.

Is there any winning this at all? The Cardinal himself is pushing her onto the thinnest ice Marisa’s ever walked on. Everyone is waiting, everyone is angry. A bunch of men who’ve never known a woman’s touch behave like she’s been unfaithful to them personally, and that is a mighty dangerous sea to navigate. That collective ego can crush her like a wave.

Giving herself some time, Marisa strokes the gold. Her hand is hard despite the gesture, the monkey shivers under it. It might pass for embarrassment, his fear. Good. She tugs at the fur a little and greets the pain where, connected to her deamon, a part of her soul resides, stuck among arteries and veins in rivers of blood – the one thing she’s yet failed to dissect to understand the nature. Her insides yelp; it helps her think. She needs to think fast.

Truth, she decides, is the simplest thing to say. And the quickest way to try and thaw a few hearts that are so hung up on innocence.

She only makes one mistake. She looks at Asriel.

‘I was…’ in love, is what Marisa tries for, ready to play the cards, but that incomprehensible soul of hers… She would throw it to the wolves if she could. It makes the words cluster in her throat. It fights against every sound, clawing them down with a fierce proprietary desire to omit, to withhold, to never share a single meaningful piece.

‘Yes, Mrs. Coulter?’

Because it was theirs.

A young man bumps into her, rushing away from her husband like all dogs are on his tail, which is a bit funny since he’s being followed by a giant cat. A  leopard, alright. For the sake of precision, a snow leopard. The man’s face still carries echoes of an argument he’s very obviously continuing in his head even as he turns.

‘My apologies,’ he mutters, a hand on Marisa’s shoulder making sure she’s okay.

‘No need,’ she chuckles at how aggravated he looks, then nods to his suit. ‘You’ve spilled your drink.’

‘What? Oh–’

Something very inappropriate is about to leave his lips, but the stranger contains himself, albeit hardly. He does give an impression of someone who’s not used to doing it. A gentleman, then; sparing Marisa’s ears the horrors of hearing him curse. She smiles. It is a very expensive suit he’s wearing, of fine materials, clearly tailored. With a big wet whiskey spot on the left sleeve.

She lends him a handkerchief. Simple as that.

‘Seemed like you were having a hard time with Edward Coulter there.’

‘Politicians,’ the man scoffs, patting his sleeve dry. ‘A fine specimen too, pigheaded as they come.’

‘Hard to disagree.’

The man snorts.

‘Thank you.’ He looks up to return the handkerchief. For the first time, their eyes meet. Marisa feels blizzard skies touch her face.

Fathomless, untamed, impossibly blue.

Now she’s dizzy.

She has to blink and breathe before reinforcing a polite smile.

‘You’re welcome.’ There’s a little crack in her voice, through which something new seeds in, spilling gold all around. Everything is brighter. Warmer. And the stranger doesn’t help, the stranger is watching her with intensity so profound, as though taking his snowstorm eyes away would be death.

‘I don’t think we’ve been introduced.’

‘We haven’t,’ meaning to take the pitiful piece of cloth, she reaches forward, sly cruelty curling the corner of her mouth in anticipation. ‘Marisa Coulter.’

Now their hands meet. Now she shudders.

It’s against the rules, the anbaric charge running from her fingers and all the way down her spine.

The young man raises his eyebrows, glances over at Edward, then turns to Marisa again. She nods, enjoying the trick. Now he’ll say, ‘Forgive me’. He’ll say, ‘I didn’t mean to be rude’. They’ll laugh about it for as long as another minute will be merciful to last and by tomorrow, they’ll have already forgotten. Simple as that.

He sends her a grin with not a hint of apology in it and whispers, ‘My condolences.’

Their hands are still touching.

Now, Marisa falls.

How does one share… that?

‘I was weak,’ she says instead, hiding the truth so deep in the hardened soil that is her core now, it doesn’t have any chance of pushing back to the surface, ‘and easily seduced. A young woman, the high society. Getting plentiful attention from a handsome young man. It doesn’t excuse me, but the result is, I think, understandable.’

That should do it. That should be enough.

In years to come, she’ll bare her teeth at anyone suggesting that she was, indeed, seduced, for every time, this exact moment will come before her eyes. When she set the rumors free to cover her refusal, her actual inability to kill whatever love there was by laying it down before the judging eyes. When she stood lying her heart out to protect it. What a wild, unreasonable thing to do, lacking any logical backbone.

‘In your own words, Mrs. Coulter, could you describe the nature of your affair with Lord Belacqua?’

And she keeps doing it again, and then again. Before the board of the Consistorial Court, before the Authority himself. Before Asriel, to whom she has no means of explaining what she’s doing and why, and it’s too late for explanations anyway.

‘It was just that, an affair.’ The monkey’s frozen under the palm of her hand, but his heart is racing. He’s looking at Asriel, making her want to look. She can’t bring herself to, not with all the atrocities falling out of her mouth. ‘I never made any advances.’ A lie. ‘Our relationship was merely physical.’ A lie. ‘There were no high feelings involved on either of our ends,’ a preposterous lie, ‘and I certainly never planned for a child.’

‘Now, the child…’

And so it continues: a hook after hook, round after round of scrupulous investigation, escaping traps, spinning a detail or two into webs by myriads and morphing them to the point of striking unrecognizability, concealing what couldn’t be shared.

Marisa goes through humiliation of describing her pregnancy to a board of priests, each of whom, at some point, winces at the realness of their beloved sacred concept. She answers increasingly stupid questions, and grooms her voice to sound respectful and calm. She acknowledges her sins without ever raising eyes. She, for all means and purposes, survives.

There’s one moment where it almost goes downhill.

‘What were the circumstances of your conceiving of a child?’ Sturrock asks, cruelly overdoing the air of grave solemnity. Perhaps, Marisa is just too exhausted to be impressed anymore.

Are you stupid? she might have as well said it, with the way she turns to the man raising a brow, face completely unreadable otherwise. The fat hawk dives out of his papers. Without as much as a word, he gestures for her to talk, and Marisa, the perfect statue, feels the last crumbs of patience being incinerated within.

‘Physical intercourse,’ from her tongue, venom all but drips. ‘Am I supposed to explain to the honorable judges what that is?’

Well, now she’s done it. Caused a storm. Rows of black attires buzz in a unanimous disapproval. Marisa imagines Asriel chuckling. She doesn’t see him, doesn’t hear him behind the noise, but she’d like to imagine a smile. A half-hidden, proud smile he used to have as he looks at her stirring trouble.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! A gavel brings order by slamming the living demons out of the wood. The monkey’s tail curls around Marisa’s forearm. He scowls, and takes a step back. Closer to her. She doesn’t have shelter to offer, only her nails driven deep in the fur.

‘Let me rephrase the question, Mrs. Coulter, and from now on, please refrain from any irrelevant comments,’ the Cardinal grimaces. ‘Were the circumstances clear enough to presume Lord Belacqua to be the father?’

‘I am the father!’

Immediately – a roar, as if that man can’t speak in lower volumes. Always the roars with him.

Across the room, the whole magnitude that is Asriel comes alive, and suddenly Marisa knows – not even understands, it’s not a eureka, she just knows. Stelmaria paces, abandoning her sphinx-like grace; her hissing grows into snarls and back. Asriel is arguing with Sturrock who, without a doubt, is telling him to shut up, which Asriel, without a doubt, ignores. The voices echo. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that for all the lies they both told – the lies, she realizes, absolutely identical in their meaning and reasoning – this one he won’t allow. That single grain of truth must remain unmutilated, untouched by their game of erasure.

For Asriel loves that child. He loved it enough to name it, loved it enough to steal it away. He loves it enough now, to fight for it. And Marisa, while having the power to invent any obnoxious story and take his fatherhood away, won’t do it.

Because it’s theirs.

Because it’s the only thing they haven’t buried yet.

Because, as her love-stricken body never ceases to remind her, she didn’t want a child, but she also wanted his just a little.

So she bites her cool, steady hatred down and doesn’t ruin it all the way. For an act of killing, an act of mercy. Screaming: Here. Don’t you fucking dare say I didn’t have a heart.

‘My husband was frequently absent, sometimes for weeks on end.’ A sterile voice, devoid of anything but a drop of sarcasm. ‘As a scholar, I pride myself in knowing the basic mathematics to do the count.’

It’s hard to say if the Cardinal’s forehead is glistening with sweat of responsibility or mere frustration. He waves his hand, and doesn’t ask Marisa any more questions.

From the distance, Asriel is scrutinizing her. She can imagine gears turning in his head as he contemplates her actions. Imagining is the only thing she can do; to salvage something, something else must be sacrificed. Marisa fakes a cold smile. He frowns. Threads of Aurora colors are still hanging between them, uncut, piercing the space to weave the two together, but the ability to read them is lost.

***

Mercury. Lead. Cadmium. Aluminium. Any type of hazardous metals, Asriel is used to handling in his laboratory with according tools and protection, but when a tiny bundle nestles on the crook of his arm, he suddenly feels stupefied. What to do. How to hold it. How, for heaven’s sake, to not harm it?

Afraid of breathing the wrong way, he walks to the stairs. Thinks. Properly, carefully. Then sits on the lower steps, all the way making sure not to press the baby too hard, not to bump the head, not to… a billion other not-tos.

The tiniest face he’s ever seen wrinkles in sleep, and Asriel understands why it’s called ‘falling in love’. It is a fall. His heart plunges down toward something so entirely new, it’s torturing, yet rewarding at the same time. He felt it with Marisa but this, this is different. He stares at his daughter’s face with awe written all over his.

‘Won’t you introduce us?’ He’s oblivious to his own daemon approaching. Stelmaria rubs at his shoulder, her impressive might turned delicate, affectionate. Amber eyes find the baby. She gives the blanket a couple of sniffs and grumbles with content, tail slowly passing from side to side. Asriel feels holy.

‘Stelmaria, this is Lyra,’ he whispers proudly, stunned at the sheer strangeness of the words he never thought he’d use in a combination until he does. ‘My child.’

And then again, ‘My child.’ Like he’s perpetually amused by it. His chest shakes with a stifled laughter of joy.

The baby’s eyes aren’t fully closed, so he thinks he might need to ask Ma Costa if that’s alright. She’ll know. Still, the child appears happy in her slumber. His child, sleeping in his arms. Under her eyelids, a shard of blue. Gyptians say, everybody’s born with blue eyes, sky eyes, and only when spirits finish weaving the threads of one’s life here on earth, do they acquire their true color. What a bunch of nonsense. His child, Asriel knows, will have the bluest eyes forever, even when she’s all grown up. Because she’s theirs, Marisa’s and his.

A little mousy thing climbs from under the fold, yawning and squealing. Perhaps, it’s too hot there. The tiny daemon doesn’t even fully wake, slumping right back on his daughter’s chest and dreaming their little dreams.

‘Won’t you introduce us?’ Asriel turns to Stelmaria, echoing the question. The leopard comes to lick the mouse, her tongue as long as his whole body. A kiss of love, though she’s careful enough not to touch the baby. Small paws catch at the fur on her chin. She licks the daemon again, unmistakably pleased.

‘Feisty,’ she says with quiet fondness before resting a head on her human’s shoulder. ‘Asriel, this is Pantalaimon.’

‘Pantalaimon,’ the name settles over the little thing. Both little things. ‘Lyra and Pantalaimon.’

He sighs, content, amused. In love.

‘My child. My child.’

‘He was going there to murder my child, and I wasn’t supposed to intervene?’

‘Lord Belacqua, we’re not questioning…’

‘Where in your holy books does it say that a father should sit and let it happen?’

‘Your motifs are…’

‘Because I’ve read them, and there’s no such thing there! You know what else they don’t say? That a husband can kill the bastard his wife bore. And don’t give me the ‘violation’ speech, if he was going to avenge his wife, he’d have come straight to me. Edward Coulter chose to go and murder the child.’

‘Silence!’ Sturrock roars, banging the gavel in a deafening, psychotic rhythm for so long, the thing must have gone flat. The Cardinal drops it on the table before wiping his forehead for the umpteenth time. Another ink smudge appears. The man sighs. When he speaks again, his breath comes out heavy with wheezing. ‘As I was saying, Lord Belacqua, we are not questioning your motifs. But if the murder of Edward Coulter was indeed, as you claim, undesigned, the question remains: how did you know of his whereabouts?’

Asriel’s hands are itching to break something. The damn gavel, preferably. Preferably, against the Cardinal’s head. Conversations have been going in circles forever now, following the same patterns like figurines in a music box.

‘Once again, the gyptians sent for me,’ he grips at the sides of his stand until his knuckles show white. ‘I know you’ve spoken to Ma Costa and John Faa. I’m sure they told you the same.’

‘Did any of them know what Edward Coulter looked like?’

‘Why would they?’

‘So, a stranger shows up, and they immediately call for you? Certainly, you understand why I’m finding this peculiar.’

‘The man was ravaging their settlement, screaming my name and demanding to see the child. I doubt the dots were hard to connect.’

‘And you, luckily, showed up just in time?’

‘Luck, chance, divine intervention, I don’t care what you call it. Ma Costa sent a boy for me. As soon as I heard what was happening, I took his horse and rode. And yes, I killed a man, but need I remind you, I did so protecting my child.’

‘Yes, yes, you’ve made that abundantly clear, Lord Belacqua,’ Sturrock mutters, clearly irked, dropping back in his chair.

A short silence follows. A short time to regroup for another attack. What ticks His wheezing Eminence the most, Asriel thinks as he’s watching the man shuffle papers on the table, is that he does not exhibit guilt. Every fool knows it’s the surest way to win the judging party over, yet he disregards even the most basic of rules. Deep within, he can’t miss the appeal: a man of science facing a board of clerics and winning, slowly but surely. He allows himself a smirk. Right away, comes a cautionary glow of golden eyes. Stelmaria bares her teeth, just slightly. Nothing is over yet.

They are all tired, agitated, and way, way less patient. Sturrock finally stops pretending to be the all-knowing bringer of justice and sulks in his high seat, clueless as to what comes next. That makes him pesky, stubborn. From here on in, dangerous paths wind ahead.

‘Where is the child now?’ the Cardinal finally asks.

Ah. So they know.

Asriel draws air to reply when he notices a tiny movement. It only makes him pause for a fraction of a second, but his mouth grows suddenly dry as he realizes what it was. Marisa turns her head. Marisa, who, for hours, stood as  indifferent as a statue and seemed to be oozing nothing but quintessential, undiluted boredom with the fate of their daughter, turns her head, and listens.

‘Lord…’

‘Yes, I heard.’

He can feel Sturrock frown.

‘And?’

It doesn’t matter. Her listening doesn’t matter. The woman is a labyrinth, each turn a dead-end. A sea creature that learned to mimic humanity. It’s just his heart he needs to persuade, because, well… She told the truth. Threw away the best weapons she had and told the truth where it mattered.

‘Lord Belacqua, I have to insist…’

‘The Jordan College,’ Asriel barks, pushing through the pounding in his chest. ‘She’s in the Jordan College, in care of its Master.’

Come what may, he’ll fight.

‘So,’ the sweaty, round face of the Cardinal proves to be a surprisingly good distraction. Who could’ve thought. ‘How does a child, placed in a nunnery, end up in the Jordan College?’

‘I took her there myself.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘On the grounds of my doing whatever the hell I want, because this is my child!’

He shouts. Stelmaria’s roaring, carried by the echo, rambles through the hall, and a whole lot of bugs, spiders, and mice daemons hurry to hide in their humans’ sleeves. They don’t have anything against him, Asriel realizes with grim satisfaction. Better yet, they are quite afraid. He stands prouder, arms folded. The taste of victory grazes his tongue already, nearing in anticipation to that first sip of tokay as the liquid gold pours into a glass.

‘And did you not think to consult with Mrs. Coulter?’ Sturrock gestures innocently to the side. ‘Its mother?’

He looks a cheap magician demonstrating a trick, although why, Asriel can’t seem to grasp. Marisa has been standing there this whole time. It’s not like he made her appear out of nowhere. A thought stumbles on its own irrelevance, at once fading.

There’s something in Marisa’s eyes.

Something, he could swear.

She stands wearing her guilt, and shame, and sin like she would one of her ravishing dresses, and he could swear she gives him the smallest, sharpest nod.

‘Mrs. Coulter…’ Asriel begins hoarsely, then stops. Honey-spiked wine turns into a nauseating unctuous slush in his throat. With an effort, he swallows it all the way down. He’d swallow his own pride to keep talking. ‘Mrs. Coulter does not have a grain of interest in being a mother, Cardinal. As soon as the child was born, she wished for it to be sent away. She even went as far as telling her husband that it died at birth. That child never knew a crumb of mother’s care, so I don’t think Mrs. Coulter has a say in the matter.’

He never takes his eyes off Marisa. Treading onto the ice, waiting for creatures to come from the depths and devour him.

Take her away, Asriel. I can’t… I’ll hurt her, or do something, or… She will ruin everything, she will. I hate that. I hate… Just hide her, Asriel, please. Hide her from me. I’d rather hate her from the beginning than love her, and hurt her still.

Creatures never come.

The lie settles.

Hanging over the room, an uneasy silence: the entire board of the honorable judges grows quiet, shifting their gazes from one stand to another. There’s not a cough, not a chirp from their daemons. No minds able to unriddle that enormous magnetic charge pulsating in the air, created and sustained, it seems, in half-accidental, neither scientific nor theological, conditions of two people looking at one another. Each a defendant, each a prosecutor. Making their own gravity.

Which can only exist for as long as it’s allowed.

‘Be it as it may, Lord Belacqua…’ the Cardinal sounds a tad less sure now, yet there are no more grounds to surrender. ‘She is still the child’s mother, and in terms of the rightful…’

‘Your Eminence, if I may?’

A clear voice, so perfect in its tone against the angry, tired grumbles that have been bouncing off the walls for hours, it’s like a breath of air.

All Asriel can do is watch. It all depends on her now.

Sturrock pinches the bridge of his nose – needless to say, dripping with sweat – before addressing Marisa. Whether he’s contemplating his career, or wondering if the two of them decided to team up specifically to wear him down, Asriel would understand.

‘Yes, Mrs. Coulter?’

‘Let him do with the child as he pleases.’

What are you doing.

‘Again, Mrs. Coulter, any elaborations?’

‘None,’ she shakes her head. ‘Except that I have no intention of being a mother to, as Lord Belacqua so eloquently put it before, a bastard born of sin.’

What are you doing, goddamn you.

She stands there. Just stands there, with whispers and looks touching her face, her clothes, getting under it and branding her a monster. An adultress, twice sinner, a mother who left her child. They would be more merciful if she just played her cards. Everyone loves a sad story with a mother and a child somewhere in it, and none more that the church folk. She doesn’t leave them a chance to be merciful.

In her eyes, shards of sea-blue, so familiar it sends a violent thrust through his heart. The ones forever mixed into the blue of their daughter’s. And suddenly, Asriel finds himself nodding to her in the same hidden gesture she did.

That’s right. Hit harder. I know you can.

The golden monkey stirs. Behind her stand, Marisa is a mask of cold elegance. Right next to her, her soul withers in a white-knuckled grip. Then she blinks, and her sea-blue goes completely blank, and she looks away.

‘Is that your official request, Mrs. Coulter?’

‘If need be, yes.’

The Cardinal gives out an exasperated sigh. Then bangs a gavel.

‘So be it.’

***

The very last thing they do is sign the orders.

Marisa sways when she takes the first step, but simply because she spent hours on her feet, hardly moving. Not because she’s afraid of walking toward the inevitable end.

She doesn’t look at Asriel. He doesn’t look at her.

They’ve said all they wanted, agreed on all they needed, and lied the living souls out of themselves in the process, painting each other all colors of monstrous. The tainted mess left on the courtroom floor has nothing to do with what they really were. And that, perhaps, is the most victory they can share. With nobody knowing the truth, they might forget it too. Forget there was ever love at all.

Ugly, grotesque versions of them that will leave the room shouldn’t make it too hard.

Asriel is the one to leave first. Stelmaria follows him quietly, a ghost of a man and ghost of a daemon.

His signature is right there on the paper. Marisa hardly even reads what is above. She’s not to approach Lyra or visit the Jordan College, that much she heard from Sturrock’s lengthy speech. The rest, she couldn’t be bothered with.

She signs a confident ‘M’.

A less confident name, not yet understanding why.

Then shivers.

For whatever reason, her hand is aching to write ‘Delamare’. I love you, sea creature. Taking a deep breath, Marisa has to spend a good minute closing her mind, sealing it up for good. Resorting, ironically, to the very thing she and Asriel created together.

Marisa Delamare drowns at sea. From its depths, a creature emerges, as enigmatic and obscure as the black waters that have turned its blood cold all the way through to the heart, and its beautiful embrace is deadly.

The creature’s name is Mrs. Coulter.

[topazshadowwolf]

I see a lot of people headcanon that sans fell in love with toriel from that first laugh when they were telling jokes through the door and it's really cute, but do you think it would have been the same for toriel or would something else have sparked it for her?

Ooooh, and believe me, I am one of those who headcanon that Sans fell in love at first laugh. He heard her laugh and was like, "wow!" The fact that he felt the need to keep her laughing... that she was his BEST AUDIENCE meant he loved to hear her laugh.

But that's different from what you were asking about. You wanted to know when she fell for him. My headcanon is that it took longer for her. I think, having been in love before and being... betrayed by that love... made it longer for her to warm up to this stranger.

If I can guess, I see Toriel as one who takes acts of affection as being key in a relationship. After all, in DR, she spent time making eggs and ensuring there was a Yoshi egg that she knew Asriel would love. It clearly angered her that Asgore ate it as it upset her son. A GIFT she made for her son was used as trauma. But that's DR... we can figure, though, her personality was the same between the two. Toriel is the same character, just in a different situation. So let's take this insight and go back to UT and the door...

Sans visiting her, by choice, every day was what started to win her over. He tells her jokes, makes her laugh, tells her stories, and tells her aaaall about his brother Papyrus. I think he feels he can open up to her. About how he makes sure Papyrus has all he wants and needs. And I think we can all agree that Sans pays attention to details. He knows and understands his brother. And yes, Sans teases Papyrus (older brothers as supposed to tease their younger siblings, after all), but he knows when things go too far. (Look at the winter Hockey scene, for example.)

It is this that Toriel falls in love with. She sees him as a good and caring big brother of a young adult and just wants to help him. She shares recipes and opens up about herself. They talk more and more, and that is what starts to strengthen their "close friendship" into love. Truly, they are in love early on, but neither will admit it...

Last, of all, I know I keep saying, "It's more than the laughs" when I speak up to haters. But let it not be said I discount laughs. Most women want to be with someone who really makes them laugh. And hey, guys also like it when women think their jokes are funny. These are actual relationship facts. So, while it started with jokes and grew from that, joking with each other is clearly still a keystone to their relationship and should not be discounted or ignored. So, him making her laugh daily... that also was something that won her over.

The point I'm slowly getting at is I don't think for her there is one thing that made her heart go "all aflutter." Instead, I see it as a slow build-up. Toriel just doesn't know if she should, can, or had the right to fall in love. So, it just takes time and multiple aspects to make her notice she might feel more than friendship for this stranger...

[aquapede]

ok wait. i think i might be onto something here. i think i know why queen constantly ignoring ralsei is highlighted so much.

but to explain that i think i need to first explain the thought process that led me here, bc otherwise i sound insane. but i might sound a little insane getting there so--bear with me here

so, first off, ralsei is FULL of metaphors for kris.

to list a few: feeling abandoned and alone in a tiny town, waiting for someone to arrive to give them a feeling of purpose either in the form of a prophecy or a vacation, kris' adoration of asriel manifesting as wanting to be like him as much as possible, and ofc how ralsei just...looks like the other dreemurrs but with red/pink horns. he doesn't have to be their old headband to be a pretty clear parallel to them.

ok im putting the rest of this under the cut bc WOW it gets long from here

so, with the kris->ralsei parallel down, let's move to a similar topic rq

by the time dr takes place, toriel is smothering kris in attention in the aftermath of her divorce and asriel's departure to college. she says herself that she feels lonely with only the two of them at home:

and the only way she thinks she can bond with kris is through their shared memories of the family that tied them together.

queen reflects that in a more cartoonish and exaggerated way, like with her only trying to have a truce with kris once she knows the two of them are alone, or how she tries to use reminiscing on the arcade game in the cyber field to bring them closer. and she isn't lonely in the sense she's alone, she thinks no one understands her or what she's doing, and thus, is emotionally alone.

kris does seem to genuinely want to connect with queen, too, even making a move towards the smaller arcade cabinet without our input.

and it goes hand-in-hand w/ toriel's hinted-at alcohol abuse how queen only becomes visibly drunk once, in a scene where only kris is around.

so, let's take all of this a step further. if queen's behavior towards kris is indicative of how toriel treats kris now, and ralsei is a parallel to kris, i don't think it's a far leap to assume queen just straight up forgetting ralsei exists is how toriel used to treat kris, before asriel and asgore left and she had no one else in the family to turn to.

and i dont think this is malicious on any end! just to be clear!

queen seems to not have any ill will towards ralsei. like at all. she doesn't hurt him or try to control him after realizing she doesn't have a room for him.

but her immediate next action after realizing that she didn't know what to do with him was...to shove the responsibility of taking care of ralsei onto swatch/the swatchlings, the other major power(s) of the mansion.

and in this fantasy world where she's the villain, yeah, thats a good thing! but in a less literal sense, she put the 'burden' of taking care of him on someone else because she's too busy thinking about and accommodating for the lightners (or, asriel) to properly pay attention to ralsei. she doesn't know enough about him to give him anything he wants.

then, in her giga fight, queen briefly mentions ralsei (most likely to try and appeal to him) but can't even remember his name.

and ralsei can't find anything to say about queen in his toast besides how she shunted him into his role as a servant.

they're both content having their only common ground be their care for the lightners (or, the other dreemurrs) and neither really make a move to make their relation deeper than surface-level.

it's played for laughs but if this is genuinely the connection we're supposed to draw it's...sad.

and, obviously if this is meant to be a parallel to toriel's previous behavior, it probably wasn't as cartoonish as queen displays it, but the general idea it's giving is sad as hell, both for what it means for ralsei and for what it means for kris.

and if ralsei has memories of neglect alongside his whole being alone all his life thing....no wonder he's clingy.

tl;dr toriel is possibly making up for her previous neglect and ralsei is the way this is illustrated

[anime-grimmy-art]

What do you do when there’s not much to an AU? You make up your own stuff, ofc. And as is per usual when I make Character Designs, I make up a shit ton of lore too.

