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fidothefinch · 4 years

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maybe it's enough (to know that we were here together)

For Dick & Damian Week 2021, day 2: "He's my son!"

I wrote this over the last two hours. Fair warning, it is not proofread. Title from Kina Grannis's "For Now," for fake-deep reasons.

(More warnings: this story strongly features hospitals and difficulty breathing (and poison). Please take care of yourselves and skip it if it will hurt you, especially because of the last year we've all shared <3)

Nightwing woke up with a gasp like it was the first breath he had taken in a long time. He floundered for a moment, instinctively worried he had just surfaced from Gotham’s harbor (it wouldn’t be the first time), but it only took one hard smack of his wrist to recognize the very solid ground beneath himself.

Panting, he leveraged himself to his side to empty his stomach onto the concrete.

Something was wrong. He tried to check his surroundings, but he was only able to make out grey blobs that may have been buildings and wildly swinging lights.

No, they weren’t swinging. That was just his vision.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could just will vertigo away. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to; growing up swinging from a trapeze conditioned him to enjoy the swoop in his stomach. But right now, he was either on a boat or drugged.

Sirens doppler-ed towards and away from him, somewhere down below. Definitely drugged, then.

He lifted one hand to his pounding head and was happy to find his domino was still in place. So were his gloves. But when he checked, he was missing an Escrima stick and a handful of wingdings. He grappled with his memory, trying to pull up some idea of what could have happened. A fight, obviously. But was he in Gotham? Blüdhaven? Somewhere overseas?

He flipped to his back and stared at the sky, still breathing like he had just run a marathon. Drawing in air was like drinking through a silly straw. Above him, the sky was a mottled green-black, the wind rolling the clouds inland. The motion threatened to make him sick again. He considered the merits of rolling to his side, just in case, when his eyes caught the flicker of a familiar shape against the clouds.

The Batsignal.

So, he was in Gotham. Now that he thought about it, that felt right. He could recall riding in earlier on his bike, the wind whipping through his hair, weaving through wild traffic. But traffic had been going the wrong way? Everybody had been leaving the island. . .

He sat up suddenly. “Robin!”

Sitting up was a bad idea. He pushed through his temporary blindness to wobble to his feet, anyway. “Robin!” he called again.

Damian didn’t answer. He was nowhere to be found.

More sirens rang down below him, passing in the same direction the last set had. Dick scrambled to the edge of the roof to watch the ambulance pass. What he found took his breath away. Cars lined both sides of the road, all headed toward the bridge that led off the island. All empty, abandoned. There didn’t seem to be a soul in sight, except the emergency response vehicles speeding down the clear sidewalks.

Everything snapped into focus, and Dick’s memory returned. Somebody had called the Gotham PD with a thirty-minute warning before releasing an aerosolized drug into the sewer system. Nightwing had sped into town as quickly as he could, and Batman teamed him up with Robin to cover the south quarter, and they had gotten separated—where was Damian?

Dick leapt off the building, shooting his grapnel as he fell to swing into a perfect arc to the ground. His bike wasn’t within eyesight, so it was too far. He took off, running after the ambulance.

Toward the hospital.

“Sir, you can’t be here.”

Dick had never seen the hospital so busy. Patients were lined up along the walls and hallways, crammed into the rooms like sardines. The staff actually ran between beds, looking haggard and exhausted already. Dick stood out like a sore thumb in his Nightwing gear, but nobody had the time or energy to move him.

Except the head nurse, behind the desk. “You have to leave,” she said. “We don’t have room.”

“Is Robin here?” Dick asked. He had scanned the pinched faces of the patients he passed on the way back into the ER, but nobody was familiar. He was almost thankful; the victims of the poison were sweating profusely and gagged on their own breath.

“I can’t tell you that,” the nurse said.

“I need to know that he’s okay,” he pleaded, leaning into his palms. They had been planted on the desk for stability, but now they were the only thing grounding him in his panic. “Please.”

All of Gotham was supposed to be evacuated, but there were still so many people too slow, too many people without a way off the island. When the threatened poison hit the city, there were too many people left behind. Nightwing had rushed over from Blüdhaven as fast as he could, but by the time he had joined the rest of the Bats it was too late. Half of Gotham was sick. Dying.

And somewhere in the panic, as noxious steam shot from the sewers and spilled from the vents, he had lost Robin.

The nurse studied his face, her lips pursed. “Robin was admitted two hours ago.”

Dick’s knees nearly buckled with relief (it had nothing to do with his legs feeling like jelly). “Where is he?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not?” Maybe the words were clipped, but he didn’t have time for this.

“No visitors. Hospital rules.”

“He’s just a kid!”

“Then maybe you should have helped him evacuate,” she said, levelling a glare at him that could melt glass. “Instead of encouraging him to run straight into the line of danger.”

Now Dick growled. “You don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“I think he’s better off here than with you.”

“He’s my son!” Dick slammed his fist on the counter between them, making the nurse jump. He would have time to feel guilty about it later. “If you don’t tell me where he is, I’ll find him myself.”

She opened and closed her mouth a few times, not getting any words out.

“Nightwing!” somebody else called. Dick spun around (too quickly), and another nurse was gesturing quickly behind herself. “I’ll take you to him.”

“Moira—” the head nurse started. But she wasn’t fast enough to catch Dick as he weaved through the maze of gurneys.

The nurse had dark circles under her eyes, and her bun was frayed. “Pediatric wing,” she huffed, already jogging down a wide white hallway. Dick followed, heart racing. “His oxygen was too low. He must have gotten a face-full of the stuff.”

“What does that mean?” Dick asked.

Her face screwed up. “He’s on a ventilator.”

Dick’s heart squeezed in panic at the words. He began to mentally prepare himself for what he would find.

The nurse he was following stopped abruptly, almost making him run into her. She flipped a hand at a set of double doors. “Stairs,” she explained. “You’ll have to go up to the third floor. Room 329.”

Dick didn’t question why she wasn’t coming; she had work to do. He nodded as he pushed through one of the doors. “Thanks.”

By the time he reached the third floor, he could tell that he had been dosed. Maybe not as badly as the other patients there, but three flights of stairs should have been child’s play for him. He arrived to patient hallway sweating and panting too hard, jelly legs making their displeasure felt.

There were doctors and nurses in this wing, too, but they were also scrambling too quickly to give him more than a passing glance. The crammed hallways on this floor were even more disconcerting, because the flushed, moaning faces were those of children.

None of them were the one he was looking for.

He forced himself to slow down, not able to bear the idea of passing Damian’s room and missing him accidentally. When he found room 329, he steeled himself before barreling through the door.

There were two beds crammed inside the small space, made possible only because the beds were child-sized. The smiling clouds painted on the ceiling were a harsh contrast to the dark, noisy machines wound around the beds.

Damian was in one of them.

Dick rushed to his side, sparing barely a glace toward the other child. Damian looked tiny, dwarfed by the size of the gurney and the mouth of the ventilator. His domino was in place, but somebody had flipped the screen over the eyes back, so Dick could see that Damian was asleep. The IV in his elbow connected to several bags, and Dick had no doubt at least one of them was a sedative. They would have to, to put him on the ventilator.

Dick snaked his gloved fingers into Damian’s bare ones and squeezed lightly. Even through the gloves, he could feel the smallest pulse.

He legs threatened to give out beneath him again.

And, well. Then they did.

A passing doctor saw him just as he had sprawled on the floor like a starfish. “Nightwing? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Dick shook his head, gesturing to his chest about the tightness still persisting htere. “Just dizzy.”

