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punsmaster69 · 4 months

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20/FEB/20XX

papyrus adjusts the collar of my undershirt, and tugs at the edges of the argyle sweater he's summoned for me from the dark, unorganized depths of my dresser.

"I'M AWARE THAT YOUR STANDARDS REGARDING FORMAL ATTIRE ARE PARTICULARLY LOW..."

he straightens my collar a bit more.

"BUT EVEN AN INDOLENT SKELETON SUCH AS YOURSELF SHOULD TRY TO LOOK AT LEAST SOMEWHAT PRESENTABLE ON YOUR FIRST OFFICIAL DATE WITH YOUR NEW GIRLFRIEND!"

that word, which he hasn't let me correct him on.

that word, which i don't have proof to still deny being right or wrong, just yet.

"valentine's day doesn't count, huh?"

"OF COURSE IT DOESN'T!"

"NOT IF THE OFFICIAL PARTNER TITLE ONLY CAME ABOUT MID-PROCESS OF THAT ONE."

hands on hips, leaned forward; he discerningly stares at my collar for a few more moments. i push his hands away as he reaches for it again.

"it's definitely fine, bro."

replacing his hands to where they were on his hips, he steps back.

"...I'LL HAVE TO IRON THAT SHIRT LATER."

giving my appearance one last inspection -

crouching in front of me to pick a ball of fur from my shoulder.

-papyrus deems my attire now "date" ready.

"YOU STILL SEEM ANXIOUS."

"I CAN LEND YOU MY DATING MANUAL IF YOU'D LIKE!!"

"..i'll be ok. thanks for the offer, bro. and for all this."

i gestured to the outfit.

"SHE'LL CERTAINLY BE IMPRESSED BY YOUR OUTING-RELEVANT LOOK!"

with a proud stance.

"should one usually have a specific outfit for going to a café?"

"WHAT? OF COURSE YOU SHOULD! A PREPARED SKELETON HAS AN OUTFIT FOR EVERY OCCASION!!"

poking his exposed sternum through the slit at the top of his shirt, i looked him straight in the sockets.

"what's the occasion for this one?"

breaking the stare, his gaze fixated itself anywhere else as he repressed a flustered look.

"I-IT'S JUST A REGULAR OUTFIT! FOR DOING REGULAR ANYTHING-THINGS!! EXPLICITLY NON-SPECIFIC."

"did mtt put you up to this?"

"NO!"

at his side this time, i poked the shiny star design across the black fabric of the shirt.

"seems like a very 'mettaton' choice."

"HE DIDN'T PICK THIS OUT FOR ME."

"did you pick it out for 𝘩𝘪𝘮?"

"A-"

entirely freezing.

"N-NO!!"

"METTATON AND I ARE BOTH FASHIONABLE MONSTERS, OUR FASHION STYLES ARE BOUND TO OVERLAP SOMETIMES!!!"

"so where're you two going toda-"

papyrus shoved me to the front door.

"YOU'RE JUST STALLING!! GO, ALREADY!!!!"

"ok, ok. have fun with your crush-"

the front door was slammed behind me. i heard a side window open, followed by the fading sound of a skeleton running off somewhere.

——

i read the page.

i read the page again.

i read the page a third time.

i realize this isn't working.

instead of reading the same page over and over while hoping the words suddenly stick this time, i set aside my book and pull my cup of coffee closer. i pretend like i'm taking a break to watch the town through the window.

when i look up, she's doing the same.

"Not a very busy day, is it?"

"it's hard to say small towns ever are."

"True as that may be, it really is too nice for as few monsters to be about as there are."

"yeah, why isn't everyone outside enjoying the sun? like us?"

"...Our plans were made 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 knowing of the weather's plan to be nice. We do not count."

"our plans to sit quietly and read?"

we both turned our heads to our set aside books.

a smile crept across her face.

"...It seems neither of us were 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥-y for sitting quietly at the moment, were we?"

"don't have the 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦-ience for stories right now, unfortunately."

"I must confess - I was reading a while before you arrived."

"late, sorry."

"Fashionably late."

i flicked the collar papyrus was so set on straightening this morning with my thumb.

"paps insisted i be."

"Oh? Has he been attempting to adjust your wardrobe? It would explain the shift in clothing choices lately."

i decide that's why.

"yeah, he says i should try to look 'at least somewhat presentable' on.."

deciding immediately on a word change -

"somewhat presentable with you rather than just having my jacket n' shorts all the time."

"With me?"

"how i'm constantly embarrassing such a pretty lady with my drab attire in public, y'know."

"I would not consider your... 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 dressing style embarrassing. In anything you wear, I find you to be just as charming."

maybe my face got a little warm.

"..Though."

she leaned to the side to see around the table, so her eyes could make their way up the entirety of my outfit. extra effort was made to ignore how long it felt like her gaze lingered.

"I certainly approve of Papyrus' choices today. Cannot complain in that regard."

"..maybe i oughta take some more of his suggestions then."

"It is good, of course..."

she made an obvious once-over at my outfit again. i distracted myself by tapping my coffee cup a few times and taking a long sip.

"..But I wonder if it would look even better on my bedroom floor?"

coffee came out of my nose.

my reaction sent her into a laughing fit.

"Hehe- Sorry, sorry. I had heard that one recently and the chance to use it now was much too tempting."

"speakin' of floors, that..."

hiding my face with my hand was all i could do.

"heh, definitely floored me."

"Apologies again."

"s'alright. it was a good one, i'll give you that."

taking a deep breath and shoving my hands into my pockets.

"inserted with appropriate timing and all."

something in my pocket brushed against my right hand.

"Well.. 'appropriate' is subjective."

peeking at the object, i stopped.

"It wasn't really 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦 in any manner."

i stared at the text on the object in my right hand.

"COUPLE'S DISCOUNT BRACELET" stared back.

"..Sans?"

my attention was snapped back to toriel.

"sorry. what's up?"

"Have I made you uncomfortable? I'm very s-"

"no, it's..."

opening my hand on the table to drop the rubbery bracelet between us.

toriel's eyes widened before she sheepishly pulled her matching one from her pocket.

for a guy without a stomach, it sure did feel like butterflies.

the question i've been too cowardly to ask outright gnawed at me.

i stuttered... 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 out.

"......a-are we..?"

tori undid the rubber latch on one of the bracelets and connected it with the other. keeping eye contact with me, she tugged on the interlocked bracelets and cocked her head slightly.

i nodded.

turning the bands over in her hands, toriel contemplated something.

"...I would like for you to be able to ask."

"if we're-"

"To be partners."

everything in me felt like it had been paused.

i couldn't get any words to come out.

all i could hear was my soul racing.

i clenched my fists, and...

"......"

couldn't look her in the eyes any longer.

she put her hands over my own.

"Then I will wait for you."

#undertale #journal #sans #papyrus #sans and papyrus #skelebros #papyrus and sans #papyton #toriel #soriel #sans x toriel #toriel x sans #got distracted for like an hour galfway through writing this making papyrus ascii art #anyway sorry i'll post the other chapter sometime later

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riftfic · 10 months

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15. Determination

. . .

Warnings: strong language, violence

Featured Characters: Sans, Chara/Frisk (Reader), Asriel, Papyrus, Toriel, Asgore

Wanted to get this out to you before the weekend. :) Hope you enjoy!

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Past shimmering magic and the inner turmoil of a hundred souls, another heart-ached voice cried out. Its miserable, forsaken ballad reverberated across your ancient bond. You clung to Sans’ hand like a lifeline. You knew who waited for you beyond the veil. More than ever, you wanted to save him, though words had never been enough.

“Asriel,” you called.

His winged form faded into sight among hazy, darkened rainbows. His muzzle hid in his claws. He appeared confused, scrambled, as if all his motivations had fallen out of sight. The souls that had become him no longer listened. They had filled him with emotions beyond anger and hate and abandoned him to face his demons.

In all his terrible majesty, the frightening creature Asriel had become did not deter you. When you glanced back for reassurance, Sans released his grip with an encouraging nod. You stepped as near as you could and touched a small hand to Asriel’s shoulder.

“Azzy . . .” you said more dearly.

“What . . . what did you do?” he murmured. Behind his talons, his eyes shone with sadness, confusion, and anger. “What’s this feeling?”

“It’s okay,” you chose to reassure him. “I’m here.”

“No. NO!” he snarled and tore away. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone!”

A hundred tiny comets gathered at his hands. You took a step back, knowing too well the rain of destruction that followed. With a single push of his arms, those projectiles charged you like a murder of crows after scraps. They whizzed like fireworks past your head, fanning wild the burnt umbre of your hair. You followed the steps you had always taken to avoid their pattern, but this formation was different. Without thinking, you dodged one bullet directly into the path of another.

Sans pulled you out of the way with less than a moment to spare. With a crack and blue flash, his shortcut shifted both of you just a few yards from a meteor shower and cosmic annihilation. Your arms clung to his, shaking. This time, you were truly grateful he had stepped in to save you from the treacherous walk along your tightrope.

“Why?” Asriel snapped. “Why do you like playing with him more than me?!”

The magic that had once immobilized Sans outside this dreamspace now crushed him. Pain splintered through every fiber of his body. Though he resisted, Asriel’s raw, merciless strength forced him out of your hold to his knees. One bone snapped, then two. If he could breathe he might have screamed or even begged, anything beyond the wild silent grimace seizing him now. Bright stars burst behind his darkening eyes. Red began to spark and burn bright in his chest.

“Stop!” you yelped. “You’re killing him!”

Asriel certainly knew. A rage more personal than you had ever witnessed gnarled his face. His razorlike claws curled to channel his magic with mounting pressure. Sans buckled under the torture running fissures through his bones. You dropped to his side and held his cracking form close.

You knew Asriel did it to hurt you. You knew he did it to break Sans’ determined spirit. There was nothing Sans could do to stop it. There was nothing you could do. There was no escape.

You bit back your hopelessness. No. Giving up was exactly what Asriel wanted. Plenty of opportunity had passed to surrender, and now was not the time to relent. You pushed yourself firmly to your feet to chase one more chance.

“Get away from me,” Asriel growled as you approached again. He bared his teeth. “You think I won’t tear you apart?”

You clenched your fists and walked forward defiantly.

“I said get away!”

You had already locked your arms around him.

The fury of his magic sputtered like an engine out of fuel. The invisible death grip crushing Sans squeezed tighter, then tighter . . . then slowly released. Asriel’s shoulders slumped.

Sans coughed dust and shuddered amid the red threads sewing him back together. For a long moment, he simply lay there, mind racing with shock and trauma and relief to be free of him. His natural sense for the inner soul, what he focused to ascertain your sins, tasted sour with malintent. Asriel had wanted him to hurt. He had wanted him to pay.

“Let go,” growled Asriel. He had again curled into himself. “Let me win . . .”