The ramblings under the cut, but what I’m really interested in, is what you guys think. Do you guys have any headcanons/ideas for this AU? Let me hear them! Also, if you don’t wanna read on tumblr, here’s the Google Docs link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/151yshHxnb_--P6eMKkwkI2dee9xC_Llb/view?usp=sharing

Before I get into the characters’ roles, here’s some general facts and backstory of their town:

- Basically, it’s Undertale meets Harvest Moon / Stardew Valley. Well, kinda. I at least used that approach for coming up for the jobs for the characters. You know, how there’s always a general store, a doctor, a smithy, etc.

- The usual story of a HM game is that you come to a town that’s way past its glory days and you, as the player/farmer, help them get back to that. The “backstory” of the town is that that already kinda happened. I’ll get into it more in the character description, but basically when Asgore was still mayor, the town got really popular. Then yadda yadda, a certain tragedy happened, two kids died, and the town suddenly got very bad publicity. There was a lot of stuff going on back then, bad reputation being spread and also a lot of law stuff, cos, you know, supposed child murder ‘n all, so Asgore made the decision to shut off the town to ppl from outside. This was in the interest of most monsters living there, because as fun as it is to have a lot of people coming there, most just wanted to live a quiet life. Not everyone was happy with that though, so many moved away from town and some others are trying to get the town back on its feet. But more on that later.

On to the characters:

I’m just gonna start with the skelebros, cos it’s their fault in the first place I got so invested.

Basically, they are what the player is in hm/sdv. They just showed up one day, took over the abandoned farmhouse and began their life there. The two came to town way after it was “closed” and since then a new mayor has opened the possibility for new residents to move in. Their farm helps the economy of the town a lot and the mayor, like usually in hm games, is trying to use that to make the town more known again. The skelebros aren’t really working towards that goal however.

So, now a bit more detail on them individually.

Papyrus:

- The design is mostly based on what’s “canon” in this au.

- He works mostly on the fields and is in charge of the crops. Their fields aren’t spectacularly big, but still big enough to plant a few dozen rows of veggies. 

- Paps also helps out a lot in town when he has the time. He helps Asgore with his plants, he goes fishing with Undyne, helps Toriel carry crates around and so on. This is inspired by the part-time job mechanic in HM ToT.

- Unbelievably, in this AU Pap is not an absolutely awful cook. Since he helps out at Muffet’s and Grillby’s a lot, they tend to show him some tricks to cooking. Even though Pap’s not a big fan of the greasy or overly sweet cooking those two do, he picks up a lot.

Sans:

- Again, design mostly based on the “canon” look. Maybe a bit more baggy.

- This is finally an AU this dude gets to rest. Since there are no resets and he doesn’t have to see his bro die again and again, for once in his life, he’s not a sad ball of depression. He’s just a chill and lazy dude that loves to make puns. Though, since he’s not too experienced with the feelings of loss, helplessness or grieving, he still tends to hide behind puns and fakes smiles if he does feel bad.

- Sans is in charge of the animals on the farm. Papyrus begrudgingly gave him that role since Pap’s loud demeanour and hectic movements usually scare the animals. Sans’ relaxed attitude draws the animals to him naturally and even if Pap mostly finds him sleep against a tree, in a stack of hay or on one of the sheep, the animals are always fed, healthy and relaxed, so Sans seems to be doing his job.

- Sans always has a small chic sit inside his hoodie or hat. Is it always the same one? Who knows, maybe.

- Sans also, somehow, can produce eggs out of thin air. Grab into his hoodie pocket, in his pants pocket, in his hat, in his slipper, there’s suddenly always an egg there. On good days he can even make butter or cheese appear. 

Gaster:

- He’s literally just a scarecrow in this. Though, if you ask any of the bros why they designed their scarecrow that way, they won’t have an answer.

Frisk&Toriel:

- Frisk is mostly based on what I wore myself as a kid in summer. Just a loose shirt with a cappy. Toriel basically has her ut gown, just with an apron on top.

- Frisk just appeared outside the “magical” forest one day. Napstablook and his cousin found them and brought them to Toriel, who has been taking care of them since.

- Toriel runs the general store in town, but also often takes care of the few kids that still live there.

- Frisk usually helps out in Toriels store, plays with the other kids or sits around at Asgore’s. They’re notorious for nabbing small snacks, mostly from Asgore’s plants. You’ll always find them munching on something. 

- Frisk was in town before the skelebros. Since they’d moved in, Frisk often went to spy on their farm. After a small incident with angry chicken, Frisk got to know the two better and now they see them as something between brothers and uncles.

- But Frisk honestly gets along with everyone. Just like in UT, they’ve not only been adopted by Toriel but literally everyone.

- Toriel and Asgore’s relationship is not as bad as in the main game, since, you know, Asgore didn’t kill literal children, but there’s still tension between them. Back when Asriel and Chara died and the whole thing with the bad rep for the town began, Toriel felt betrayed by Asgore focusing more on the town than giving their deceased kids the grieving they deserved. They’re not divorced, but Toriel still moved out and said needed space to think. Now that Frisk is in the picture though, the both of them are slowly coming to even ground and may even be able to talk things out and clear up the uncertainty of their decisions.

Asgore:

-Asgore has his UT Ending / Deltarune clothes, just with a gardener’s belt.

- He’s the previous mayor of the town, but after all the crap that happened, he stepped down from the position. Now he has his own little shop and sells seeds, saplings, homegrown veggies and fertilizer. So, basically what e.g. the Marimba Farm is in HM AP

- His main customer is Papyrus and they’re on friendly terms. Asgore is worried about how much and how hard Pap works, so he often gives him a discount. 

- Since his family’s past tragedy, Asgore is kind of nervous around kids. So, when he first met Frisk, he hoped they’d not visit him too often. But to his chagrin, Frisk took an instant liking to him and spends a lot of time at his shop (and steals eats the fresh grown veggies). Now, he’s really grateful for that, because for one, he loves Frisk as dearly as he had his own children, and also because now the tension and mistrust between him and Toriel seem to grow smaller day by day.

Undyne&Alphys:

- I gave Undyne a pretty basic fisher’s outfit. Alphys basically has Elli from HM’s outfit, just a bit more doctory stuff added. She still has her canon lab coat too.

- In essence, Undyne and Alphys have 2 completely different jobs. Alphys is the resident doctor and Undyne runs the fish market.

Two things. Yes, I know Alphys is more a mechanic than a doctor, she fits the aesthetic though, so she’s the doc now. And no, Undyne being a fisherwoman is not cannibalism, think of it more as a shark hunting smaller fish.

- The reason I lump them together is because they act as the local “smithy”. Alphys is still really tech savvy in this (I mean, Mettaton is still part of this AU), so she takes on most problems with electronics and stuff. For Undyne, I didn’t want to lose her Royal Guard’s Captain image, so she’s really good at handling tools (and weapons, but Al doesn’t let her make them anymore). So basically, if there’s a broken tool, you can be sure that either Undyne or Alphys can fix it.

- As for relationships, those two are still an item. Alphys is still really shy and a shut-off, but since Undyne and Pap become best friends, she gets to know the skelebros better. She and Sans especially get along well, since most of the time Undyne and Papyrus are let loose, they sit back and talk about science-y stuff. (no, Sans doesn’t have a background in science but he’s still into sci-fi)

- Alphys has a bit of a strained relationship with both Asgore and Mettaton.

Back when Chara and Asriel died, it was because of “illness” (maybe poisoning?). Alphys feels awful because with her back then limited knowledge on medicine she couldn’t help the two. Asgore doesn’t hold anything against her but Alphys can’t help but feel guilty.

Alphys still built Mettaton’s body in this one. The two had a really big disagreement, because Mettaton hated the fact the town was going to close, and he couldn’t understand how Alphys could feel otherwise, even more so endorse the idea.

Mettaton, Napstablook, Mad Dummy/Mew Mew:

- Napsta and Dummy are pretty self-explanatory, they got straw hats. Mettaton’s outfit is a bit of a joke cos it’s a play on “work at the top and party at the bottom”. The tie has two different sides, one with the yellow red pattern, the other completely red. His “top part” is the business part, because when he’s on tv or in the mayors’ office, you don’t usually see his feet. The bottom is his party/dance part, cos his dancing/entertainment channels mostly feature his legs. 

- Mettaton, still a robot, Napstablook and Mad Dummy are all still cousins in this AU.

- Originally, they all lived and worked at the Blook Farm, the Animal Farm of this AU. Mettaton, however, despised that simple live and after befriending Alphys and her building him a body, he left the Farm to pursue bigger things. 

- Mettaton runs the local tv network. From weather to game shows, he does it all. He also runs the tailor shop in town that sells his designer clothes and merchandise. After Asgore stepped down, Mettaton also took over the role of town’s mayor and now works towards making the place more known again. Not everybody is happy with him doing that though.

- One of those people is the Mad Dummy. He can’t stand people anyways and he always claims that history would just repeat itself.

- Since the whole family is made of ghosts, they have different dummies and scarecrows they can use to take care of the animals. To mock Mettaton and kinda get back at Alphys for giving MTT such an opportunity, Mad Dummy found the blueprints for the Mew Mew robot and now modelled one of their scarecrows after it. 

- Napstablook isn’t fond of taking over obejcts like his cousins do, so he mostly takes care of the snails. Somehow, he can interact with them even when incorporeal. 

Muffet&Grillby:

- The two of them run the Inn together. Muffet cooks in the daytime and makes desserts, Grillby manages the bar in the evening. 

- The two still can’t really stand each other but working together like this benefits them both because their rivalry just spurs them on more.

- Even though Grillby is a patient person, somehow Muffet is the only person who riles him up enough to retaliate. (Well, maybe except for Sans, he’s a strong second).

So, basically everything between those two is a challenge in some way. Even if Papyrus doesn’t notice, even his cooking lessons are a challenge for them. 

- Even though they’re constantly bickering, after working together for so many years, there’s a strange level of respect and trust between them. Even if back when they first started this business, they’d pour salt into an already open wound, nowadays they’d know better and just take a step back from the other or even comfort the other (on very rare occasions only). 

Asriel&Chara:

- They be dead. Kinda.

Some Characters that’d live in that town too but that I haven’t made designs for:

- Gerson is the original smithy of the town. He’d grown up in a family of smiths, but he’d always had an appreciation for the sea. That’s why, when the town became more deserted and Undyne had a good enough skill level as smith, he took up the Captains hat and now mostly spends his days out on sea. He also ferries people to places if they need him to. Oh, and just like in canon, Undyne learned most of her skills from him.

- Burgerpants is a poor dude Mettaton basically kidnapped when he was trying to get fame in the city. Now Burgerpants works wherever MTT needs him to, be that as cameraman for the tv shows, cashier in his tailor shop or his slave secretary in the mayor’s office.

- MK is Frisk’s best kid friend. MK’s parents are in charge of shipping the goods out of town and paying the individual people. MK’s the one that usually collects the goods at the end of the day.

- Other than that, there are only a few people in town. I’d imagine the older folks or the really young families stayed in town after it was closed. I think the librarby dude would still run the library. Some Snowdin residents like the stone family or the dogs also might still live there. 

[caretaker-au]

CHAPTER 10

Bright light spilled into Chara’s vision as the world manifested around them. Their body—heavy and fragile—struggled and dropped them to their knees.

As they fell forward Chara caught themselves with their hands. They stared out at their small, feeble fingers that were splayed on the lavender colored floor, each digit tipped with a dull, flat fingernail. Where were they? And what was that awful pounding sensation? They pulled a hand to their chest. That’s right. Their heart. No longer made from monster magic, Chara’s human flesh felt comparatively sluggish and dense. The body they were never supposed to return to. Chara crossed their arms and gripped themself tight. Fierce emotion flooded through their body: a touch of grief for their own death, relief for their survival, and most of all, rage.

“Asriel…” they breathed, their voice a shaking whisper, “How could you?”

After everything they had done, after all that they sacrificed for him, Asriel had betrayed them. Again. As he always had. It didn’t matter how hard Chara worked or how many timelines they chased, their wretched partner threw away everything they had to protect accursed humans. This time was the worst, however. Asriel’s betrayal ended in orchestrating a shared execution.

“You really hate me that much?” Chara’s voice was little more than a shaking growl. They wanted to scream, to declare that they wouldn’t allow it, that they would find someone else who would respect them and carry out their plan. But they didn’t believe it.

“Chara?”

A small voice broke through the fury. Chara looked up and saw them. A child hesitating in a stone doorway just ahead of them: Frisk.

The child’s expression relaxed into a smile, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Anger flashed across Chara’s face. They pulled themselves to their feet, wavering slightly. They staggered towards Frisk with heavy steps, increasing their speed into a run. Frisk’s eyes widened for a moment before they scowled. The child braced themself and held out their arms, “Chara, stop!”

The caretaker grabbed Frisk by the collar and wrenched them up against the doorframe. The kid’s teeth chattered as their skull thudded against the stone behind them.

“Why?!” Chara barked, hatred seeping from their every pore, “You took everything from us! Our lives, our future, the salvation of all monsters!” Frisk turned their head away, clenching their eyes tight as Chara berated them. “Nothing was stopping you from leaving. So why?” Chara demanded, “Why did you return? To mock me? To torment me?”

“No…” Frisk answered quietly, “To save you.”

Their answer didn’t make any sense. Chara stared back, unable to even articulate a response. Instead, they slammed Frisk against the wall again. “Liar!” Chara cried out, “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth!” Frisk squirmed and pulled on Chara’s hands to no avail, “Escape isn’t worth anyone’s life. Not even yours, Chara!”

Chara’s fists clenched tighter around the slack of Frisk’s sweater. With a heave, they tossed the child to the side. Frisk splayed across the floor with a grunt.

“You are wrong,” Chara huffed, “And you… are a fool. Did you not learn the first time? I don’t care about your mercy.”

Frisk pulled themself to their feet. They straightened and returned Chara’s frenzied glare with a quiet gaze.

Chara continued, “I will not stop. This time I’ll take the souls, ignore you, and escape to the Surface. There, Asriel and I… we’ll…” Chara trailed off as Asriel’s face crossed their mind again. They sank to the floor, the air feeling heavier and heavier. “That traitor… he will never… he will never cooperate.”

The realization was like a knife twisting in their gut. Even with his betrayal, Asriel was always the most devoted. No one would be able to replace him. Despair crept into their heart as Chara realized they needed him more than Asriel needed them back. Chara had considered Frisk their greatest opponent, but it was Asriel who truly stood in their way.

Chara’s vision swam, so they turned their head away from Frisk, their hair falling in front of their face. Knowing the human was seeing them like this made their skin crawl, and they wished the ground would swallow them up. As Chara spoke, they held their breath to keep their voice from shaking. “Leave.”

Frisk hesitated, surely coming up with a response. Mockery? Pity? Chara wouldn’t bear it.

“Out of my sight! Now!” Chara shouted; their roar made the air tremble. Frisk didn’t wait to be told again. The sound of scuffling footsteps faded from earshot, and soon Chara was alone in the silence once more.

Finally, Chara let the tears fall from their eyes. They were disgusted with the way their breath hitched and sobbed no matter how much they tried to stifle it. Asriel did this to them. Asriel would have to pay.

Chara indulged in several minutes of sickening self pity before they finally wiped their face. Looking around, it took Chara a moment before they registered just where they were. They were deep within the Ruins, just outside the chamber Frisk had fallen into. But that didn’t make sense. From Chara’s experience, time could only be turned back to the most recently fixed point. Frisk should have been returned to just before their battle, perhaps in the jail. Instead, here they were, back to the moment they first met. Was Frisk not confined to the same limits of time travel?

Chara shook their head. They couldn't think about this now. Only one thing mattered: Asriel’s punishment. Drawing the will to stand, Chara pushed themselves upright to follow the child.

In one way or another, Frisk had made it past all the traps, through the house, and—presumably—out the exit. It was for the best; Chara couldn’t stand to cross paths with the child again. Inside the house, they paused to collect a large padlock they had stored in a table drawer. It was heavy and nearly the size of a text book with ornate designs engraved across it. The lock was imbued with abjuration magic, made specifically to lock the Ruins after Asriel was nearly killed by the human years ago. The lock would render any door unbreachable by human or monster, and Chara held the only key.

Chara carried the device with them into the basement, down the hall, and to the large exterior doors that lead to the snow draped forests beyond. The doors were slightly ajar, revealing a set of footprints that dotted the snow off into the distance.

Chara sighed, taking one last look at the snowy view, before pulling the doors shut. For decades, the lock had only been placed on the outside, removed only when Chara came through to patrol the ruins or escort monsters between Home and Snowdin. Today, for the first time, the doors would be locked from the inside with Chara within. They looped the padlock through the handles of the door, and when they snapped it into place, the doors shuddered and clamped together with a jolt. Chara traced a fingernail down the seam of the two doors. No one would be passing through without their permission.

Confronting Asriel directly was not an option. After all, any progress made with Asriel could be undone by Frisk. Not to mention they weren’t even sure what they could tell him. Asriel’s traitorous inclinations were buried deep into his core, waiting until Chara was at their most desperate to stab them in the back.

But there was one tactic that Frisk would be unable to interfere with. Silence. If Chara withdrew to the Ruins without a word, Asriel would surely blame himself for Chara’s sudden absence. Chara knew Asriel well: he’d beg for Chara’s return and apologize for things he didn’t do, all the while ignorant of his traitorous compulsions. Cruel, perhaps, but nothing was as cruel as what he had done in those erased timelines.

Chara checked their phone. They already had one message from Asriel inquiring as to when they’d return home. The caretaker marked it as read before slipping it back into their pocket.

---

As predicted, Asriel came to the door and stayed all night long. Knocking, calling, pleading-- Chara relished each pathetic attempt at reconciliation. He deserved to be confused, heartbroken, and alone, just as Chara was. Over the course of the day Chara received messages from Asgore, Toriel, and many other monsters. They all asked the same thing: Are you okay? Do you want to talk? We found this human named Frisk, do you know them? Even Muffet demanded an explanation. Chara would have to deal with her later.

Leaving everyone wondering and begging for answers was the only power Chara had left. Word was getting to the monsters in Home as well, evidenced by the additional messages piling up on their phone. Chara ignored them too. Eventually they would realize they were trapped on this side of the door as well, unwilling hostages in Chara’s scheme.

No matter. The monsters deserved to be trapped. Every one of them was just like Asriel: eager to please and sentimental to a fault. Chara had devoted their entire life to serving them and in return they never offered to help collect the souls that would free them. In fact, Chara had to resort to time travel to push them in the right direction for just an ounce of support. They all deserve to rot in this dark, claustrophobic hell.

---

“So you just let a human walk on by?” Muffet inquired in a sing-song voice, “That doesn’t seem much like the great caretaker at all!”

The two of them were sitting in her parlor, each on a lavish chair. A full tea set complete with baked goods sat on a low table between them, though Chara knew better than to partake in it. Spider legs stuck out of the scones like coarse hairs, and they couldn’t even imagine what the tea had been steeped with.

“Yes. Well.” Chara said, looking down at their lap, “There is not much I can do about it now.”

“Oh yes, I imagine the sweet thing is the new royal favorite, aren’t they?” Muffet’s fanged smile turned up in a mocking grin, “The queen has always had a soft spot for filthy little strays. You know that better than anyone, right, dearie?”

Chara bit back a retort. With time no longer under their control, they had to be careful while inside of her lair. It had been a week since they sealed the Ruins, and Muffet was the only person they had spoken to since. The crime lord wasn’t their first choice of confidant, of course, but she had been insisting on meeting and they knew better than to reject her invitation.

“I suppose so,” they responded softly.

Muffet giggled to herself, then suddenly reached for the plate of cookies between them. It was only after she grabbed a couple treats that Chara realized they had flinched when she moved. They tried to relax but the attempt only made them more tense.

“So, is that why you locked the exit? Had a bit of a falling out with the in-laws?”

“Something like that.” Chara frowned, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh of course, a lady like me wouldn’t dream of indulging in distasteful gossip! Instead, I have a business proposition~”

Chara straightened. In their current circumstance, they didn’t have much in the way of influence or leverage.

“How can I be of service?” they asked.

“I want to relocate,” Muffet paused to bite into one of her cookies. It sounded... crunchy. “You see, the Ruins are awfully drafty, and the cold isn’t good for my constitution. I was thinking about moving in the next year or so, but now that you’ve so... graciously sealed us all in here, I predict the traffic in my shop will be slowing down considerably.”

“Understood.” Chara nodded, “I will make an exception for you and open the d—”

“I wasn’t finished, Chara.” Muffet said, her voice lowering. There was a tense pause before she smiled again, “I want a limousine~”

“A—A what?” Chara asked, incredulous.

“A heated limousine that will chauffer my employees and I all the way to Hotland,” she gestured to the spiders that skittered between the tea cups, “A necessary luxury to ensure we make it safely through the biting cold of Snowdin. Should be a simple task for a monarch, correct?”

“Of course. Leave it to me.” Chara smiled, “Is that all?”

“Not much for business, are you, Chara?” Muffet smirked, “This is where you negotiate the terms of the agreement~”

“No need. I am happy to do this as a gesture of goodwill.” Chara outstretched their hand—it wasn’t trembling anymore, thankfully—and Muffet gave it a dainty shake.

Once Chara was safely out of Muffet’s lair, they heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow they had managed to leave in one piece despite Muffet’s attempts to bait them. Now they just had to figure out how to serve her outrageous demands. Chara fished their phone out of their pocket, dismissed several dozen missed calls and text notifications, and opened their address book. They were going to need to call in some discreet favors.

---

One month had passed since they sealed the Ruins. It wasn’t easy, but Chara managed to arrange for Muffet’s departure without alerting the Dreemurrs. Eventually, the royals found out the Ruins door had been briefly opened which led to a fresh barrage of calls, messages, and knocking on the resealed door, all of which Chara ignored, of course.

Chara walked the streets of Home late at night, the crystals in the ceiling sparkling above. They could feel the eyes of the monsters on them, but after weeks of Chara ignoring and scowling in return, the monsters had given up on approaching them. Wordlessly, they did their weekly shopping at the local market. As a member of the royal family, Chara had never needed to pay for any necessities, and it seemed the benefits even extended here. It was only fair compensation, of course. After all, Chara was still serving the undeserving monsters by patrolling the Ruins every day for human threats.

---

“Ugh, really?” Chara muttered. They were nearly done with their patrol, having reached the large trap of spikes that was circled with a moat. Chara pushed down on the edge of the spike panel’s pressure plate with their foot, but the spikes failed to retract completely, the deadly points standing out by a few inches. It wasn’t a good sign: the springs inside were starting to give out. And if the springs snapped while Chara was standing above it…

Chara shuddered. They had witnessed that messy result and they didn’t care to experience it first hand. Typically, Chara would order replacement parts and perform maintenance themself, but the machinist that created the pieces was in New Home. Unsealing the door again was out of the question.

“Of course this would happen now,” Chara grumbled. They moved their foot off the plate and the spikes shot back into place. How many more compressions would it tolerate before it broke? Before Frisk came to the Underground, Chara could risk it and undo any unpleasant accidents, but if the past five months were any indication, Frisk was not nearly as eager to manipulate time. In fact, time had been rolled back only two times since Chara let the child go.

It was inconceivable. How could Frisk resist the urge to erase the inevitable little mistakes that ruined every day? Embarrassing moments, broken tea cups, scraped knees… all could be fixed in an instant with the right application of their power. To have such power and yet choose to carry the weight of their failures—it defied reason.

More importantly, if Chara suffered a tragic accident while isolated here, no one would come to their rescue… whether through time manipulation or otherwise.

“Unfortunate.” Chara said to themself with a resigned sigh, “I will have to dismantle them. All of them.” They turned around and headed back home. While they didn’t have access to their machinist anymore, they did have a few hand tools and plenty of time.

---

Eight months had passed since Chara had let Frisk go. As they walked the path of the now defanged Ruins, they revised and repeated their old plan over and over. If they could just get one more soul to replace Frisk, they would have the seven required to break the barrier and purify the Surface. The only thing missing, of course, was a willing monster to absorb them.

They reached the end of their patrol: the entrance to the Underground for lost, unlucky humans. The chamber was empty, as it had been every day since Frisk fell in. Chara walked into the center of the room and stared up into the vacant darkness looming above. One hundred years had passed on the Surface and only eight humans had fallen in that time. How long would it take for another to arrive? Ten years? Thirty? Without the help of their powers Chara could very well die before seeing the next human soul.

Chara turned to leave, but did a double take as they glimpsed a glimmer of gold on the ground. They kneeled and pushed the grass aside to reveal a small yellow bud, barely beginning to open.

“It cannot be…” Chara breathed, “A Golden Flower?”

Golden Flowers were common on the Surface, but had no presence in the Underground. Chara was so sure of this that they had incorporated them into their original plan over 20 years ago. By requesting to see the wild flowers on their deathbed, Chara could ensure Asriel would cross the barrier with their corpse in tow.

Or at least, that was what should have happened.

Chara clenched their teeth at the bitter memory. It was the first of many perfect plans ruined by Asriel’s cowardice. The caretaker grasped the plant and ripped it out of the ground by the root.

Immediately, Chara felt a pang of regret. They stared down at the pathetic thing. Their favorite flower, somehow growing in this dark, sunless prison. When had it taken root? Did some seeds blow in from the Surface? Or were they brought in by a... passenger?

Chara shook their head. Regardless of how it was introduced to the Underground, it was now a part of the Ruins—their Ruins. It didn’t deserve to suffer for Asriel’s mistakes. Reflexively, Chara attempted to turn back time, but nothing happened.

With a sigh, they returned the flower to where it was and buried its roots back into the soil. The stem was bent and it wouldn’t stay upright, but weeds were resilient. With a little help, it might still make it.

---

Chara hesitated before their latest masterpiece, knife in hand. Resting on a serving plate was a beautiful, hand crafted chocolate ganache cake. Strawberries perched on top of the silky dark topping, and the intoxicating aroma filled the house. Somehow, even without their powers, it had turned out almost too perfect to eat.

Emphasis on "almost". Carefully, Chara slid the knife through the decadent construction and placed a slice on their plate. They paused to admire the moist cross section before sliding a fork through the end and taking a bite.

Absolute bliss.