The doctor clucked his tongue, reaching out to the chair wedged into the corner. “Think you can get in this chair?”

Dick nodded (a mistake), and with the doctor’s help he was able to slide into the seat. The doctor flit out of the room and returned less than a minute later with a nasal cannula and oxygen tank.

Dick waved it away. “I’m fine.”

The doctor rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh, and I am, too.”

Dick didn’t fight it when she applied it. The steady stream of dry oxygen through his nose was a relief, and his head began to clear again almost immediately. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” the doctor waved.

Dick stopped her on her way out the door again. “Wait.”

She paused, obviously a little irritated at being interrupted.

Dick blushed in apology. “When will he be taken off the ventilator?” he asked, gesturing toward Damian, in the bed.

The doctor only shrugged. “When he’s ready.” And she left, hustling toward her next patient.

Dick pulled his glove off and ran his free hand through Damian’s hair, brushing back the strays. It was still damp with sweat.

However long Damian was asleep, Dick would be there when he woke up.

#dickanddamiweek2021 #dick grayson #damian wayne #batfam #fido writes #dick & damian

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freshouttaparsnips · 3 years

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All he knew was that, somehow, someway, he’d messed this up. And he and Sans were going to pay for it.

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have a new chapter of Little Fangs because im letting Fate decide what i write today lol

tw for medical experimentation on young children

read chapter 15 on Ao3

or read it below!

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It wasn’t more than two weeks later that Sans had started to climb the sides of the furniture in the back room, standing shakily on his feet before toppling back onto his sacrum more than a few times. In the beginning Papyrus had felt afraid that he’d actually hurt himself, but he quickly figured out that while Sans might cry out and sniffle a little, he was more shocked at the fall than hurt.

It was relieving; Papyrus never wanted to see Sans hurt again. Once had always been enough. The sickness had been enough.

No, these days there was very little here in the safety of their little space that Papyrus would actually consider dangerous, at least in terms of anything in it. Outside, outside there were plenty of dangers, and that was why for the most part they stayed here, in the warmth.

Grillby had continued helping him with his letters, teaching him the sounds, and the differences between the big versus the small versions. It was strange, wingdings didn’t behave quite the same way, and hands certainly didn’t seem to either. But he was built to learn quickly, so learn he did.

Withing those two weeks he’d mastered writing them, and had figured out the sounds of most of the big letters. Grillby had seemed impassive about the entire thing, a little withdrawn but his flames curled at the edges when Papyrus finally sounded out a word in his book. Papyrus took that as the praise he assumed it was, feeling that strange warmth deep in his chest that always came when Grillby brought them a special new food, or sat with them before bed, reading one of the bigger books.

The stories in them were hilariously made up, but they still entranced Papyrus and Sans both… even when Sans became uninterested and started chewing on the crayons.

He could imagine the Surface, feeling the wind on his bones, challenging the bright ball of fire in the sky, holding Sans as they traversed into the great unknown. And of course Grillby would be there, nothing was ever going to happen to Grillby. Flames lived a long time, Grillby had told him so. There was nothing to worry about.

They’d been sitting in the bar one day, Grillby having closed down to clean everything, Papyrus helping by polishing the bar top and the chairs. They worked in silence, only speaking up to ask for a new rag, or to mention a spot the other had missed, but after a long time, Grillby finally spoke up.

“So what were the gray drawings about.”

Papyrus stopped, glancing up at a curious looking flame with wide eyes.

“Which ones?” he asked, hoping to buy a little time, but Grillby saw right through it.

“The ones you won’t let your brother see. The ones with the metal bars.”

Papyrus swallowed, breath picking up a little, even as he began cleaning the bar top again, this time with a little more vigor. “That’s where we lived. It was dark, nasty. I took Sans and left.”

There was a dubious silence from across the room, but Papyrus ignored it. It didn’t matter where they’d come from, not anymore. The doctors had all died, disappeared for good, he’d made sure of that.

Showing him the Void Machine and where it was in the Lab was perhaps the kindest thing the one doctor had done for him. It still weighed on Papyrus’ soul that he hadn’t made it.

Grillby hummed to himself finally, sitting in a bar stool to watch Papyrus scrub an old stain from the top. “Are you sure that’s all? It looked depressing as all hell.”

Papyrus grimaced, remembering the nights he held Sans close in the darkness, only to wait for the lights to turn on and a new “hell” to start each morning. “Yes, that was all. It wasn’t safe. I took Sans and left. That’s it.”

Grillby was silent once more, seemingly considering that. Then, he stood, coming around the bar top to kneel next to Papyrus.

Papyrus’ hands were trembling as Grillby took hold of them, gently turning them over to reveal the tiny, crack surrounded holes where the plate had been.

“It’s okay to lie about it.” Grillby said carefully, calmly. “But if you need something done about any of it, please tell me. I’m never letting anyone hurt either of you again, you know that.”

Papyrus nodded slowly, looking anywhere but Grillby’s face. He didn’t want to see the possible concern there, or, more likely, the anger.

It was slight, but Papyrus could hear how angry Grillby was, the heat of his body more than it usually was. Enough to light up the whole room without the lights, and it was terrifying because he didn’t know who that anger was for.

It could have been for the people who took Sans and brought him back to Papyrus shaking and crying, new holes in his arms, shoving him at Papyrus with a warning to get him to stop bawling.

But it could have been at Papyrus for allowing it to happen in the first place. It could have been because Papyrus was unwilling to talk about it, no matter how raw the pure horror deep in his soul felt every time he remembered pushing the button on the Void Machine that would send it into overdrive.

So, in a last moment, split decision, Papyrus blurted out, “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Grillby stared at him, no emotion really easily seen. “What do you mean?”

Papyrus cringed into himself a little, but still answered. “They’re all dead. The lab is empty, I made sure.” Forcing himself to look up at Grillby, he continued. “So there’s nothing to worry about.”

Grillby’s flame went near blue for a moment, before he gently put his hands on Papyrus’ shoulders, squeezing softly. “Thank you. Go in the back with your brother, I’ll be right back with lunch.”

Papyrus nodded, more than willing to leave and hide in the back room until the roiling fear that sat in his stomach subsided.

He didn’t see when Grillby’s flames when bright white, his breathing erratic as he headed outside. He didn’t hear the crackling of the fire that Grillby wrought on the trees behind his bar, or the melting of snow under the intense heat.

All he knew was that, somehow, someway, he’d messed this up. And he and Sans were going to pay for it.

#fresh writes #undertale #babybones #dadby #underfell papyrus #underfell sans #underfell grillby #angst #hurt/comfort #medical experimentation #unethical experimentation

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mortimer-writes-sometimes · 3 years

Note

If you are still taking requests, *clears throat*

Sans just wakes up with two cracks in his eyes (just like Gaster's) and he is completely blind + a bit of Sansby(because I can't help myself-)

Did someone say a n g s t? I love the idea of Grillby crying steam!

I know you said a bit of Sansby. You’re getting a lot of Sansby. As in they're married and living together.

Note: Translating the wingdings is not essential to the story! They’re mostly for dramatic effect and some vague exposition as to how/why Sans got hurt. Like, really vague. So you’re not really missing anything if you don’t translate them!

Cracks

Word count: 1296 Warnings: Sudden injury, being blinded, panic Summary: Sans suddenly loses control of his magic, permanently injuring himself. Grillby is there to assure him he isn’t alone.