“Please,” you said. “Please, Azzy, you don’t have to do this anymore.”

“It’s the only way you’ll stay with me,” he protested. He hung his head over your shoulder. “I’m not ready for things to end.”

Sans bitterly rose, muttering several choice words that described “the prince of this world” a little less kindly.

“It doesn’t have to,” you said into the great emblem on Asriel’s chest. “It can keep going. You and me, into the sunset, on the surface.”

“No,” he said. “I can’t. I’ll be a heartless little flower running around the Underground, all alone, forever.” Tears sped down his face. “I’m so afraid, Chara.”

His broad, frightening pauldrons and sharp talons retracted. As his silhouette shrank in more than posture, a small, sobbing boss monster child in a green striped sweater took his place. He clung to you as if letting go would untether him from port, sending him adrift into the maelstrom again.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

Asriel wept at length on your shoulder.

As he watched, a realization both blistering and chilling crept over Sans’ soul. After everything, his great and terrible adversary had been nothing more than a frightened child. He set his teeth and bit his tongue, every inch haunted by the phantom pains of snapping apart. Was any context enough to forgive him?

From the mist of his memory, Toriel emerged. He remembered her grief, her loneliness, the children she had lost. He thought of you, how you had loved the soulless flower enough to save him, even though you couldn’t remember why.

His heart calmed. If he could reconcile anything, it was that he loved you more than he wanted to hurt him.

Eventually, Asriel dried his eyes and smiled at you faintly. “I always was a crybaby, wasn’t I?”

You nodded. “Just a little.”

He surveyed you as if you had returned from the dead—and for all accounts and purposes, this was true. “Is it really you?” he asked. “Are you really . . . Chara?”

You pondered this for a long moment and for many long moments to come. Chara was the name you had been given at the start of your journey. It was this name that fueled the fire behind Asgore’s law, this name that had given weight to Wingdings’ final experiment, this name that had led Asriel down misery’s path. What were you if not the culmination of your experiences? All you had remembered could not be unwritten. And yet someone had reminded you that who you once were and who you could be were two entirely different things. You were not tethered to your ghosts. The road ahead was yours to choose.

You met Sans’ gaze over your shoulder. He stood a safe distance away, hands pocketed, even if his posture were tense. His left eye burned brighter than the right, at the ready, apprehensive but following your lead. Trust. Even when you lost sight of yourself, he believed in you. He always would. You wanted to be that person.

You wanted to deserve it.

“I go by Frisk now,” you said.

Sans’ burning eye sparked with blue and gold like fireworks.

Asriel studied the emotions passing between you. Bittersweetness tainted his smile.

“I was so jealous,” he said, “of you two. I still am. It’s . . . childish, isn’t it?”

“an ass-toot observation,” Sans muttered under his breath.

To his surprise, Asriel actually chuckled, even if small and removed with sadness. Sans’ hackles relaxed marginally at the sound. Even at its coldest, his heart always melted to a child’s laughter.

“Sorry,” Asriel said bashfully, then continued, “I know I can’t have you all to myself. That’s not fair. I’m . . . not entirely sure what brought you together but . . . I can tell it was special.” His small frame shrank further. “I didn’t understand that the way I was ‘playing’ was hurting you . . . or maybe I did. I didn’t care. I couldn’t care. And Sans, you were only protecting them. You were doing what I should have done. I’m so sorry.”

Sans teetered between accepting and refuting the apology. Then, he turned his eyes away, content to do neither.

Asriel nodded knowingly.

“There’s no excuse for what I did,” he said. “I hurt you. I hurt so many people. Friends, family, bystanders . . . I understand if you can’t forgive me.”

Your heart sank to recognize his words. You knew what he planned to do and what it meant. Like every time before, he would break the barrier and return to the Underground’s depths while the rest of monsterkind walked on sandy beaches under a bright blue sky. You would forgive him, and it wouldn’t matter.

“You’ll do great,” he said quietly. “They believe in you.” His eyes drifted to Sans. “Both of you. Whatever you do . . . don’t give up.”

As Asriel’s young form ascended with mounting energy, Sans rejoined your side.

When he had broken the barrier in the past, Sans only experienced the sensation of a colossal power falling around him. Every time, a great, bright light had enveloped him and when he opened his eyes, their long-coveted freedom waited just ahead. To be here, standing among every soul accumulating with fervor, radiating like the sun, streaking through the darkness like new stars—the vision was nothing short of phenomenal.

He rested a hand on your shoulder. His eyes stared into the lights with the same enamoration you had felt roaming the magical streets of New Home. The instant you looked into his face, this moment that had become one of sadness came alive again. You smiled, thankful to share this with him, grateful to have him by your side.

As the barrier shattered into a thousand pieces, Sans’ rapture twisted into dark apprehension. The sight shook you. Shouldn’t he be happy?

Before you could ask him what was wrong, that familiar brightness overtook you more quickly than it ever had before and spat you out from this nightmare into the real world once again.

Your souls burst from Asriel like a flying fish from the water. They rocketed through the air in search of home, spinning around each other like sparklers in a gush of red glitter. Then, they found their marks. They took off like shooting stars, straight toward their empty shells.

The sound of his name called Sans back to life. It sounded spoken at a distance, shrilly, and in dramatic sobs begging him to wake up. The words grew louder until bouncing around his skull. He squirmed in a pair of bony arms that gripped him far too tightly.

“can’t . . . breathe,” he wheezed. He tapped out faintly, three slaps to the dirty, broken floor. “bruh . . .”

“SANS!” screamed Papyrus.

Sans gasped as his brother unsealed the vacuum in his ribcage. He coughed and gagged.

“FINALLY!” Papyrus wiped frantically at his face. “LAZYBONES. ALWAYS NAPPING.”

Sans blinked up at him from his lap, color rising. “were you cryin’?” he asked.

“NO!” said Papyrus. “I DON’T CRY! I JUST . . . CAUGHT SOMETHING IN MY EYE.”

A smile crept onto Sans’ face to recognize this age-old exchange. “what did you catch?”

“TEARS!”

Sans chortled, and Papyrus’ haughty façade quickly crumbled to join him. Skull to skull, arms around each other’s necks, their laughter came from a place much deeper than humor. It echoed through the overfilled halls until every monster in the Underground knew just how happy they were to be alive and together again.

As their voices calmed to smiles, Sans fondly rubbed the smooth bone of his brother’s skull, the same way as he had when the stalk was only a bean. On an average day, Papyrus would have protested, but things were different now.

Sans tallied his friends. They had flocked together around Asgore’s fresh hole in the wall, where he had sheltered your empty body. His relief dissipated. He climbed out of Papyrus’ arms and scrambled through rocks, debris, and cracked hallway floors. Just inside the group, he tripped and fell over his own shoelaces, but that did not stop him. He elbowed his way to the front past Undyne and Asgore on his knees.

Hardly a breath stirred your chest, though subtleties of that new color had returned to your cheeks. A fresh breeze tickled your skin and sunlight glimmered across you with true, unabated warmth. Birds whistled a disjointed chorus into your ears. Though your new name danced around your head in many voices, only one drew you out from the reverie.

“frisk? frisk!” Sans snapped his fingers in front of your eyes. “c’mon, kid. don’ scare me any more than you gotta.”

You pushed his hand away. “Back up or get chucked on,” you gulped. You rolled over and buried your head in your arms, fighting the urge to expel your guts all over the broken floor. Your vision swam. As the memory of today’s events unfolded behind your eyes, however, you bolted upright and swung your head around.

“The barrier,” you said.

“Broken,” Toriel answered, gently brushing the hair off your forehead, “with thanks to you . . . Frisk.”

Her touch had felt different, familiar and knowing, timid and shaking. In the dampened, ocean-salted fur of her cheeks bled an aching recognition. Without doubt, she saw the truth of who you really were, even if she didn’t understand it. You opened your mouth.

“Mom?”

Every face turned toward the flower bed.

Sans’ clenched your shoulder, then, trepidly, he helped you stand. Your eyes, so bright, so nearly crimson, widened to brand this sun-crisped sight on the inner pages of your soul. Your determination swelled red hot until overflowing.

There, among emerald leaves and amber petals, stood Asriel.

He looked just as he had the day you met, daylight burning in a familiar halo off pale white fur. His hands, small, frightened, and confused, held his attention. One paw retracted to clutch his heart, as if something unexpected resided there, as if for the first time he felt alive and whole and real.

“Why am I . . . here?” he asked breathlessly. “What is this inside me? Who . . .”

A moment of awestruck silence filled the passage. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Sans burst out laughing. He chuckled like a pull string doll, arms clutching his stomach with relief and joy and perhaps a slightly twisted sense of humor. Papyrus raised a cold hand to slap him upside the head but before he could, Sans pointed a bony finger at Asriel.

“you stole your own soul, you idiot,” he laughed.

Asriel blinked. “Huh?”

Before he could slip in another word, you had flung your arms around him and tumbled him down into a knot. Leaves, pollen, and petals burst into the air as if to punctuate the act, or perhaps to celebrate it. You nuzzled into the bright fur of your long lost friend, your brother, here, alive, saved.

Toriel and Asgore soon rushed into the fray. How they felt about each other didn’t matter. Their children had returned. Their children were alive. They sobbed and smiled and questioned reality, but whatever the truth, none of you wanted it to end. You lay there happily engulfed, your lost family whole again at last.

Soon your friends had piled in to create a pile of bones and scales and fur. Undyne, Alphys, Papyrus . . . you opened your eyes to look for Sans.

He stood apart, hands pocketed. Though he hadn’t followed, his pinprick eyes watched you fondly over a smile never stronger, never truer. At that moment you knew: it was Sans who had walked your brother home. Somehow, he had discovered the answer and followed through . . . for you. Thankful tears filled your eyes. You should have never doubted him. You outstretched your hand and called his name. He took a bashful step forward.

Suddenly, he froze. Deep below his feet, seismic shudders warped and churned. Their volume and intensity expounded until stones quivered by the soles of his shoes. His phone vibrated, clattering against his phalanges in a life or death intelligence check against the dungeon master. The results snuffed the lights from his eyes. His smile ran away screaming.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“we have to go,” he breathed.

Asgore rose from the pile. “Sans, what is happening?” he asked.

Sans snatched your outstretched hand and pulled you from the tangle as well. To Asgore, he said, “everybody needs to leave the underground, now.” His eyes dashed wildly through a mist of sprinkling dust. Hairline cracks were spiraling through the floor, walls, and ceiling, still deciding where best to split apart. “we’re outta time. come on, kid, we gotta move.”

When Sans began running with you in the opposite direction, Toriel launched to her feet with dismay. She clung to Asriel, eyes wide with fright. “Where are you taking them?” she cried.

“trust me!” Sans called back, though regret speared his throat. “run!”