"Not bad for a humble birthday cake," Chara said to themself. They were thirty-seven today. Chara looked across the dining table into the empty living room. The only sound was the fire crackling in the hearth, emitting heat for a one person abode. They wished this house wasn’t nearly identical to the one in New Home; the similarities made it too easy to imagine Toriel in her chair, Asgore in the kitchen, and Asriel leaning on the table with his elbows, big goofy grin on his face. The Dreemurrs loved birthdays, always spending weeks preparing for a large and lavish party.

This was the first birthday they had spent alone since they were thirteen. They had forgotten how miserable it could be.

Chara checked their phone. They had over one hundred notifications that had come in just today. They scrolled through to find the only contact that mattered: Asriel.

“Happy birthday, Chara!!” the message read, “Mom and Dad and I are thinking about you lots! We even got you a gift, so I hope we can give it to you one day! Wherever you are, take good care of yourself, okay?” A line of party and heart related emojis followed.

Chara read the message over and over. Asriel’s texts would always fill them with disgust and hatred, but not today. Instead Chara just felt… lonely. It was a pathetic, shameful feeling, but a true feeling nonetheless. Despite all the ways Asriel had disrespected them, Chara couldn’t hide from the fact that they missed him.

The caretaker allowed themself to vocalize a thought they had been pushing out of their mind for months. “Maybe…” Chara spoke, their soft voice breaking the quiet, “Maybe it is time to go home.”

They sighed, resigning themself. The eternal silent treatment was never a realistic plan, and while Asriel was the intended subject of the punishment, it was unpleasant to Chara, too. Scrolling up through his messages, Asriel had sent hundreds upon hundreds over the past year begging them to “just talk”. All had gone unanswered. The confusion and desperation in those messages were clear; he was perfectly primed for a reconciliation.

But Chara wanted more than reconciliation. More important than companionship was freedom. Freedom not just for undeserving monsters, but most importantly, freedom for themself.

“There is still a way,” Chara muttered to themself, “I simply… pushed Asriel too quickly. Asriel always responded better to a softer approach.” Chara stood, pacing.

“We will delay soul fusion until the end of my natural life. Nothing barbaric or tragic. My dying wish will be to live on within him. He cannot turn down my final request.”

Chara nodded, they could see it now. After a few decades, Chara would peacefully pass from their old, frail body into Asriel’s strong, youthful one, a benefit of his species’ long life span.

“Then we gather the rest of the souls. But not right away. Asriel will need some time to adjust to sharing a vessel with me. But he will with time. Perhaps even the child can be convinced to willingly donate their soul to the cause.” Even though Frisk wouldn’t be a child anymore, it was hard to imagine Frisk as anything but a meddling brat. Honestly, they’d probably still be a brat in thirty years.

“If not, that is... fine. The child can be suffered to live.” The decision was a reluctant one, but giving mercy to such an undeserving creature gave Chara a pleasant feeling of self-righteousness. After all, it didn’t really matter if Frisk lived or died. The important thing was purifying the Surface and breaking the barrier. One human would not make a difference.

“Yes. This will work.” A smile crept onto Chara’s face and their heart thrummed with excitement. They would return to Asriel, who would embrace them with utmost relief and joy. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Asriel had shown no signs of giving up on them.

Chara would enjoy a long life in the company of their loved ones until the day they would embrace their prophesied purpose as the Underground’s savior.

It would require patience, but their splendid utopia was once again within reach. They began planning their grand return.

chapter 10 // end

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[lipstickchainsaw]

Kris...?

I finished Deltarune chapter 2 a couple of days ago, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since, so now you all get to share in some of those musings!

Spoilers for Deltarune chapter 2, naturally.

The situation surrounding Kris is a little complicated, because we, as the player, as explicitly possessing them against their will, which means most of the actions they take are not theirs, they are ours.

This dichotomy is present in each of the protagonists of this series, but Kris is most clearly unhappy with our presence. Frisk seems to have very little of an opinion on our actions (to the point where them not being us is a reveal), and Chara’s relationship with the player is too complicated to really delve into here, but there’s some mutual egging on happening in that relationship. (I doubt I will be able to avoid Chara as a subject entirely, given the similarities between them and Kris, but this isn’t primarily about them.)

But our control over Kris is not absolute. Kris is able to assert themselves in various ways, most prominently by literally ripping the player out of themselves, by ripping out the SOUL, but this is where the interesting things start:

For one, the battered birdcage suggests that Kris has ripped their SOUL many times already, which means they’ve done so before the player turned up to take possession of them. This would imply that someone else has take possession of Kris before. The first save we override when playing Chapter 1 is Kris’, which means that they resisted that possession and took control over themselves back before we showed up.

Secondly, Kris willingly puts the SOUL back in in chapter 2. This is either because Kris recognises that they need that SOUL, even if it comes with possession, or because it offers some other advantages that make the possession worth it in some sense, but we’ll get into that later.

 Who is Kris?

So, we know Kris does not like the possession (his response to the Spamton fight makes this exceedingly clear), but beyond that, there are a lot of details we can fill in about who they are.

For one, Kris has really grown to like Susie. They protect her entirely of their own volition when fighting the King, and the Susie Tea heals Kris the most (Ralsei Tea notably does not, but we’ll get to that). Maybe it’s because Susie gets to be as rebellious as she wants, and Kris appreciates having someone around to call out the bullshit they see around them that our control doesn’t let them comment on, maybe it’s something else. It’s hard to tell, because Kris’ relationship is filtered almost entirely through us, but their other relationships aren’t.

Berdly acknowledges that Kris is the third-smartest person in class (which means Kris is the second-smartest, depending on how much help they’ve received from Toriel), and we know from basically everyone that Kris has been a little creepy, unsettling and quiet for a good long while now. They used to do a lot of mean pranks (especially targeting Noelle). One could argue that these pranks went a little too far, but Noelle doesn’t seem to be that upset about those pranks anymore.

This is made more interesting when looking at that moment in chapter 2, where you, as the player, can prank Noelle on the forcefield puzzle, but then, when Noelle pranks Kris back, Kris looks very upset about this. This either means that Kris has gotten over their pranking days, or it’s the unfairness involved that makes this specific instance unpleasant.

We also know that Kris really, really loves Asriel, and wanted to hang out with Asriel and his friends a lot as a kid, even if that meant people like Catty and Bratty taking advantage of them, and we know Kris studied the occult with Catti at some point. Kris also likes to play the piano, and is very frustrated that we don’t know how to.

Oh, and there’s that weird (bomb?) shelter to the south of town that Kris apparently has a history with.

 What’s up with that?

The sound coming from that shelter is plenty ominous already, but Monster Kid and Snowy’s conversation in chapter 2 makes it very clear that Kris has gone in there, and the minor interaction with Susie afterwards indicates that this is not something that Kris likes to talk about.

Now, that shelter is pretty clearly associated with Gaster, and Gaster has been known to experiment with souls, so I do not think it’s much of a stretch to suggest that this is where Kris was first possessed, and things turned for the worse for them.

Kris and Noelle have also gone through something pretty traumatic, possibly involving Noelle’s sister Dess (likely short for December), and the location mentioned for this event makes it very likely that these are the same thing.

So Kris explored that shelter (with Noelle and December, perhaps), stumbled across something bad, and likely got possessed, which they struggled with for a while (turning quiet and strange in the meantime, and alienating the people around them), before fighting the possession off and being left depressed and exhausted, almost perpetually.

But then, there’s another side to Kris.

 The Knight

In chapter 2, we learn that Kris is the Knight, who has created at least two dark worlds, and creates a third at the end of chapter 2. Kris either cannot do this, or does not want to do this, while we’re possessing them, but what’s left of Kris after they rip their SOUL out is a shambling mess of a person, which goes some way to explaining why they accept the SOUL back after they’ve done their thing.

Now, we don’t know Kris also created the original dark world in the supply closet (and we know that one existed before the one in the abandoned classroom), since Ralsei never mentions the Knight creating that one, but, well, Ralsei has been keeping his information close to his chest.

It is interesting, however, that Kris created the dark world in the abandoned classroom before we showed up to possess them, so clearly we are not the (only) reason they’re doing this, but if we aren’t, then what is?

 Ralsei

Ralsei is always incredibly supportive of Kris, to the point of seemingly crushing on them over the course of the games, but Kris does not seem to quite return those affections (given the lukewarm response to the Ralsei Tea compared to the Susie Tea), regardless of whether we do.

Ralsei is also very mysterious, and has, so far, not shared everything he knows about what’s going on. There’s also some hints in the Snowgrave route that Ralsei knows the player and Kris are not the same person, and that he’s using our ability to switch perspectives to actually talk to Kris, which means he isn’t necessarily hiding things from Kris as he is hiding things from us. Just look at how quickly he tells Kris not to think about the Spamton fight, after Kris has their outburst (if you choose to let them say ‘no’).

So, I think Ralsei may be making plans with Kris behind our backs, which makes it very possible that Ralsei knows Kris is the Knight, and is creating these new dark worlds, which would seemingly contradict his desire not to blanket the world in darkness, but, well, there could be a lot he’s hiding from us still.

Does that mean we’re the bad guys? Does it mean Kris and Ralsei are the bad guys? Either is possible, I suppose, but I don’t think it’s unreasonable of Kris and Ralsei to keep information hidden from the powerful entity possessing Kris. We could be nice, sure, but at any point we have the power to do something awful (a fear the Snowgrave route proves to be very real), so I can hardly blame the two of them for not telling us everything immediately.

So maybe Ralsei’s relentless encouragement and pushing for pacifism is meant for us? To make sure our possession of Kris is as easy on them as possible? And on those occasions where our possession gets to be too much for Kris, they can rip their SOUL out and deal with all the bubbling anger and frustration by unleashing it on some tires, and creating a dark world, before putting the SOUL back and go on with whatever plan Kris and Ralsei have going on?

Do their choices matter, in the end? Do ours?

 I have another thing I want to write about that theme, but it’s not entirely related to this one, and this is long and rambling enough already, so let me know if that’s something you’re interested in and I might put it together.

[jamlavender]

Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss: Mrs Coulter, misogyny and the His Dark Materials TV show

The show went hard on misogyny as a vital part of Mrs Coulter’s backstory, and I want to talk about how they did it, and why, and how it might have been done better. This is quite long (when is anything I write not, let’s be real) so it’s under the cut. Read on for thoughts on women, power and fictional villainy.

As a quick disclaimer, though: I’ve enjoyed the show a lot! I’m so glad they made it! Ruth Wilson is mesmerising as Mrs Coulter! There’s so much to appreciate about the show overall, including many aspects of Mrs Coulter’s portrayal. But the HDM team have also made gender politics and misogyny very explicit themes of the show – particularly season two, particularly season two, episode five – and I think it’s fair to critique that.

Let’s be clear: Mrs Coulter is a villain. She murders kids by tearing out their souls. She kills and tortures friends and foes alike without a second thought. She abuses her daughter. She upholds and advances a totalitarian regime. She’s a Bad Person, as confirmed by God himself with the unforgettable line: “You are a cesspit of moral filth.” She’s fucking terrible, but, in life as in art, many of us are fascinated by how such awful people are made. What drives someone to commit atrocities? I am keen to see such questions examined in fiction, because I don’t think exploring a character necessarily means excusing their actions, and because it’s interesting (I mean, of course I find her fascinating, I’ve written a novel’s worth of fic about her). However, after a few snarky comments (“What sort of woman raised Father Graves, do you think?”) and some subtler commentary on sexuality, gender and power (her unsettling MacPhail with the key in the bra in S1E2), S2E5 drew a weird line between sexism in Mrs Coulter’s professional and academic life and her vast and senseless institutionalised child murder, and the longer I’ve sat with that the more I’m like: what the fuck?

Look, Mrs Coulter doesn’t tear apart children to search for sin inside them and poison Boreal and break a witch’s fingers because she’s experienced sexism in the workplace and in her education. That’s… a very odd thing to imply. We have to remember that there are lots of women in Lyra’s world, all of whom will also have experienced sexism, misogyny and other forms of marginalisation (many in more expansive and pernicious ways than Mrs Coulter, who’s a woman, yes, but also white, wealthy, highly educated and very thin and beautiful), and none of them are running arctic torture stations. She will have experienced misogyny, absolutely, and that will have affected her in various ways that inform how she approaches her work, but to imply that being denied a doctorate is the reason she became a sadistic killer is frankly bizarre. Here are a few of the lines from that episode with my commentary:

“Do you know who I could have been in this world?” What does this mean? If she’d been roughly the same person in our world, the answer is: Margaret Thatcher, which is probably a step down for Marisa, all things considered, because the Magisterium is far more autocratic than any recent Tory government and would be a much easier institutional environment in which to enact her cruelty. What we’re supposed to think, clearly, is that she’d have been a different person: a scientist and a mother, and she’s had this realisation because she saw a woman with a baby and a laptop and had a three-minute conversation with Mary. This doesn’t make sense. We live in our world! It’s less repressive than Lyra’s world but it’s hardly a gender utopia. If Mrs Coulter had chosen the scientist-and-mother life (which, as I’ll revisit later, she could have done in her world but chose not to because of her megalomaniac tendencies), she’d still have been affected by misogyny here too. Our world is not kind to young mothers, nor young women embroiled in scandals, nor is the world teeming with female physicists. It might be a little better, sure, but it’s hardly as if those gendered challenges would have been solved.  

“What do you mean she runs a department?” This is just the show forgetting its own canon. Marisa, you ran a massive government organisation (the GOB), including a huge murder science research initiative in the Arctic. That’s a much bigger undertaking and much more impressive than running a university department in our world. Pull yourself together.

“But because I was a woman, I was denied a doctorate by the Magisterium.” This is the show flagrantly ignoring the source material to make a clumsy political point. In the books, there are women with doctorates (notably Hannah Relf, also a major player in the new Book of Dust trilogy) and at least one women’s college full of female scholars. Now, would that women’s college likely be underfunded and disrespected compared to the men’s colleges? Almost certainly. But saying that is different than saying “I couldn’t get my doctorate!” when women in Lyra’s world can. The show knew what point they wanted to make, and were willing to ignore canon to do so, which is frustrating. Also, given that there are female academics and scientists in Lyra’s world, and that Mrs Coulter is a member of St Sophia’s college, it’s clear that she could have lived that life if she so desired. But she didn’t want that, because being a scientist and academic at St Sophia’s imbues her with no real power, and that’s what she craves.

I’m not opposed, in theory, to exploring Mrs Coulter and misogyny in more depth, but I think doing so through an examination of the sexual politics of her life would have made a lot more narrative sense and been much more powerful. It’s better evidenced in the text – her using her sexuality to manipulate people and taking lovers for political sway is entirely canon, as is her backstory where genuine love and lust blew up her life – and it links much more closely with the most shocking of her villainy, which involves cutting out children’s dæmons to stop them developing “troublesome thoughts and feelings,” referencing sexual and romantic desire (and what Lyra and Will do to save Dust is clearly a big ‘fuck you’ to those aims). She even says this to MacPhail in TAS, “If you thought for one moment that I would release my daughter into the care - the care! - of a body of men with a feverish obsession with sexuality, men with dirty fingernails, reeking of ancient sweat, men whose furtive imaginations would crawl over her body like cockroaches - if you thought I would expose my child to that, my Lord President, you are more stupid than you take me for.” Don’t get me wrong, she’d have been a villain regardless, but I do believe that there’s a much stronger link between her sexual and romantic experiences and her murder work than between professional and academic stifling and child murder. It would have been a lot more interesting and a lot less tenuous.

However, the show is trying to be family-friendly, and digging into why this terrible, cruel woman might want to cut the ability for desire and love (and other non-sexual adult feelings, I’m sure) out of people could get dark. We know that the show doesn’t want to go there, because they’ve actively toned down her weaponising her sexuality: in the books, she has an established sexual relationship with Boreal, whereas the show made it seem like she’s been stringing him along all this time, and made it about potentially ‘sharing a life’ together rather than fucking, which was clearly the arrangement in the books. Also, I think Ruth Wilson said she and Ariyon Bakare filmed a “steamy scene” together, and given that only a single chaste kiss between them aired it must have been cut. I think they deliberately minimised the sexual elements of the text, particularly regarding Mrs Coulter (the mountain scene with Asriel, which I did still love, was also a lot less horny than in the book) and replaced that with another gender issue, that of professional sexism, as if the two are interchangeable, which they are not. This is a shame, both for Mrs Coulter’s character and also for the story as a whole, because the characters’ relationships with sex and desire are an important part of the books! (If this minimised sexuality approach means that they don’t use the TAS scene where Asriel threatens to gag her and she tries to goad him into doing it, I’ll scream). Overall, I think they missed the mark here, which is a shame because I also think it could have been done well, if they’d been bolder and darker and more thoughtful.

Why might this happen? Why might the show take this approach? Why might it be latched onto by viewers? Personally, I think the conversations we have about women and power are very simplistic, which leaves us in a tight spot when we see women seizing power for themselves (even in fiction) and weaponising that against others, not just other women but people of all genders, because we struggle to move past ‘women have overall been denied power, so them taking it ‘back’ is good,’ even if that immediately becomes a hot mess of white, corporate feminism and results in the ongoing oppression of many people. I think we are so hungry for representations of powerful women that we – producers and viewers alike – struggle to see them as bad, because it’s uncomfortable to be so intoxicated by Mrs Coulter effortlessly dominating the men around her, subverting systems designed to marginalise her for her own benefit, and generally being aggressive and intelligent and ruthless, and then realise that you are entranced by someone who is, objectively, a terrible, terrible person. It can be hard to realise that if you channelled the energy of someone who mesmerises you, you’d be the villain. So instead of sitting with that (more on this below), a lot of legwork goes into reworking her villainy into, somehow, a just act, a result of oppression, as her taking back power that has been denied to her, rather than grappling with the fact that for anyone to desire power in such a merciless way, even if they have to overcome marginalisation to get it, is really, really dangerous.

The joy, of course, is that Mrs Coulter is not real! She’s not real! Adoring fictional characters does not mean condoning their (imaginary) decisions, nor do stories exist for each person in them to fit neatly into a good or bad box so you know who you’re allowed to love. Furthermore, fiction can be a fabulous tool for exploring and interrogating the parts of yourself that, if left to bloom unexamined, might perpetuate beliefs or behaviour that cause harm to others. Mrs Coulter doesn’t need to be a feminist or taking down the patriarchy or a righteous powerful woman to illuminate things about gender, power and feminism for those reading and watching. In fact, it’s important that we explore what happens when women (most commonly white, wealthy women, as she is) continue to perpetuate brutal systems under the guise of sticking it to ‘men,’ because it happens all the time in the real world, and it’s a serious issue. Finding characters like Mrs Coulter so cool and compelling doesn’t make you a bad person, but it might tell you something about yourself – not that you want to be a villain or kill kids or whatever, but something about how you relate to your gender or women or men or power – and that knowledge can be useful! We all have better and worse impulses, and finding art that helps us make sense of ourselves, both the good and bad parts, is a gift that we should relish.

Anyway, tl;dr, Mrs Coulter doesn’t need to be sympathetic or understandable or redeemable to be brilliant – but you wouldn’t know that from how she’s been portrayed in the new adaptation.

[cellydawn]

sans IS gaster (OR the sans theory masterpost pt. 2)

Part 1 || ❤️ || Part 3

(drawn by me, color by @magenteel​)

Previously, we discussed: Sans and his hand in the destruction of a world, his connection to Ice-E and Deltarune, and how he relates to Gaster. We’re going to continue the thread we left off on.

Section III - Gaster (Cont.)

Snails are mentioned too many times throughout Undertale for them to not be of any significance. As it turns out, they are pretty important in unraveling the mystery behind Gaster and Sans.

When you enter the area with Napstablook’s snail farm, you’ll notice that Sans’s theme is playing despite him not making an appearance. 

In one of Papyrus’s phone calls, he mentions that Sans recently bought snail-shaped pasta and says “He’ll probably fill them with hotdogs and slime.” Toriel also owns a book called “72 User for Snails”. Track 72 in the Undertale OST is “Song That Might Play When You Fight Sans”. That’s multiple times that Sans is likened to snails. 

Snails belong under the taxonomic class Gastropoda. Gasterpods.

These long pauses between words and phrases are not unlike how Gaster speaks.

Here is Gaster speaking with us in the opening sequence of Deltarune. And...

Now. Let’s move on.

(More under the cut.)

Mus_smile is the track that plays in room_gaster. This is my personal opinion, but the character that is the most strongly associated with smiles is Sans.

And Sans is certainly intelligent enough to be the prime suspect for being Gaster. The proper name for his namesake is Comic Sans Microsoft, or Comic Sans MS. MS can also be used as a suffix for the name of a person who has a degree in a Master of Science.

Sans also owns quantum physics books. The subject of Gaster’s scientific research is revealed in Entry #17: “photon readings negative”. Photons are described as a "quantum" of electromagnetic energy, and are of course within the realm of study under quantum physics.

Gaster, like Sans, is brilliant yet slow-working. Slower than Alphys, who is repeatedly noted to have nothing to show yet as the royal scientist in the eyes of the people and is shown to slack off constantly.

Gaster is implied to have perished, and I suppose he did, in a way, if these speculations do end up being correct. However, there’s something more to this statement. Ghosts are sort of in the realm of being not-alive, and Sans and Napstablook have a surprising level of comparability.

They both:

Get likened to “garbage”

Have connections to snails (Napstablook runs the snail farm)

Speak completely in lower case

Pretend to sleep and say “Z’s” out loud

Have black “sclera”

And the black sclera is also a topic of its own; it’s equated with the status of being brought back to life. Being “determined”. (See: Asriel and Undyne)

Undyne is especially suspect due to the strange right-eye-phenomenon she has in common with Sans, with spears shooting out of hers. Spears that are actually colored light blue, not unlike Sans’s eye. 

To recap: 

Sans and Gaster are heavily involved in Deltarune

They have been displaced from time and space

They have connections to snails

They are both doctors with knowledge in quantum physics

They both “fell” into the abyss

They both talk similarly

They are both slow

They are both characterized by their smile

They are both some degree of dead

Sans is Gaster or a significant piece of him. Sans has Gaster Blasters because they belong to him. If all prior conjecture proves true, he is and will be responsible for the destruction of a world or THE world within Deltarune. After all, the Latin definitions of “gaster” and “sans” are to destroy and to be without, respectively. 

That brings us to the next subject: why is Sans Sans? More specifically, why is that his name? Why even change his name?

Below is the Japanese version of the fun event with Sans’s phone call. It features completely different dialogue from its English counterpart. 

Am I Licca-chan? (Select No) Then from now on call me Sans. I need to check every once in a while. I won’t know when my name has changed. 

“Licca-chan” is a well-known Barbie-esque dress-up doll in Japan, so popular to the point where it is even used as a synonym for other dolls from different companies. Perhaps it implies that Sans is adaptable due to Licca-chan’s nature as a doll and how she is in a constant state of change to reflect the times. It also seems to be a pun on “liquor” because Sans was talking about beer in the English version. I tried to scour the Japanese fandom for clues, but they also seemed stumped. If anyone has any ideas on what this could mean, please let me know!

Regardless, “Sans” doesn’t seem to be his actual name. Perhaps his true name was Gaster...?

Additionally, If the player changes the name of the fallen child via going into the code, this message appears in the stats menu. The vernacular is very Sans-like, with his frequent use of question tags at the end of his sentences (I counted 14 huh’s from Sans).

Finally, let’s talk about the number six. We know that it’s Gaster’s number--All of the explicitly Gaster-related fun events trigger for fun values in the sixties, Gaster’s stats are all comprised of 6′s, Gaster’s “typer-value” is 666--you get the idea.

The concept art Toby drew for the Alarm Clock’s character screen features what is presumably Sans and the number six.

“The Choice”--the track that plays during Sans’s judgements--is “Undertale” slowed down by 666%.

Section IV - Angels and Demons (The “Why”)

In modern day culture, 666 is closely associated with the devil. The Book of Revelation (13:17-18) asserts that 666 is “the number of a man” (this is important, and we’ll come back to it later) and is “the number of the Beast”. The Beast is mentioned as “coming out of the abyss”. 

Sounds a lot like someone else we know, doesn’t it? And how fitting for Sans, the one who judges our sins and demands us “to burn in hell”.

But if we go further, the Beast of Revelation is described to have seven heads representing seven kings. The beast itself is an eighth king who is of the seven and "was and is not and shall ascend out of the bottomless pit, and go into perdition." 

Chara is an eighth of the seven fallen children. 

There’s something Chara, Sans, and Gaster all share, and it’s their association with demons.

Here is an excerpt from the Cutting Room Floor:

Among the four strings in version 1.0, the last one, designated by variable “demond”, stands out for two reasons. 

 The letter “d” is separate from the other letters denoting the demon variables--the rest, “x”, “y”, and “z” are in sequential alphabet order.

The speech pattern of the last string is different from the others. It has that signature question tag at the end of the sentence that a certain character is known for.

In version 1.001, the strings clearly reflect Chara’s speech pattern. This time, all the variables are in sequential order from “a” to “d”. 

Pieces of dialogue at the near-end of a genocide route from Chara and Sans. Recall that Chara is using the same “Now” from earlier with Gaster and Sans.

Chara makes a reference to Banana Yoshimoto's book “Kitchen”. Take note of the page number.

Chara is also linked to the number nine. It’s the highest achievable stat in-game. It’s the stat of the locket and real knife. It’s how much damage Chara deals. It’s also the number six flipped upside down. 

The connections are undeniable. 

And yet, it goes further. Let’s take a look at how Christmas comes in to play.

In Deltarune, there are a few references to it, the most foremost probably being the importance of Noelle Holiday as a character. We also get Lancer’s laugh and the joke with “Krismas”.

Back to Undertale, there is significant Christmas iconography represented by “Gyfmas” and Gyftrot (bearing a strong resemblance to Photoshop Flowey, the DT Extractor, and Gaster Blasters).

What I’d like to focus on is Santa.  Papyrus describes him as “a chubby, smiling man who loves to surprise people.” From the thank you note addressed to Santa we find in Sans’s room, we can assume that Sans is a Santa, at least to Papyrus. It’s pretty fitting, since Sans can be described as someone who “knows if [we’ve] been bad or good”. Maybe he can even tell if we’re sleeping or awake with how the Dark World appears to be linked with sleep and dreams (please read my theory on Sans being a Darkner for more on this).

So we can reasonably conclude that Sans presents himself as a friendly, child-oriented figure, in-line with the nature of Comic Sans, a font for children, and Ice-E, a mascot of a company marketed towards children.

…

Santa is an anagram of Satan. 