✂︎💧︎✌︎☠︎💧︎📬︎📬︎📬︎ ✌︎☼︎☜︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💧︎🕆︎☼︎☜︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 🕈︎✌︎☠︎❄︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 👎︎⚐︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎✍︎✂︎

💧︎♋︎■︎⬧︎ ■︎□︎♎︎♎︎♏︎♎︎📪︎ ⧫︎♋︎🙵♓︎■︎♑︎ ♋︎ ♎︎♏︎♏︎◻︎ ♌︎❒︎♏︎♋︎⧫︎♒︎📬︎ ✂︎✋︎ ♍︎♋︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ●︎□︎⬧︎♏︎ ♒︎♓︎❍︎📪︎ 👎︎♓︎■︎♑︎⬧︎📬︎ ☠︎□︎⧫︎ ●︎♓︎🙵♏︎ ⧫︎♒︎♓︎⬧︎📬︎✂︎

✂︎✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 💣︎✌︎✡︎ ☠︎⚐︎❄︎ 💧︎🕆︎☼︎✞︎✋︎✞︎☜︎📪︎✂︎ 🕈︎📬︎ 👎︎📬︎ ☝︎♋︎⬧︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎ ◻︎□︎♓︎■︎⧫︎♏︎♎︎ □︎◆︎⧫︎📪︎ ⧫︎♓︎●︎⧫︎♓︎■︎♑︎ ♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ♒︎♏︎♋︎♎︎📬︎ ✂︎✌︎☠︎👎︎ ✋︎☞︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ 👎︎⚐︎📬︎📬︎📬︎ ✋︎❄︎ 🕈︎⚐︎☠︎🕯︎❄︎ 👌︎☜︎ 🕈︎✋︎❄︎☟︎⚐︎🕆︎❄︎ 💧︎👍︎✌︎☼︎💧︎📬︎✂︎

✂︎✋︎ ⬥︎□︎■︎🕯︎⧫︎ ❒︎♏︎❍︎♏︎❍︎♌︎♏︎❒︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ✋︎ ♎︎♓︎♎︎ ♏︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎♏︎❒︎ ⬥︎♋︎⍓︎📪︎✂︎ 💧︎♋︎■︎⬧︎ ⬧︎♋︎♓︎♎︎ ⬥︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ♋︎ ⬧︎♒︎❒︎◆︎♑︎📬︎ ✂︎💧︎□︎📪︎ ♋︎❒︎♏︎ ⍓︎□︎◆︎ ♑︎□︎■︎■︎♋︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎◻︎ ❍︎♏︎ □︎❒︎ ■︎□︎⧫︎✍︎✂︎

☝︎♋︎⬧︎⧫︎♏︎❒︎ ⬧︎♓︎♑︎♒︎♏︎♎︎📬︎ ✂︎✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ✌︎☹︎☼︎☜︎✌︎👎︎✡︎ 😐︎☠︎⚐︎🕈︎ 💣︎✡︎ ✌︎☠︎💧︎🕈︎☜︎☼︎📬︎✂︎

🕈︎♓︎⧫︎♒︎ ⧫︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎📪︎ ♒︎♏︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎♎︎ □︎◆︎⧫︎ ♒︎♓︎⬧︎ ♒︎♋︎■︎♎︎📬︎ 💧︎♋︎■︎⬧︎ ⧫︎□︎□︎🙵 ♓︎⧫︎📬︎

Sans woke up to searing pain in his soul, screaming as his magic released itself uncontrollably. The bright blue light enveloped Sans’s body, the burning sensation searing every bone before the sensation suddenly concentrated in his skull. The magic coiled tighter, burned brighter, until…

Both of Sans’s eyes flared brightly. The coil snapped, the burst of energy vibrating in his skull. He heard bone shattering and screamed again, hands coming up to his head as blood started to seep from the cracks. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was the bedroom door slamming open and Grillby’s panicked voice begging him to stay awake.

0.00001 HP. Sans had survived with 0.00001 HP left. Grillby had never seen a more terrifying number in his life, pulling his husband into his lap as gently as possible. The fire monster nearly gagged as he did. There was blood everywhere, and Sans was covered in burns from where his magic had overwhelmed his body. The worst part was the cracks. There were two long, vertical cracks in Sans’s skull, one for each eye. This was far beyond Grillby’s healing abilities. His hands shook as he pulled out his phone, dialing the number for Dr. Alphys. “Pick up, pick up damnit! Oh my god… Oh my god, Sans…!”

The line connected. “Dr. A-alphys speaking. What can I-”

“H-help,” Grillby stammered out, nearly sobbing in desperation. “Sans, he- we need help- I can’t- he’s dying, I need help!”

“Hey, whoa, slow down! Sans is- is hurt? Okay. I’m- I can come to help, just breathe and tell me where you are.” Dr. Alphys put Sans and Grillby’s address into the GPS on her phone as Grillby rattled it off, nodding. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops. J-just hang on!”

It was the longest ten minutes of Grillby’s life.

✂︎💧︎✌︎☠︎💧︎📬︎📬︎📬︎ ☼︎☜︎💣︎☜︎💣︎👌︎☜︎☼︎ 🕈︎☟︎⚐︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎🕯︎☼︎☜︎ 👎︎⚐︎✋︎☠︎☝︎ ❄︎☟︎✋︎💧︎ ☞︎⚐︎☼︎📬︎ ✡︎⚐︎🕆︎ ☟︎✌︎✞︎☜︎ ❄︎⚐︎ 🕈︎✌︎😐︎☜︎ 🕆︎🏱︎📬︎✂︎

A soft beeping caused Sans to stir, groaning softly. “Grillbz, your alarm…” Huh, that was funny. Did Grillby change his alarm sound? Because it certainly sounded a little off. The blankets felt weird too… and his head…

Sans lifted a hand to his skull, fingers coming in contact with several thick bandages. Vague memories of the morning came together and it clicked. He was in the hospital. His magic had suddenly gone rogue and almost killed him. Why? Sans felt like there was a reason, but he couldn’t remember. The headache he had and the painkillers that were trying to get rid of it certainly weren’t helping.

A door opened somewhere to his right, a few footsteps drawing near before something- a plastic coffee cup, maybe?- hit the floor.

“Sans!” Grillby gasped, fighting back tears of relief as he approached the bed. “You’re awake! I thought I was going to… you wouldn’t… I almost…” He lost the battle against his tears, taking Sans’s hand and sitting on the bed while he cried.

Sans reached out towards him, managing to guess where Grillby’s shoulder was before pulling him down into a hug. He rubbed the Grillby’s back as he let him sob, shushing him gently. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here, I’m alright. You didn’t lose me.” He sighed, touching the bandages again. He felt around the edges of them, tracing them up towards the top of his skull, then down to…

The skeleton froze. “G-Grillby…?”

Grillby sat up, immediately concerned. “What? What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.

Sans took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. He already knew the answer to his question, but he still had to ask. He had to hear it from someone else. His voice was shaking when he spoke. “Are… are there any bandages… over my eyes?”

“No?” Grillby tilted his head. “By the time we got you to the lab, the cracks closest to your eyes had already started to heal. Do they hurt?” He noted for the first time that the lights that made up Sans’s pupils were still gone. Oh. Oh no. “Sans, you have your eyes open.”

Sans couldn’t breathe. He was starting to feel faint. He was going to be sick. “Heh, that’s funny,” he managed…

“Because I can’t see you.”

Alphys did everything she could, but nothing worked. No amount of medicine or healing magic could bring Sans’s vision back. While other cracks in Sans’s skull healed, the ones crossing over his eye sockets were permanent scars, keeping the magic in Sans’s soul from fully restoring his body.