The royals' leap of faith became easier as dirt worked itself loose from the overhead stones in silver drapery. Asgore's booming voice ushered everyone out, a more effective siren than Sans’ quiet cello.

Halfway into the rumbling Core, you still clung to his hand, afraid but trusting. “Where are we going?” you finally asked. “Sans, why are we going the other way?”

Sans flinched as he tried and failed a third time to take a shortcut. The atmosphere swam with an increasing disregard for all laws of physics. The pathways jittered as if each step could fall through or fly away. Thankfully, their footing remained stable, even if deja vu ran their heads ragged.

“when i was in the void,” Sans explained through huffs of breath, “dings said the rift was on the verge of bustin’ wide open.”

The two of you broke from the Core into MTT Resort. Mettaton’s statue lay in pieces, and you splashed through its rippling puddle on the marble floors. As you hurried onward, Sans quickly urged what lingering monsters remained to flee the underground.

The world trembled more ferociously the farther you traveled.

“one more broken barrier and he couldn’t hold it back anymore.” He led you down the stairs, across Hotland’s quickest path. “but the machine in the basement can stop it.”

You passed the Lab. A hard crack split that edifice down the middle and southward through the plateau. Hot steam billowed threateningly out the fissures, which you dodged following Sans’ deft footsteps. The heat nearly blistered you; no doubt the smallest misstep would have seared straight through your boots. At a glance down the stairs, you could see that the River person was no longer present—and neither was the river.

Just before reaching the cave to Waterfall, an explosion threw you viciously to the cooling ground, where you collided with Sans in a helpless pile. The two of you turned back to the Lab in horror.

The building hovered in pieces, slowly lifting in an arc from its shattered foundation. The surrounding earth collapsed into the bubbling lava, splashing and steaming as if a volcano had erupted. A hollow in the molten rock folded inward below an accordion of walls and floors, eaten whole by a crisp fracture slicing reality like a shattered mirror. The Rift was expanding.

“to your feet, kid!” Sans barked.

You scrambled out from your shock and kicked off the ground to follow him.

“I thought you couldn’t fix it!” you shouted above the crackle of earth that chased you.

“dings told me what i was missing,” Sans answered.

“Which is . . . ?”

He hesitated. “i’ll show ya when we get there.”

Clouds of dark mineral dust showered down from the quaking ceiling. Around your feet, ancient crystals and loosened stone scattered and jostled as if you sped through a rock tumbler. Together you struggled through chaos and occasional monsters running past. You wondered if you should warn them about the rift awaiting them.

Sans guided you through a field of glowing mushrooms, which flickered and faded and illuminated again as if time itself combed their stems. You jumped rivers, slipped between waterfalls, cut corners through unfamiliar caves. He knew this place better than you ever did.

The cold air nipped at your ankles first. Then, the yawning mouth to Snowdin glittered bright with a blinding cloud of stirred snow. Relief like the scent of familiar incense curled around you a second too soon. Cracks rocketed into ravines in the stone above. They shot ahead to the far opening, where the cavern arch began to give way.

Sans' fingers finally sparked with blue. He set his teeth.

“hold on tight,” he said.

Just as the ceiling snapped and transmuted into plunging rubble, a shocking cyan portal scooped you up and spat you out into a dark room.

Cold tile pressed against your human skin, and the scent of earthen mildew crawled through the air. The basement. A nearby clatter told you Sans already searched for the light switch.

Under that single fluorescent bulb, there was no hiding his panic. The distant tremors were growling slowly louder, only minutes behind you. Though the earth had yet to tremble here, the sound alone quaked his bones. His shaking hands missed the outlet twice before plugging in the machine.

“Sans,” you said.

He tore back the curtain. That roughened, scorched jumble of metal hardly saw light before his left hand slapped the power switch on its side. It groaned to life with opposition, but once it got used to the idea, it hummed a steady note. The frequency curdled your blood.

“Sans,” you repeated.

His fingers trembled on the keyboard with hesitation, then dashed across the keycaps faster than you could type. Pixels on the screen scrolled through data more quickly than could be read. Its signs and symbols matched the ones you had seen him use when scanning for anomalies: stars, bombs, skulls . . . hands.

“SANS,” you snapped.

Finally he turned to you, though his head hung low on his neck.

For a moment, nothing but tremors, magic, and electricity shuddered the air. Your hair felt to stand on end.

“Why am I here?” you croaked.

This made no sense. It went against everything you knew about Sans to drag you back into the fray. If the Underground were truly moments from collapsing, he should have urged you out with the others. The puzzle had been clicking together, but the missing pieces hid in his pockets.

A hundred emotions crossed his face, emotions he had once guarded from you behind a grinning mask. You couldn’t decide which was worse. He skirted around the back of the machine, where he pried open a dusty compartment. Inside were an empty reservoir and a fogged out fuel gauge that rested on zero.

“thought this was for regular ol’ magic,” he said quietly. “heh . . . putting gas in the diesel tank ‘s what i was doin’.”

You eyed him uneasily.

After a long, long second, he met your stare guiltily.

“it doesn’t need magic or electricity, or gas or diesel neither,” he said. The words left him distraught. “it needs . . . you.”

Your eyebrows tried to touch. “I don’t understand.”

“determination!” he nearly burst. His arms spread wide as if to take flight. “a mighty heaping helping of bloody red determination.”

The statement didn’t strike you as worrisome until you saw just how upset it made him. He paced back and forth, breathing fast like a racehorse. His hands balled into fists until they shook and dug their knuckles into his forehead. Blue magic leaked from his left eye.

The realization snuck up behind you. Even if the lab hadn't been destroyed, Alphys had already run through most of her supply treating fallen monsters who would become amalgamates. Only siphoning from a source could supply determination now--directly from a human soul. You had no idea what that meant for you, but by the way Sans acted now . . .

“stars fucking damn it!” he snarled.

He braced himself against the machine and kicked it once, twice, three times. Then he gripped the corners more gently, and his shoulders heaved.

The tremors were growing louder.

“kid, it could kill you,” he breathed through a mess of tears. He pressed his forehead to the metal. “you could die and even then it might not be enough to work.”

Plaster and dust exhaled from the ceiling.

“but the rift doesn’t care,” he went on. “it won’t stop with the underground or the surface. if we let it go, sooner or later . . .”

Your heart skipped into your throat.

“i don’t know what to do,” he said. He slumped to sit in front of the temporal flux manipulator and cradled his face in his hands. Angry tears slipped through his phalanges. “i’m sorry.”

You watched him shudder under that impossible weight. Your eyes lifted to the splintering ceiling. Your ears turned to the quaking earth. Your tongue tasted dust in the air. Your nose breathed the scent of dirt and magic. Your mind raced with everywhere you had been, everything you had seen, everyone you had met and learned to love.

Sans felt your human warmth draw near. Behind his fingers, a brightening glow of red permeated the bone. His face twisted alongside his heart in knots.

Your soul pirouetted above your hands just as it had for Asgore, only this time no self-sorry streams decorated your cheeks. A smile lingered instead, melancholy but determined.

“frisk, no,” said Sans. He took your wrists and pushed them back toward your chest. “i can’t make you do this.”

“You’re not making me do anything,” you said.

“there’s no tellin’ what’ll happen,” he said quickly. “even if it works, we could go back before the barrier was broken and never get out again. whole thing could rewind to the day we clipped the timeline.” Pain clutched his eye sockets. “you and asriel . . . you two could stay dead.”

“What about your brother?” you asked.

Sans grimaced and blinked another swell of tears from his eye sockets. “there’s a chance,” he said, “maybe the only chance in the world he’ll come back. but it could kill him too. truth be told . . . we’re flyin’ blind.”

Your bright red heart bled for him in your hands. You knelt down only a breath away. “You saved my brother,” you said. “Let me try to save yours.”

Sans shook his head miserably. He still clung to your wrists, though faintly, barely holding on.

The basement floor’s ceramic tiles began to separate and collide, spitting up caulk and crumbs of stone. Flakes of plaster landed on your shoulders and in your hair.

“We’re running out of time,” you said as calmly as you could when your heart rattled your ribs like prison bars. “It’s either some of us, or none of us. That’s the choice, Sans.”

He hung his head, knowing it to be true.

“I’m determined to do this,” you said. The corner of your mouth twitched into a knifelike smile. “You can’t stop me.”

As he searched your eyes, his soul swelled with conviction, burning hot and red like engine coals. He faltered then, mind rushing with a thought he hadn’t considered, a truth he hadn’t faced until dying repeatedly at the fiery claws of a bitter demon. Determination: the power to stay alive, to undo death, to spool back time until you hit that god damn bullseye.

“and i’m determined not to let you die,” he said.

He flattened a hand to his chest, then tugged out his soul by an invisible string. Though scars clenched its shell in a thousand barbed teeth, it burned brighter than the North Star. A brilliant red overtook most of its form, more vivid and overwhelming than he expected, even if the edges whitened like frosted glass.

The sight of it overwhelmed you. Never had you seen a soul like this. Never had you imagined his to be so hauntingly beautiful.

He lifted you to your feet and pulled you close. The walls around you were crumbling, but your souls hummed strong and true.

“i promised to see ya through,” his voice lilted into your ear. “so let’s do this together.”

The moment you understood what he planned to do, you shook your head adamantly. “No, you can’t,” you said.

“yes, i can,” he insisted. “ya always try to do everythin’ yourself. just this once . . . let me help you.”

Suddenly, there it was: the truth you had been denying since the start. It had never been the resets at the core of what hurt him. What had truly wedged you apart had been your drive to shoulder everything like a lone wolf. When you had first decided to rewind the clock, you had done it without a word to anyone. When you had sought to save Asriel, you had pursued it alone. Even when Sans had finally forced your hand, you had resisted his aid at every step. It had crushed him to dust. It had broken bridges in Waterfall. It had cast him into the void. It had nearly driven you to darkness, until once again he had reached out into the encroaching night and saved you.

You held on a moment longer despite the urgency raining down in gray clouds. If he didn’t make it, you wanted to remember how it felt.

“Okay,” you said.

Programs sequenced into action with a few more entries into the data pad, which shuddered the machine into a readying hum. He tied your souls to those machinations in ways you didn’t quite understand: magic threads both warm in the pit of your soul and cold where they spooled into the darkness of an empty chamber.

He lifted his hand to rest on that all too familiar lever and stilled to find yours already there. You smiled confidently, ready with a single nod. His grip gained courage, and together, you pulled down into gear. Lines of data poured down the cracked monitor. The earth beneath you shook harder. A ravine split through the ceiling. Everything went white and still.

NOTES

One more chapter and then epilogue. :') We're nearly there.

Thank you so much for reading.