…

To recap: Gaster’s association with the number 666 marks him as a “demon”. Chara and Sans are also called demons and similarly have connections to the number 6. This is more evidence that Gaster and Sans is or used to be the same people, and Chara has some form of correspondence with them.

I failed to mention before that there is actually a second Beast of Revelation “from the Earth” with "two horns like a lamb”. From the “earth” like Flowey, with horns like Asriel. 

Asriel is most likely the “Angel” depicted in the prophecy within the scope of Undertale; he’s named similarly to Azrael, an angel of death, and one of his attacks is literally called “Angel of Death”. He also bears a striking resemblance to the Deltarune in his God of Hyperdeath form.

Surprise, surprise, he and Sans also share parallels. 

Let’s start with their introductions. “Flowey the flower”. “Sans the skeleton”. It’s a similarly alliterative greeting and they’re both using fake names.

Mirrored dialogue yet again...

…and similar meta-commentary.

These three characters--Sans/Gaster, Chara, and Flowey/Asriel--they have all fallen. Gaster fell into his creation. Chara fell into the Underground. Asriel had “fallen down”. (Sans and Papyrus are also the only sibling pair other than Chara and Asriel. I won’t talk about Papyrus in this part though because this thing is shaping up to be too long already.)

What does this mean for Sans? I have a personal theory.

Above the entryway of the Judgement Hall, there is a reversed Deltarune. The triangles are inverted and the wings are more bat-like. In the room where only Sans appears, the same room that plays a version of “Undertale” slowed down 666%.

I think Sans is a candidate for the Angel prophesized to destroy the world in Deltarune. I think he is Sans Serif, a seraph. He fell into his experiment and became a “fallen” angel, a demon. 

The Angel’s Heaven mentioned alongside, on the other hand...  Heaven can also be used to refer to God. Dog is an anagram of God. 

Sans has many, many connections with dogs, especially one Annoying Dog. More on this next time.

Part 1 || ❤️ || Part 3

[mamaito]

It's been 6 years but who cares, here's my theory that I've kept to myself about Chara (Us) and Frisk being the same person. Also regarding the person who greets you at the end of the genocide route who's wearing your face is someone else.

I don't know if someone else has made something similar since I never checked the tags..

Chara is referred to as you because my interpretation is that Chara/Frisk are nothing more than vessels for the player.

--

Memories

- First off, if Frisk was supposed to be someone else who happened to fall down Mt. Ebott, why would a random person be dreaming of memories that isn't theirs? Flowey cannot do that, nor does he have the power to share personal memories with someone he never met. When you fall down the waterfall after being chased by Undyne, weren't you dreaming about when you two first met? When you lose, you hear Asgore's voice telling you not to give up. Those are things only you would know, not Frisk.

Resemblance

- Highly unbelievable that someone just happen to fall down after all these years even if people out here say it may be when it's off closed to outsiders, Flowey/Asriel would not mistake you as someone else. He had assumptions but during the Genocide Route, he was proven right. He went out of his way to check if your body was still there, otherwise why would he be so elated and confident to tell you everything? In the Pacifist route, he never checked because he never needed to.

The heart is the same color, why is it the same if these are two different people? It makes sense why Toriel wants to take care of you that much, you resemble the human child she used to take care of. It can be brushed as her motherly instincts to care for children after what Asgore did but I believe there's more to that. Take note that it's been centuries, so she could've brushed you as another human or can't believe her child came back to life.

Walking Corpse

- When you check the coffin, your body isn't there. In the Pacifist route nor Neutral do you even open it. In the Genocide route, only then is your coffin open and with no body. If Chara (You) really were possessing Frisk then the body should still be there, even some remains at least. It couldn't be Flowey, he went ahead and checked during the Genocide route. Toriel took the body and buried it where you were found, that's too much of a coincidence.

Frisk's complexion is pale, it's very yellow, like a decomposing body. Did you know that when your skin turns yellow it's caused by old or damaged red cells in the body? It's also itchy, didn't you drink a cup of buttercup to die in the past though? Buttercups are known for being itchy, with a burning sensation. Frisk always has eyes closed, further proving my assumption.

Frisk also cannot emote, neither can Flowey but with the difference is that he's a flower while you're human. Frisk smiled once, that was during the genocide route...

Brought Back To Life By Determination

- Flowey was born by Alphys injecting a flower with Determination, he woke up surrounded by yellow flowers. Frisk woke up surrounded by the same yellow flowers, whenever you save it's always followed by Determination. With this info it'd make sense that you were brought back to life by an unknown influence unbeknownst to you when you start the game. Flowey also mentions this during the Genocide route, Flowey was alive way before you did so why now? Would it not make sense for the two of you to be revived at the same time? Or is there someone who wanted to use you for?

The Real You

- Frisk is the revived Chara (You) who lost previous memories. With nothing to go by, Frisk just goes wherever others takes them till you accept a new persona, that persona is called 'Frisk' as you're much nicer compared to the past. After one last reunion with Asriel, he accepts that the person he's staring at is no longer the you he remembers in his childhood. Asriel says the person he loves is no more and he must move on, that's because you're now a different person. He is aware that you were an awful human being but Asriel still wanted to be with you. In the Pacifist Route, you get to live as 'Frisk'.

In the Genocide Route, you relive as you were in the past, each time you kill, you start remembering who you actually are. Scheming, manipulative, and psychopathic. The one who Flowey admires and looks up to, most of his persona came from you.

Sans also mentions of a second chance when determining your innocence after the death of his brother. Does that not make sense for Frisk to be resembling a second chance to redeem yourself?

Third Party

- Flowey mentions a third party who watches everything unfold, but it can't be Sans, he is heavily injured. Sans followed you till you reached the castle, he's waiting in the judgement hall to judge you for who you are.

After killing Flowey you'll be greeted by what seems to be you. Some say it's just Chara but I disagree, the person talks too much of an observant to simply be yourself talking. It's confirmed that Gaster's listening since his followers says so, it would make sense that he's watching you as well.

Since the release of Deltarune and Gaster's influence there, especially the scene where you're making your vessel, says a lot about who you actually are in Undertale. In tweets, he speaks as though he made the world for you.

[franstastic-ideas]

Present Day, Present Time

Undertale - A few months after the barrier is broken, on Christmas day, Frisk gifts Sans with the Reset button as a sign of trust and goodwill between them, telling him it’s his now: to use, to keep, or to destroy. It’s his power now. It may be the best gift Sans has ever received. Sans finally feels like he can move forward.

And he can feel in his SOUL that he wants to move forward with Frisk.

Word Count: 20,603

@nuvex Surprise! I was your Secret Santa for the Gyftmas event! I’n so, so, SO sorry about the long, loooooong, delay! *hysterical sobbing*

Also, this counts as the season prompt for Fransweek, doesn’t it?

Credits for OCs go to @koiikun for Peter and Charlotte, @semisolidmind for Irene, Edgar and Elizabeth, @undertalepre2re for Daddy Longlegs, @eddieveneziano for Spinerette, and @lostmypotatoes for Ku-Mo

Webber and Julian belong to me.

Even prior to the breaking of the barrier, there were an immense number of things that Frisk wanted to experience alongside her monster friends after reaching the surface.

 Going on picnics in the spring, trips to the beach during the summer, jumping in piles of leaves when autumn arrived, and playing in the snow when winter came, organizing ladies’ nights and sleepovers with the girls, celebrating one another’s birthdays...

 But what she looked forward to most was spending Gyftmas with them.

 As it turned out, the monsters celebrated their own wintertime holiday comparable to the surface world’s Christmas, or Hanukkah, or sometimes Kwanza. She had learned of this during her stay in Snowdin Town, a little village located in the snowy section of the Underground that was decorated as though the inhabitants celebrated Gyftmas every day. It was just September when she had first traversed into the town, but all the preparations for the occasion had already been made, completed by a towering tree adorned with an assortment of ornaments that served as the location’s centerpiece, along with plentiful piles of presents lying underneath bearing tags with the names of all the monsters who lived there.

 She supposed even monsterkind wasn’t immune to the widespread seasonal phenomenon commonly referred to as ‘the Christmas creep’.

 Frisk had fallen victim to it as well. The very instant that Sans, Papyrus, and then Undyne, followed by the rest of her new pals did the jimpity jumpity joodle, the limpity loppity leap (as her fishy friend would say) directly into her heart, her mind instantly began to drift towards thoughts of what she was going to give each of them when the month of December arrived. Though she certainly didn’t have much concerning funds at the time, Frisk was still a generous person by nature – there was little that made her happier than watching the expression of wonder and then delight that crossed the recipient’s face as they unwrapped and unboxed their gift.

 Surface or no surface, Frisk was determined to spend the holiday season with her friends, even if it meant plunging into the depths of the Underground a second time with a fully loaded sack of presents slung over her shoulder to do so. Thankfully, it never came to that – with the assistance of Prince Asriel, the six SOULs of the previous fallen humans, and the added SOULS of every single monster in the Underground, the barrier was finally broken for good, so she and everyone else could reach the surface and get to celebrate their first Gyftmas above ground.

 Yes, even Flowey – as much as he denied it, she knew that much of Asriel was still hiding behind the sour personality of that foul flower.

 She wasn’t about to let one rotten apple hinder her or himself from enjoying a slice of the warm apple pie that was the wholesome found-family Gyftmas gathering she was doing her best to serve everyone.

 Sans hadn’t exactly been thrilled with the idea of him partaking in the festivities, even though Frisk had thought that he shouldn’t even remember who Flowey was. She supposed that the negative impressions Flowey left on him in the RESETs of the past, prior to her gaining the power to turn back time from her floral friend, had somehow left a permanent imprint on the skeleton; similar to how Toriel inexplicably recalled that she preferred cinnamon over butterscotch, along with a plethora of other phantom memories the monsters she closely interacted with experienced throughout the courses of her subterranean adventure.

 Flowey had been extremely reluctant to leave his previous spot in the empty Underground. He had stayed behind by choice, after all. However, the frequent offers she made during her continuous visits eventually wore him down, and he said he would go with her under one stipulation – that his true identity remained a secret between the two of them. She agreed to his terms, and Flowey allowed her to take him to the surface to join the rest of her companions – he even willingly climbed into the flowerpot she bought and brought just for him!

 Frisk and Toriel shared dual custody of him - the kind goat lady apparently saw the good inside him that he so desperately tried to pretend didn’t exist, and decided to welcome him into her home whenever he wished to visit. Flowey unexpectedly took her up on the invitation, showing minimal resistance to the idea before accepting. Perhaps he missed his mother more than he initially thought.

 This is what Frisk believed, and not without good reason. One Sunday afternoon just a few weeks ago, the queen of monsters invited the two over for tea and cookies. Everything had been relatively peaceful, nothing out of the ordinary – all until Toriel had wordlessly placed another one of the sweets on Flowey’s plate, unprompted.

 The words ‘Thank you, mama’ had instinctively escaped his mouth before he could stop them. Toriel was touched at hearing that, no matter how accidental it may have been, feeling as though the usually bad-tempered little flower had finally warmed up to her.

 But for him, it was excruciatingly painful. He was dead silent for the rest of the time spent in her company and swiftly requested to go home with Frisk once they finished their snacks. The sweet goat lady saw nothing wrong with his behavior, simply assuming that his little slip of the tongue had embarrassed him.

 In actuality, the very instant Frisk stepped into her own home and locked the door behind them, Flowey had burst into a hysterical fit of tears, sobbing as he whispered ‘mama’ under his breath, over and over again before crying out, ‘I miss my mama!’.

 After he had calmed down considerably, Frisk never once leaving his side the whole while, he once again asserted that he wasn’t going to tell Toriel or Asgore the truth. However, Flowey then said afterwards that, perhaps one day, he may. Just not now. He wasn’t ready yet, and he doubted they were either.

 Frisk had been nothing but supportive, assuring Flowey that it was fine for him to take as long as he needed in sorting out his feelings towards the matter, to which he again stated as he so often had in the past that he had no feelings left anymore. That was a lie. A lie that the both of them obviously knew wasn’t true.

 Someone with no emotions inside them wouldn’t show visible delight when biting into homemade cookies and pie, nor would they shriek with blatant terror when startled by a cheap jumpscare tactic in a poorly made horror flick during movie night every other Friday, or display signs of what could only be described as intense jealousy when their best and only friend is constantly being ‘stolen away’, from their perspective, by a lazy, ketchup-chugging, pun-spewing bag of bones.

 Someone with nothing left to feel wouldn’t wail for his mother during a rare moment of vulnerability.

 Frisk wholeheartedly enjoyed each and every second she spent in Flowey’s presence, much to the actually rather understandable perplexity of some of her other friends. She could state countless reasons as to why she would feel this way, but one of them was; hearing the sound of his voice made this big house of hers feel less empty.

 Several weeks after gaining the official position of ambassador of monsterkind, Frisk had woken up to the unexpected surprise of receiving an expensive estate in a basically brand-new neighborhood. It was undoubtedly worth thousands, maybe even millions, and just staring at it made her feel as though she were glimpsing into a luxurious world she didn’t and never would belong in. She wanted to gently decline the deed, feeling as though she did nothing to deserve it, but as if anticipating this sort of response, the agent who escorted her to the place informed her that the fully-furnished house and the plot of land it stood on was meant to be a gift; purchased with the gold of not only the king and queen, but the funds of each and every single freed monster. They had unanimously come to the agreement to band together in a collective effort to provide her a better home than the one she had lived in prior.

 To turn down such a thoughtful gesture after so much preparation had gone into even making it possible, such a thing would have been incomparably rude to do.

 A few months later, and Frisk was still unsure of how they learned of her whereabouts, a dingy old apartment building several towns over located directly in the middle of an unsafe precinct where robberies and other crimes were regularly reported. But someone had discovered her secret, despite her dedicated efforts at dodging their numerous questions concerning the subject.

 There had been a few occasions back then where, when returning from one of her hangouts with her monster friends, Frisk felt a similar sensation to being followed. She never did catch a glance at her pursuer during those times, but she supposed it didn’t really matter – not once did she ever feel as though she were in any danger when sensing the presence of this other person. Quite the opposite, in fact, as utterly insane as she knew it may have sounded.

 Frisk chose not to mention the fact that she may or may not have been dealing with a mysterious stalker to her friends, since she had already worried them enough when they found out where she lived. What followed came countless offers for her to stay the night or even a few days in one of their residences, to which she always attempted to decline, not wanting to impose on her friends. But some of them, like Undyne, Toriel, Muffet, and unpredictably Sans, of all monsters, would not take ‘no’ for an answer. All of them felt as though they could finally put their fears to rest when she stepped out of that building that looked as though it were falling apart at the seams for the last time, and into her safe and cozy new home they had so lovingly furnished for the first.

 Sans had surprisingly been the one to accompany her then, assisting her in gathering up what little belongings she owned to transport them to the house awaiting her. The reason why it had shocked her so much at the time was, the smiley skeleton was well renown as having a laid-back, lax nature; or as Undyne, his brother, and several regulars at Grillby’s would word it – lazy.

 But that day, something about the skeleton she thought she knew was deadly serious. His expression seemed to frequently bounce between anticipation and dread, happily helping her with shoving clothes and other accessories into suitcases while also glancing around the area every few minutes with a chilling glare, as if daring some unseen enemy to reveal themselves to him. Even he had breathed a sigh of relief that day, once the task was done and over with.

 And not long after that, Sans and Papyrus had managed to acquire an abode of their own as well – directly next to hers.

 She had thought that with a vast new world to explore, all the monsters she had met and come to know would have eventually scattered across the globe as soon as the opportunity arose. And some of them did, but not any of her closest friends she had made on her adventure - they had decided to take up residence in this town, not ten miles away from the mountain they were imprisoned within. And even the ones that went elsewhere would eventually wander back on occasion, if only to say ‘hello’.

 It didn’t make much sense to her, but when Frisk finally summoned the nerve to ask, all of them gave her the exact same answer,

 “We just wanted to be close to you.”

 And this claim of theirs must have been true, because when the time came for her to send out the Gyftmas party invitations, every single monster responded with a guarantee in some manner or another that they would be there.

 But could she actually manage to squeeze the entirety of the monster population and then some under one roof, specifically hers?

 Frisk was about to find out.

 Some of them jokingly warned her when they discovered just how long the guest list was supposed to be that she was definitely going to regret this, that a celebration this grand scale was bound to bring the house down in the most literal definition imaginable (thanks, Sans). She held no doubts that the party was going to be chaotic, but she sincerely believed that what was to come would be a chaos of the beautiful sort.

 This being proven to be correct was all that she really wanted for Gyftmas.

 Even after telling them this, they were still going well out of their way to get her some sort of present for the festivity. Frisk believed the lavish house was enough to compensate for every single Gyftmas, birthday, and any other holiday that would come to pass for the remainder of her life, but no, the monsters demonstrated they could be just as determined as she was when it came to expressing their gratitude towards her for everything the human girl had done for them, in and out of the Underground.

 Apparently, Undyne and Mettaton were even going so far as making some sort of competition out of who could give Frisk the best gift, and it was also apparently growing more and more intense between them each day as the date of the party approached. She hoped they didn’t expect her to play the role of judge in this silly contest of theirs, because she couldn’t possibly do that, ever – Frisk was certain that she would love both their gifts with equal enthusiasm. She additionally hoped they hadn’t gone overboard with the holiday shopping in their quest of earning her approval, because the two were well known to be mercilessly competitive and had a history of overspending according to their own friends and relatives.

 Mettaton may be able to flaunt and throw around all the wealth that came from being a sensational star whenever he pleases, but that still doesn’t mean that he should, and Frisk felt that Undyne really needed to start investing her earnings in an emergency fund of some sort, because she’s already almost burned her house to a crisp while cooking a grand total of eight times since finding a place to live on the surface.

 She’s going to need that money when the time eventually comes that Undyne does reduce it down to nothing more than smoking splinters and the very foundation it stands upon in one gigantic fiery explosion, and it was becoming more and more clear to Frisk that the fish woman’s house regularly being engulfed in flames was just one of those inevitable aspects of life that refused to change, in spite of her attempts...

 That’s why after the second time it happened, Frisk jumped for getting the local and friendly fire department’s number on speed dial on both their phones. Undyne and the entire force were practically on a first name basis with each other at this point.

 But Undyne refrained from ever cooking at other people’s houses, even when it was requested of her by some incredibly brave or very foolish SOUL with nothing to lose; she only did so at her own. That’s probably what upset Frisk the most – she was actively aware that her ventures in the culinary world were deadly in dual senses, and yet that didn’t seem to stop her in the slightest when it came to pursuing her passion. Frisk supposed there was something admirable to be found in that, somewhere...

 And while it appeared that Undyne’s skills in the kitchen were getting worse and worse, Papyrus’s were only getting better, even without any comparison needed.

 He improved so much, in fact, that Frisk asked him if he would like to be one of the head chefs in providing catering for her guests at the upcoming party, alongside Grillby, Muffet, and Toriel. He gratefully accepted the position with tears flowing from his sockets like geysers, picking her up in one swift motion and swinging her around and around until it nearly made her stomach turn. He promised her that this would be the best Gyftmas dinner she’s ever had, to which she reminded him that this would be the first Gyftmas dinner she’s ever had. If anything, this only spurred Papyrus to put even more passion into his own culinary studies, so his cuisines would be guaranteed to leave a good impression on her human taste buds.

 Gyftmas, Christmas – though the two holidays were relatively the same in spirit, what Frisk had told him was not lacking in truth...

 Even long before the date of their wintertime gathering, there was still plenty to do. She began her search for gifts almost as soon as the barrier had been broken, but the preparations for the gradually approaching party had commenced as briskly as the day after Halloween. Of course, there was also Thanksgiving to think about then; they came together at that time as well, at Toriel’s house, but the number of those attending had been much smaller than the total count that was to be present at Frisk’s party, since many monsters had chosen to celebrate the occasion with their respective families.

 That was why the sheer amount of replies that she received in respondence to the invitations astounded her as much as it did.

 But when the 25th finally came, Frisk couldn’t have been more pleased by the nothing short of massive turnout.

 The guests began arriving as early as seven in the morning. The event didn’t even officially start until nine, but some of them had showed up early because they wanted an opportunity to talk with their beloved ambassador a bit before the celebration became too crowded and hectic to anymore.

 She had woken up a few minutes after six that morning for some last-minute arrangements when Frisk spotted a familiar round skeletal face in the window of the house immediately across from her own. Hers and Sans’s bedrooms faced one another, the space between them not ten feet apart, and the two had carried out entire conversations from their respective windowsills before – fairly often, in truth.

 Such a conversation occurred on the dawn of that special snowy morning, surprisingly. Frisk would have been willing to bet that she wouldn’t be seeing him around until after the start of the party a few hours later.

 He grinned and tapped on the surface of the frosted and fogged over glass in swift succession with a single phalange before opening his window, silently urging her to do the same with her own. She did so, a gust of cool wintery air flowing into the room, and spoke the first thing that came to mind.

 “You’re up unexpectedly early today.”

 “paps got me up and out of bed as soon as he realized the hours were in the a.m. and the date had changed.” Sans yawned, just barely managing to cover his mouth, then added, “and that was almost a few minutes after midnight, but about a whole gallon of warm milk later, and i got him to go back to sleep. honestly, that was probably the real gyftmas miracle – as beat as paps was, he denied it to the bitter end and tried to fight off the sleepies to his last ‘nyeh’.”

 “That definitely sounds like something he would do.” The mental image of Papyrus suddenly yanking the shorter skeleton off his mattress and dragging Sans behind him down the stairs to the living room in the middle of the night was worth a chuckle, as exhausted as she knew Sans must be right now. “Was he trying to catch a peep at ‘Santa’ in action? Or should I say, ‘Sansta’?”

 “nah. he hasn’t tried to capture santa since we were pretty much babybones.” He gave a sleepy chuckle.

 “...Capture? ...Santa?” She uttered inquisitively with an arched eyebrow, but he didn’t provide her with any more details on that bizarre little response.

 “gyftmas eve is the one night a year that paps makes an honest effort to go to bed early and get some real sleep, ‘cause he’s worried that santa will pass our house up if he doesn’t. but his excitement, his insomnia, and the anxiety over what he thinks will happen if he isn’t sleeping ironically keeps him awake. we go through this every year. i already mentioned the milk, but it took a whole pile and a few hours of bedtime stories to knock him out this one, though.”

 “You’re probably already aware of this, Sans, but... you look really tired.” The dark circles under his sockets were a few shades darker, more prominent than usual, and as she said this, another long, deep yawn escaped his gaping maw. “You know, you could go back to bed and get some sleep yourself and just show up a while later, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t be disappointed with you if you decided to do that, really.”

 “nah, nah. don’t worry about it. i’ll be fine, just fine, kid. the both of us ‘ll be there when we’re supposed to. actually, expect to see us at least half an hour earlier, since you know how paps likes to show up anywhere he goes fashionably ahead of time. my bro’s such a trendsetter... he’s light years ahead of the rest of us.” He waved off her concerns with a grin that appeared far happier and less weary than it probably should, but was unexpectedly followed by a pensive frown.

 Sans grew silent and remained so for several passing moments; so silent that it began to make Frisk feel uncomfortable.

 He always made a point of looking at the person he was speaking to, but he wasn’t doing that now. His attention wasn’t on her anymore – it was on practically everything but her, and that worrying little frown on his face only heightened the sense of concern that was washing over Frisk in waves after seeing it.

 “...Sans? Is something wrong...?” She asked, a twinge of distress discernible in her quiet tone of voice.

 She had to repeat herself twice before he would answer her.

 “it’s just... about the party...” His front teeth gnawed on the bottom of his mouth, seeming only more perturbed as the seconds slowly passed by before another grin, wide and gleeful, almost to the extent of being manic, broke across his skull just as suddenly as the grimace had.

 “i was just thinking about how loooong the drive’s gonna be to get there... it’ll be so long, i might actually get a full nine hours sleep on the way there.” He accomplished getting through the first two sentences with only a few snorts interspersed into his speech, but he was really struggling not to laugh through the second half - and by the tail end of the third sentence, he was failing miserably. “i mean, i think you have the right to live wherever it is you want, but why’d you have to go and move so far off, frisk? do you not want to see your ‘ol pal sansy as often anymore, is that it?”

 “Sans, our houses are literally less than ten feet apart.” She giggled uncontrollably; his laughter was potently contagious.

 “but it feels so far away in my SOUL!” He cried out dramatically, clutching the front of his shirt directly at the area of his chest as he fell to the carpet, on his knees.

 “We’re talking to each other face to face from our windows! How much closer do you want us to be?!”

 “until it’s impossible for us to get any closer.” He replied without a beat, his laughter dying down to a nervous chuckle as a soft blue blush slowly spread across his face.

 “Wh-What...?” She stuttered dumbly.

 “what?” He parroted immediately after; so immediate that Frisk was almost certain that she must have misheard or imagined what had preceded.

 “...Sans, you goob. You really fooled me into thinking there was something horribly wrong! What you just did wasn’t in the Gyftmas spirit, Sans!”

 “ok, ok, yeah, now that i think about it, that really was kinda mean of me.” He scratched the back of his skull with an awkward sheepish smile, at least having the decency to look ashamed of himself. “...but it still made you laugh, though.”

 “...Okay, I will admit that it was actually pretty funny... Especially that whole thing you do where you grossly exaggerate how far apart our houses are, despite us being next-door neighbors and all...” Frisk then made the valiant effort to appear stern in front of him. “But anymore jokes like that one today, and you’ll leave me with no choice but to take away your present privileges.”

 “you... you got me something?” His droopy sockets widened, and the white spheres that served as his pupils enlarged to the extent that they almost looked like twin moons, his reaction all but suggesting that he was truly taken aback by the thought.

 “Of course I did. Undyne may be my bestie, but you’re my bestest buddy.” She stated sincerely, but then smirked, a wicked idea manifesting without any warning. “Prepare yourself, because it’s on it’s way!”

 “you didn’t have to get me anything, frisk...” That’s what he said, but he wasn’t exactly doing an excellent job at hiding his inner giddiness – it almost made her feel bad for what she was about to do. “...wait? you’re giving it to me now?”

 “Yep! Whether you choose to close your eyes or not is up to you.”

 “...‘kay. i’ll keep ‘em closed, since i think that’s what you want me to do. sansy ‘ll play along with the surprise, kiddo.” His sockets shut, but not a second later he cracked one open. “...you better not be about to throw a snowball at my face though, ‘cause that’s a declaration of war where i come from.”

 “It’s not a snowball, so don’t worry.”