“I-i don’t know what- what happened,” Alphys stammered as she flipped through Sans’s charts. Sans was still in the hospital bed, Grillby sitting by his side and holding his hand as he listened to the doctor speak. “Permanent fractures like that can only be caused by an immense amount of magic,” she continued, “B-but your soul is- it’s stabilized all on its own!” She sighed and lowered her clipboard, wiping at her eyes as she forced herself to deliver the news that Sans and Grillby already knew was coming. “I’m sorry Sans. Th-there’s nothing more I- I can do. You’re… you’re blind.”

Grillby felt Sans’s grip on his hand tighten. He gently squeezed back, watching his husband with immense concern. “...darling? Are you going to be okay?”

Sans didn’t respond for a long moment, just letting the news sink in. He was blind. He would never see another sunrise. He would never see a rainbow. He would never see Grillby smile again. “I-” Sans tried to respond, but his voice cracked and his words turned into a sob, the skeleton beginning to tremble. “No,” he gasped through his tears. “Fuck, no.”

Grillby didn’t need to hear anything else. He got up and sat on the side of the bed again. “I’m going to put my arms around you now, alright?” he asked softly. When he got a nod, he gently pulled Sans into his embrace, telegraphing his movements as he pulled him close. “Sans, just breathe. It’s going to be alright.”

“Alright?!” Sans gripped Grillby’s jacket, his entire body shaking as he sobbed. “How the fuck is it going to be alright?! I’ve lost my vision, Grillby! I can’t read, I can’t get around on my own- I’m a sentry, for fuck’s sake! My entire job relies on me being able to see!” Tears dripped into the crack beneath Sans’s left eye and he cringed. “You can’t spend all day taking care of me and still take care of the bar. I can’t help make dinner or run errands or even wash my own damn clothes anymore. What am I supposed to do? What are we going to do?”

“Listen to me,” Grillby said softly, wiping Sans’s tears away in small puffs of steam. “I don’t know what we’re going to do yet, but we’ll figure it out. No matter what happens, we’re going to make this work, and we’ll manage it together. You’re not alone, Sans. You’re going to get through this.” He gently kissed the top of Sans’s skull. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Sans nodded, sniffling. “Hey, Grillby? I love you.”

Grillby held him closer, trails of steam coming off the corners of his eyes as he cried with him. “I love you too, Sans. I’ll take care of you.”

“I promise.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! If you did, consider reblogging/leaving a comment for me! If you have your own prompt idea or if you just want to ask me something, my asks are open!

#dustywrites #undertale #undertale fic #oneshot #sans #grillby #undertale sans #undertale grillby #sans x grillby #sansby #ask answered

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factual-fantasy · 4 years

Text

(They’re both talking in wingdings.. although I guess Sans’s future narration is in English?) Here is part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, and part 5. :}

Hhhhuhhnngnnnng..I’m never doing a huge project like ever AGAIN!! UHG that took forever. I’m so friggin tired and hungry man, I haven’t moved since I woke up because I was determined to get this out today. Anyway it feels like a weight is being lifted off my chest having this thing done. I’m glad I can return to drawing whatever I want without this project looming over my head.

Also, in case anyone is wondering why it seems like Papyrus is drooling all over the place, see this post, face row 6 for your explanation. :]

Also these poor babies. Why do I do this you might ask? I wish I had an answer man, reeeeeally wish I did. I don’t have much else to say, I cant really think of anything. I guess I could point out that Papyrus is still scratched up because he used up all his energy on healing Sans and Gaster really doesn’t have the magic to spare..

Anyway I’ll stop rambling, I hope you all enjoyed this roller coaster ride of emotions! Please exit the carriage to the left, watch your head and have a nice day!

#undertale #sans and papyrus #sans #papyryus #triggerwarning #blood #heavy blood

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ratsoh-writes · 3 years

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Personality: Playful, laid back, dynamic, practical, passive, introvert. Likes to tease, poke and joke around, can be chaotic and energetic if want to other then that then mostly chill. A curious chicken: likes to do many things out of curiosity but needs some motivation and stimulation and if safety isn’t guaranteed then I’ll back down right away. Is actually quite responsible when need to. Anxiety is guaranteed, if i spot any sign of negativity, hostility i will back pedal hard unless the person gives me the green card of “no worries lol” otherwise avoiding said person like a plague i go, at least until I’m comfortable again. Sometimes impatient and can zone out a lot.

Hobbies: All kinds of game as long as it’s interesting, occasionally draw or write, watching random stuff on youtube. Likes to info dive if something peaks my interest. Bantering with others especially friends. Can get bored easily so constantly crave new and interesting things and often jump from stuff to stuff so diversity in interest bbyyyy

Pet peeves: Baby talk, poking nose into personal businesses, being irrational and or obnoxious, look down on me

Deal breaker: Degrading, too clingy, nit pick things, short temper, boring, vagueness, no mutual respect. Too heavy on wanting kids

Value in life: Experience and Knowledge

There are so many unanswered things, to get to see how each things work and play their part in life is very fascinating. Getting to do research of my own with hands on experiments with things that is of my interest fills me with joy. Life is too short and there are many fun things you need to have a taste of at least once. Diverse skill set is a huge bonus that comes with

This shall gives u a hard time ehehehe

Not hard at all lol

I’m matching you with….

Sans!!! The sexy man himself!!

What draws sans to you is your curiosity. You have a love for learning and experiencing new things. That brings the passion back in his life. With you he never feels bored or lethargic

The fact that you can be chaotic but also limit yourself is a huge plus in your favor in getting with sans. He’s a prankster and loves a good joke, as long as it’s safe and legal of course! Pranks are meant to confuse, not hurt! The prank wars between you two are legendary

Sans default nickname is kid or kiddo. He even calls monsters who are clearly older kid. Drives people mad. The best way to train him out of it is to start calling him Dr. Wingdings (technically his work title). He’ll never call you kid after a day of that lol

Sans favorite types of dates are educational. He loves visiting museums, historical sites, or tours.

#matchups

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mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune · 3 years

Photo

Quartzrune AU: Holding Hands With Your True Love In A Thousand Years

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

Credit for Steven Universe series goes to Rebecca Sugar

Credit for Undertale & Deltarune goes to Toby Fox.

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

in Steven’s full name, it spells out “Sans”

in Connie’s full name, it spells out “Chara”

it’s like you have to do this to see them...

Steven Quartz Universe & Connie Maheswaran.

Quartzrune could be a one shot type idea,

but it has to do with Toriel and Steven falling in love

but they could of started out as friends at first,

like they could of met after Steven and Connie’s fight.

even if it wasn’t the yelling type of fight,

and in a way they both of them were in the wrong.

yes they did make up, but Steven turned himself in so he could keep her and everyone else safe, and seeing Lars die (and being brought back to life...) and everything else that happen on Homeworld,

was perhaps a bit traumatic, and Connie could of tried to see that Steven might of only been putting up a act that he was “okay” when really he wasn’t.

he did end up with so much trauma from the first series, we never really saw it before, and it was pointed out in Steven Universe Future

where he was in the hospital and it showed flashbacks behind Steven

showing his past experiences that gave him unhealthy stress,

and left little or no room for the healthy normal stress.

I dislike how Greg kept playing the “Your A Gem” card.

Steven is Half-Human, he could of said “Your Half-Gem”

even if Steven had the Crystal Gems as his Family,

and they did love him and took care of him,

but they kind of neglected him, but not in the extreme way.

it’s like a half-neglect, and where they do but don’t mean to.

Greg isn’t really all that great a dad, he is good but also bad.

if Sans is Steven’s Reincarnation, one of the versions of Gaster

might be the better Dad for him.

once again, I believe that while one version of Gaster is his brother and the other being his dad...

it would make sense for there to be two Gasters.

like Wingdings Gaster Sr. being the Dad,

and Wingdings Gaster Jr. being the Brother.