< Load | RESET | Continue >

#undertale #undertale fanfiction #frisk #sans #fanfiction #rift #ut #papyrus #fanfic #undertale fanart #asriel #chara

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ratsoh-writes · 2 months

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There is this new curse that makes people tell only the truth when it comes to good and positive feelings, preventing them from hiding them and not saying anything.

Dealer's choice of the cursed skeletons and maybe some secondary characters

Marcelo: he handles the curse with grace and dignity… until one of his wives/husband comes in the room. Oh look at that, the business meeting is over! Unless Marcelo’s associates want to see him flirt HEAVILY with his mate/s. Before he could censor himself, but now there’s nothing holding him back lol

Papyrus: he doesn’t even notice he’s been cursed. It’s not like papyrus has ever been shy about being affectionate. He’s told all his friends he loves them before. Because he does!

Captain: oh his crew takes full advantage of captains curse. And he hates it! He keeps having to tell his crew how much he loves and appreciates them. Just because he does doesn’t mean he has to shout it out for them to hear! They should know this already!!!

Chaos: unfortunately being a chihuahua means she’s limited in how she can verbally show her love, but as chaos’ main mode of communication involves body language, this results in some interesting events. Namely her dancing furiously every time her favorite people enter the room. Every one is confused and concerned when the dog starts doing the swan lake routine whenever willow enters the room lol

Red: oh no, oh my stars no. The positive side to this is that red against all odds has confessed to his crush his feelings. The negative side to this is that he won’t come out of his room until the curse fades now. Coward

#undertale imagines #undertale headcanons #undertale #lustfell #horrortale #seafell #underfell

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throwupgirl · 2 years

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Round One of the Autism Swagger Smackdown Tournament has ended!

Congratulations to our winners: Abed (Community), Data (Star Trek), Tina (Bob’s Burgers), Lilo (Lilo & Stitch), L (Death Note), Castiel (Supernatural), Mob (Mob Psycho 100), Nico di Angelo (Percy Jackson & the Olympians), Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender), Homura (Puella Magi Madoka Magica), Ramona (The Santa Clarita Diet), Nine (Doctor Who), Matilda (Matilda), Ferb (Phineas & Ferb), Orla McCool (Derry Girls), and Wednesday Addams (The Addams Family)! All of these beloved beholders of autistic swagger will be present in Round Two!

Sorry to our losers. I know Hannibal Lecter is jealous, because Abed ate Will Graham up by taking over 70% of the votes, and left no crumbs! Zane and Nano will be scrapped for parts. Daria and Sai will fade away, to be forgotten shortly afterwards. Mabel will be fed to her pig Waddles. Papyrus will also be fed to Mabel’s pig. Someone call Sam and Dean, so they can lock Jack Kline back up in his box. The odds were not in Katniss Everdeen’s favor when squaring up with the Ghost King, may she rest in peace. Zoro got absolutely destroyed by Zuko for some reason, so that’s embarrassing for him. Lottie can tell the future, but she didn’t foresee losing so badly to Ramona! Junie B. Jones has been sent to an early grave by Matilda. After losing to Ferb, Ice Bear’s pelt will be made into a beautiful rug. We had to shoot Fabiola like a lame horse. Violet Baudelaire’s series of unfortunate events ended tonight.

Anyway, I’ll reblog with an update once Round Two opens up!

#mosts #autism swagger smackdown tournament 2022

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thebaldchoicemachine · 3 months

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UT Haunting Souls AU (where Main Characters are haunted by the humans they have killed)... 👻 What if sometimes when the cursed monsters fall asleep, they dream of the memories of the human that they killed (including their death)? 👻 How would all the Main Characters (except Papyrus, because he didn't kill anyone) react to seeing the humans' memories inside of their own dreams?

(the au in question)

Toriel - She'd wake up every day with tear streaks down her face. She's used to nightmares and guilt, so doesn't think much of it. Subconsciously she believes it's punishment for her failures.

Sans - He becomes mostly confused. Why is he having dreams about humans picking on him? A human mother kissing him goodnight? Going to watch humans box and feeling excited about it? Why is he seeing that human in the mirror? He's "too lazy to think about it." (RE: repressing the hell out of it)

Undyne - As soon as she realizes what is happening, she attempts to swear off sleep. (who needs sleep when you can suplex boulders instead?) She doesn't confront her own guilt lightly.

Alphys - At first, she's just curious. Her kill was extremely detached from the human after all. Maybe these dreams are what give her the idea to extract DT from the souls in the first place. Eventually, things take a turn for the worst and she realizes what is actually happening. (maybe after the amalgamates). Her and Undyne unhealthily binge anime together in attempts to stave off their dreams.

Mettaton - He dreams of a lovely, ordinary world but wakes up in absolute agony/misery. I don't think he'd be emotionally smart enough to figure out what his subconscious is trying to tell him. He instead wants desperately to get to this world. He dreams of being a star among humans. He also adds a cooking show session to his series. Basically trying to scrape that feeling he has before he wakes up.

Asgore - He becomes uncharacteristically angry. The kind of anger that comes in short bursts like stars when you just physically can't handle any more pain. It fades almost instantly upon waking but the fear that sparks it remains.

#👻 anon #hauntings au #undertale #undertale au #thearchives

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glitterytrashcan · 8 months

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Papyton first kiss.

(No clue if this will go well but lets go!)

Stars fill the night sky as the last tinges of orange and pink fades from view. Mettaton and papyrus lay on a soft blanket sprawled out in the grass under the moon.

This date had Been a surprise for papyrus. Dinner at sunset and then stargazing. This wasnt their first date and hopefully it wont be their last. Mettaton had come to truly love the precious skeleton by his side. Admiring him under the stars made that admiration grow. He's just so sweet and perfect.

Papyrus had chosen the last date and as their agreemant stands he will be choosing the next one though... He's not quite sure he can beat this. He's going try his hardest to wow mettaton in return.

He feels mettatons gaze and after a moment turns to his botfriend watching his face turn pink upon gettibg caught.

"Is something the matter mettaton? You were staring at me again."

"No nothings wrong papy dear just... Admiring how beautiful you are and the way you look at the stars." Mettatons soft voice makes the skeleton turn orange with embarrassment. He's still getting used to mettatons genuine compliments.

"I well! You look- uhm..."

Papyrus noticed the look mettaton was giving him. Its a new one one he doesnt know of the top of his head and watches as ton leans closer.

"Papyrus may i- uh.. Can i kiss you?"

This question had caught paps off guard. He was always insecure of the idea of ton wanting to kiss him and his lack of lips. He cant really smooch back, but everything in him says yes, "yes you can..."

Papyrus was pleasantly surprised when the softest touch of rons hand caresses his jaw before the kiss. He may not be able to kiss back but papyrus has decided he wants mettatons kisses at all times if they all feel this nice.

Mettaton feels papyrus lean into him and puts a little more into the kiss pulling papyrus slightly closer. Their souls are glowing enough to make their own littke sunset.

When ton does pull away hes smiling, not the fake one his genuine lopsided grin. "Not bad?"

"N-not bad! Pl-please do it again.."

(My attempt at fluffy romantic first kiss)

#mettaton #mettaton x papyrus #papyton #undertale mettaton #undertale papyrus #first kiss

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stainedglassthreads · 2 years

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Pretty sure it’s been done to death before, but it’s still so interesting comparing soul colors to how the monsters are colored.

Toriel and Asgore use the most purple in their respective designs. They’ve both lived through immense amounts of tragedy, and done their best to persevere, and stick to morals or duty, respectively. Asgore also has some yellow in his design, he’s trying to deliver the monsters the Justice that they expect from him, but it’s no longer his primary desire. (I actually headcanon that the walls of New Home used to be painted bright yellow, but after Chara and Asriel’s death the color faded to grey. Both to reflect how the Underground lost hope, but here it could also be Asgore growing tired of war and justice and vengeance, only wanting to see his family again.)

Meanwhile Alphys’ primary color is Justice. And a lot of people might think that’s a pretty strange choice for her. She’s a bad person, some might say. She created the Amalgamates, kept them in the True Lab, and lied to their families. But one could possibly say that she did all of that BECAUSE she had a strong sense of Justice.

Alphys is a flawed person, but I believe she does have a pretty strong sense of morality, and right and wrong. And that’s part of her problem. She KNOWS she’s done wrong, and because she has such a strong morality, she judges herself very harshly, but fears others will do the same-- or even moreso. So she begins to lie, to buy herself time, but there’s nothing she can do with her very limited resources, so she instead keeps building and building people’s reactions to her in her mind, and worsening her anxiety and depression.

She is a better critical thinker than most of the Underground in some ways, though. Most of the Underground accept that humanity is composed of monstrous people, and even those that do believe humans can be good people still want to collect the seventh soul, either so they can see the stars, or for the fame and prestige associated with capturing a human. Even Papyrus, the kindest and most idealistic monster, wants to assist in capturing you. Even Mettaton, who genuinely loves and admires humanity, still wants to take Frisk’s soul for his own purposes.

Alphys stands apart, as one of the only monsters who’s never met a human, but of her own volition does her best to actively assist one in evading capture. Yes, she has some selfish motivations in wanting to play out her dreams of being a hero, but everyone in Undertale is a bit selfish. As I said, Papyrus wants to capture a human to become popular, and yes, he does know what death is and that his boss wants the human dead.

Alphys is perhaps, besides Toriel, the only major character who both loves humanity and wants to keep the Royal Guard from capturing Frisk. (I’m not counting Sans because it’s hard to tell how serious he is about ‘you’d be dead where you stand.’ I don’t think he’d kill Frisk the second they leave the ruins, but who knows.)

Then there’s the stuff with the Amalgamates. The more I think about this, the more I realize... I think Alphys’ biggest problem is that she prioritizes people’s happiness so much. She really does. She specifically says it would be better if Asgore didn’t see the tapes, because she knows they’d hurt him even worse. And I think the biggest reason she was so stressed about the Amalgamates and lying about them was... she had already told the families that everyone had woken up fine, and had in that case been made a liar by unpredictable circumstances. She didn’t want to deliver anything less than the happy ending she promised them, and so stalled, lied, delayed, and begun to judge herself more and more harshly for lying, for failing the Amalgamates and their families, until she hit rock bottom and found herself in Waterfall, overlooking the abyss.

Alphys has a sense of right and wrong. And she knows better than anyone else when she does wrong. But because she’s such a harsh judge of herself, she feels the people she’s failed will be just as harsh-- or even moreso. So, trash that she is, she lies and scrambles to fix things, and sometimes she lies more to make herself feel better, feel like a hero, and she’s also helping the human not die, isn’t she? Maybe everyone can win!

But it’s not that simple. Sometimes, despite your best intentions, you just can’t tackle all these problems alone. And Alphys can’t. Sometimes, as scary as it is, the best thing you can do is come clean to everyone around you and try to deal with the fallout together. And Alphys does do that, too. She does it with Frisk and Undyne’s support in True Pacifist, and when things get really, really bad, she does it in the oft-overlooked Queen Alphys ending, too.