 And it really wasn’t a snowball. But he was about to get a face full of something.

 Frisk walked over to her nightstand to grab Sans’s present, unwrapped. She had meant to wrap it along with the rest of his gift, but this one had become misplaced, and thus it escaped getting packaged at the time. It was something small, in both size and value, but she was told by Toriel that Sans would appreciate it nonetheless.

 It was time to test if that claim was true.

 She stood in front of the window, taking in the sight of Sans standing there, his sockets closed and looking as though he were mere seconds away from actually falling asleep in that very spot while standing up. He was definitely nodding off though – it was time for a little wakeup call!

 “Here it comes!” She yelled happily, hurling the object she held in her hand with all her might out the window; it sailed through the chilly air and the snow, crossing the few feet’s distance between them and towards him at top speed.

 Her sudden shout caused his sockets to snap open, just at the exact right moment for whatever it was she had thrown to pelt him directly in the face.

 “buh?!” He nearly spluttered in surprise.

 It took a few more moments, as he was still somewhat paralyzed from the shock of it all, but as soon as he regained his bearings, Sans peeled off the offending object covering his eyes; it had felt soft when it collided with his skull, and he discovered that what struck him was in fact a pair of socks.

 But not just any pair of socks. No, this particular pair was colored a dark gray, and that itself wasn’t too special, but on them he found images of little cheeseburgers scattered across the fabric. Something red was also oozing out from underneath the top buns of the patties, which was obviously meant to be ketchup. They looked just as though Grillby had decided to design clothing themed around his restaurant’s menu on the side, and Sans was loving it.

 “these... these are amazing!”

 Frisk knew that he would like them, but she never once thought that Sans, or anyone for that matter, would be so overjoyed to receive a pair of socks as a gift, especially as a Gyftmas present.

 He was so pleased with them that he began kicking off his slippers posthaste and sat down on his bedroom floor to put them on. It was while he was doing this that Frisk took the opportunity to actually look at him, specifically his body, and even more specifically, his feet.

 They... didn’t look like an actual skeleton’s feet. An actual skeleton as in a human skeleton, that is; which was nothing unusual or out of the ordinary at all for him, she had learned far prior to this point, really. She had been around him and Papyrus for so long now that she didn’t really question what they could do or shouldn’t be able to do as skeletons, but still, these aspects were no less jarring to her when she thought about it for longer than a few seconds.

 His feet looked less skeletal, as contrary as that was, and more like a person’s with all the skin and the meat underneath still attached. The only thing even remotely skeletal about them was the fact that they were made out of bone. She wondered if his hands were also similar in shape. They were always out of sight, since he kept them covered with gloves or mittens or had them shoved in the pockets of his shorts or hoodie, so Frisk had never seen them before.

 He must have caught her in the act of staring, because a few more moments of ogling later and she noticed he was grinning slyly in her direction.

 “getting enough of an eyeful over there?” Sans asked with a wiggle of his eyebone(?), striking what one could consider to be a provocative pose as he slowly pulled the sock up and over his heel, never breaking eye contact with her as he did so.

 “Oh, hush.” Her cheeks were turning a deep, flushed red, and it had nothing to do with the frigid air surrounding and flooding in through the wide-open window.

 “...sweet mother of asgore!” Sans all of a sudden wheezed, startling her before he replied, nearly sobbing in his laughter as he pointed to his leg, “they’re kneesocks!”

 “Kneesocks?!”

 “you didn’t know?!”

 “No!” Frisk insisted, then added embarrassedly, “...I guess I was so absorbed in the print that I didn’t pay attention to what kind they were when I bought them. I’m sorry.”

 “don’t apologize – these are great.” Sans said as he eagerly tugged the other one up the length of his leg up to his patella.

 “Sans the skeleton from Snowdin, you aren’t seriously going to wear those, are you?” She inquired with blatant disbelief evident in her expression and tone.

 “you bet your burger i am. i’m gonna wear them at the party, and i’m patella-ing everyone that’ll listen where i got ‘em from.”

 “Sans, why...?” She half-groaned, half-giggled to herself.

 They shared a few more bad laughs together before a knock at the door interrupted them.

 “sounds like the early birds are already dropping in.” Sans remarked as he leaned out the window, peering down below to see a few monsters waiting at Frisk’s front door. “paps is gonna be disappointed that he wasn’t the first to show up.”

 “Tell him he’ll always come first place in my heart.” Frisk chuckled, already imagining the somewhat pouty expression on the taller skeleton’s face when he saw the other guests had beaten him to the Gyftmas punch, quite literally.

 “heh, he’ll appreciate that. hey, just wanted to let you know, he an’ i got most of the cooking done last night before bed, and he’s finishing up the final touches on his part of the spread right now. it’ll be more than a bit of a pain in the tailbone to carry it all in a few dishes per trip, so...” He lifted a single phalange, the tip of it glowing a bright blue along with his left eye. “...i might have to put in some actual effort to pull this off.”

 “Ohhh...! Sans is busting out the scary cyan magic eye!” She gasped, clapping her hands with delight. “And all for me and the sake of the party! I’m actually gonna see you use some magic!”

 “you act like it’s such a big deal...” He scratched the back of his skull again, turning to the side so hopefully she wouldn’t notice the blush matching the color of his magic blooming in his cheeks.

 Another knock interrupted their talk, much louder and more persistent than prior.

 “...I better go answer that.”

 “‘kay. see ya in a bit, kiddo.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 Just a few hours later, and the party had already gone into full swing. The house was packed with guests at every turn, and it would only grow fuller as the day went on. Frisk fully expected the celebration to continue well into the late hours of the night, and she was more than alright with this.

 She had received plenty of promises from certain higher profile monsters that they would be attending; the presence of Toriel and Asgore hadn’t surprised her in the slightest, despite their busy schedules that didn’t let up even during the holidays. But Mettaton? Frisk was quite honestly astonished when she saw the modelesque robot strut through the front door and directly into her living room wearing a long faux-fur coat and high-heeled snow boots, even though he shouldn’t be able to feel the frigid temperatures outside.

 “Mettaton?!” She openly expressed her shock.

 “The one and only.” He lowered his sunglasses, which were entirely inappropriate for this sort of snowy weather, and winked.

 “I... I didn’t think you would make it.”

 “I wouldn’t miss your little soirée for the world, darling!” He threw up his arms to sweep her into an unprecedented embrace. “Although... it was exceedingly difficult. It’s fortunate that you sent out the invitations in advance as you did, otherwise my fabulous self being present today would have been nothing short of impossible. Being a surface world star is glamorous and all, but... some of the producers I work with really do know how to get my gears grinding!”

 “Well, I really am happy to see you here in person, Mettaton, and not on the television as expected.” She eagerly returned the gesture, wrapping her arms around his cold metallic body. “I know that I’m yours and everybody else’s ambassador, but I still can’t even begin to imagine how taxing your career can be sometimes. But remember that today is all about relaxing and spending time with the ones you love. Get some well-deserved rest for the moment and fill the Mettaton-shaped hole in our Mettaton-shaped hearts.”

 “That’s right... That’s exactly what I came here today to do. To catch up with everyone else and hear what’s happening in their own lives, while mine’s been spent under the spotlight so much lately. I can’t afford to make the same mistake as I did last time...” His head whipped around the room as if searching for something, or rather someone. “Blooky? Will Blooky be arriving soon? Are they even coming?!”

 “Don’t get your circuits in a twist just yet. Blooky’s already here – go look over in the corner of the other living room, where the music player is. I asked them to DJ for me today with the holiday compositions they compiled just for the occasion.”

 Mettaton paused in his dramatics to listen, recognizing with apparent fondness in his features the soft tune that floated through the air well – ‘Ghouliday’, one of the first songs the cousins had wrote together when the two simultaneously became interested in music several years ago.

 “That song of ours... it feels just like home...” He then took off in a sprint into the next room over, his arms waving around almost like limp noodles in a strong wind as he charged towards the ghost with the express purpose of defying all logic and laws of physics to wrap his beloved cousin in a hug. “BLOOKY! I missed you sooooo MUH-HUH-UUUUCH!!!”

 “Waitwaitwaitwait!” She heard Napstablook utter as urgently as their soft voice would allow. “I’m holding punch!”

 There was the sound of a crash, several people screaming and glass breaking, followed by a short beat before Mettaton timidly and uncharacteristically squeaked,

 “...I’ll clean that up!”

 So the party was going great.

 The pile of presents underneath the tree was growing bigger and bigger with each additional guest that attended the Gyftmas gathering. A grand assortment of names were jotted down on the tags, but Frisk probably shouldn’t have been as taken aback as she was to find that a good number of them were addressed to her.

 A scaly hand suddenly clapping over her shoulder brought the girl out of her thoughts and caused her to shriek in alarm.

 “WHOA, hey!” Undyne retracted her hand as if she had been burnt, holding both of them up in a defensive stance. “Didn’t mean to scare ya like that, Frisk. ...You were looking a little spaced out there, so I thought I’d check up on ya.”

 “Sorry for reacting like that. I was just thinking to myself... Looking at all these presents here, and so many of them for me, it made me realize how many friends I have now.”

 “I still can’t believe you’re trying to fit basically the entire Underground under one roof... and YOUR roof! You had to of known that’s a disaster just waiting to happen. And to go ahead and do it anyway despite that, well, that takes some real guts, punk!”

 “Mettaton said that he was going to clean up the mess he made, and I believe him.”

 “Wait, what?” She blinked before letting out a cackle. “You mean the ol’ tin can’s already broke something?! I take it back – you’re either fearless, or just plain NUTS for even trying to pull this off! But hey, no matter how it goes, this is gonna be something for us all to remember and laugh about later!”

 Her wide toothy grin then turned into a deep frown.

 “...Seeing everybody here, with smiles on their faces, just happy to be alive and in each other’s company; it makes me feel kinda bad.”

 “Why?” Frisk inquired, incredulous. “Why would what’s supposed to be the most wonderful day of the year make you feel that way? I mean, I’m sure you have your reasons, but you seemed pretty fired up about today before...”

 “Well, I feel guilty.” Undyne averted her gaze and tugged at her scarf absentmindedly. “Back when I first met you, I hated you and every other human; because I thought you hated us. And then, well, you and I, we ended up becoming besties! But... it’s moments like these, where we’re all together just having a good time here on the surface with you that makes me remember... what a horrible mistake I almost made.”

 “Undyne, it’s all behind us.” Frisk reassured her, reaching up to place her own hand over her towering fishy friend’s shoulder with some struggling before settling on simply patting the sleeve of her arm. “You shouldn’t be thinking about that anymore – especially not today, of all days.”

 “Yeah, you keep saying that, but... sometimes I still feel pretty lousy about it.” She wrapped Frisk into a tight, almost suffocating one-armed hug accompanied by an aggressive noogie. “I couldn’t have been more wrong then! I thought you were gonna destroy us all, and that I needed to protect everybody from you. But the truth was, what I needed to be doing was protecting YOU! You really are just like Papyrus sometimes - too darn NICE for your own good!”

 “Oww! I appreciate the sentiments, but please don’t noogie the human!”

 “See? That sounds JUST LIKE something he would say!”

 “That’s because he did say it before. You know, that one time over the phone?”

 “Oh yeah, he did, didn’t he?” Undyne ceased her relentless grinding of the knuckles against Frisk’s head for the moment to ponder and reminisce. “Ya know, sometimes that whole adventure you had Underground with us feels like it happened ages ago, and other times like it was just last week. Time is funny like that. ...Oh man. I’m starting to sound just like that old coot Gerson!”

 “Stay with us, Undyne! You can’t go slipping away from us just yet!” Frisk teased, laughing at her mortified expression. “You’re still too young for the rocking chair and recollecting of yesteryears!”

 “You’re right! I’ve gotta stop blathering on and on about what happened yesterday and focus on what’s happening TODAY! Make some new memories, YEAH!” A few nearby monsters turned her way, but otherwise her exclamation didn’t receive too much fanfare. “Hey, is Alphys here yet? I want her to open up my Gyftmas present to her ASAP!”

 “No, she hasn’t gotten here just yet, but she did text me a few minutes ago saying she was on her way.” Undyne shuffled and stomped in place impatiently at this. “Oh, oh! You want to know what I got her?”

 “Uh, yeah!” She enthusiastically exclaimed. “...Does it have anything to do with Mew Mew Kissy Cutie, though?”

 “Actually, it does!”

 “Aw, PLEASE don’t tell me we ended up getting her the exact same thing!”

 “What did you get her, Undyne?” Frisk inquired, confident that her friend’s assumption was incorrect, but a sliver of nervousness was still present in her question.

 “Well, you know how most of the anime out there is usually based off of those Japanese books with all the pictures in them that you gotta read backwards to understand anything that’s going on? Uh, I think they’re called mangoes? Manhwas? Maybe it was mandalas? No, wait, that still doesn’t sound right...” Before Frisk could correct her, she had already moved on. “Well anyway, she’s got some DVDs of the anime, but none of the books. So I did a lot of scouting on your human internet and found the whole set. But finding all of them together isn’t what took me so long, no – this set is special. They’re all signed. By the AUTHOR!”

 “Alphys is gonna flip.” The reptilian monster was usually shy and soft-spoken in nature, but when talking about something she loved, Alphys could become momentarily unrestrained and speak freely about her hobbies and passions.

 “That’s EXACTLY what I’m hoping she’ll do! I don’t even know how many hours I spent and how many online shopping websites I had to search through, and let’s not even get into how much money I had to shell out for the set after I FINALLY found it - but seeing her nerd out over something like that, it’ll all be SO worth it. I’d do it again five times and a bunch more if I got that kind of adorable reaction each time!”

 “That’s so cute, it makes my heart hurt!”

 “So, uh, sorry to be the bringer of bad news, Frisk, but... if we really DID get the same thing for her, mine’s GOTTA be the superior of the two. ...There’s no way we both got her a signed set of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie mangolios, did we?”

 “No, fortunately we didn’t get her the same thing.” It was subtle, but the tension in Undyne’s expression eased at that. “Those DVDs of hers you mentioned? Well, I watched the series myself several years ago, and the ones she has aren’t complete. They’re from that old company that went out of business that used to hold the license; and not only did they do a horrendous job with the dubbing, but the episodes are out of order, some of them are even missing, and then the ones that weren’t cut were edited so badly that it’s almost painful to watch.”

 “Really? I watched some of the episodes with Alphys before, and at the time I didn’t really notice anything too weird about ‘em. But now that you’ve told me all this stuff, I gotta say, there’s actually a whole lot of plotholes and a bunch of other things that didn’t make much to any sense in the story.”

 “So this right here...” Frisk plucked a present from the ever-expanding pile, a sparkly tag with the name ‘Alphys’ written in pen stuck to the paper, and waved it around with a smile. “...Is the complete set. All fifty-two uncut episodes in their correct airing order on eight disks, with the additional viewing choice of a brand-new English dub or the original Japanese voice acting with subtitles.”

 “Dang, I just realized... Alphys is gonna be so busy with this stuff we got her, she probably won’t have any time to hang out with either of us anymore!”

 “Well, I can’t say anything about the books, but maybe we could make the viewing of Mew Mew Kissy Cutie a thing at Ladies’ Night from here on out?” Frisk suggested, believing that the rest of the girls might enjoy it; especially since they could actually follow the plot along without much trouble when watching this edition of the series.

 But Undyne didn’t respond to her suggestion. No, the redhead was peering at something behind her, just over Frisk’s shoulder, with a slack-jawed expression. But before Frisk could even begin to ask her what was wrong, a shrill squeal erupted far too close to her ear, forcing her to turn around.

 “Alphys!” Frisk shrieked herself, now knowing exactly why Undyne had seemed so distraught. “How much did you-” It was too late, she realized. “You... you heard everything, didn’t you?”

 “So much for surprises...” Undyne grumbled sourly, crossing her arms.

 However, Undyne’s prickly mood quickly faded when Alphys launched herself at her, flinging her arms around her neck and squeezing with all the appreciation she could convey as she practically screamed her gratitude towards them both.

 “ThankyouthankyouTHANKYOUTHANKYOU...!!!!!” Alphys screeched with delight, her grip around Undyne’s neck becoming tighter and tighter to the point that even one of the strongest monsters in the Underground was having difficulty breathing.

 “Alphie, you’re CHOKING me...!”

 “Oh... OH! Sorry! I’m SO sorry!” She immediately detached herself from the fish lady, somewhat mortified but still giddy, and gave her a chance to regain her breath. “I just... I got so excited that I... I just couldn’t contain myself anymore!”

 “Well, you’re gonna have to contain yourself for a while longer, now!” Undyne huffed, a look of faux scorn gracing her face. “Instead of doing the honorable thing and walking away when you had the chance to, you stood RIGHT THERE and heard everything that you weren’t supposed to; and once again, instead of WALKING AWAY and pretending you didn’t hear ANYTHING, you LET US KNOW you were there by calling attention to yourself with all your adorable squeaking and squealing!”

 “I... I’m so sorry I ruined the surprise...”

 “...I know you didn’t do it on purpose. It’s just... I really wanted to WOW you, Alphie. And I’m sure Frisk here did too, what with how much she was hyping up your present from her.” Undyne then pointed a clawed finger at her. “HOWEVER, because the identity of your gifts have been revealed to you too early, you have to WAIT to open them – ONE HOUR for EVERY MINUTE that you spent standing there listening to us!”

 “I stood here for about five minutes...” Alphys decided it was best to be honest with her, to avoid disappointing Undyne any further than she already had.

 “Then you can open them at three.” She huffed in response, then peered down at Frisk, who was giving her a fixed stare accompanied by a tiny frown. “Don’t you give me that look! That’s what my mama made me do whenever I snooped around to see what I was getting for Gyftmas before I was supposed to! Heck, sometimes I screwed up with her so bad that I had to wait for DAYS after Gyftmas had passed! Don’t ask me how she always knew I snuck some peeks of the stash before she could get ‘em all wrapped - moms are just really good at finding out about that kind of stuff.”

 “Aww...” Alphys pouted in a manner not unlike an upset child, and both Undyne and Frisk had to admit – seeing her like that really was precious.

 “It’s just a few hours, Alphie.” Undyne playfully rolled her one good eye and began shoving her good-naturedly towards a group of guests that had gathered around the television. “Let’s go mingle some and then you’ll see the time will pass by before you even know it!”

 Undyne hauled Alphys off in such a rush that Frisk had missed her opportunity to give the finned monster her own gift – she watched the couple for a moment, wondering if she should drop in on their ensuing chatter to deliver it, but it seemed they were having so much fun that she’d hate to interrupt. She supposed that Undyne could open hers later, alongside Alphys’s.

 Shopping for Undyne had been a bit of a stumper, compared to some of the other monsters that she knew. Frisk’s first choice had been a replica sword, but then she recalled their frequent hangouts at her place and remembered that she had plenty of those – the human girl thought for some time that they had burned up in the fire, but Frisk learned shortly after visiting her new home on the surface that she braved the seemingly eternal flames which still engulfed her old house in the Underground and had gone back inside to rescue them. And aside from a few scuff marks, they were essentially in pristine shape.

 Even though she was certain that her anime-obsessed friend would be more than thrilled to receive yet another oversized duplicate sword to add to her collection, Frisk felt that her Gyftmas present needed to be a bit more special. She wracked her brain for days on end, reviewing everything she knew about the powerful fish woman and former captain of the Royal Guard.

 So, after much deliberation, Frisk decided that instead of giving her yet another replica for her to put on display...

 She would get her a real one.

 The only person she had spoken to concerning this idea was Sans (because Papyrus couldn’t keep a secret even for the sake of his own life, and Alphys couldn’t exactly be trusted with this top-secret information either because she became increasingly loose-lipped when excited to a certain extent), who unhesitantly informed her that while Undyne would be ecstatic, going through with it would be a grave mistake on her part.

 Undyne was zealous, yes, and incredibly hot-blooded for a fish lady, but Frisk told him that she trusted her to be responsible with the bladed weapon.

 “a move which will henceforth be known as ‘mistake number two’.” He had rung in with his opinion then.

 But she honestly couldn’t think of anything else that would impress her as much as a genuine steel sword, so at the time Frisk had more or less told Sans to stuff it. She was hoping with all her might that Undyne would prove him wrong – otherwise she’d never hear the end of it from the smug skeleton.

 Frisk was aware that someone who had the ability to summon spears made of magic from thin air would probably possess no real need for a sword, but the practicality of the present wasn’t really all that important in the first place – the only thing that truly mattered in the end was whether Undyne was happy or not with her gift.

 And speaking of Sans, she quite literally bumped into him on her way to the kitchen. It seemed he just then finished putting all the dishes he and Papyrus prepared in their proper places on the various tables she had set up around the living room, because the faint glow of his magic was still visible in his left eye and she caught sight of a fading wisp of blue from his fingertips.

 “‘ey, kiddo. where’s the fire at?” His hands reached out to steady her, their unexpected impact nearly knocking Frisk off her feet.

 “It’s in the kitchen – I thought I’d check up on Grillby. He said there were still a few things left that he needed to involving some additions to the spread and asked to borrow mine so he could finish the job.”

 “paps is really letting this new position as a ‘head chef’ get to his, uh, head.” He sighed, but it was an unmistakably satisfied one. “don’t get me wrong – i couldn’t be happier that he’s done nothing but improve since we’ve been on the surface; tickled to the bone even... but i gotta admit, paps can be kind of a bossy boots when he’s all absorbed in his cooking. he has this tendency to hover over anybody else with him when in the kitchen, and feels the need to input some well-meaning, but unrequested advice. so i hope he isn’t giving grillbz too bad of a time in there.”

 “You told me that everything on the list of dishes he was responsible for was finished. If Papyrus finished everything he was supposed to, then why would he be in the kitchen?”

 “to dispense some of his well-meaning advice.”

 “...Oh. Well, I think Grillby might be able to handle it?” Sans didn’t seem so sure of her words, and neither did she herself honestly. “He seems like the type to work well even under pressure. From what I’ve seen, for someone made of flames, he’s pretty good at keeping a cool head.”

 “yeah, maybe so, but even someone as chill as grillby has got to have an ignition point.” Sans did have a point there, Frisk mentally noted – and while they both knew that the flamesman would never blow up on Papyrus, the likelihood of him becoming tormented by the skeleton’s helpful intentions was quite high. “you said you were going to pop in and check on him? i’ll go with ya – i’ve gotta give grillby his gift anyway, so now’s as good a time as ever, i guess.”

 “What did you get him?” Frisk asked, filled with curiosity.

 “well, it’s not really much of a gyftmas present, but...” He shrugged, seeming somewhat ashamed. “i’m gonna finally pay off my tab with him, with interest. i think he’d probably appreciate that more than anything else i could’ve got him today.”

 “You mean you still haven’t paid off that big bill you racked up in the Underground?” Frisk shook her head, but smiled all the same. “What I have for him isn’t anything material either, but I’m pinning my hopes on the possibility that it’ll be the sort of gift that’ll keep on giving in the long run.”

 “it already sounds a lot better than what i have planned. so, don’t keep me in suspense, kiddo - what’s this spectacular gift of yours that’s supposed to keep on giving all year ‘round? it’s not a one-year membership to the jelly of the month club, is it?”

 “No, and I caught that reference, Sans.” She giggled, and he swore the sound was almost like bells, if only to him. “Some of the monsters, like Grillby, I couldn’t think of anything to give them that I could wrap up in a box. So instead of something physical, I decided to make a present out of an act or service – I’ve made the arrangements for his restaurant to receive a much needed expansion in the near future, since I heard from him and a few other regulars that the building is getting sort of cramped, what with all the new customers he’s drawing in now.”

 “aww, kiddo.” He cooed, “grillby ‘ll probably start crying soot when you drop the news on him. an upsized establishment is the best thing you ever could have thought up to give him. you’ve got me beat in that department - that’s way better than my idea.”

 “Gyftmas isn’t a contest, Sans.” She gently chided him. “And I’m sure that Grillby will be more than happy to collect your overdue payments as a present. I’m willing to bet he most likely never thought he’d see a single piece of the gold that went into your meals, so at least it’s a guarantee you’ll be surprising him.”

 “ouch.” He placed one hand over his ribcage, feigning hurt. “that was cold, frisk. real cold. you wanna know how cold that was? that was so cold, that i could step right through that front door and walk straight into that blizzard going on out there, and it’d still be a whole lot warmer than what you just said to me, your ol’ pal sansy.”

 “i was just teasing you, funnybones.” She lightly slapped his arm, the touch more akin to a light tap as she laughed, “I knew you were always planning on paying him back. You always do. Grillby once told me you never did let him down before when it came to eventually clearing off your tabs, so he didn’t expect you to this time, either.”

 “that grillby... what a guy.” Sans shook his head, almost pityingly.

 When they entered the kitchen, they found Papyrus exactly where Sans expected him to be, standing behind the flamesman and leaning over his shoulder, closely scrutinizing his work as he chattered on and on in incomprehensible culinary jargon. Grillby’s reaction to this was subtle – to the casual observer, he would appear to be nothing but the very essence of calm. However, the slightly erratic flickering of the flames that composed his body made them aware that Grillby was steadily becoming increasingly distressed at the unwanted commentary and being so closely observed. If that alone hadn’t clearly sent the message across, then the near pleading look he gave the two when he took notice of their presence certainly would have.

 “i got this.” The skeleton by Frisk’s side whispered. “‘ey, pap? what’re ya up to in here, slaving away in front of a stuffy hot stove, when there’s a party going on out there?”

 “OH, HELLO BROTHER! AND A MERRY GYFTMAS TO OUR GRACIOUS HOSTESS TODAY, MY BEST HUMAN FRIEND, FRISK!” He greeted them cheerfully, then gestured to Grillby. “I WAS MERELY OFFERING MY VASTLY ENHANCED CULINARY EXPERTISE TO ONE OF OUR OTHER FELLOW CHEFS WHO IS IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE!”

 “i can see that you’ve been busy.” Sans stated simply, taking in the fire monster’s haggard appearance which Papyrus seemed to be oblivious to. “but pap, it looks like grillbz is about done here, and some of the peeps attending the skelly-bration have been asking about ya in the past half hour.”

 It wasn’t a lie, either. At least five monsters had flagged him down on his way to the kitchen alone, questioning him on the whereabouts of his brother. Perhaps it was merely curiosity at work, as the brothers were rarely apart from one another for extended intervals, but the fact remained that several guests were expecting the appearance of the great Papyrus.

 Sans wanted to rescue his good pal Grillby from the fate of being subjected to his younger brother’s backseat cooking, but he didn’t want to hurt Papyrus’s confidence or his pride in order to do so.