Sans wouldn’t get his memories about his past life as a Half-Human & Half-Gem, until maybe after his brother Papyrus is born.

Connie could of married Steven when she turned 21,

but that would be in the timeline where Steven never became Sans.

like the timeline she marries Steven, could be in the Deltarune Timeline.

and in the Undertale Timeline she doesn’t marry him

because he died and ended up being reborn as Mr & Mrs Wingdings’s second son...the first son being Gaster Jr.

as Sans, he falls in love with Toriel in the Deltarune Timeline.

also this is just a guess, but what if....

what if the Geno Route in Undertale is the True Timeline...?

I mean look at Toriel in Deltarune,

Toriel’s eyes aren’t red

and she has a turf of hair sticking up on her head.

but in Undertale she does have red eyes, she might be under the influence of the Determination.....plus she doesn’t have that small turf of hair sticking out at all.

plus Undertale-Toriel could still turn out to be a Clone of Asgore.

Papyrus might of been right about her being a clone.

but the Toriel from Deltarune, might not be a Clone.

and could be the Real Missing Queen from Undertale.

there are many different theories,

but only some of them will turn out to be canon.

like the whole Kris eating the Pie,

when I can I will post this at the other place I post fan art.

I still have some other drawings to do too.

anyway see ya later and stay safe everyone.

#quartzrune au #crossover au #asgore dreemurr #toriel #connie maheswaran #steven quartz universe #crossover ship #crossover fanart #undertale au #deltarune au #steven universe au

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bettsfic · 5 years

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betts, i'm having trouble with letting myself "write badly" (and with coming up with ideas, but mostly the former). how do you do it, how do you teach yourself?

first of all, major props to you for trying the shitty first draft. this past semester it was the #1 thing i wanted my students to take from the class. for those who do not yet know the power of the SFD, i have made a very helpful visual aid:

let’s say you read anne lamott’s “shitty first drafts” (and you absolutely must read anne lamott’s “shitty first drafts”), and you come out of it believing in the three draft method:

down draft: get it down

up draft: clean it up

dental draft: check every tooth

but you think, potentially, the better your down draft is, the better your up draft will be, and the easier your dental draft will be. perhaps you think, the shittier your first draft, the shittier your final draft, or maybe, the more you’ll have to revise.

NAY.

i’d like you to turn your attention to my gorgeous and professional graphic which took me a whole 30 seconds to make. i’ve drawn two spectrums which indicate the quality of writing, from :( (awful) to :) (most excellent) based on your own definitions of good/bad writing.

let’s say the top line represents a writer who has written a very decent first draft. the absolute best they can do. they’ve put their all into it. they revise it once and it’s a little bit better. they revise it again, but at this point it’s mostly fixing a typo here and there. they have checked every tooth. but it’s still not great.

the bottom line represents a writer who projectile vomited onto a piece of paper (metaphorically) and then cried for an hour (literally). their first draft is written partially in wingdings for reasons they don’t know. they forgot the word for “wrist” so they wrote “hand ankle.” objectively speaking in the grand history of the universe, according to god, it is in the top 1% of worst things ever written.

then this writer cleans it up a bit. now, it’s about where it would be if the writer had tried to write a clean first draft. it’s something they might be willing to show an extremely tactful friend, or someone with very low standards.

and now, magic happens. they revise again, and the draft is infinitely better than what they knew they could write. i don’t know why this happens! but it does. it’s happened to me. it’s happened to every student who has had the terrible fortune of stepping into my classroom. i promise you it works.

writing badly is not just about getting your ideas down in a somewhat messy way. it’s about writing intentionally badly. it’s about aiming for the absolute worst of what you’re capable of. to write badly means to identify and define what you think is good writing, because you’re aiming for the opposite. maybe you hate stories that have run-on sentences, or which seem to lack self-awareness. that means your first draft is going to be FULL of run-ons and have no idea what it’s trying to be. but run-ons can be tidied up to create beautiful prose. and mindless nonsense that relies on tropes and cliches can be organized and added upon to be meaningful. but you need to get it down before you even know what the thing you’re writing is. we write as the process of thought, not the product of it.

which brings me to my next point: *commentator voice*

THE UNKNOWN

i’ve written before on the interaction between fear, the unknown, and writer’s block. one day i’ll write a big fancy craft essay on it that i’ll try lamely to publish, but for now i’ll be very blunt:

all writer’s block is fear. all fear is the unknown. to resolve fear, you must make something known. to make something known, you enact a procedure.

this is true of almost everything in life. everything you hesitate to do, everything you procrastinate or put off. every bad attitude you have. it’s all the unknown. if you open yourself to the process of knowing, everything in life becomes less scary.

how do surgeons perform life-saving surgeries? how do pilots keep a plane from crashing? how did i go to work as a bank teller in a bad part of town, day after day, knowing i would eventually get robbed? we have procedures. if this happens, you do this, this, and this.

as mary ruefle puts it in her essay “on fear” -- what is the poet’s procedure?

this is, of course, a rhetorical question, but i’ve taught this essay many times, and read it many more, and i am obsessed with the idea of a writer’s procedure. combined with donald barthleme’s essay “not-knowing” which is also about the making things known, we have a foundation for which to understand the process of knowing.

so what is the process?

i have my own process which might work for you, which i adapt from project to project, but you’ll have to make your own. and when you do, you have to trust it. writing badly is easier when you know, like me, you have at least 8 more drafts to do no matter what. no matter how good i think it is, i will do every step of the procedure, every time. i have faith in my process. there is no point where an element of the story is so unknown to me that i am afraid to continue. i know that by the end of the process, i have done my best work, and there’s not much more i can do without the help of the people who have accepted it to be published.

recently i’ve decided i want to start drawing. it’s a daunting endeavor -- i used to draw a lot when i was a teenager, but like many of us, certain creative interests we had when we were younger get shoved to the side for one reason or another. for me, i never got the hang of shading, and i couldn’t handle ruining my lovely line drawings with my hideous attempts at making things look three-dimensional.

now, i’ve tasked myself with picking it up again, but i’m afraid. i ask myself why i’m afraid. it’s because i don’t know anything about drawing anymore. i don’t know what to draw. i don’t know where to draw. i don’t know what to use to draw. i don’t know when to draw.

but now, just by acknowledging what i don’t know, i have a list of things i need to make known, one small thing at a time.

what to draw: i take a picture of a fruit basket. i follow some mandala artists on instagram. i look at art blogs. i make a list in google keep/drive of things i want to draw. i keep my mind open to inspiration as it arrives.

where and what to use to draw: i need tools. i’m interested in watercolors, ink drawings, and calligraphy. i go to amazon and i pick out a couple things -- a watercolor notebook, crayola watercolors, micron and brush pens. it’s about $20. enough to get me started at least.

when to draw: i schedule two hours three nights a week to draw. i download the harry potter audiobooks to encourage me to do it.

when it comes time to draw, the only unknown thing is where to place the first line. there is no risk in it, no fear -- i do it with pencil. it can be erased. there is no way to be wrong. once the first line is down, i move to the next and the next, making the drawing known one line at a time.

the first step in the process of knowing is naming what you don’t know.

so my advice to you is this: make a list of questions you have for your narrative. if they’re too broad, break them up. make them tiny. then ask yourself, not what are the answers, but “how do i make these things known to me?”

the response is usually “i don’t fucking know” followed potentially by “well i’ll have to try doing this thing that i know is wrong.” it might be wrong, but it’s known. and so you have to write it down, then trust that it will eventually be right.

thanks for the great question, anon. more on this at the start of the new year, but soon i’ll be launching a ko-fi gold! if you’re interested in getting one-on-one feedback for your writing or would like to buy me a coffee, feel free to follow me on ko-fi!

and here’s my writing advice tag.