Side-note. But what with all the evidence supporting that Determination may be golden instead of red... it’s also interesting that Alphys, the character most heavily involved in the DT experiments, is a yellow lizard. Not quite the same color, but fittingly close.

#undertale #undertale meta #undertale analysis #toriel #asgore #asgore dreemurr #alphys #how did this become an alphys analysis post

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ivyprism · 1 year

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Solaris: Delphinus is okay. Kioko: She's okay? She said she was going to break my legs! And don't tell me she didn't mean it, okay?! 'Cause she gave me the mackerel eyes, she meant it! Solaris: Kioko, Delpinus threatened me. She threatens Oberon every day. She probably threatened Cygnus before breakfast this morning. It's what she does. ------- @kioko-noodles / @kiokodoodles

#incorrect quotes?#correct quotes?#incorrect quotes #i dunno #the fading stars #the fading stars papyrus #the dying stars skelesona #the dying stars #the fallen stars #the fallen stars papyrus #the fading stars sans

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magic-hcs · 2 years

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*slams hands on table*

It's angst time!

The couple has their first big argument and in the heat of the moment skele says some hurtful things while hurting s/o physically too, if you're not comfy with a slap, then maybe a shove. s/o only holds the painful spot and looks at them heartbroken and fear in their eyes before turning around and silently walk away from them, hiding the building tears. 💔

With Charon, Red, Syrup and one of your choices!

*rubs hands together evilly* good idea anon. Let’s make these boys suffer😈

Warnings: shouting, cursing, arguments, hurtful words, pushing, mention of not being able to breathe for a moment, angst

Red: UF sans

Syrup: US papyrus

Charon: UF papyrus

Razzle: SF Sans

Let’s cast some magic and see what we’ll get! ✨

✨✨

Red: “shuddap with yer fucking ‘everything is going to be fine’ attitude! stars, how’d i ever see something in ya, yer so god damn annoying.”

Red feels his soul ache the moment he said it. It started to crumble as he saw the hurt and unshed tears inside your eyes. He didn’t mean it, he regretted it the moment the words left his teeth. Red wants to take them back and move to hold you, afraid that if he doesn’t you’ll leave forever. But that side of him has been shoved in the back while the anger has taken the front row seat. And it was unwilling to relent its control to the more sensible part of him. It had been itching to take the wheel with every little mistake that happened today.

“Y-you…you can’t mean that…surely.” Your voice is so quiet Red almost didn’t hear it. The anger has left you as you tried to mostly reassure yourself that this wasn’t true. The sensible part of Red noticed the subtle movement of your arms going to hug yourself. Red feels as if he’s surrounded by an ocean of dark, heavy water. It’s dragging him down ever deeper into its abyss, he’s suffocating with no way to correct the wrongs.

Red had never hated himself that much then right in this moment.

“keep telling yerself that, sweetheart.”

Red stands corrected.

He wanted to punch himself. Restrain himself. Anything to stop the lies he hears coming from his own voice. He doesn’t want to listen to it anymore, and goes to cover his non-existent ears. Becoming surprised when he finds himself actually covering the sides of his head. The lies have stopped and Red feels relieved. Until he sees your face.

Your lips had been moving, and a hand had been placed on his shoulder. The concern and sadness in your eyes and expression faded away into hurt. Before that hurt transforms into guilt for half a second, and then anger.

You had been talking.

Red feels your hand clenching just a bit tighter on his shoulder. Magic is crackling in the air. His next action was a reflex.

“don’t fucking touch me!”

Red’s eyesockets widened as he watched in slow motion how your body got engulfed by a dark red hue. He wasn’t fast enough to stop his arm from swinging. It just took a second for the magic to respond. But once it did, Red felt his entire being go cold. Your body got slammed into the wall, hard. Red swears he hears a crunch echo throughout the room as you fell limp. The only indication that you were alive was the desperate gulps of air you took. By the fear in your eyes it was certain your lungs were unable to absorb the oxygen from the gulps of air.

Fear grabbed Red’s plummeting soul in a vice grip, jagging its claws in it and not letting go.

“babe!” Red exclaims, rushing over to help you in any way he could. His panting is erratic as he slides the last bit of distance on his knees. He goes to hold you but you slap him away. It wasn’t a slap filled with any strength, yet it was enough to render Red frozen in place. He watched you struggle to get up, watched as you finally were able to really breathe again, watched as you glared down at him, tears trailing down your face. “S-stay-“ you coughed, voice hoarse and breaking. “Stay. The. Fuck. Away from me.”

Red didn’t dare move from his position on the floor as he watches you limp out the room. Passing by the messed up cake - the cake meant to be a surprise for you - on the table. The words were misspelled, but it was an easy fix.

Unlike the unfixable mess Red just made… And all he had to blame, was himself and his short temper.

✨✨

Syrup: “Don’t you walk away from me Syrup!” You call out to him as he power walks away from his problems like always. Damn him and his long ass legs. Where’s that godforsaken air which he always trips over at the most inconvenient times when you actually need it?

“You can’t keep avoiding this problem, Syrup!”

“watch me.”

“God dammit Syrup, stop acting childish and actually listen to me!”

You grab his hand, which he snatches back almost immediately. “i’m not childish.” Now he partly faces you, waiting. His expression is troubled, a mixture of many emotions, you could make out a few of them: nervousness, frustration and ruefulness. At least he’s hearing you out now hopefully.

“What the heck was that back there?” You ask, already able to guess the answer. But it would better to hear it from Syrup himself.

He scoffs. Looking as if he’s already done with the conversation. “sibling squabble obviously, honey. you got healthy eyes dont you?” Syrups snarks. Turning to face you fully now, teeth half way parted in a sneer. His shoulders were tense, he may have had his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, but he looked ready to lunge at any moment. Like a predator - no - like a cornered animal.

You ignored the sharp pang inside your chest and the horrible twists - like a knife - turning inside your stomach. He could’ve ditched the insult in your opinion. But that’s not here and now, you could get angry and lick the wound- which was deeper then you would like to admit - later.

You tried to keep the frustration out of your voice: “That-! That was not just a sibling squabble. Whatever that was that I just witnessed, was down right vicious. To both parties involved.” Your making motions with your hands to illustrate both what you saw and what your feeling right now. Syrup is glaring down at you as he goes to stand in your personal space. “then don’t watch or stick your nose in business it doesn’t belong.” He almost growls out. Too lost in both the heat and emotions from the fight he just had with his brother and this one to think clearly.

Magic is crackling in the air like a firecracker about to explode, you don’t notice it.

“I can’t.” You hiss through your teeth, fist clenching. You feel your skin and brain boiling. “I live here too.”

“then maybe you should pack you things and leave,”

His words were a slap to the face, your left stunned in place. Eyes widened in shock and betrayal. Syrup had been the one who kept insisting that you should live with both him and his brother. He had been the one who dramatically claimed he missed you so much when you were away.

“good riddance.”

You don’t see how Syrup staggers in horror at his own words. As if not being able to believe what he just said. You don’t notice how he slaps a hand against his teeth. You only saw the color red. You don’t hear the muffled whispers forming an unfinished: “i-i, i didn’t….i’m sor-“ for the blood pulsing through your ringing ears drowns out the sound. You don’t notice you’re already storming towards him until your right in his face.

“FUCK YOU! YOU ASSHOLE!” It leaves your mouth before you register it. Your hands move on their own, pushing Syrup with all the strength you could muster, you don’t notice the tears stinging your eyes. Syrup staggers. His shocked and horrified expression turns into rage. He pushes back. But just a bit too hard, with just a bit too much magic mixed in. You’re hurled back, landing unfortunately on your side.

Everything is quiet as your gasping for breath. Once air returns you, you stumble to your feet. Tears freely flowing down your cheeks. Your body hurts, but your heart is hurting much more. You leave Syrup alone with his guilt, his grief and some last words. “Don’t think of finding me until you got your shit straight.”

✨✨

Charon: “I Do Not Understand What You’re Going On About. I Handled It.” Charon huffs while opening the door for you to walk through. You hissed out a thanks through your teeth. It was a rule the two of you had made pretty early on; even while in disagreement, you would still treat eachother with respect.

“Oh, handling it you did indeed. By losing your temper and throwing the guy through a window!” You seethed. Charon could tell by the way you paced back and forth in the room of your shared apartment that you were trying your hardest to keep your calm. He could feel his patience starting to slip as well. Grinding his teeth together before answering. “See! I Handled It!” He says while gesturing a hand towards you. “You Just Admitted It! Why Keep Bringing It Up If We Are On The Same Page!?”

You snapped your body around and moved into his space. Charon tried to move back but you followed him. “It’s the way how you handled it!” The skeleton in question glared down at the finger you used to jab into his chest. Noticing his glare you snatch your finger away as if the fabric of his clothes burned you. You looked apologetic, guilt flooded into your eyes and opening your mouth to properly apologize. But the frustration from the unfinished argument was just a bit faster. An inhuman growl and shout came out your mouth, followed by a: “Goddammit, Charon!” You put some distance between the two of you, for both your sakes. Taking a deep breath and holding it in for a second before releasing it all in one go. Pressing your fingers against your lips you stare at the floor.

Charon wasn’t fairing any better then you in the ‘keep-emotions-in-check’ sector. Feeling his magic bubble and flare with every deep breath he’s forcing himself to take. The adrenaline from the situation that had started this argument was still coursing through his bone marrow. And it didn’t do him any favors in the long run. Mind blank with the only instincts chanting to ‘strike first before being struck down’ left to keep him semi functional were unhelpful to say the least. He couldn’t think clearly, only thoughts of wanting to keep you safe running through his mind. Why couldn’t you get it? Why did you want to be such a pacifist?

You spoke up again. “What you did to that guy…” there’s a pause, you’re gathering your thoughts to form a sentence that wouldn’t trigger the both of you before continuing. “What you did…is no way we handle things here. Maybe it had been down there, but not here.” You avert your gaze, directing it to the floor. The fire within you has been put out, you looked so tired. Charon stares intensely at your exhausted form.

You would’ve been dust within seconds…

“Fucking hell, Charon. This is so fucking complicated…why couldn’t you just keep your goddamn promise for once.”

The way your voice sounded so broken set something off in Charon’s mind. Without knowing what’s he’s doing, he lunged at you. Pushing you against the wall with his hand clenched over your clothes. You stare at him with fear. But Charon doesn’t notice, terror grips at him.

‘don’t pick a fight and lose the will mid way.’

“DO NOT SPEAK LIKE THAT TO ME!”

‘never take yer eyes off the person infront of ya.’