 It was one of his fatal flaws – Sans showed difficulty in being honest with those he loved whenever something was amiss, so he would lie in order to spare their feelings. He held the uttermost purest of intentions, but Frisk had a premonition of sorts that this habit of his would one day return to bite him hard in the boney posterior, and the end result might not be as humorous as it sounded.

 “UGH. THAT PUN WAS HORRIBLE. JUST... ABOMINABLE!” Papyrus groaned, his disgusted reaction eliciting a snort from Sans. “...YOU SAY THAT THE PARTY GUESTS... ARE REQUESTING MY COMPANY?! WELL...! I’M TERRIBLY SORRY, GRILLBY, I CAN’T EVEN BEGIN TO EXPRESS MY REMORSE, BUT I MUST LEAVE THE REST OF WHAT REMAINS TO BE DONE IN YOUR CAPABLE HANDS!”

 “That’s quite alright, Papyrus.” Grillby’s soft, whispery voice crackled, the relief it displayed only being discernible to the human and the shorter skeleton. “I can finish up the rest of the cooking just fine by myself – you go and enjoy yourself.”

 Sans had cleverly played on the enjoyment Papyrus took out of being the center of several’s attention well – he had no difficulty in carting him out of the room and thus allowing the overstressed fire monster to complete his assigned task in relative peace.

 Before they slipped out of the kitchen, Frisk left an envelope addressed to him on the counter where she was certain he would find it. Inside were papers, the documents detailing the renovations and additions that would be appended to his restaurant, and all that would be required of him in exchange is that he sign his name on the dotted line at the bottom of the last page.

 This is what Frisk murmured to Sans when he inquired over the contents of the mysterious parcel he had noticed she left behind for Grillby to discover.

 “didn’t you want to watch him open it, though?”

 “Yeah, I did, but... I thought that if he really did end up crying over it, then it might fluster him if he did that in front of you or me or Papyrus. This way, he can be as emotional as needed in his own privacy, and Grillby can find me later to talk about it if he wants to after he’s composed himself.”

 “i’m sure he’d appreciate the consideration. pretty much anybody that’s known grillby for long enough is aware that it don’t take much for him to get worked up until he’s shedding soot all over everything. you’d think he’d be the stoic type, someone that isn’t easily moved, but that first impression couldn’t be further from the truth.”

 “I think it’s wonderfully sweet. The world needs more caring and tenderhearted men like him. There are way too many aloof, dismissive, and severely emotionally stunted types out there already.”

 “yeah?” Sans replied, his interest piqued – not that she picked up on anything unusual or out of sorts in his behavior.

 Little did Frisk know, topics such as her preferences in men, specifically monster men, had been frequently occupying his thoughts as of late.

 A spark of faint, barely there attraction had manifested following her befriending and hanging out with his brother. He made a valiant effort in forcing these feelings of his down as deeply as he could shove them, to the very bottom of his protesting SOUL. He tried to convince himself that such a thing between them would never work out by using various methods to psyche himself out of his budding crush.

 She’s a human. She could still be dangerous. Monsters aren’t supposed to feel this way about humans. The other monsters would make fun of you. It will only end in tragedy. You’d put her in danger if anyone found out. She would never feel the same.

 Such excuses was what he relied on to reign in his emerging urges, his desires to pursue a relationship of a romantic nature with her. But the more time he spent with her, the more he heard her laugh that was reminiscent of the chiming of bells at his jokes, his japes, and antics, the more he beheld her smile that shined brighter than the stars he loved so much, the more it became impossible to deny that he had fallen.

 Fallen deeply and hopelessly in love.

 He was constantly torn between handing out hints that pointed towards his sentiments and doing everything within his power to bury them from her sight. He didn’t want her to uncover his blossoming affections, yet he did want her to. Sans had never felt such a terrifying, yet thrilling sensation in his entire life.

 Since he was made aware of his own feelings towards Frisk, there were only two things holding him back from participating in the games of love, presently. The first was the very real prospect that she may not share his feelings. The second, however...

 “Papyrus, before either of you go wandering off anywhere, I need you and Sans to stay put for a moment – I’m going to get your Gyftmas gifts out from under the tree. I hope they haven’t been buried underneath the others up by now...”

 Papyrus nearly squealed with jubilation and delight, gushing over her thoughtfulness as Sans for the second time that day was caught off-guard.

 “you mean the socks weren’t my present?” He questioned, pointing to his legs which were covered up to his patella in tiny burgers and fries.

 “Good gracious, how did I not notice that you were still wearing those things?” Frisk remarked, the second-hand embarrassment almost overwhelming.

 “your guess is as good as mine, ‘cuz you really should of since you’re so short.”

 “Oh hush.” She huffed, scurrying off for a few minutes before returning with two boxes wrapped in brightly colored paper.

 Once the boxes were in their respective hands, both noted that the presents were actually rather heavy in weight. They took the time to tilt their gifts from side to side, gently shaking them in front of her, just to tease Frisk a little before opening them. Sans felt the need to casually stick the bow that was on the box to the side of his skull, for whatever reason – this borderline bizarre action still elicited a laugh out of the girl all the same, much to his inner satisfaction.

 Because that was a part of love – doing stupid and even irrational things just to make the one you loved happy.

 Papyrus tore into his present first, and he couldn’t have been more captivated with what was inside.

 “SANS, LOOK!” He proudly held up a thick book with several tabs sticking out of the pages; it was a book of recipes, to be precise. “‘101 WAYS TO PREPARE PERFECTLY PLEASING PASTA’! EVERYTHING I COULD HAVE EVER WISHED TO LEARN ABOUT SPAGHETTI IS CONTAINED WITHIN THE CONFINES OF THIS BOOK! I CAN AT LAST TOSS OUT THAT OUTDATED COPY WITH ALL THE FADED AND TORN BITS I FOUND IN THE UNDERGROUND’S JUNKYARD!”

 So that explained what was wrong with his spaghetti then, Frisk thought. Chunks of his previous cookbook were missing, and he must have tried to substitute ingredients and wing the rest of the recipe’s steps, with disastrous results.

 ...But that still didn’t quite explain why it wasn’t even remotely edible. Just what had he put inside the sauce?!

 “so i guess that you’ll be telling that old book...” Sans started, the grin on his face spreading further.

 “SANS, DON’T YOU DARE!”

 “pasta-la vista.”

 Papyrus’s entire body gave an almost violent jerk as a strangled wheezing sound escaped his throat – it was a laugh or a chortle of some sort, that much they were sure of, but he had done his best to suppress it.

“SANS... THAT PUN WAS EVEN WORSE THAN THE LAST!”

 “nuh uh. you thought it was hilarious.” Sans calmly contended with a smirk. “don’t even try to deny it, paps. your reaction said more than words ever could.”

 “...I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY OR HOW THAT HAPPENED. I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED IT, ALL THINGS CONSIDERED, BUT I STILL LAUGHED ANYWAY!”

 “i know the answer to that – it’s because i’m the pun-niest skeleton that ever lived.”

 “...THAT IS DEBATABLE.” Papyrus shot him an unamused glance. “NOW DON’T BONE-DOGGLE AROUND ANY FURTHER THAN NECESSARY – START UNWRAPPING YOUR OWN PRESENT AND SHOW ME WHAT FRISK GAVE YOU FOR GYFTMAS!”

 “ok, patience, paps. don’t get your tibia in a twist.” He chuckled, tearing off the wrapping paper in one swift motion and gingerly opening the top flaps of the box to reveal... another book, even heftier than the last. He flipped through it, his sockets gradually widening as he viewed its divisions. “it’s... an astronomy book. star maps, pictures and scientific accounts of solar and lunar eclipses, statistics about the planets in the solar system...”

 Questioning whether he appreciated it wasn’t at all necessary – his expression of wonderment spoke for itself. Sans was positively beaming, and the sight of him wholeheartedly enjoying her gift sent a series of warm fuzzies straight to her heart.

 “thanks a bunch, but... you... you didn’t have to get me anything...” He was touched almost beyond words. “this must have cost a literal fortune...”

 “Pish posh. Never you mind about the price.” She waved off his concern, only providing further proof to him that the astronomy book was indeed more expensive than she was letting on. “Seeing the look that’s on your face right now made it worth every cent.”

 “aw geez, kiddo...” A bright blue blush crept onto and coated his cheeks once more - Frisk couldn’t quite say why, but she found the shade and color to be exceedingly cute.

 Papyrus then plucked Frisk from her place off the floor and pressed her firmly against his chest, hugging her tightly as he thanked her. So tightly that breathing was becoming somewhat of a challenge while being subjected to his loving clasp. Sans squeezed his way into the embrace, finding some amount of enjoyment in watching Frisk struggle and squirm before interfering by tugging at the sleeve of the other skeleton’s sweater.

 “bro, i know you mean well, but I think you might be squishing her.”

 “Yes, please don’t squish the human...” She whined pitifully.

 “OH! MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES, FRISK!” He released her posthaste, setting her down with evident care on her own two feet. “I SEEMED TO HAVE FORGOTTEN THAT YOUR FRAGILE HUMAN BODY WASN’T PROPERLY EQUIPPED TO FULLY WITHSTAND THE FORMIDABLE STRENGTH FROM THE POWERFUL PHYSIQUE OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS!”

 “I’m fine, Papyrus. Just... give me a moment to catch my breath.”

 She supposed his tendency of putting his all into everything, even something as natural as an embrace, was a trait that came about from his friendship with Undyne. The fish woman was in no definition of the word gentle, so even the simplest of gestures such as handshakes and hugs were elevated to an extreme level.

 “So, I’ll... take that as a sign that you liked your gift?”

 “YES! IMMENSELY SO!” Papyrus answered as he held the cookbook filled with pasta recipes up, almost proudly. “I PROMISE, FRISK, ONCE I PERFECT THIS RECIPE, YOU’LL HAVE THE MOST DELICIOUS PLATE OF SPAGHETTI OF YOUR HUMAN LIFE, YOU CAN COUNT ON THAT!”

 Several months ago, her insides would have twisted up in dread at that. But now, she could actually feel her stomach threatening to growl and the faintest traces of drool beginning to form at her mouth. She was genuinely looking forward to his dish to the point that Frisk wished she could eat it immediately, if not sooner.

 Against her wishes, all these thoughts and talk of spaghetti spurred her stomach to indeed growl, and quite loudly at that. She could feel the air around them still, and both brothers were staring at her with expressions that could only be described as judgmental.

 “you... you didn’t eat breakfast this morning, did you, kiddo?” Sans says after a long pause, almost accusingly.

 “...No.” She admitted, seeing there was no sense in attempting to fib her way out of this one.

 The once denizens of the Underground took food very seriously, if the vast array of cuisines Frisk came across during her journey were any indication. It seemed each monster she met had some sort of signature dish, such as Toriel’s butterscotch cinnamon pies, Sans’s hotdogs (or even more specifically, hotcats), Muffet’s spider doughnuts and cider, and of course Papyrus’s spaghetti.

 Monsters took their mealtimes very seriously, and Frisk had just committed a terrible offense in their eyes, or rather eye sockets.

 “FRISK, WHY WOULDN’T YOU EAT BREAKFAST THIS MORNING?” Papyrus questioned her mournfully, sounding betrayed. “IT’S THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY!!!”

 She had definitely upset him, Frisk realized – he had used three question marks when reprimanding her, something that was usually only reserved for him when he was at his utmost happiest.

 “I... I didn’t have time to.”

 “kiddo, you’re surrounded at every angle by food.” Sans gestured all around them at the tables, every inch of their surfaces covered by dishes filled with delicacies. “that’s, kind of the entire reason why you asked us all to bring something? so nobody would have to go hungry at this party? so, uh, tell me, frisk – what makes you think the host is exempt from that precaution, huh?”

 “It’s not like I chose not to eat anything on purpose, I’ve just been busy.” She feebly defended herself, already aware that she was fighting a hopeless battle. “Making sure everybody’s happy, handing out gifts, that sort of stuff...”

 Sans studied her for a moment, seeming to process her words carefully before craning his neck upwards to look at his brother.

 “...pap? you don’t mind taking up the position of co-host, do you?”

 “WOWIE, WOULD I EVER!”

 “Wh-What?” Frisk blinked twice at them, confused beyond all reason. “What do you mean ‘co-host’?”

 “it means exactly what is sounds like – pap is gonna take over some of your responsibilities so you can relax.”

 “And I don’t get a say in this at all...?”

 “nope.” “NOPE!”

 Their replies were simultaneous, cheerful, and matter of fact, and before she knew it, Frisk felt the bony hand of Sans clamp around her own, tugging her away from the taller skeleton and towards the banquet.

 “But-But I still have presents to deliver to their proper recipients!” She protested, Sans not slowing down in the slightest.

 “YOUR CONCERNS ARE UNFOUNDED, FRISK! THE PRESENTS HAVE TAGS!”

 “they’ve got tags, frisk.” Sans parroted, as if she had somehow not heard him. “don’t worry your pretty head; he’s got this.”

 “Okay, if you say so...” She responded, not sounding convinced at all.

 “trust me on this – papyrus is somebody that feels like he needs to be doing stuff constantly, all the time, and he likes being useful. while i do wish that he would sit down and smell the spaghetti from time to time, this is something good to him, and for him. paps being co-host and handing out presents will give him the chance to mingle, maybe make some friends, even. this’ll be like a whole other present, to him.”

 “All of that does make a lot of sense, now that you’ve explained it...” Frisk conceded defeat to his logic. “...But that doesn’t mean that you have to pull me around just to show me the table spread. I’m the one that set up everything, remember? I know where the food is.”

 “obviously, you don’t, since you haven’t eaten anything yet.” He shot back, and she stuck out her tongue at him childishly – he was just as immature, though, and flicked his own out as well.

 Once they were at the table, he commenced piling the food onto two plates, one for her and one for himself. He then guided his human companion to one of the couches, one where not as many guests were gathered around so there was no danger of someone getting rowdy and spilling their food onto the floor.

 The moment they were seated, before Frisk could even get comfortable, a tiny hotdog wrapped up in a croissant (otherwise known as pigs in a blanket, Sans’s own culinary contribution to the event) was shoved in front of her face, tapping insistently at her lips. She lightly shoved his arm away, but he was persistent.

 “Sans, I know how to eat by myself. You don’t have to feed me!” She squawked as she continued batting at his hands, refusing to allow him to push the tiny sausage past her lips.

 It was mostly out of a sense of paranoia of someone seeing them and getting the wrong idea. The last thing she needed was for someone to begin harassing the skeleton because someone mistakenly believed they were an item. Human-monster couples had become a thing remarkably quickly, but Frisk didn’t believe that Sans would ever be interested in pursuing a relationship with one, much less herself.

 “well, you could of fooled me.” He snipped, and he used her shocked expression at that to his advantage, popping the pig in a blanket into her open mouth. “there, now doesn’t that taste good, baby?”

 “...You’re making me seriously reconsider being a pacifist, Sans.” The girl warned him, but he knew it was all in good fun, wiping away the crumbs at her mouth as she chewed with his thumb before bringing another one to her lips.

 She reached up to snatch the little hotdog from his fingers, causing him to pout exaggeratingly.

 “Well, well, well... aren’t the two of you getting cozy~” A soft and sugary female voice remarked.

 Frisk whirled her head around to find Muffet standing a few feet away, staring at them with the corners of her mouth curved up into a sweet but sly smile.

 Out of all the monsters that could have caught the two of them like this, Muffet was by far not the worst, Frisk thought. She would definitely tease her over this, if not the both of them, but she wasn’t one to spread rumors around.

 Sans, however, seemed to have no sense of shame and all and curled an arm around Frisk’s shoulders, pulling her closer to his side and flashing a grin that matched Muffet’s own. The two monsters shared a knowing gaze that made Frisk feel as though she were missing something here...

 “Hey Muffet, did you come to chat?” She asked somewhat nervously, but the spider lady seemed to be fixed on what she had just witnessed.

 “Oh, and what could be happening here? Did I step into a secret little romantic rendezvous between two lovers?”

 Frisk nearly blanched, and even more distressingly bizarre was, Sans made no moves to deny her outlandish claims. The most he did was wiggle whatever constituted as his eyebrows at Muffet then turning around and doing the same with her. He then picked up another morsel from the platter between his two phalanges in an attempt to feed her again, as if she were some sort of small animal in need of treats.

 “Hmm, that looks fun, dearie. Let me try!” And with that, Muffet plucked one of the pigs in a blanket off of Frisk’s plate herself and poked at the human’s lips with it.

 “Muffet, no, not you too-mphh!” She was quickly silenced by the sausage being shoved into her mouth.

 “Aww, what a sour expression.” Muffet cooed, reaching out to pinch Frisk’s cheek, tugging it around in different directions before releasing her hold.

 Frisk made a solemn vow to herself, then and there – she was never going without eating breakfast again.

 The price was just too much to pay.

 When she turned her head upwards to look at Sans sitting next to her, all smug, she mentally noted that was probably the point of all this. Nevertheless, an important lesson was learned.

 She snagged her plate from the skeleton and scooched as far away from him as possible, all the way to the other side of the couch. Sans, however, just moved as well, sidling right up next to her and slinging his arm around her shoulders once more.

 “The two of you are adorable together~” Muffet giggled, taking her place on the couch at the space directly next to Sans. “I actually didn’t come over here just to torment you, dearie. I wanted to speak with you.”

 “...About what?” Frisk questioned, suspiciously and with a hint of dread.

 “Oh, nothing for you to be wearing such a grim expression. I encountered Papyrus a few minutes ago and he delivered your gift to me on your behalf – I came over here to thank you! An expansion for my bakery, to somehow arrange such a thing was incredibly... generous, of you.”

 “I couldn’t think of a single other thing that might make you more happy.” Frisk confessed. “That was the best I could do.”

 “Dearie, there isn’t a single other thing you could have given me that would have made me happier.” Muffet shook her head, her pigtails swaying from side to side. “I was elated to have that old building and make it into something of my own, you must believe me on that, but it was so very... cramped. And there was only so much I could do with that limited space, and thus only so much I could earn with the few resources I had available.”

 Muffet frowned, her voice dwindling to nothing more than a murmur.

 “...I am aware of what others say of me, I’ve heard their whispers; that I’m stingy and constantly demanding money, and perhaps that is true in a certain sense, but I behave so not for myself, but for all of them, my family.”

 She gestured around the room, and Frisk could make out several members of the Arachnid family in the crowd. She hadn’t met any of them during her adventure underground, but Muffet was more than eager to introduce them to her after they had struck up a proper friendship and began spending an extended time in each other’s company. Frisk always knew that Muffet was so much more than a money-grubbing spider like some spoke of her as being, but now more than ever was Frisk made aware that she was simply a hard-working monster, toiling endlessly to provide for her family.

 “I never once thought such a thing would ever leave my lips, but...” Muffet sighed blissfully, “your gift almost feels too generous. My one and only wish, every year when Gyftmas arrived, was for all of them to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I never truly cared much about seeing the surface, if I’m being honest with myself, but ever since they began occupying it along with the rest of us, that’s all they’ve ever been – happier than I’ve ever seen them. And I have you to thank for it.”

 Muffet was right – Frisk couldn’t exactly speak for how they may have behaved prior to the breaking of the barrier, but each and every member of her family seemed to be in high spirits whenever she saw them. And today, Gyftmas Day, was no different.

 She could spot Irene, the big, buff tarantula, arm wrestling with Undyne, Alphys cheering her on along with several others while Irene was supported by several other spiders and monsters, and it appeared it was going to be a close match. Edgar, a short and rather shy male black widow, was cuddling with his human girlfriend Elizabeth on one of the other couches (fiancé, he frequently insisted, in spite of them only having known each other for a few months at most). Muffet’s father, Daddy Longlegs, who was also one of the higher up employees at Frisk’s office, seemed to be conversing with some other guests over by the punch bowl, the once tall and intimidating monster wearing a gentle smile on his face.

 Ku-Mo, Muffet’s mysterious as much as beautiful relative from Japan, who had fled from the war and thus managed to escape the fate of being imprisoned in the Underground, had arrived with her human husband in tow, the two having been married in secret for several years already and were currently quietly enjoying each other’s company by the crackling fireplace. Julian the peacock spider, a dancer and a designer, was bickering endlessly with Mettaton who he often claimed to be his rival, as per usual during their encounters, but even that was far more lighthearted and less snide than the norm. Spinerette, his timid brown recluse wife, was watching from the sidelines, trying to make herself as unnoticeable as possible.

 Charlotte and Peter, the twins of inexplicable origin (Muffet claimed the two just appeared before her several years ago, as if having manifested from thin air; no mother, father, nor any relative of the sort accompanying them, and the already massive arachnid family took both brother and sister in without any further questioning), were supposed to be eating together while watching television, but were spending more time tossing mini marshmallows from their cocoa at one other over little comments the other made more than anything. And Webber, Muffet’s first cousin and a tarantula/daddy longlegs hybrid, was busying himself with keeping the Annoying Dog preoccupied with pets so Papyrus wouldn’t freak out.

 Watching them all like this, along with the others, it was exactly the sort of beautiful chaos that Frisk had wanted out of today.

 Muffet then more or less pushed Sans to the side to envelop Frisk in a loving, six-armed embrace, holding onto her tightly like a lifeline.

 “Seeing them like this, this is all I’ve ever wanted out of this life of mine. ...Everyone had to keep up appearances in the Underground, a jovial one; we all wore a smile, grinning and bearing it, but occasions such as these are the ones where I know for a fact that they’re genuine – real. I sleep so much better in my nest knowing they’re all so much happier this way.”

 She held the human even closer towards her, if that was somehow possible.

 “As far as I’m concerned, Frisk, you’re a member of the arachnid family as well. If you need anything, dearie, anything at all, then please keep in mind that you can come to me for whatever it may be.”

 To say that Frisk felt touched by the sentiment would be the understatement of the century. Muffet had a strong sense of family, but didn’t befriend others easily. She spent so much of her time invested in keeping her own kind content that she simply had none left to spare on friendship, not until she left the Underground. Muffet always wore a mask of mystery, much like her relative Ku-Mo, giggling sweetly and deflecting questions about her own state of happiness in favor of focusing on her family’s.

 She and Sans were very much the same in that regard – perhaps that was why the two were always so amicable towards each other. They had a mutual understanding.

 “Dearie, I know it isn’t much; I’m certain that nothing I could possibly give you could ever properly repay for everything you’ve done for me and my family, but this is my gift to you.”

 Muffet gently placed a medium sized box onto Frisk’s lap, light in weight and the wrapping paper covered in little cupcakes. It was so adorable that she hesitated for a moment to open it, but she could tell that despite her modesty when presenting it, Muffet was eager to see her reaction to its contents.

 Inside the gift box was... a blanket. A silk blanket, and it appeared to be a handmade item. The blanket was as white as the fallen snow covering everything outside, and the fabric almost had its own sparkling quality to it as well. Every detail was intricate, so much so that staring at it for too long almost made Frisk’s head begin to spin. Muffet had told her that this present was nothing to get excited over, but the amount of effort that must have went into the weaving of this blanket warmed her to the very core.

 “Muffet, it’s... it’s... beautiful!” She cried, holding it up for Sans to see, having crawled back up onto the couch sometime since the spider lady shoved him.

 “I’m so happy to hear that, dearie!” And she could tell that what she said was genuine, Muffet’s features relaxing somewhat. “I wanted this one to be my greatest creation yet outside of the bakery business, but... I feel as though the pressure I placed on myself only caused me to make more mistakes. I believe I spent more time retracing my steps and fixing my blunders than actually weaving...”

 “Well, the end result is breathtaking, and I mean that in the best of ways. Thank you so much!” Frisk praised her work as she carefully folded up the blanket, intending to place it on her bed once an opportunity to do so had made itself available.

 “The blanket should be big enough for two. Perfect for cuddling.” Muffet giggled, then turned a pointed glare towards Sans as she stood up. “And Sans, dearie? If I discover that you’ve stained it with ketchup in the future, I’ll strangle you in your sleep~”

 The spider lady then stepped away from the pair, in high spirits like the rest of her kin, leaving the two of them to process her words.

 Frisk simply saw her suggestive behavior towards them as Muffet being, well, Muffet. Sans, meanwhile, must have taken what she said more to heart, because a deep blue blush had covered his entire face, but he was grinning shyly as he took the blanket from her, putting it inside the box it came in and setting it safely to the side before placing her plate of food from earlier onto her lap.

 “eat the rest before it gets too cold to.” He ordered, seeming to have forgotten or at least pretended not to know that monster food didn’t cool down like human food did.

 Nevertheless, she did what was asked of her, otherwise he might decide to feed her again in front of everybody.

 “Sure, he clams up because of something silly that Muffet said, but when it comes to him shoveling food into my mouth, in public, that doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest...” Frisk inwardly remarked, reflecting on the skeleton’s hypocrisy.

 They finished their lunch a while later, idle chatter between the two eventually filling in the awkward silence that the spider lady had left behind. On each occasion it seemed to Sans that Frisk was done when her plate wasn’t empty, he prepared himself to feed her again, giving her plenty of warning beforehand to coax her into eating everything in front of her. He continued to do this until it was cleared, the human girl sending him a grumpy glare once she had, to which he responded by pinching her cheek.

 “Jerkface.” That was the only thing she could think of to call him, as juvenile as she knew it was – he just smiled warmly at her.

 “i love you too.” He immediately replied before turning all the way around, appearing to Frisk as though he suddenly found the wallpaper extremely fascinating.

 “i can’t believe i just said that out loud, joking or not...” He thought, but the inner pride swelling in his ribcage for having finally said those sweet words that so often stirred inside his SOUL whenever he was with her won out over any shame and embarrassment he might have felt.

 This sense of satisfaction didn’t last long, unfortunately for him, and soon his insecurities and fears took over once again.

 Much to his relief, Toriel had made an appearance shortly after his little accidental declaration. Much to his chagrin, however, she came in the company of Flowey, otherwise dubbed by Sans as ‘that awful weed’.

 Flowey looked none too happy to be here as well, and the tiny wool winter beanie the queen had knitted for him which rested on his topmost petal did little to brighten the overall mood he was emanating, much less the matching sweater he also wore or the bright red bow wrapped around his pot.

 Frisk, on the contrary, thought he was adorable.

 “Awww!” She nearly squealed when she caught sight of him, momentarily abandoning Sans to coo over his attire. “Looks like somebody came ready for Gyftmas!”