#writing advice #dow19 #the poet's procedure #Anonymous

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 19

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

~~*~~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

Chapter 18

~~*~~

Read Chapter 19 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The last time Edge saw the Queen, Monsters were still living in the cobbled-together sanctuary they’d hastily made at the base of the mountain. As former Royal Guards, he and Undyne had been kept imprisoned, their magic drained daily to keep them subdued. They’d spent a month like that along with Red lying on his bunk, hardly breathing and healers coming in daily to check on him. There was little they could do for his injuries, his shattered skull, they’d even offered to take him away so that Edge didn’t have to watch him die.

He'd refused. At the time, his anger did not allow him to see that offer for the kindness it was. Nor did he consider that a tyrannical ruler wouldn’t have given even that much. They were fed, washed, and when their judgement finally came, the Queen’s banishment was certainly better than the execution they’d expected.

It was easier to see in hindsight without his fury and his fears for his brother clouding his vision. She’d been as kind to them as circumstances allowed.

He and Undyne never discussed those days, not even at their lowest, those rare moments of shared pathetic drunkenness back when they’d been scraping by in the Human world, but he’d always suspected Undyne hadn’t come to the same conclusion.

Her sneering expression as she glared at the Queen was an unwelcome confirmation and Edge kept a wary hand out to grab her in case she did something foolish. Undyne was strong, but Toriel was a boss Monster and a powerful one; even the tyrant King Asgore fell beneath her might. Toriel only gazed back at them with the ageless serenity of one who’d been alive before any of them were trapped beneath a mountain, incongruous as it was when paired with her fluffy purple knit cap and the matching pompoms on her boots.

Behind them, the helicopter was powering down, the turbines lazily slowing, and the Human pilot made no move to come out into the cold. Not far away was the bang of doors, what sounded like every resident in the station pouring outside to see what was going on.

But it was the unknown Monster standing next to her that had Edge’s full attention. Him and his claim to be looking for his brother.

“Your brother,” Edge repeated slowly. He did not offer Rus’s name; information was a valuable prize, one that Red taught him never to offer cheaply. He knew Rus had two brothers, but the framed photo in his room only showed one, a much shorter skeleton with starry eye lights and a wide, toothy smile.

This skeleton beamed at them all and that smile alone gave credence to whom his brother was. Aside from those strange fissures in his skull, the resemblance to Rus was startling. A handspan shorter, perhaps, closer to Edge’s height, and his glasses remained firmly perched on his skull by means that Edge couldn’t determine. His own reading glasses sometimes required the use of a little scotch tape.

“Yes, my brother, Papyrus, he’s on your roster. I’m sure you’d notice him,” the Monster chuckled almost soundlessly. He signed again as he spoke, a set of hands formed of magic hovering over his shoulder in a far more blatant use of their natural abilities than any of them at the station ever used. “I can’t imagine there are so many skeleton Monsters here you’d mistake him.”

Hearing that language was disconcerting, dredging up a vague memory of childhood that Edge ignored. His mind was stumbling over the long-unheard words, better to focus on the Hands.

Before Edge could come up with a reply, a new surge of magic came from his other side as Red stormed up. The researchers parted like water to let him through, each instinctively drawing away from the rare power he exuded. His fiery gaze flicked over the Queen almost dismissively, then landed on the other skeleton. For once, Edge had no urge to scold his brother for his rudeness as he said, loudly, “who the fuck are you?"

That beaming smile faltered, then came back full force. “Ah, my apologies, we haven’t yet met! I’m Doctor WingDings Gaster, I’m Papyrus’s older brother.”

"don’t think so,�� Red said, coldly. His breath fogged in the cold air in ragged puffs, his eye lights burning. “i knew ol' wing dings pretty fucking well, you ain't him."

A shadow passed over the skeleton’s face. He shuffled his boots against the hardpacked snow uncomfortably, “Ah. I’m afraid the one you’re referring to was a relative, in a way. They’ve—" he hesitated, then signed delicately, “passed.”

“you mean he’s dead and dusted. yeah, i know. good riddance to bad rubbish in my book.”

That shadow deepened, the Monster, Gaster’s, sockets narrowing in annoyance, “I am sorry, I know that this is unexpected, but I don’t believe that I—"

“dings?”

Rus’s voice came from behind, carrying through the still air. Edge turned halfway towards it, carefully keeping Toriel and this Gaster in his line of sight. Undyne did the same and Red only stayed facing them, fingers flexing visibly through his gloves.

Rus was standing with the other scientists in his full outdoor gear, his goggles pushed up on his skull as he stared. He signed automatically along with his words, his hands dreamy and slow, “dings? tori? what are you guys doing here, how did…” He trailed off, his eye lights shrinking into pinpricks, “did something happen? is something wrong with blue?”

"No, nothing like that,” Gaster said hastily, “In fact Blue wanted to come along, but there was only room for two of us. Now, you haven’t seen me in weeks, are you going to give me a hug or are you much too grown up for that now?”

It was best, perhaps, that none of the other scientists spoke readily in Hands. A person who was fluent could see inflections and there was a layer of reprimand in those gestures that others might only interpret as a teasing comment between brothers.

Rus almost stumbled forward, past the three of them to his brother, and Edge resisted the urge to snatch hold of his collar to keep him back. This was his brother, not some unknown danger, and the prickles of warning running up his spine weren’t necessary. Yet.

He glanced at the Queen; she was watching the brothers hug with a look of fond indulgence, and when her gaze flicked to Edge, he looked away.

Their embrace was at least heartfelt, if brief. Rus stepped back all too quickly, putting enough space between them to sign and say, “you haven’t said why you’re here?”

“To bring you back,” Gaster said, promptly. His gaze flicked briefly to their audience, his voice lowering and his hands still as he murmured something Edge couldn’t hear.

Rus scowled. He took two steps back, standing closer to Edge and Undyne, “my rotation doesn’t end for two more weeks, bro, i’m not going anywhere.”

Doctor Gaster sighed impatiently, his hands brisk as he resumed signing, “I’ve tolerated this indulgence of yours as much as I could—”

“tolerated? you forbade me from coming and threatened to lock me in my room!”

“—but I didn’t, did I,” Gaster smiled widely, “Now, it's time to come home. You knew I was close to finishing my work."

“i’m not leaving.”

“Papyrus.” His tone was aggravatingly placating, the way one might address a recalcitrant child. “I’ve allowed you to indulge in this hobby of yours, but it’s time to come back now.”

“no,” Rus said thinly. “i won’t. and you can’t make me.”

Before Rus could say another word, Undyne stepped in front of him. Her missing fingers always made her signing imperfect, but her meaning was as clear in her hands and her words, "Yeah, you aren't taking him anywhere unless you go through me."

The doctor looked distinctly taken aback, sputtering, "I beg your pardon, this is a family matter."

"maybe you don't hear so good," Red spoke up. The fiery shine in his sockets blazed through the darkness. "you ain't taking him."

"please, don't," Rus said weakly. His hands hovered helplessly in the air, unable to choose who to reach out to, “no fighting, please.”

“We aren’t going to fight your brother, Rus. But if you don’t want to leave, I won’t allow him to badger you into it,” Edge said, signing each word with clipped precision. His own magic was stirring in his soul in an agitated swirl. Aside from sparring with Undyne, he hadn’t formed an attack of any kind in years and preparing for the possibility felt like slipping on an old, comfortable glove.