“DO NOT AVERT YOUR GAZE!”

‘never show yer weakened state to anyone, paps.’

“DO NOT SHOW YOUR WEAKNESS TO ANYONE!”

Charon isn’t completely there. Repeating the rules Red had drilled into him since his early childhood in a desperate plea for you to defend yourself. Forgetting he’s no longer underground, but instead on the surface. Once Charon meets your eyes does he still. Your eyes were filled with fear…Fear.

Fear, not of what he was warning you for…but fear of him…you were scared of him…

He realizes he’s been holding you up in the air by your shirt, eyesockets widened in horror he snatches it back, holding his hand against his chest. He stares at it. Not hearing what you said with a hoarse voice.

An emotional massacre is raging inside Charon’s own mind. Self hate, remorse, and hurt fighting for forefront seat like rabid dogs.

He’s staggering away from you as you try to ask what’s going on. Your still willing to give him a chance, but he ruins the last sprinkle of hope all on his own.

“DO NOT COME CLOSER IF YOU VALUE YOUR MISERABLE LIFE, HUMAN.”

He hasn’t called you human ever since the two of you had the first ever deep emotional talk.

Charon could see by the look on your face that he just set fire to the last bridge the two of you painstakingly build together. And he has to close his sockets to refrain himself from taking it all back. You deserve better.

“YOUR CARING CHARADE SICKEN ME, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!”

He actually really loved how much you cared about him, despite his many unforgivable faults. He’s holding in his breath until he hears you running away. Once the door slams shut did he Charon let go. Sinking to the floor he feels his soul tremble. He automatically goes to put magic into enhancing his hearing, listening for you. Only now, your not happily giggling after receiving a goodbye kiss from him. Your weeping while running away from the house as fast as you could.

Once he can’t hear you anymore does he snap. Letting his soul take the reign it lashes out in fury, self-loathing, grief and heart-ache. The feelings tears an inhumane roar from him as bones shoot out from the ground around him. He’s destroying it all, destroying every memory, every thought of you that remained.

He sags to the floor defeated.

A little voice in his mind - once drowned out by the others- whispers to him that breaks him all over again.

What was this fight really about if not the fear of hurting and losing one another?

✨✨

Razzle: Razzle was sometimes a bit protective. You knew this very well. He even warned you about it before letting you commit to a relationship with him.

But this was going too far.

Razzle’s been refusing to let you go to work ever since the broadcast on tv, stating a terrorist group has been targeting work places similar to yours. Don’t understand wrong, you get why he would ask you to work from home when the terrorist attacks were getting near your work place. What you don’t get however, is that he still refused to let you go to work again after the terrorist attacks were getting further away from your work location.

Ok, he may be a concerned about the possibility of the terrorists coming back, fine, you’ll go along with it for another two weeks to put his mind at ease.

But then came the straw that broke the camel’s back: You were supposed to have meetings with your team online while Razzle stood in the corner like a creep overseeing the entire thing.

What the hell is going through his mind that makes that a logical course of action?

So here you are, trying to get a straight answer out of him instead of the vague statements you didn’t have any use for. It doesn’t go smoothly and both your stubbornness and perseverance caused this conversation to go down hill fast. It turned into a heated shouting match about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.

“Why are you like this!? I’m not a fragile child in need of protecting, I’m my own independent person!” You cried out in frustration. Razzle clicked his non-existent tongue in response. “HARDLY MY DEAR. YOU ARE LIKE A HEADLESS CHICKEN IN A CROWDED PLACE WITHOUT ME TO BE YOUR MAP!” Razzle sneers, rolling his eyelights. “YOU ARE LOST WITHOUT ME.”

That was a low blow even for him. He knew you got insecure about your horrible sense of directions sometimes. Was him reassuring you it didn’t bother him in the slightest - he was rather happy to aid you whenever you needed it - just a lie to make you feel better?

New fresh sadness and rage fueled your veins, your mind was racing and you shouted out the first words that came to mind.

“I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

You did not let the exact words you’ve just said sink in, nor did you wait for Razzle’s reaction - whose eyelights seemed to shrink till they became tiny dots in a black abyss, the levender color has slightly faded into a gray, his expression was that of someone who just saw their world crumble and collapse - turning to hurry away from both Razzle and this heartache.

But fear had overtaken Razzle, he was hurt, he was scared, he didn’t want you to leave. You’re one of the best things that happened to him - besides Coal and Mastiff - he couldn’t lose you like this. Never like this. Razzle hurries to follow you, reaching out to grab your arm. He didn’t know his own strength. Squeezing just a tad to hard, he ends up jagging his sharp claws into your skin. (Of all the times Razzle didn’t wear gloves, why had it to be this specific day?)

Your scream in pain renders him frozen. Snatching his hand back, staring at it as if it was something horrific. He doesn’t hear your exact words, it’s being drowned out by the deafening sound of ringing. His head snaps up to you, your almost out the door, Razzle tries to apologize but his non-existent throat is closed up. And it’s too late anyways, you slammed the door shut. The ache in his soul brings him to his knees, unable to support the weight that just got slammed into him. He doesn’t know what to do, his soul is cracking, and all he has to blame for is himself.

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction!

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twentydaysofdrabbles · 11 months

Text

The Concierge Gives A Tasting - Conclude (Part 26)

Though annoyed at the interruption, you know full well that you would have stopped soon anyway. Sans is...stars, given enough time, that man would have seduced his way into your bed.

While Sans digs in his crumpled suit jacket for his phone, you move off him slowly. One foot hits the ground, but before you can slide off his lap, he holds you fast with the hand still on your backside, a cheeky tilt to his eternal grin.

“hold on, sweetheart, this won’t take long,” he purrs up at you, having found his phone. His mischievous expression fades into one of disgruntlement when he sees who is calling him. “fuck, nevermind.”

You smile knowingly. Ah, it’s Papyrus. Yes, it might take a while.

So you slide off his lap without further hinderance, though Sans looks rather mournful now that he is bereft of your weight and warmth. You, too, mourn the loss of his firm cock and his large hands that touched you so desperately. Next time, you promise yourself.

“what?” he answers the call with an unhappy growl, slumping into the chair.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?” Papyrus’ voice rings out clearly from the phone as if he were on speaker. Which you know he is not. Stars, he’s loud when he wants to be. “YOU NEED TO GET YOUR LAZY COCCYX TO THE CONTINENTAL IMMEDIATELY.”

Sans groans, rubbing his face with a free hand, his eye lights following you around the room as you pick up some clothes and head into the bathroom. “i’m a little busy right now boss, can it wait?”

“NO IT CANNOT, YOU USELESS BAG OF BONES. IF YOU WEREN’T OUT CANOODLING WITH YOUR LATEST FLING, YOU’D KNOW THAT TORIEL’S BEEN FOUND AND ASGORE IS--”

You close the door behind you with a soft click. In doing so, Papyrus’ loud voice is immediately muted to a low drone, muffled by the walls and door to the point where you have trouble making out what he is saying.

Though you’re curious about what the King is likely to do now that he knows the former Queen is here, you have not lived this long by poking your nose into another’s business quite so obviously. You will find out through other means.

It doesn’t take you long to shower, to change into a clean set of night clothes - a loose, high necked shirt and some shorts - to come out towelling your hair dry. At last, you no longer smell like blood. Out of habit you tug on fingerless compression gloves, warm and soothing to your aching hands.

Sans is still seated where you left him, though he has finally hung up and looked like he’d rather be shot than leave the room. You smile and come up to him, resting a hand on his forearm. “Duty calls?” you ask quietly, your eyes still holding the barest of sparks.

He sighs with a nod, taking that gloved hand and lifting it to his teeth. “’fraid so,” he grumbles, nuzzling at your knuckles. His eye lights look over the dark-coloured gloves, at your fingers, your well-manicured nails, and mutters, “gloves even in yer own room...”

“Compression gloves,” you explain, letting him tug and touch it as he pleases. Though when he drags a finger over your covered scar, you shudder a little. It’s an odd sensation, dulled yet sensitive all at once. “It helps to relieve the aches and pains.”

You don’t know why you’re telling him this much - it’s more than anyone has ever gotten. Though to be fair you could count your bedmates, the ones you had after the Injury, one one hand. It’s odd that you feel so relaxed around him. Curious indeed.

Sans hums softly in response. “’s long as ya feel alright, babe.” His phalanges move to massage your hand gently, his other hand reaching out to cradle your free hand to do the same.

You can only look down in surprise at him. “What are you...” you trail off in confusion. Why is he massaging your hands? When he has somewhere to be?

The skeleton appears to take your question in his stride, shrugging lightly and leering up at you, “what, can’t a fella say thanks for the...uh...sampling?” His thumbs smooth up and over your scars, pushing the tension from your knuckles to your wrists. It’s...it feels quite good.

“No thanks needed, Sans.” You’re loathe to stop him, but he has somewhere to be and you need to lie down before you pass out from exhaustion. “As much as I enjoy your attention, were you not summoned by Mister Papyrus?”

Crimson eye lights seem to dance with smugness. “so i’m just sans now, eh?” he grins up at you, pressing both your hands to his teeth in a skeleton kiss. “and yeah, but he can wait fer a li’l longer. toriel ain’t goin’ anywhere and no one’s gonna think about breakin’ yer hotel rules. we all know what happened to the shmucks who did.”

Ah. A slip of the tongue, but it is true that behind closed doors, he’s not really Mister Sans. He’s just...Sans.

There’s no mistaking the bloodlust on Sans’ face as he remembers the events of the night prior, of this morning. You’re certain that if you came back bathed in the blood of his enemies, or yours or the Manager’s, he might not be able to hold himself back.

Hmm, an intriguing thought.

“As you like, then,” you murmur, shifting so you stand between his legs. “Although I do need to rest. As do you.” It’s been a very long two days for you, as Sans would know. And for Sans himself as well.

The skeleton just grunts into your hands that he’s still nuzzling. Then he sighs, looks at you, squeezes his knees around you to keep you in place. As if you had any intention of stepping away. “’ll be back,” he says softly, his gritty voice even lower than usual. “that sample ain’t gon’ be enough fer me.”

A soft smile spreads over your lips. Leaning down, you kiss his forehead gently. “As I intended.”

The tent in his pants has long dissipated, the crimson magic in his joints and behind his teeth receding into a low glow. Save for looking more rumpled than he had when he first entered the room, one wouldn’t be able to tell he had almost gotten lucky.

You, on the other hand, sport a few phalange-sized bruises on your backside and the backs of your thighs, alongside the round bruises over your chest. The latter Sans does not see.

He casts his eye lights over you briefly, stopping at the column of your neck as though trying to see the tattoo hidden under the fabric of your shirt.

“Next time,” you promise him, referring to your tattoo.