 “Bah humbug.” He grumbled, but the faint blush that bloomed across his face didn’t escape her eye.

 What also didn’t escape her observation was the object that dangled over the doorway, directly above them. A clever idea came to her.

 “I apologize for his rudeness, my child.” Toriel gave her a sheepish smile. “He’s been in a sour mood all morning, I’m afraid.”

 Frisk supposed that he would be. This was very likely the first Gyftmas he would be taking part in after several long years of being a flower. The last time he had a proper Gyftmas was probably when he was the Underground’s prince, Asriel, and that had been a long, long time ago.

 “Well, if he’s gonna have that kind of attitude, then maybe I’ll just have to keep his present to myself until he learns better manners.” Frisk spoke as if he weren’t right there, but her tone was discernibly playful – he quickly perked up.

 “Well, don’t keep me in suspense!” He demanded as he impatiently wiggled his leaves, “Let me have it!”

 “oh, i’m gonna let him have it, alright...” Sans muttered under his breath, but Frisk elbowed him in the ribs and told him to shush.

 “Okay, but you have to close your eyes first!” The skeleton by her side raised a socket slightly at this, but said nothing, just stared at her inquisitively.

 “...Oh, fine... fine...” Flowey conceded defeat to her whims, closing his cartoonishly beady eyes as instructed.

 “And no peeking either!”

 “I won’t, I won’t!” He insisted complainingly.

 “Okay, now keep them shut...” She giggled, leaning in closer towards him, holding her breath before...

 “Mwah!” She smooched the flower, right on the mouth. “Mistletoe kiss!”

 “BLUH!!!” He sputtered, retreating backwards and staring at her with wild eyes, then began coughing, wheezing, and hacking as though he were dying. “Bleh! Bluh! Ptooey! Ugh...”

 The two women watched his theatrics with an amused glee; meanwhile Sans was sulking a few feet away, mumbling unintelligibly to himself.

 “ungrateful brat. would’a been over the moon if that’d been me...”

 A few more moments of spitting and spluttering passed before Toriel chose to speak up over her son-flower’s dramatic display of disgust.

 “Flowey, dear, you’ve made your point. That’s enough of that.” She chided him gently, placing a gentle paw over his head to give him a comforting pat.

 His mother’s warm and familiar touch calmed him considerably, but he was most definitely still sour over the trick.

 “And just what was that supposed to be?” He grumbled to Frisk, who was still smiling cheekily throughout the whole ordeal.

 “Affection!” She replied cheerfully.

 “Disgusting.”

 “Well, if that’s how your attitude’s gonna be today, then I’m just gonna have to give this-” A small gift box with a bow appeared before his round beady eyes, which she had somehow procured from behind her back despite there being no evidence of it having been there before, “to someone else, then.”

 His demeanor took an almost instantaneous shift; still displeased with her jokes, but far too eager to receive his gift to risk tempting Frisk’s patience with him, just in the unlikely but certainly possible case that she was actually serious about withholding his present privileges.

 Satisfied with his compliance, Frisk then placed the tiny box in front of Flowey, resting on the rim of his pot. Before she could begin to question just how he was going to open it without any fingers, or even hands for that matter, he immediately tore into his gift, quite literally, with his teeth. He ripped off the bow first and foremost and flung it to the side, hitting Sans directly in the face – it couldn’t have possibly hurt him, but he complained nonetheless.

 In just seconds, Flowey had stripped the box of all it’s wrappings and was free to lift the lid to the bare box lying underneath. Inside was... some sort of micro-sized controller, or that’s what it seemed to be to him and his observers.

 “It’s a Flowey-sized game controller!” Frisk explained happily, confirming the identity of his gift. “I asked Alphys to make it for you, since she and I thought it wasn’t really fair that you’re always at a disadvantage whenever we play together.”

 He stared down at the controller for the longest, then lifted it into his leaves with apparent wonder, taking a few moments to fiddle with the various buttons and other parts installed into it’s design. After a few seconds, a wide smile crossed his face – not one of his cruel, deranged ones, but a genuinely pleased and pleasant smile.

 And that was all the thanks Frisk could have ever asked from the prince turned sentient plant.

 Unfortunately, her friend Sans didn’t share the same thoughts.

 “i didn’t hear a ‘thank you’...” He all but grumbled, both of his arms crossed like a disappointed parent.

 “I’ll say it after I wipe the floor with you in Smash.” Flowey spoke matter-of-factly with a smug and satisfied smirk.

 A dark shadow crossed his face, and the skeleton suddenly leaned towards him to whisper something, “...yoshi committed tax fraud.”

 ...and that was when Frisk and Toriel knew they had to step in before this escalated to an incident.

 “HE DID NOT! STOP SPREADING YOUR LIES, SKELETON!!!” The buttercup more or less shrieked, struggling to free himself from his pot as Toriel quickly stepped several paces backwards.

 “I’ll talk to you later, Toriel.” Frisk said swiftly, wrapping her arms around Sans’s middle and dragging him away before he could make the situation between him and Flowey worse than it already was.

 “Can you go one day, one day without being a colossal butt?” She asked, already knowing the answer before he even opened his stupid mouth.

 “nope.”

 “See, I knew you were going to say that.” She sighed, more to herself than to him. “I didn’t even get the chance to give Toriel her gift, and all because you couldn’t play nice with Flowey for more than two seconds.”

 “sure, blame your bestest pal, sansy.” His tone remained jovial though, despite the blatant accusation that was also present. “here, just gimme the gift and i’ll get pap to deliver it. no sweat.”

 “But I wanted to see her face when she opened it...” Frisk whined, gazing down at the tiny box in her hand – inside was a snail shell pendant, the fragile mollusk casing cast in a layer of genuine rose gold on a matching delicate chain. “...And it’s all your fault.”

 “ok, ok... even though you’re being all cute and pouty about it, i can tell that you’re really upset with me.” He snatched the box from her hand before she could react, handing it off to Papyrus with just as much speed before turning back to her. “so, let me make it up to you. c’mon, put on your coat and boots and let’s head outside.”

 “Outside...?” She parroted, staring at the skeleton as though he had just spontaneously grown a second head. “Outside, as in, outside with all of that snow?”

 “hey, the weather’s calmed down a bunch since we’ve been here. see? it’s just fluttering down, completely harmless. so going out there now would be more like standing under a shower of white confetti.”

 He did have a point, Frisk acknowledged when she glanced out the window for herself. Aside from that, Sans seemed to be really eager about something, and while the probability of it being over a dumb, not to mention juvenile prank was extremely high, she enjoyed seeing him happy.

 So, a few minutes later, the human girl had donned her winter apparel and headed out of the house with him, quietly leaving the party without a word to make their way into her frosted over backyard garden.

 The pair sat on a bench in the middle of the area, directly in front of the frozen pond. Frisk had once pondered over purchasing some koi for it, but now she was glad she hadn’t. Just what does one do with the fish when winter came, anyway?

 “Okay, Sans. I can tell you’re giddy, so don’t even try denying it – don’t keep me in suspense, now.”

 “impatient, much?” He chuckled, but there was a noticeable bead of sweat trailing down his skull despite the surrounding temperature, and it seemed as though he were concealing something from her sight from within the pocket of his hoodie.

 He might have been able to hide the last thing from her, if only his hand hadn’t been fidgeting so much. It appeared that he was fumbling with the object, nervously running and drumming his phalanges over it every few seconds as if to ensure that it was still there. She had quite honestly never seen him like this, and it was both concerning to her, yet simultaneously fascinating.

 “here we go, moment of truth.” He spoke after a long pause, almost more to himself than to her. “hold out your hand.”

 At witnessing her hesitance, he assured her. “this isn’t some prank. i promise.”

 And at his usage of the ‘p’ word – promise, any doubts she may have previously been holding onto had instantly been vanquished and Frisk readily held out her hand, waiting. After a moment more, a small box was then placed into her open palm.

 “merry gyftmas, frisk...” Was all he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, and could even be described as sweet.

 She glanced over the box, surveying its size.

 “...Is it a tiny whoopie cushion?”

 “nooooo...” Sans snorted, shaking his head. “if you want to know what’s inside so bad, then why not just... open it?”

 Deciding that she’d teased him for long enough, Frisk giggled softly, and gingerly lifted the lid to the box.

 To see the contents of the box, she had to push aside some tissue paper concealing the identity of her gift, but once this was done, what was revealed to her was some sort of clear ball, a bit bigger than the larger marbles one would sometimes find in a set of the glass toys. And visible within the ball was a small flower. Not a faux flower made of silk or some other fabric, but a real one that had been preserved in resin, its color a striking bright blue, so radiant it was almost glowing, no, it was glowing...

 It was an echo flower.

 Undoubtedly the tiniest echo flower she had ever laid eyes on.

 She gingerly lifted the preserved echo flower from its box, discovering a long silver chain was attached to it.

 Sans had gotten her a necklace. She never, not once would have ever expected him to present her with jewelry – he just didn’t seem like that sort of guy.

 That wasn’t to say that he was cheap with his gifts, no, far from it, in fact. But this gesture went so beyond the unexpected that Frisk was left speechless. She needed to say something, and soon, otherwise Sans will believe that he had failed in some shape or form when the reality was, this just may be one of the most precious items she had ever received.

 “Sans... it’s not really something I condone, picking favorites, I mean, but...” She smiled, the sort of one that always sent the skeleton monster’s SOUL spinning, and held up the pendant with pride. “This is, without a doubt, the best thing I’ve received today. It’s beautiful.”

 “aww... you’re just saying that.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

 “I am not!” She insisted, standing up. “And I’m going to put it on. Right now!”

 “here, let me.” He immediately leapt to his own feet and took the necklace from her grasp, unfastening the chain before looping it around her neck.

 Both of his arms were wrapped around her as he fumbled with the clasp, struggling to refasten the pendant. At least, that was what he led Frisk to believe. Even in their current position, he could have easily secured the two ends of the chain, if he so wished. But that wasn’t what he wished, so he didn’t – not yet.

 To any passerby that may have witnessed the two, it would appear as though they were an embracing couple, and that’s precisely what Sans wanted to believe they were, even if only for this moment in time. He was too much of a coward, too filled with insecurity and doubt to hold her so tenderly against him in a more direct manner.

 So, he would prolong this moment for as long as possible, or as long as Frisk would allow him to.

 “hehe... silly thing just won’t... it’s like my phalanges are coated in butter.” He pretended to struggle with the two ends of the necklace’s chain once more. “just give me a few more seconds, frisk.”

 She missed the near pleading tone present in the last line that he spoke.

 “Maybe this would have been easier if you stood behind me instead...?” She suggested, raising an eyebrow at him, not that he could see it – his head was resting on her shoulder so he could see what he was doing with the chain’s clasp.

 “maybe, but i’ve got this.” He fumbled with it for a few seconds longer, then finally put a silent end to the charade, thus ending their impromptu embrace.

 He took a step back and took in the sight of his handiwork – the echo flower pendant rested directly over her heart and SOUL, just where he wanted it to be.

 “there’s something special about that echo flower, though. it isn’t just there to look pretty.” A fierce blue blush was slowly creeping and spreading up and across his skull. “you remember what they’re famous for, right? give it a little tap. might need two or three to work, but give it a try.”

 “Sans... am I gonna hear the sound of one of your whoopie cushions if I do?”

 “do i really seem like the sort of weirdo that would do that?” He inquired, and honestly, not only was it exactly something that he might do, it sounded like a hilarious idea, but he wasn’t about to ruin such a sentimental gesture with such a cheap prank.

 “...Yes.”

 “it’s not another whoopie cushion prank, frisk.” Then he quickly added, with a strong sense of sincerity in his voice. “it’s not any kind of prank at all.”

 Satisfied with his reply, she did as he previously instructed and gave the pendant a few short and swift taps, then waited.

 The flower, despite being trapped inside the glass, glowed just a bit brighter, then...

 “take care of yourself, frisk... because someone really cares about you...”

 She recognized and remembered those words well. She had heard them before, after all, towards the end of her journey in the Underground. He had spoken those very same words to her in New Home’s Judgement Hall, but there were two stark differences when comparing the sentence from then and now, one of them obviously being the use of her name, as he nor any other monster bore knowledge of the final fallen human’s name.

 However, the intonation of the familiar phrase had changed as well – it was quieter, softer, fonder than when he said it in the past.

 “...you’ve done so much for us, frisk.” Sans spoke after a meaningful pause. “...and you’re still doing things for us. you... you really care about us monsters. it’s undeniable. you’ve even accomplished the impossible – the barrier trapping us underground broke, and i know you had something to do with it, even if i’m still not completely sure how it was possible, or if the specifics are even really important now.”

 He sat back down on the bench, patting the spot next to him and urging her to do the same.

 “you just keep on making things better, turning our most insane of fantasies into reality in the present when a whole lot of us back then were so hopeless to the point that some of us were seriously considering... giving up. i just... i think about everything that you’ve done for us, every single day, sometimes even all day, ever since i met you, and, well... i just started to wonder; do you know how much you’re cared for?”

 He let out a soft chuckle, closing his sockets and throwing all his inhibitions to the side.

 “i know the others are grateful, but i still can’t speak for any of them. i’m just sans the skeleton, after all. but... if the question being asked is, ‘does sans the skeleton care about frisk the human, our ambassador, our savior?’ then the answer is, ‘yeah, he does’. frisk, when i said ‘someone really cares about you’, that someone was supposed to be me. i care about you. a whole lot. i guess you could even say i care a skele-ton. ...i’m just sorry it took me so long to say it, but that’s how i really feel. i just wanted you to know that.”

 When he finally mustered the courage to face Frisk again, he was flustered to find her sniffling, nearly sobbing into her mittens.

 “...i’m sorry. all that was really stupid, wasn’t it?” Sans somehow felt that her reaction was negative, and that it was his fault.

 “No. No, no, no, no. No...” She choked out, but when she lifted the cloth-clad hand away from her mouth, he spotted a shaky smile on her lips. “That... That was... just so... I just... I don’t know what to say... Just give me a few minutes, I’m sorry...”

 She managed to compose herself quickly enough, Sans patting her on the back and still feeling lousy for making her cry. Once all of her quaking and hiccupping had ceased, she gave the skeleton a look that he recognized as determined.

 “Sans, I have one last gift for you.”

 “one more?” He blinked owlishly. “frisk, you’re... you’re really spoiling me here.”

 “This has been something I’ve been meaning to give you for a while, now. I just wasn’t sure when, or if it was even conceivable at all, but...”

 “frisk, you aren’t making any sense.”

 “Just... wait here. I’ll be right back.”

 She didn’t return to the house like he thought she would. No, she stepped into the little shed about ten feet away from the bench, then returned a few seconds later holding a white package with a bright red ribbon resting on top. She gently placed the present into his waiting lap, then sat next to him again with a long, almost weary sigh.

 “Open it.” She demanded, throwing Sans slightly off guard with how uncharacteristic it was of her to do so.

 But Sans still felt the need to mess with her a little before he complied.

 “is iiiiiiit...” He tilted the box left to right, then right to left, listening for any shifting noises inside. “...a pair of green shorts with purple-flower print?!”

 “...You want a pair of Patrick Star’s trunks?”

 “hey, i’d wear ‘em.”

 “I have no doubt that you would.” She eyed those burger-covered monstrosities called kneesocks still covering his legs – Frisk almost couldn’t believe that he wore them to the party and was still wearing them; almost...

 “okay, that’s enough fooling around.” He unraveled the ribbon with one swift tug, the lid to the box gone in the blink of an eye.

 Sans peered inside the blackness of the box...

 Reset...?

 Those yellow letters stared back at him, that word and the sensation it brought, the thing he had learned to expect and fear through the horrific experience of being trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of mercy and violence by a being untouchable by time, was right before his very eye sockets.

 His head whipped up to face Frisk, his grin gone and his expression eerily blank.

 “It’s yours now.”

 It took him ages to respond.

 “.........wh-what?”

 “It’s yours now. The RESET button? It’s yours.”

 “...why did you think this would mean anything to me?” He spoke softly, sockets narrowing down to slits. “how did you know this would mean anything to me?”

 “I knew giving you this would open up an endless plethora of questions...” Frisk sighed to herself resignedly. “Here’s the short answer: the previous owner told me.”

 “the... previous... owner...” He repeated those words to himself, yet he still didn’t seem to understand them – his mind was fading to white.

 “I had a suspicion, for a long while now, that this meant something to you. That you were... more aware than you let on at times. And he- they, confirmed it for me. This button... it’s caused you a lot of trauma and heartache, even if you can’t remember all of it. And perhaps that’s for the best, really. I don’t know everything myself, but... I’ve heard enough, and my imagination is more than enough to fill in the rest of the story for me, even if I don’t want it too.”

 “papyrus... he... he died.” He whispered brokenly, holding his skull in his hands as he hunched forward. “over and over and over again. i can’t remember how or why, but i just know that he did. he shouldn’t be here now, a lot of us shouldn’t be here now, i probably shouldn’t be here now, alive, but i am. we all are...”

 “Sans, there’s nothing in the world I can say or do to produce any proof that what I’m saying is the truth and force you to believe me, but I never hurt anyone. The damage was already done by the time I came along.”

 “then who did it, huh? who killed my brother and everyone else?” Sans nearly spat, causing Frisk to flinch – what she didn’t know was, his spite wasn’t directed towards her at all; he was suspicious, yes, but...

 “I... I can’t say. Because I made a promise that I wouldn’t. But... this person, they’re very sorry for what they did in the past now, in the present. They want to make amends, to atone, but don’t know how or even if such a thing could ever be possible. Once again, I have no proof that what I’m saying is the truth, but this, it was our idea. They agreed to it, Sans, that it was only fair for you, the one most affected by this, to be the one to gain ownership of it – the RESET button.”

 “............”

 “I’ll answer any questions that you may have, about the past timelines, to the best of my abilities. Just as long as they’re not about the previous owner. But I never hurt anyone, Sans.”

 “......I know that.” He whispered.

 “You do?” She replied, deadpan.

 “i do. you don’t have to explain anything to me, frisk. i believe you.”

 She had expected him to fire off at least a million questions a millisecond, to be subjected to an interrogation, maybe even a trial by fire (with Grillby serving as the fire), or something, but not... whatever this was.

 Just... quiet acceptance that her word was the truth.

 “look... this other person, the one that had the reset button before you, i already knew about ‘em before, frisk. it’s true that when i first met you, i thought you had something to do with the resets, and i was sorta right, but not in the way i first thought. that’s why... that’s why, sometimes, i wasn’t as helpful as i could have been, not as kind as i should’ve been. the resentment that i felt for something that was beyond my control but in someone else’s, there were occasions where i took it out on you. i couldn’t understand how you could just, hurt all of us like that, and then go right back to being friends with us, like nothing ever happened, reset or not.”

 One of Sans’s skeletal hands reached up to cup her cheek, surprising her.

 “but then the more time i spent with you, i realized that some things just didn’t add up. and now i know why – you never did hurt us. i was blaming you for something that was never your fault in the first place.”

 “But you’re wrong about that, Sans – I did hurt you. I did use the RESET button. I never did hurt anyone in any of the timelines, but... you have to understand, Sans, it took me several tries to reach this ending.”

 “that doesn’t matter now.” To Frisk’s immense shock, he actually smiled, not grinned, but smiled. “whatever you may or may not have done in the past, you’ve more than made up for it with everything you’ve done in this timeline.” He patted the side of the box containing the thing he once dreaded and loathed “...including this right here.”

 “It’s your power now, Sans. At first, I considered destroying it and putting the pieces in the box as your gift. ...But then I thought that wasn’t fair to you, either. So it’s all up to you from this point onward. The decision of whether or not there’ll ever be another RESET rests all on your shoulders, because I’m satisfied with how everything’s turned out. Everyone’s happy now, and that’s all that ever mattered to me in the first place, alongside staying alive. I’m so sorry if my methods of achieving this result put you through any turmoil, though.”

 “frisk, i understand and forgive you, but... this other person, though. they may be sorry, but you also have to understand that i can’t forgive them. not unless they apologize to my face for everything they put me, paps, and the others through – even if i am the only one that has any memory left, no matter how small it is, and can comprehend just what happened then.”

 “They want to apologize to you, Sans. Desperately. They’re just... afraid to.”

 “well, tell ‘em i’m ready to listen whenever they’re ready to start talking.”

 “I’ll pass that on, Sans. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but you will get an apology sooner or later.”

 “frisk, i...” He spoke after another long moment of stillness between them, clutching the box tightly. “i just... you don’t even know how much this means to me...”

 “You’re right. I don’t know, and maybe I never will, but... I can imagine. Imaging how much suffering you went through. And I won’t force you to talk about your experience, but if you ever want to, I’m here. I’ll listen.”

 That’s when whatever was left of Sans’s stoic façade faded. Frisk held out her arms, anticipating such a reaction for the last few moments, and he immediately flung himself into her hold. He sobbed into her shoulder, every single emotion he had been repressing since he came to the conclusion that he was enclosed in a vicious cycle spanning across time-space was released. She was simultaneously the first and the last person Sans ever wanted to see him like this.

 Frisk didn’t judge him for his outburst, no, she never would. His human was far too kind for that. She simply held him while he cried, stroking the back of his skull and patiently waited for the flow of tears to ebb, not caring in the slightest if they soaked her sweater. Several minutes passed like this, perhaps even hours, but Frisk never gave any indication that she wished to move. Eventually though, Sans did compose himself.

 “oh... ohhhh gosh...” His words possessed a slight slur. “that was so embarrassing...”

 “No, it wasn’t. You held all of that in for far too long.”

 “um, speaking of holding things in, frisk...” He began, but much to his surprise, Frisk just huffed.

 “Really, Sans? You’re going to make a fart joke after all this?”

 “really, frisk?” He mocked, actually feeling somewhat offended. “is that all i am to you? a bag of misery borne of time-space-related trauma, barely together bones, and ill-timed fart jokes?”

 “...Pretty much, yeah.” She replied after a beat, but her tone and expression clearly conveyed that she was joking. “In all seriousness, though, what was it that you wanted to say?”

 “well... this is something that i’ve been wanting to tell you for a while now, but didn’t, because, well... i thought there was no point in it since i thought i didn’t have a future. but, uh, now that i know i do, there’s, um, literally nothing stopping me now, except for myself, that is. i...” He took a deep, deep breath, then sputtered all at once, “ohgoshimactuallydoingthiswaitnoicantdothisohmygo-”

 “Sans, don’t push yourself! It’s okay! Nobody’s forcing you to say anything!” Frisk almost panicked as she watched him choke and hyperventilate.

 “no, frisk; this is something i’ve gotta do!” He insisted, hands fluttering over his ribcage and spasming in different directions – if she didn’t know any better, the girl would say he was doing a killer impression of Burgerpants...

 Before she was forced to listen to Sans make any more chicken noises, the sound of what could only be described as peacocks screaming filled the air, along with the distinct crash of what was unmistakably the sound of a window shattering. The ‘peacocks’ were Mettaton and Julian screeching, and when Frisk turned her head in the direction of her house, she saw one long leg sticking out of the snow surrounded by a ring of glass.

 “Frisk, darling! I’m SO, SO, SORRYYYYYYY!!!” The robot nearly wailed. “I’ll pay for the damages; I promise I will!”

 “No, I’ll pay for the window! Agreeing to engage this fool in a dance contest was my idiotic idea in the first place!” Julian immediately added after, causing the two to squabble over who was more remorseful and who would get to repay their ambassador.

 “Sans, this is gonna have to wait until later. I have to deal with this, apparently.” Frisk patted his shoulder then offered him a hand. “You coming?”

 “nah, i think i’ll stay out here for a little while longer. maybe use some magic on these dark circles under my sockets, you know, so nobody knows i was bawling.”

 “Okay, but if you’re not back in thirty minutes, I’m coming back out to check on you.” Yet another crash, followed by several more screams permeated the once quiet winter air. She groaned, then gave her echo flower pendant a few flicks to trigger the message Sans had recorded. “I know they care too, but I wish they cared like you do. You never break any windows.”

 “just because i haven’t doesn’t mean i won’t.” He grinned.

 Frisk narrowed her eyes, causing him to snort at her expression.

 “...Take some time to think about what you just said, with the screams of those two flamboyant idiots in there as your soundtrack.”

 She stomped off towards the house, and as Sans watched her retreating figure, despite the cold around him, he was left with a feeling of warmth, contentment. His SOUL felt light and fluttery, fluffy as the falling snow.

 He held the box closer towards himself, its contents something he once hated, but now loved – because it was given to him by the human he loved...

 Sans felt another round of sniffles begin, but now he was crying for an entirely different reason – he felt happy.

“if i didn’t love her before... stars, i sure do now.”

[dragon-kazansky]

Going North - Chapter twelve

Chapter 12 - A step closer is a step further

It was getting darker by the hour. At one point Lee pulled down the covers so the balloon was covered. The temperature dropped quite a bit. Lyra and Roger were huddled together in front of Iorek. You were sitting opposite them with Lee. Nothing but the sound of the wind could be heard.

You had almost dozed off once or twice, but found it difficult to sleep. Lee had noticed.

"Not the best place to sleep, my balloon."

You chuckle softly.

"They managed it alright." You nodded towards the children. "My thoughts are too loud to sleep, anyway." You pull lightly at the threads on your coat.

"You think too much." He nudges your shoulder.

"There's a lot to think about." You smile at him. "That's something I should work on though, trying to keep my thoughts to a minimum. Thinking too much is beginning to give me a headache." You rub your head lightly as you chuckle quietly to yourself.

"You could always share your thoughts. I'm not going anywhere any time soon." He grins at you. "I like having the company. I like your company."

"I like your company too." A lot. You gazed into his dark eyes. Those eyes have been on your mind a lot.

Iorek let out a huff of air through his nose. Lee glanced at him to see the polar bear narrowing his eyes at him. Even Hester was looking at him with a strange look.

"Are you cold?" Lee asked, turning away  from his companions to focus his attention solely on you.

"A bit. We're quite high up."

Lee didn't give an answer as he looped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side gently, but firmly. You were a little caught off guard, but it was warm being tucked under his arm. You tried to hide your blush by burying your face into his coat, letting him hold you like that. Lee smiled softly, but you couldn't see it, too busy trying to hide your own face.

"I didn't get a chance to ask you, how was your first time in a balloon?"

"I like it. I can see why you enjoy it so much. You're a bit of a free spirit, aren't you?" You look up once you're sure your expression won't betray your feelings any more.

"I suppose. Aren't you?"