An ally came from an unexpected source, one of the Humans, the older scientist stepped forward and said with snooty indignance, “Certainly not at the expense of his PhD. You’ve made no case for why Rus should leave. He’s been working quite hard for the past six weeks, I shouldn’t think two more would make that much difference.”

The dismissive way Gaster waved that off made Edge’s hackles rise, particularly when he added, “You’re a Human, you don’t even know what I’m saying!”

“I can understand enough,” another scientist put in, the glaciologist, Nadine. She stepped up right next to Rus, foolishly courageous. “And I’m not going to let you force Rus to leave.”

The other Humans stepped forward, crowding around Rus, a barrier that Gaster did not seem to know how to cross.

Gaster only blinked at them, clearly taken aback, “I’m not forcing him, I’m reminding him of his responsibilities!”

Rus laughed then, harshly, “so you’re not forcing me, you’re guilting me. thanks a heap, bro.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Gaster snapped out, “It’s what we were made for!!” Rus flinched and Gaster added, immediately remorseful, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Brother--”

What happened next tested Edge’s comprehension. One moment Rus was standing in the middle of the researchers, his face stricken, and in another he was simply…gone.

The Humans staggered back, all of them wearing matching expressions of shock. Undyne fell into blustering, lumbering around searching as if she expected Rus dropped to his knees and simply crawled away. Edge did not move, his gaze on their unexpected guests, his own brother at his side, and if he didn’t understand what happened, he knew what he saw. Rus vanished, he knew not where, and the answers would not be coming by searching through the snowdrifts.

I take shortcuts, Rus had said, only Edge never expected it was quite so literal.

Only Gaster did not seem surprised; he covered his face with one gloved hand, hanging his head, and he did not look up as slow clapping filled the air. The confused babble died down, everyone stopping in their tracks to look at the Queen, who stood nearby clapping with an air of mocking.

“Bravo,” Toriel said acidly, “I must say, you handled that with remarkable tact, Gaster, and I’d like to take this moment to say I told you so.”

Toriel did not sign, but Gaster clearly understood her. He cringed harder, shoulders rounded as he hunched into his hands, real and magical. Toriel turned to Edge and addressed him with polite deference.

“Edge,” Toriel inclined her head to him, “You’re the leader here. May we please discuss this somewhere private? And hopefully warmer.” Her aura of dignity reminded him unpleasantly of their last meeting, when she passed her judgement on them. Toriel always radiated a cool calm that her deceased husband never possessed, and it was somehow nearly as disconcerting as Asgore’s frequent rages.

“Of course, come inside.” Edge did not look at Undyne or Red, turning back to the station and leading the way. Their glares burned between his shoulder blades, but they didn’t protest, only came up behind Toriel and Gaster to follow them into the facility.

Behind them, the helicopter roared to life and rose back into the air. For good or bad, they were stuck with these two for at least a time.

Inside, they all hastily stripped off their gear and beneath Gaster’s oversized coat was a skeletal body that managed somehow to be even thinner than Rus. Where Rus was lithe, his brother was nearly gaunt and when he stood next to Undyne, he was hardly half her width. From the way Undyne was looking at him, she’d noticed it as well, only her expression was one measuring how much force it might take to break to break that scrawny frame in half.

With some haste, Edge hung up his coat and led them to the Recreation Room. It was the largest room in the Station and Toriel was not a small Monster; her horns already brushed the ceiling as she walked, at least the Rec room would give them plenty of space. Edge wasn’t keen on being crowded in with either of these Monsters and it would be best if all of them were able to keep back out of easy attack range.

Undyne shoved past Gaster to come up next to him, barely audible as she hissed, “Boss. What about Rus?”

“Do you have any idea how we might find him?” Edge said, murmured. His own soul was clamoring agreement with Undyne, demanding he search for Rus, but practicality was winning for the moment. She scowled, her furious gaze on the floor. “Alphys is certainly on the cameras. Give her a chance to search, she’ll let us know if she finds him, and in the meantime, we can gather information from these two.”

A certain tension eased in Undyne’s shoulders and she nodded ever so slightly. “Should’ve known you had plan, boss.”

Hardly a plan, this was a feeble strategy at best, but it wasn’t as if they had any other. At least Undyne was somewhat mollified and Edge kept his own worries buried beneath bland calm.

The Rec Room door was in sight and Edge held it open for the others, taking a moment to secure it behind them to keep the researchers away. Their loyalty to Rus was both surprising and welcome, but there were certain things Humans could not be allowed to hear, no matter how trustworthy they proved themselves. The Queen of All Monsters was not one who would travel all the way to Antarctica for what this Gaster was attempting to dismiss as a simple family dispute.

Toriel sank onto one of the sofas with a sigh, seemingly unbothered by Undyne and Red positioning themselves strategically around her. She sighed out, “Dings, why must you make things so difficult? I let you handle it, as requested, and it this is how you do it?”

“Excuse me,” Edge interrupted. He chose to remain standing, arms crossed carelessly over his chest as he stared down their ‘guests’. He didn’t blame Undyne and Red for their overzealous caution, but the truth of the matter was that if Toriel wanted them dead, they would have been dust from the moment she stepped from the helicopter. “I believe some explanations are in order.”

Gaster flopped down on the sofa next to Toriel and again, his resemblance to Rus was nearly uncanny. He waved a couple of negligent hands her way, “You explain, I don’t believe they’ll want to hear it from me.”

“Of course,” Toriel said crisply and then with something like apology. “I’m afraid I’ll need to secure a promise from you all that none of this information will leave this room.”

Red and Undyne stiffened as one and unease crawled up Edge’s spine. A promise to a boss level Monster was not a mere exchange of words, it was magically binding, with dire consequence for breaking it. Back in the Underground, Asgore forced Red to promise him things often and the results of those grudging vows had left his brother wary of the very word.

Edge held up a hand at the protests he could nearly hear about to spill from those two, considering. Phrasing was the important thing, and he went over a couple of options in his head before he chose.

“I promise that I won’t reveal what you’re about to tell me to anyone outside this room,” Edge said carefully.

Her mouth never changed, but corners of Toriel’s eyes crinkled up in a wry smile, “That will do.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Undyne said sullenly.

Red only said tersely, “agreed.”

Gaster sat up suddenly and started to sign hastily, “Are you sure—”

“Quite.” Toriel laced her hands into her lap and took a deep, settling breath. “Now. The three of you left the Monster community over four years ago. Were cast out,” she corrected as Undyne puffed up indignantly, “Banished.”

Red shifted restlessly, his sneakers squeaking against the floor tile as he sneered, “you needed a promise to retell shit we already know?”

“Not at all,” Toriel said calmly, “I’m only establishing a timeline. I did keep tabs on you, I’m sure you’re aware, I couldn’t risk you causing problems with the Humans even if they agreed to allow Monsters to work within their communities. But I never interfered. I must say, what you’ve accomplished here is remarkable—”

“Save it,” Undyne barked, “tell us what the fuck is up with this guy and Rus.”

Toriel’s expression tinged into sadness, “Very well. Approximately two years after the three of you left, a portal was opened.”

“A portal,” Edge repeated in confusion. The very word seemed foreign, shoved in like a forcing a square block into a round hole.

“Yes, beneath the mountain,” Toriel said, “Most Monsters came to the surface, but some preferred the remain underground. This portal opened in Snowdin; I believe you’re all familiar with the town. Three skeleton Monsters came through it. Doctor Gaster here, his brother Blue, and their brother Papyrus.”