“‘ll hold ya to that.” Sans doesn’t look disappointed in the slightest, his eternal grin twitching upwards. “gloves off on th’ third, ya said?”

For someone who looked rather dazed throughout the...sampling, his memory works just fine. “Yes.”

Sans rumbles deep in his chest, a satisfied sound, and presses one last skeleton kiss to your hands before he pushes you away so he can stand. “a’ight, better get going before boss tears this place up lookin’ fer me,” he grumbles, his phalanges lingering on your hands as he lets you go.

“That would be entirely undesirable,” you say with an amused tinge to your voice. Your feet pad gently on the carpeted floor, taking you further away from the handsome skeleton and towards the door to see him out.

By the time you turn back around to check on him, Sans is in the middle of shrugging his jacket on, uncaring of how rumpled it is, his tie hanging loose and his top button undone. He rather looks like he’s in need of a cigar, the very picture of a man left frustrated.

That doesn’t seem to bother Sans very much, since he saunters to you without straightening any of his clothes. He must have noticed how you are looking at him, since he explains himself without any prompting, “boss already knows i’ve been gettin’ some suga’, it’d be more suspicious if i came back lookin’ all put together.”

Oh stars, you hope Papyrus doesn’t think Sans bedded you.

“nah, he wouldn’t think of ya. too professional, see,” Sans teases you, leaning in with a sly grin. “‘course, that’s the best part. yer professional till ya ain’t.”

That’s...sort of a compliment? You don’t question it though, just tilting your head in silent thanks.

The skeleton is unperturbed by your silence, ducking in to press a nuzzle to your cheek. One that invites a kiss to his teeth in turn. “see ya ‘round, sweetheart,” he purrs against your lips. “dream o’ me when ye sleep, won’t ya?”

You chuckle quietly, a hand reaching up to cradle his jaw. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Sans.” A soft kiss follows your statement to soften the blow. “Stay safe and I will see you when you return.”

There is...oh, you could have sworn you saw a flicker in his eye lights. Wide dots that shift into something oblong, into another odd shape, before morphing back into their normal shape. Hm, perhaps a trick of the light.

“...you too,” he breathes out. For a brief moment, he indulges in your closeness. As you do his. But he cannot stay for much longer, his phone summoning him with a muted buzzing. “fucken--” Sans swears under his breath, finally pulling himself away with what seems like herculean strength.

You don’t help though, not with how you stay in place, holding the door for him once he wrenches it open himself. It’s amusing to see him grumble and huff at the caller id as it pops up. And it is less amusing and more...something...when he winks at you and backs away while holding your gaze, his free hand forming the universal sign for ‘call me’ as he answers the call.

How a hardened monster of Sans’ ilk can be so adorable, you don’t know.

As you close the door behind you, locking it, you consider what you have gotten yourself into. Life is too short, but you can’t afford to make enemies either. You must be careful. Keep things under wraps as best you can.

Yes. For all your sakes.

In the silence, your fatigue returns to you like the flow of a wave. Weighing down your body, your mind, until you stagger to your bed with all the grace of a zombie. In the four walls of your quarters, with no eyes on you, safe as you can be, there is no need to cling to your professionalism. So you crawl under the covers and rip off the compression gloves, burrowing into the copious amounts of bedding and pillow and blanket alike.

The lights go out with a clap of your hands, plunging the room into darkness. And with a loud exhale, a deflating of your tense form, you melt into the bed, out like a light.

Tomorrow’s problems can wait.

#undertale fic #mafiafell au #mafiafell sans #mafiafell sans x reader #sans x reader #the concierge #ficlet #drabble #sans got cockblocked and now has work to deal with #the concierge finally gets some shut eye #and sans is so sweet oml

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riftfic · 10 months

Text

16. Together Apart

The final chapter before the epilogue.

Warnings: strong language, injury

Featured Characters: Sans, Chara/Frisk (Reader), Papyrus, Toriel

I had a really hard time choosing a moment to illustrate that wouldn't be a total spoiler, so I made this instead and buried another illustration in the chapter itself for payoff. I think the epilogue is going to have 3 illustrations? I might be a masochist.

< Load | RESET | Continue >

Drifting incorporeal beleaguered the mind like a lengthy shortcut. No breath. No sight. No sound. Sans sensed your presence near him, conjoined with a red ribbon of fate . . . or was it determination that bound you now? It didn't matter. What mattered was that you each refused to let the other go.

You recognized this sensory deprivation chamber. You had lived this way for years buried behind yellow carpals, detached from a truly compatible form. The only word that had ever come close to describing it was "limbo." It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, save for the tiresome pull at your resolve.

You could feel the time turner draining you, hungrier and hungrier. Even though your well of determination flowed ceaselessly, the machine very nearly outpaced you. Then, when the situation felt dire, Sans' soul drew its attention away and allowed your supply to replenish.

That greedy mechanism thought nothing of the lives fueling it. Just as it had guzzled down your determination, it drank dry from him. His determination did not rejuvenate as plentifully as yours; after all, he was only half the flesh and blood that grounded you. He still dusted when he fell. He still needed hope to survive. You refused to let it overdraft from him, as he had done for you.

It went on like this in an endless cycle. Whenever he nearly emptied, your determination caught fire and refilled his cup. Then he did the same for you, even if less impressively. Back and forth and back again, your collective determination fought valiantly, but slowly, steadily trickled down.

After what could have been years or seconds, that atrocity of metal and magic finally licked its lips with satisfaction. Your souls clung to one another, nearly spent, and yet determined to return to a world where you could forge ahead together. If the machine could listen, maybe it would take you there.

The white light finally dispersed into smaller and smaller fragments. The pieces drizzled in cold flakes from a crystal ceiling that looked nothing and everything like the stars. Snow. Sans stared up from where he lay and once again found it easy to imagine he soared through space. His head swam. His body felt stiff and immovable, pinned, though his arms wrapped around something warm.

He dipped out of consciousness again. Though it felt like the blink of an eye, when he woke next the snow no longer fell, and a blanket of crystal white tucked him into a sharp and crooked bed. The warmth in his arms remained, though colder than before.

He clenched his eyes shut and grimaced. A cloud of dust and mist hacked its way out his mouth. He grunted to feel something jagged snaking between his ribs. Coughing only made it worse.

He turned his faded eye lights dizzily around him. Clearly he lay in Snowdin, though where or when escaped him. It took a moment to remember what had happened before the world went white, but when it finally returned to him, he bolted upright.

ouch.

That was a mistake. He huffed a gravelly breath and collapsed back into the rubble and snow that cocooned him.

When he focused enough, he could make out what was left of the basement roof and the frame of his home in shambles. Fallen stalactites and crystals littered the ground among cracks in the earth. The machine stood resolutely where they had left it, though the lever had broken clean off and its monitor had shattered.

He found the bravery to look down into his arms.

There you lay, alive, not spirited away into an alternate universe where you remained asleep forever under a golden flower garden. You must have fallen on top of him, your head where his stomach would be, your hands also bound to his sides. Albeit nearly as buried under plaster, wood, and other rubble, you breathed easily.

"kid," he tried to say, but it hardly left him in a whisper. He shook you lightly instead.

You didn't wake.

"frisk," he managed to force through whatever was stuck in his ribs. "wake up."

Your eyelids fluttered open. Pebbles once stones sprinkled off your head as you lifted it only inches. You took the same pause he had, calculating where you were, when you were.

Sans' face split with a relieved smile when you moved. In the corner of your eye, you caught his expression and reflected it.

"We made it," you breathed with relief.

"sure did," he murmured. He coughed again and this time tasted a little magic. "shit."

"What's wrong?"

"mm . . . can't move," he hummed tiredly. "somethin's got me kabobbed in the ch . . . chest."

You also tried to sit up, but failed. The weight of what remained of his house pinned you down at the knees. You struggled just a moment longer, then dropped to rest your head against him wearily. Your soul ran nearly empty.

Sans' eyes felt heavy again. "you okay?" he murmured.

"Tired," you mumbled back. "Cold."

He nodded knowingly. The way his soul felt now, the ordeal must have pushed him just short of his limits. He couldn't imagine yours fared any better.

Slowly, painfully, he managed to free his arms from the wreckage. He pried the sleeves of his jacket off, then paused to catch his breath. Through clenched teeth, he mustered the strength to pull that indigo coat over his head amid a rain of snow and powder. He draped it gingerly across you like a blanket.

You had nearly fallen asleep again when its weight fell over you.

"don't worry, kiddo," you heard him wheeze faintly. "it's . . . gonna b . . . be . . ."

When he failed to continue, adrenaline sharpened your wits. You forced your eyes upward.

"Sans?"

He didn't answer.

You struggled upright again and pulled harder against the grave of debris gripping your legs in place. Sheets of wood and plaster slid away from you into the crossbeams of old rafters like a broken carapace. The rubble felt to cinch tighter around your legs. Just as you began to worry that moving did more harm than good, a crack and whump of falling bricks proved you right.

The sensation that something had gone terribly wrong in your left leg shivered up your spine into the back of your head. It was a pitifully late messenger, warning you of the pain now flooding you with stars and dripping eyes. You cried out and collapsed under Sans’ jacket.

After a moment of gasping and crying, you remembered he needed you. You steeled your nerves. Shaking, you began peeling away pieces of the upper floor from his torso. The last block of wood revealed a jagged chunk of metal protruding from his core, straight through the bleeding heart graphic on his t-shirt. You worked your fingers into the fabric to rip it wider and see how you could fix this.

As the shirt split open, you realized this might be beyond your power to solve. The beam skewered his cavity at an angle from shoulder to hip, where it disappeared into that mess of a foundation. Though it had thankfully done its best to pass between the bone rather than through it, harsh abrasions tore across his ribcage and spine. A hairline fracture split three ribs and his collarbone where they met the sternum. His soul rested against the metal rod, slowly trickling cyan blue down the shaft. Its red interior had all but faded away, down to a faintly warm center. Its ruthless scars nearly faltered you.

You wrapped your trembling fingers around the icy metal and tugged outward slowly. Though he could not tell you if it hurt, the way his ribs clung to the rod and groaned like splintering wood gave you pause. Hadn’t you learned? What if moving it only made things worse?

You let go, and not entirely because you had meant to. Pain and weariness had surged in time to your pull on that harpoon, and the moment you braced to try again, you couldn’t hold onto anything anymore.

Every time you were aware enough to know it, you felt colder. At some point you must have slipped your arms into the sleeves of Sans’ coat and pulled the hood over your head. It slowed the inevitable chill that deepening pile of snow exhaled down your neck, but did not impede it altogether. You shivered, extremities tingling, numbing, burning.

You couldn't tell how much time passed. Nothing seemed to stir the air but the occasional flurry and the cold cave’s natural draft. The Underground sounded empty, and it very well could have been. The only comfort you found was in feeling Sans' bony body still lying whole beneath you, not dust, though not breathing either. A reassuring glimpse showed you that his soul no longer hemorrhaged magic, even if it glowed a little more dimly than before.