"Not really." You turn away again.

"No? You convinced me other wise." He was looking at you. You could feel his gaze on you.

"Convinced?"

"After everything I've seen from the moment we met, I would say you're one of the more free spirited people I've ever met.... and that's saying something because Lyra is right there."

You both chuckle.

"I'm glad I met you, Lee."

"I'm glad I met you, Y/N."

The moment was perfect. A little closer and he could steal a kiss.

He's not sure when such thoughts came to him. It's true that he has become very fond of you. More so than just fondness. Keeping you safe has been one of his top priorities, up with protecting Lyra. Just the thought of something happening to you was unsettling to him. He wanted to show you so much. He wanted to spend more time with you. He had begun to wonder what it would have been like if he had met you sooner. Would the pair of you be travelling around the world in his balloon? Would you be happy to do that? As far as he knew, you were an engineer from Oxford who had never travelled very far before. The fact that he could share this experience with you made him rather proud.

As he sits there gazing into your eyes, he has to wonder... When did you become so important to him? At what point did you become the most valuable person to him?

"I thought you might need a tow." A voice said, interrupting the moment.

Jumping slightly from the unexpected interruption, you sub-consciously  move yourself away from Lee, almost embarrassed to be caught in such a situation.

You didn't see the disappointment in Lee's eyes.

It was Serafina Pekkala, the witch.

Lee got up to his feet, helping you up too. He was at least happy you would take his hand and let him help you.

"Well, thank you, Miss Pekkala."

"Always good to see you in the skies, Mr Scoresby. Your daemon is examining me." She looks down at Hester.

"Well, it's been a while since we've seen you." Hester says.

"That was quite a performance earlier." Lee was referring to her attack back in Bolvangar. She had taken out many of the guards in the blink of an eye. She was gone as quickly as she had arrived.

"Thank you."

"Question - what can we expect going forward in the sense of mayhem and chaos?"

"There might be fighting, but you've fought before." She tells him.

"And gladly." Lee casts a glance toward you, but you don't really think anything of it. You just smile at him. "But as the situation grows more complicated, so OUR situation grows more complicated." He glances down at Lyra.

"The child is destined to be important - to create and resolve conflict."

"So this is about her." You state. Looking down at Lyra too.

"She matters more than she can ever know. The fate of more than this world depends on her"

"Well, I had a contract with the Gyptians over what was accomplished in Bolvangar." Lee tells her. He wasn't wrong. To be fair, you were in the same boat. You had agreed to go to the North to get the children back. There wasn't anything else after that. "This... this seems like a whole new thing, which requires, if I'm honest, new contacts and new payments..."

"She will need you, Lee. Both of you." Serafina looks at you.

"You know, a man should have a choice whether to take up arms or not."

"And you need her." Serafina smiles at him.

"That's now how I expected this conversation to go."

"Is it not?"

"No, I was hoping you would find a way of chucking me some danger money. Instead, you blindsided me with... with love." He glances down at Lyra, but oh how we wanted to show that it wasn't Lyra who held all his affection.

Serafina glanced behind him to where you were standing. There was an expression on your face that she could read so clearly. There was disappointment in yours eyes. From your perspective it was because of what he had said about his contract, that this is more than he had signed up for initially. From Serafina's perspective, it was because of what he had just said. It was as clear as day that you held affections for him too. She hoped he would come to tell you. This had deeper roots than he was letting on and it would bloom into something wonderful if he just allowed it to.

She smiled. Serafina leaned in.

"Good."

She knew what he would choose if given the opportunity.

"The polar star will guide you to Asriel." She looks over her shoulder and out into the distance. You follow her gaze. "The wind is strong. You're a capable navigator."

"So it's me. She's responsible for the fate of everything, and I'm responsible... for her?"

"The world is in your hands, Mr Scoresby... and I am delighted it is."

Serafina flies off into the night.

Lee watches her go.

You remain in the spot you had been in for this entire conversation, watching the sky, rather than Lee.

"Impressive." Hester comments.

"Yep."

"And they want you on their team?!"

"Shut up, Hester."

He turns back around slowly and sees you standing there quietly. His heart aches. That expression on your face doesn't belong there. He doesn't like it.

"What is it?" He comes closer, grasping your arms gently.

"You're not going to abandon her... right?" You ask quietly, nodding down at Lyra.

"I don't have many options." He sighs.

You cast your gaze off to the side.

"What is it?" His voice is soft. He's beginning to hate that sad look in your eyes.

"Do it because you want to. Because you care.... not because you'll get paid at the end of it." You removed your arms from his hold and stepped back, seeking a spot closer to Iorek to sit down.

Lee gazes at you.

You sounded convinced he wouldn't see this through, that he would leave the next chance he got. He had done his bit.

No. He can't have that.

"Your chances are running out." Hester hisses quietly. "Don't disappoint her. Please don't."

Lee watched as Oliver came to your side and nestled under your arm. You leaned back and closed your eyes. Your heart feeling heavy in your chest. Lee's was aching to make this right.

He almost had you.

Almost.

Disappointing you wasn't an option. He had to make things right. For Lyra.... and for you.

Tags:

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[the-u-s-s-enterprise]

This is a long one, but I love Undertale.

Eighteen-years old, fresh out of their sheltered hometown and onto a liberal arts college with more diverse people than they had ever experienced in their life.  They’re nervous about school, the up in ante, the new lifestyle, the new freedom.  They found their place with some friends that they wouldn’t think about in a few years time, people that would come and go, and a couple that would stay, but the first step on their journey into adulthood.

This is fall of 2015.  Their parents dropped them off with a teary goodbye less than a month ago, and Undertale comes out today.  They don’t know about it.  At least not until Steam Train plays it not too long later.  They watch a cute game played and commentated by a duo from their favorite YouTube gaming channel.  It’s exactly their style, a cute, fun game with interesting and lovable characters.

The first episode doesn’t even span the tutorial, and the kid doesn’t bother waiting for the rest.  They load up steam and buy it, playing it well into the night, sobbing at the heartbreaking conclusion and not knowing that five years later they would break into tears over hearing “Home” for the first time in years.

I played Undertale because I thought it was cute, the designs were fun, the mechanics were interesting, the story was easy enough to follow.  I liked video games, but not enough to spend money on them only to get bored halfway through, so I watched a few Let’s Play YouTube channels to experience them without having to devote my constantly overstimulated brain to playing them.

Undertale was different.  I don’t choose the things I become obsessed with (do you think I would be thinking about It: Chapter 2 over a year later if I could?), but when I fall into something, I fall hard.

I played it through, and then I watched Steam Train, and then I watched Press Heart to Continue, and JackSepticEye, and Markiplier, and Dan and Phil, and streamers I don’t even remember the names of in order to see every single reaction and playthrough I could see.  Don’t get me wrong, I played again and again, too, even forcing my friends not to play it if I wasn’t there to watch.

In fact, I distinctly remember a friend, I was watching him play and telling him where the secrets were and the background for every little thing that wasn’t explicit in the game.  He loved it.  We played the entire game in three sessions, the first involved us going through the Ruins and saving after meeting Sans and Papyrus, the second going about halfway through Waterfall, and the third was the rest of the game in a six-hour session.

All in all, I can’t even count how many times I’ve witnessed the game, nor how many times I’ve read the Wiki pages, clicking “random page” over and over again until I had circled back around to the start.  If I had to guess, I’ve played the pacifist playthrough about ten times on my own, and watched it anywhere between 20 and 30 between different YouTubers and rewatches of the same playthroughs.  I’ve seen the genocide run a fair number of times, likely close to ten, and various neutral runs in the teens.

Not only that, I spent hours in the library with my headphones on doing homework, listening to not the OST, but the ten-hour extended versions of my favorite songs, “Bonetrousle”, “Hopes and Dreams”, “Death by Glamour”, and the ever so aptly named “NGAHHH!!” just to name a few.

And don’t get me started on the glitch characters.  The hours I spent looking up information on Gaster because I was too scared to mod my own game are endless.

So, I guess you could say I’m very familiar with the game.  It meant a lot to me as a young adult with fresh freedom, a story about a lost child finding a family of their own.  My first and only tattoo is of the delta rune (although people will try to tell me it’s from Legend of Zelda).

It’s hard to talk about, but I don’t have the best mental health, with constant long-running depression, social anxiety, and mild OCD, my brain tends to run a mile a minute, and I had a really hard time making friends in high school, which resulted in me not having any friends at all after my friends from middle school decided they were too good for me.

I spent the better part of my four years in high school eating lunch alone and not going out on the weekends because no one wanted me to.  In senior year, I managed to make friends with a few people, but nothing deep or long lasting.

Cue college, a fresh start where I could be exactly who I was supposed to be.  I came out as asexual on the second day there, not knowing that my involvement with the LGBT organization would lead me to realize that I was also nonbinary and a lesbian.  But needless to say, I was an outcast looking for a place to call home.

I found it at school, making a couple lifelong friends (I love you girls!) and finding a place in coming to my own leadership abilities and my desire to be a role model and resource for young LGBT people.  Always in the background was Undertale.

Here was this game, though with a few flaws, was the greatest game I had ever played, as I remarked on every little detail from the stunning backgrounds to the fun yet challenging fight mechanics to every little piece of witty dialogue.

I remarked on Toby Fox and his ability to create this game almost entirely on his own, coding and designing and writing music.  He didn’t do it alone, but so much of the game was him, and seeing someone accomplish something that meant so much to me was an inspiration.

I looked at this game and saw a breathtaking story, hints of the twist being woven into every pixel, parallels at every turn, tidbits that you had to play the game ten times (like I did) to catch pieces of backstory that were so vital to fully understanding a character.

Not only that, but I looked at this game and I saw me.  I saw the cute and honestly rather stupid love story between Alphys and Undyne, between a shy (presumably) bisexual lizard girl and a buff (presumably) lesbian fish lady.  They were awkward and uncomfortable and bashful and I loved every part of their interactions.  They cared for each other and their story being thrown in and accepted, not a word said about it except outside the game.  And don’t get me started on the guards.

But beyond that, I saw Frisk, a child without a denoted gender, which many people took to mean you could impose the gender you wanted, but to nonbinary people, to people like me, they saw a main character that used they/them pronouns without it being a joke, without it being asked about, without the characters ever slipping up or even having to guess.  They did it because that’s who Frisk is, and they love Frisk.

I see this game, this funny, heart-wrenching, sweet, and wonderful game, and I see found family.  I see a child who we know went up Mount Ebbott knowing that children who went up there didn’t come back find people (monsters) that loved them, cared about them, even after only knowing them for what we can assume is a day.

Frisk finds these monsters and they loved them for who they are.  The love these characters share meant more to me than I ever could have imagined they would, the background to my introduction to freedom, the meeting of my best friends, the discovery of myself, the growth of my leadership and motivation.  They were there.  They were always there for me, and now, today, on the day of the five year anniversary of my own self discovery, I listen to “Home” and I cry.

I cry for Toriel, who lived alone in the Ruins for years, I cry for Sans and Papyrus who take care of each other in more way than they know, I cry for Undyne who’s desperate to prove herself and protect her people, I cry for Alphys who lived with the guilt of her mistakes and wanting nothing more than to make amends for the monster she thought she was, I cry for Asgore who was so overcome with grief he became the worst version of himself.

I cry for Asriel for obvious reasons.  And I cry for Frisk, a child that wanted love and found it in the journey, just like I did.

I listen to “Home” and I cry because it is home.  It’s a story about love in the time I needed it the most, shaping me into the person I am today, even five years later.

Because despite everything, it’s still me. 

[kryptsune]

YokaiFell {Red X Frisk; Frans}

🌼Here is all the lore/ story for YokaiFell! This is one of my favorites so I hope you enjoy. It is pretty long as all of these are. If you like what I do please reblog to share it around! After my post earlier today I need to get away. I am doing my best and you know. It still hurts. Thank you to everyone that has reached out and said kind things. I will put a “keep reading” divider after a certain point as there are spoilers for the story. If you want to read the whole plot then be my guest but I want to put that warning. 

Alternate “Nicknames” Info: 

Sans: Ryutsuki (Ryou) 龍月 Papyrus: Kuro  黒

Yokai Masterlist:

Ryou- Kitsune (Kitsune Ebi- Shou & Rin)

Kuro- Gashadokuro

Doomfanger- Maneki neko (a variation of the bakeneko this kind brings good luck and fortune which I thought would be cute for the brothers. Hilariously Doomy was with Boss before he died coughs. Doomy is kind of like that cricket in Mulan supposed to be lucky but... questionable.)

Flowey: I am unsure if I am planning on putting Flowey in this or just have him as Asriel. Either way, he would most likely resemble the higanbana. These are also Red’s flower of choice, which is…ironic if you know the language of flowers.

The Dreemurrs: (this is a hard one. There are no Yokai as far as I can recall that are goat like, however there are some good candidates that could work. I have a few in mind right now and that is the kotobuki, hakutaku, shisa, Kirin or even the baku.

Undyne: Uni nyobo

Alphys: Honengyo (This is kind of the “Godzilla” idea she would just be mini XD)

Muffet: Jorogumo

Grillby: Onibi (this is a strange one because he would have to be a combination of onibi for this to work but don’t worry I am on it!)

Gerson: Kappa/ Genbu (due to his wisdom)

*{The lesser monsters would be a variation of yokai not exactly pertaining to their UT counterparts unless I can make that connection. The Underground/ Underworld, in this case, it basically the spirit realm so it’s not really necessary. They are not exactly trapped like in the original.}

Main Plot Synop:  Frisk is a foreigner trying to start a new life across the world in Japan. It is also modern day (I settled on Izumo). The people she moves to live among tell Frisk of their traditions and stories but her being from the West she has a hard time understanding. Frisk is told not to stay out too late and wander the nearby forest but hey who listens to reason? She ends up getting lost, alone, and afraid. That is until a series of flame like lights presumably show her the way back to the town. This happens a few times but she becomes more and more curious by them until they lead her deeper into the forest. She comes upon the entrance of an abandoned shrine stopping before a Torii Gate as the lights disappear. These are kitsunebi by the way. Only when she is hesitant to pass through it, do they appear on the opposite side. 

She ends up being startled by a white-haired human that seems to have just appeared out of thin air. He tries to speak to her but she barely understands the language if only a few words. In frustration, the stranger steals a kiss from the shell shocked human girl only for her to suddenly be able to understand what he is saying. A still highly confused Frisk ends up learning that he is, in fact, a demon or rather her interpretation since she is from the West.

It turns out that in order to give her the ability for her to understand him a dose of his magic was required changing the physical makeup of her soul causing it to become desirable to other hungry yokai that roam both the spirit realm as well as the night. Not believing his claim and rather angry at his sudden advance she storms off heading back toward the village. She begins to see more than she should as spirits appear out of the woodwork.

An oni appears in front of her ready to devour the poor unsuspecting human in which she ends up running back to the gate in order to avoid the giant monster. At first, Ryou is not interested in saving the human girl but it is his fault that she has ended up in this situation. He saves her but not before she ends up accidentally running through the Torii Gate attempting to dodge an attack. The beast follows and Frisk ends up trapped in the spirit realm when the monster destroys the gateway. Kuro, Ryou’s older brother makes quick work of the beast.   

The rest of the story revolves around Frisk trying to return home which requires a journey since a human does not belong in their realm and the gate to “leave” is on the opposite side of the realm. It is incredibly dangerous for someone like her to be there so she ends up in disguise with the help of Grillby and Red. Red is a kitsune so he is able to create the perfect illusion adding more magic to her soul to fool it into being a yokai. He is surprised to find she is the same kind as him, a kitsune. 

Their journey takes them all the way across the spirit realm to find another gate and on the way, they run into a colorful cast of characters. Some are helpful spirits. Others are man-eating demons that are looking for a delicious human soul to devour. At first, Frisk is content staying with the brothers but a human does not belong in their realm and that causes complications. 

Yokai Lore/ Spirit Realm world: The spirit realm is a dangerous place that few humans have ever set their eyes on. It the world between. A space that is home to various yokai. Humans cannot naturally see spirits as the modern setting has diminished the humans that still believe in them. They are not trapped but rather there is a hierarchy that is established. The more powerful the yokai the more they are able to interact with the human realm. 

Hierarchy brief explanation (restrictions and interactions): 

Servants of the gods- Yokai that can interact with the human world during the day or whenever they see fit. They are messengers for their respective deities. They are not known to be troublesome or mischievous. 

Kitsune- A more rare type of yokai that can shift its appearance at will but mostly represented by that of a multi-tailed fox. Some of them are servants of the gods but those who have no alignment can walk among the living during the day for a duration of time. When the night comes they can walk freely and interact with humans as they see fit. They are mostly known for luring humans away with kitsune ebi or foxfire.

“Boss” Yokai- Yokai gain their status by either specific species or their prestige. That can either be obtained by LV gain or doing favors for the gods. Some are hostile and some are passive it depends on the encounter. They can walk freely during the night without hindrance but unlike the two prior they cannot take form during the day. 

“Lesser?” Yokai- Yokai that are relatively weak and unable to hold a physical form in the human realm. They can move objects and possibly possess humans but they have no ability to interact on a substantial level. They can be seen by some humans as little dancing and vanishing lights. They can rarely pass the barrier as is.  

Lost souls- Lost spirits that wander between realms. They cannot interact with humans but can be seen from time to time. They are what the west consider the typical ghost.

Human Struggles Info {Plot}:

A human does not belong in their realm which also means that the world is also an enemy. The power of the soul plays a huge factor in this as weak souls are more susceptible to the worlds influence. There are three different outcomes that are possible for a human if they end up trapped in the spirit realm. 

Dinner is served-  A large number of yokai are known for their man-eating tendencies finding human souls and flesh a kind of delicacy. Some are beasts that kill for pleasure but a humans worst outcome is being eaten or killed. 

You’re one of us now- A strong human soul slowly can be changed. The soul decides what kind of yokai that human can become or will become. It is entirely possible that most of the yokai were once human but it is unknown. They are usually lesser yokai or spirits.   

Lost soul- What the title implies. A soul unable to remember who they were. They wander for the rest of eternity searching for answers they will never receive. They are miserable creatures that pull others into their fate. Their depression is infectious and anyone already questioning themselves could easily find themselves among their ranks. They are not malicious only confused and desperate.  

Symptoms of becoming a Lost Soul: 

Confusion

Memory loss

Random emotional response

Physical weakness/ fatigue 

SPOILERS BELOW FOR THE MAIN STORY

Relationship {Plot}:

Ryou and Frisk become close for a reason that they are both unsure about. They could be soul mates or his magic that is embedded in her soul begins to spread making her have feelings for him. Either way, her love for him never wavers. A human can never fall in love with a yokai. It is not only forbidden but also very dangerous. *whoops* Their soul bond only grows stronger as their outward feelings increase. They spend the night together not understanding the consequences of that kind of action.

Unfortunately, Frisk begins to show symptoms that her soul is not powerful enough for this world and she begins to lose herself and forget. In desperation, Ryou and Kuro make the decision to travel all the way to the end of the realm to get her back to the human world. When they get there she has a choice. She can stay and become a lost soul for the rest of eternity or leave and forget everything about them. Since Ryou and Frisk are soul bound she would feel loneliness for the rest of her life unable to understand why. It is like losing a part of yourself. It hurts but she chooses the second option returning to the human world a little bit changed from before.

Epilogue {Plot}:

Though Frisk has forgotten about her soul mate and her time spent in the spirit realm she still has these feelings. She finds herself spending more and more time peacefully sitting by the gate or in the forests surrounding her home. It is calming and peaceful for her. What is even more curious is her new condition. She finds out by some miraculous way (not really she just doesn’t remember) that she is pregnant. When she has her children she finds them as normal children for the longest time until they turn 10. They start seeing things that they shouldn’t including dancing among little fire like lights that she swears she has seen before. She could swear she sometimes sees little fox creatures dancing in the flames. A trick of the light...right? 

Frisk doesn’t know but Ryou’s ability to walk in the human realm has him visiting his children and her even though she is unable to see him any longer. Sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night feeling like someone is there. A kind of warmth that leaves her feeling cold when it’s gone. Her two children begin to show physical signs of being yokai including little fox ears and tails which she does not seem to question. It feels right to her for some inexplicable reason. Her children eventually see their father through the gate one day and Frisk is hesitant to step through it (for obvious reasons). She follows her children only to leave the human world behind once more meeting a stranger that to her is not so strange. Her memory slowly returns with Ryou’s help and they live happily together with their kids. It turns out that giving birth to two yokai children strengthened her soul from before giving her the ability to stay and become a yokai herself. As before she becomes a kitsune. Yay happy Kitsune family. 

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[ut-storyshift]

Storyshift misconceptions

One of the older AUs in the Undertale fandom and one of the earliest sprite comic AUs is Storyshift, starting on the December the same year that Undertale was released. As such when it comes to these sorts of things, a lot of assumptions get passed around with new fans who aren't aware and base their knowledge off of fanart who based their knowledge off other fanart and so on and so forth. This post is here to help guide those interested away from misconceptions.

One thing I want to make clear is that I don’t make this to shame those who weren't aware before, but to inform for the future. Feel free to use this post to inform others kindly.

Also be aware that this post is about misconceptions with the preboot, aka the original comic. A reboot write up is in the process of being made and some details may differ between the two.

Starting off with an easy to debunk one.

“Storyshift is just a bunch of designs made by the fandom/has no plot.”

This is patently untrue. As stated before, Storyshift is a sprite comic. The comic’s story made it all the way to King Sans before stopping to make a write up for an improved rebooted version. It has an owner (that would be me, the owner of this blog. Here’s a link to my main account.) and has never been abandoned.

Before anyone asks why this is here, yes. This is something I’ve seen stated multiple times. Even right to my face.

“Storyshift has a ton of shifts like Gaster and Annoying Dog.“

Nope. There are only five pairs of shifts, that is ten characters changing roles. While other characters may be modified due to different interactions such as Catty and Bratty fangirling over Undyne, none of them have had their roles changed.

The only characters that have their roles changed are Napstablook, Mettaton, Sans, Papyrus, Alphys, Undyne, Toriel, Asgore, Asriel, and Chara. No one else. You can see how I detail each role here, which leads into the next point.

“Storyshift swaps the personalities a ton.“

Incorrect. While certain characters act differently due to the circumstances that happened, they still have their own personalities. You won’t be seeing Asriel trying to capture humans when Chara is standing right next to them or Toriel trying to kill humans because that isn’t their character.

I would especially like to point out Asriel and Chara in this regard. A large amount of people seem to love them so much that they... ignore their actual personality and make them at like Papyrus and Sans? That example above wasn’t one I made up, I’ve seen that show up now and again and it’s baffling to say the least.

“Storyshift’s designs“

Just gonna stop right there. This alone gets its own tab just so we don’t have to spend most of this on it. Please take note of these because it’s something that has a lot of misinformation spread about it.

Here’s Frisk/Shifty. Look familiar? They should because their outfit doesn’t change in Storyshift.

Here’s Asriel. He’s not wearing a scarf, it’s a bandanna also known as a kerchief. Here’s a few other characters wearing one in a similar way.

This is a deliberate choice to make Asriel more distinct from Papyrus’s cape. It’s not a scarf, never has been and never will.

Here’s Chara. As you can see, their eyes are not red. This particular detail is key in this AU Chara’s eyes DO glow red, but only when using their magic.. However this is highly costly and tiring. Red eyes are fitting when Chara uses their magic but otherwise it’s wasteful.

Additionally, notice how their hands aren’t in their pockets. That’s because they don’t have any pockets. Their jacket was a piece of trash from Waterfall and was thrown out for that and a ripped out zipper.

Also, because this is an odd trend I don’t get. Chara is about the same age as Frisk, as shown by their similar height. There’s no gap in height or age.

Here’s Toriel. She has no scars since her ranged fire attacks don’t let anyone close enough to strike and has taken up dodging from Asgore. Additionally she doesn’t have an eyepatch. Why would she need one? She has both eyes and isn’t a pirate.

Here’s Undyne. She’s not just Mettaton’s body with her head slapped on. Enough said.

Here’s Papyrus. Notice his robe with pants visible. It’s not a carbon copy of Toriel’s robe.

Additionally Papyrus doesn’t have his scarf/cape nor does he ever wear any sort of orange. His robe is the royal purple since he takes his job as a Prince very seriously.

Here’s King Sans. As you can see, his armor is scarce and made of silver, not gold. This is a reflection on how ill fitting he is as royalty and also looks better with his blue coloring. The crown was left gold since it was a hand down from the former king.

Here’s a bonus that wasn't shown in the comic; what King Sans wears under his cloak!

Here’s Mettacrit. Not a human. Never a robot. Not wearing any clothes, striped or otherwise.

Same for Blooky’s species being the same and not wearing clothes.

“But their relationships have changed!“

Not really. Any blood relationships stay the same. The only major deviation from canon is Toriel and Asgore still being married, unlike their currently strained relationship. There was no major event to get them to split in this universe like in canon so they stayed the happy couple they were before the war declaration.

To make things clear in one part. Mettacrit and Napstablook are cousins that were friends of Sans and Papyrus, two brothers. Not their children.

“Shifty and Hapstablook.“

The first is Frisk’s in game name. It was supposed to be revealed at the end that the player did actually give Frisk a nickname at the beginning. A subversion of the original twist, not that it was somehow Metta’s actual name.

The second is flat out wrong. The ghost character that isn’t Napstablook is not called the headcanon name that Papyrus gave to a stranger aka ‘Hapstablook’. It’s Mettacrit. He’s never referred by anything otherwise in the comic.  His name has a similar format to Napstablook’s even.

“Okay so Mettacrit is in Chara’s role, so that means he’s one dimensionally evil!“

That’s a shallow and lazy reading of Metta’s character, Chara’s character, and what being in the role of the one who took action with the Barrier plan means.

"'Mirror' is a common nickname Chara has for Frisk."

That was just meant to be a one-off joke. A cheeky reference to them sharing the same sprite outline. That’s it. Yet people act like that’s the only thing Chara calls Frisk.

"Chara fights with magical knives."

Now, why would they do that when they have a perfectly good knife already?  They use plant magic, as shown in their room in the comic.

“So what about all these SShift songs I see floating around like Megaloglamor?”

Unless the song is a part of the official OST, it’s not canon to Storyshift.

“And those fan battles like Ultra Undyne?”

Not even close to canon. Don’t treat them as such.

“Photoshop Boogie and God of Hyperblook?”

Nothing even close to those has been shown in canon and are just fanmade ideas. Please don’t treat them as canon.