“What the fuck is a portal—” Undyne started impatiently, but it was Red’s bare whisper that silenced her.

Red’s voice was hardly more than a low, stunned rasp, “you got your machine working.”

“A machine? Like—” Undyne shut her mouth so hard her teeth clicked audibly. Red only shook his head, unable to even discreetly sign in front of these Monsters.

“Yes. We did,” Gaster interjected. He was looking at Red with startled, cautious respect. “Our world is very much like this one. Monsters forced to live beneath the mountain, trapped by a barrier. What you must understand is that we came to this world because we were desperate. Your core technology made for a decent life Underground, but in our world, the core was damaged. Our father passed and his work was lost. We weren’t able to repair it. But the Portal machine I was able to complete. We came to this world seeking the information about the Core technology,” Gaster’s hands and speech had been speeding up excitedly with every word, only now he faltered, “I’m afraid it took much longer than I expected to find the information we were looking for.”

“Hold on, back it up,” Undyne said. She rubbed her forehead with her damaged hand, her visible eye squinched tightly shut. “Let me get this straight, are you seriously telling me that Rus is from another world, like some kind of fucking alien?”

Gaster’s face twisted in a moue of distaste, “I suppose ‘alien’ is the correct colloquialism, although not in the definition of extraterrestrial, as we are from the planet Earth. Our world is merely an alternate of your own, almost like a mirror image we’ve discovered, and—”

“Save the science nerd shit,” Undyne snapped, “Okay, so you’re aliens. That doesn’t explain why you need Rus to head back all of a sudden.”

Gaster spread several pairs of hands, “Because it’s time for us to go home. Now that I have the information we require, I can repair our core.”

“So go do it!”

“I’d agree,” Edge said evenly, “If you’re the one to do the repairs, you can do it. It seems to me Rus would prefer to remain here.”

“Of course you don’t want him to leave!” Gaster snapped, hands flashing. Edge frowned at that suspiciously even as Gaster ranted on, “But he doesn’t have a choice. Our world hasn’t made it to the surface yet and the longer we are away, the more the Monsters living there will be suffering from the lack of a Core. Monsters who suffer, who see their children suffering, they can go to extremes. We’ve been gone two years, I can only imagine what’s happened while we’ve been gone. I’m not inclined to make them wait while by brother indulges in foolish pursuits.”

“You don’t need to!” Edge retorted, “Explain why you need Rus to go with you! Why can’t he come later?”

“they can’t use the portal machine without him.”

That faint whisper came from an unexpected source. Edge turned to Red, staring in shock at his blank expression, the pinpricks of his eye lights.

“Brother?” Edge asked, softly, concerned. He started to reach out, hesitating when his brother actually cringed from him.

Red was heaving, shuddering, as if he might vomit right in front of them. Trails of crimson sweat began to run down his cheek bones, more beaded on his forehead, darkening his knit cap. He tore off his hat, exposing his damaged skull and that even more than the low, gurgling gag burbling from his throat alarmed Edge.

Even Gaster looked concerned as he said, hesitantly, “Yes, that’s correct. Rus is the only one of us with access to Void magic. We need him to power the machine. But that’s hardly the only reason, he’s my brother!”

Red swayed on his feet, barking out a hoarse laugh. “what he was made for, right?”

“What the fuck is void magic?” Undyne said. She knew better than to try to touch Red and her stance was one Edge knew. She hadn’t carried a spear in years, yet Edge could remember a time when knew never left her hand, the same hand that was loosely curled at her side, ready to summon.

“You saw it yourself,” Gaster sighed deeply, “when he…left. Rus can use his magic to interrupt the flow of time/space and briefly enter the void. Using it plainly allows him to take those shortcuts of his and travel short distances within this plane of existence. The machine magnifies his power and opens a portal between worlds.”

“So you need to use him,” Edge said, flatly.

“It’s not that simple! Every day we’re away, our people are suffering and for what? So that Papyrus can earn a useless piece of paper for a branch of science he won’t even be able to use in our world!” Gaster stood, pacing restlessly and seeming to not even notice the brief, pointed flare in Undyne’s eye. “I’ve indulged him as much as I can, but I can’t allow him to shirk his responsibilities.”

“His responsibilities,” Red coughed out another ragged laugh, “yeah, the ones your pop made him for, right? bred him for it, made him for it, like you’d breed a clone for a fucking kidney.”

Gaster swung around to face him and for a moment his face was unpleasantly twisted, almost disturbingly so.

“Dings,” Toriel said, sharply. She’d kept silent as they argued, but now she shook her head at her companion. He sank back, deflated, scrubbing one of his strange, magical hands over his face as he gathered himself.

At last, he said, “Even if that were true, you think it’s appropriate for him to allow all Monsters to suffer from his own selfishness? He’s been running away since we arrived here and I let him, but now is the time for him to face his responsibilities.” He looked at Edge then, pointedly, “You. You’re responsible for all the people here, am I to believe that you would abandon them to their own devices? Let them die because your own petty wants?”

“I wouldn’t.” Edge said evenly. He resisted the urge to snarl at the word ‘petty’. “But it isn’t my choice.” He looked at Toriel. “And you, your Highness? What’s your opinion?”

“I supported Rus in coming here,” Toriel said, “but I understand Gaster’s concerns. The longer the people of his world are without core power, the more suffering it brings. Two weeks might very well mean the difference between life and death for some Monsters.” She gave Gaster a sideways look. “But neither will I force Rus to return. It’s his life, his choice, and as it has been explained to me, such travel is not without dangers of its own. I believe what we need is a reasonable discussion with Rus. Whenever he returns.”

“I agree,” Edge said. The throbbing complaints in his soul were getting harder to ignore. “Undyne, will you show our guests to a couple of spare rooms? Your Highness, I’m afraid it will be a cramped stay for you.”

She gave him a faint smile, “I’m sure I’ve had worse.”

“Nonsense, we don’t have time for this. I need to go look for my brother—” Gaster blustered out.

“You need to follow my direction,” Edge said in a tone that brooked no argument. “This is my facility. The Institute may have sent you here but I’m not about to allow either of you to snoop around unsupervised. I’ll search for Rus. I’m assuming that shortcut of his couldn’t have taken him far?”

Gaster subsided, sullenly, “No, the range is quite limited.”

“That means he must be close by. Undyne?”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Undyne grumbled. She went to the door, waiting impatiently for them to follow and only when their guests were gone did Edge sink into a chair, letting his skull drop back against the cushioned back as he focused on his breathing, slow and even, trying to settle the uncomfortable tension gripping his soul.

This…this was nothing he could have imagined. Of all the secrets Rus might have buried in his past, this was not one Edge ever considered, how could he possibly…? It was beyond comprehension, so very much to take in, too much, his peaceful if somewhat lonely life at the station disrupted in ways he could barely grasp.

Aliens, Undyne called them, and he was stupidly reminded of that ridiculous movie they’d all watched, with the alien invading the polar station disguising itself as one of their own. This wasn’t that, and yet his soul still roiled, his own gorge rising. Edge forced it back, breathing deeply, and his nausea incongruously reminded him of his brother’s. He sat up abruptly, looking wildly around the room, but at some point, Red had vanished.

Wonderful, that was two missing, now.

Or perhaps not. In his pocket, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Alphys that only said, ‘Vehicle Shed.’

He texted back a quick thank you and headed towards the vestibule to gear up, ready to follow where she led. He’d thought Rus was meant for sunshine and instead it seemed he might be heading back into a darkness Edge could scarcely understand.

But first, Edge needed to find him.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell undyne #underfell alphys #arctic AU

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