In hours or days, voices finally stirred you back to the waking world through a thick fog. A warm light behind the wreckage mound flickered, tinting the darkness red.

You opened your mouth but nothing came out. You were too tired, too weak. To your relief, they found you anyway. Your vision swam as if that fire rounding the corner were a mirage. You recognized Grillby, leading Papyrus and Undyne through the dark among several more monsters and . . . humans?

A flurry of sound rattled your head, difficult to parse when fading in and out of consciousness as you did. You picked out tense voices, the whirring of machinery, the hum of magic, the crunch and shuffle of loose debris as it was thrown around and stomped. Suddenly you could breathe better. Suddenly you were warmer, safer, bundled in arms of fire that sank deep into your skin with purpose. The pain in your leg had dulled, though your head and mouth felt like cotton in exchange.

Through the din of screeching metal, you heard a hard, ironclad snap. You watched two firelit silhouettes carefully set aside a long metal rod stained blue and red. A glow of green illuminated Undyne’s scowling face from below. She was crouched over Sans, grumbling insults and curses under her breath. You listened to her mutter something about the damn skeleton not knowing how to stay in one piece for five seconds.

“. . . It’s . . . okay,” breathed a crackling voice overhead.

You lifted your eyes to a pair of glasses over an expressionless wall of fire. You noticed that colors like blue and wine red accented Grillby’s flames in a way you’d never seen before—not that you had spent much time with him outside a few weekends and nights Sans visited with friends.

“. . . He’s going to . . . make it,” he hissed. A pop and flurry of golden sparks punctuated his sentence. “. . . You’re both . . . safe now.”

You hadn’t known you needed calming until those words spread through your soul like honey in hot tea. You breathed and relaxed, and in his arms you fell asleep more deeply than you had since lying in your old bed at the foot of Mount Ebott.

Through a third story window in Fresco Community Regional Hospital, North Medical Plaza, sunlight dappled in rays through palms and the near branches of a flowering tree. Birds chirped and twittered in an array of calls, from mockingbirds to sparrows and goldfinches. The occasional roll of tires on concrete, a humming engine, or voices outside the door buzzed gently through the air.

Sans smelled the sterile saline-and-lemon scent of the hospital room first, a human phenomenon he hadn’t come to terms with as a monster. It bit at his sinuses, tart and bitter. Next, he felt the warmth of sunlight gently burning against his skull, dying the vision behind his closed left eye red like rose-tinted glasses. Too optimistic, he thought. He inhaled and winced.

A rustle of paper to his right forced him to open his eyes.

His gaze slowly circled the room with equal parts confusion and amazement. This was the surface; he couldn’t deny it. Humans had such a recognizable way of adorning public spaces, and while bland, the sight glittered to him now like gold.

His ribs had been sutured and bandaged with hospital grade healing cloth, and his right arm crossed his midriff in a taut sling. Behind the semi-upright angle of his bed, machines that integrated human and monster technologies monitored his health. A drip of magic fed down a tube to his very soul, which felt full and satisfied. Strange, he thought, but not nearly as strange as the stacks upon stacks of flowers, various plant arrangements, and other get-well pleasantries stuffed into his room. He glimpsed notes from Doggo, Grillby, MK and his family, Shyren, Alphys . . . he swallowed the bashful flush sneaking onto his face.

After traveling from these gifts to the open window curtains to the television screen airing rerun morning game shows, his eye light finally came to rest beside his white-sheeted hospital bed.

Papyrus sat cross-legged in a small armchair, immersed in a book of advanced sudoku puzzles. He wore fairly ordinary if gaudy human clothing: a snap-back cap embroidered with the meant-to-be-ironic statement, “full of life,” under a cartoon skull; a short sleeve button up with meatballs patterned on the left half and spaghetti graphics swirling on the right; the baggiest sweatpants Sans had ever seen; and Crocs absolutely littered with Jibbitz. Sans had known Papyrus to wear this sort of outfit on the surface before, but it had taken years to develop this much coordination behind it—and hadn’t he been the one to introduce him to sudoku, at a much simpler level no less? His face compressed as if this information tasted how the air smelled.

“you missed a three,” he muttered hoarsely. “row two, box one.”

Papyrus narrowed his eyes searchingly at the puzzle blocks, and then sighed. “REALLY, SANS, HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I ASKED YOU NOT TO SOLVE MY PUZZLES FOR ME? IT TAKES ALL THE FUN OUT OF IT!”

He nearly spasmed out of his seat, then, as if struck by lightning. His book slapped the ground, and his pencil rolled away under his seat.

“SANS!” he shrieked.

Sans smiled back warmly, nervously, somewhat worried for the state of his chest if his brother decided to hug him. He quickly realized that, although Papyrus leapt forward and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, he had nothing to worry about. The hold was soft, considerate. He held him back with his left arm, even if the motion dug like a knife into his collarbone.

Toriel burst into the room not a moment later. She too wore a dress that could be found in a human department store, royal purple and patterned with large yellow flowers.

“What is going on?” she demanded, nearly frantic.

Sans smiled gleefully over Papyrus’ shoulder. He sheepishly wriggled the phalanges of his left hand in greeting.

“heh, ain’t like you not to knock, tori,” he teased.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she breathed with a purity of relief that echoed like pleasant bells around his skull. She exhaled a long, long sigh, hand on her chest, then glided to his bedside as if carried on a feather. “Thank goodness, Sans.” She slipped her arms around both brothers and rested her cheek on his skull.

Silence drifted over them comfortably.

“um,” Sans ventured as they finally set him free. “i like your new threads. heh . . . get attired o’ the old stuff?”

Toriel and Papyrus exchanged hesitant glances. Sans felt his soul twist into knots.

“IT SEEMS,” said Papyrus, “WHEN TIME, ER . . . REWOUND . . . IT ONLY HAPPENED FOR US.”

Sans’ eye sockets darkened into black pits, only in small part because Papyrus knew about time travel. “what.”

“We left the mountain to find we already had homes here,” said Toriel. She gestured to her clothing. “Belongings. Entire lives left behind, though we cannot remember them.”

“IT’S THE STRANGEST THING, LIKE OPENING A PRESENT TO YOURSELF FROM THE FUTURE!”

The statement, while optimistic, settled heavy like lead on Sans’ soul. “you don’t remember any of it?” he asked slowly. “nothing new at all?”

“THINGS ARE . . . FAMILIAR,” said Papyrus. A puzzled look crossed his face. “IS THERE SOMETHING IN PARTICULAR YOU WANT ME TO REMEMBER?”

Sans’ heart sank. He became acutely aware of Toriel’s hand petting his arm and his brother’s hand in his. He watched Papyrus’ happy yet somehow somber expression and harkened back to a day so similar, when he had awakened in a hospital bed underground one brother fewer. Papyrus had been at his side then as he was now, blissfully unaware of what he had lost.

“no,” he muttered. “suppose not.”

“The humans never forgot,” said Toriel gently. “From their perspective, we had quite literally vanished. Our homes remained empty for over six months, as if we had simply slipped away in the night without packing any bags. Some of us outright disappeared before their eyes.”

“the fuck,” Sans whispered.

“LANGUAGE.”

“how’d they deal with that?”

“Many moved on,” said Toriel. "I would have expected the rest to celebrate, but . . . they tried to find us. They scoured the city and the Underground for clues, but from their side it was abandoned. Strange, is it not?”

“I FOUND IT QUITE TOUCHING!” Papyrus said. “THEY EVEN FORMED A TASK FORCE! SOUL: SEARCH OPERATION FOR THE UNDERGROUND LOST.”

“heh, really?” Sans asked, beginning to find his humor again.

“YES, REALLY!”

“Everything is exactly as we left it,” said Toriel with a sad smile. “Likely a little dustier but . . . the activists were quite adamant about keeping our homes intact, and for that I am grateful.”

For a moment, he couldn’t think let alone respond. His left hand felt around the blankets as if searching out an emotion.

“it’s . . . exactly as we left it,” he echoed quietly. “time here . . . didn’t turn back.”

If he hadn’t been so stunned, Sans might have laughed. After all his hopelessness and despair, he wouldn’t have to rebuild his life from the ground up. He wouldn’t have to struggle as hard as he had before, and neither would anyone else. His heart pounded behind his battered ribs to know soon he would be going home, back to the small house in True Home, back to his porch swing with its perfect view of the forests and rivers below a range of mountains threatening to tear the sky in half, back to nights sandwiched on their maneater of a couch between Papyrus and . . . His joy stuttered.

“where’s Frisk?” he asked.

As if summoned, you appeared in the doorway, hobbling between a pair of children’s crutches. Your left leg had been set and wrapped in a bright blue cast from thigh to foot. Nearly every monster must have signed and graffitied its mold with paint pens and permanent ink. Above that, you wore a pale blue hospital gown and a scowl.

“What’s going on?” you demanded. “Is Sans okay?”

“Frisk, my child, what are you doing here?” Toriel admonished, albeit patiently. She hurried to you as if you might fall. “I requested that you stay behind and rest.”

“Yeah, fuck that.”

“My child!” Toriel gasped, and Papyrus’ jaw nearly dropped off his face.

Sans laughed, then, a grateful sound that had tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. His smile was so genuine that, if you hadn’t been so feisty and relieved, your heart might have fluttered away in its wind.

“i’m better than okay, now that you’re here, kiddo,” he said fondly.

Your steps were awkward, but you were determined to reach him. Nothing could stop you, not Toriel or those stupid crutches you had yet to master. At the bedside, Toriel finally relented and helped you sit on the mattress beside him. She squeezed your shoulder gently, reassuringly.

“THIS CHILD’S INAPPROPRIATE LANGUAGE IS YOUR FAULT, ISN’T IT?” Papyrus whispered, leering at his brother.

Sans attempted a sly shrug, but hissed an expletive when a stab of pain cut his collarbone.

“CASE. IN. POINT.”

“Come, Papyrus. Let us give them some privacy,” Toriel said. “They have much to discuss, of that I am certain.”

Papyrus hesitated, but when Sans smiled and pressed his hand, he agreed to follow her out. The door shut behind them with a gentle snap.

In the ensuing silence, the two of you simply took in each other’s faces, beaming like the sun you had unveiled once more. The daylight reddened your hair and yellowed the wall above Sans’ head in a steady shaft, as if to mark you both as its own. It would never let you leave again.

“you did it, kiddo,” he said as warmly as that nearest star.

The congratulations prickled color into your cheeks, and though you smiled, you shook your head. “No, you did.”

“heh, you first.”

“I think last is what matters most.”

“coming in last does sound like me,” he mused playfully. The light of his left eye twinkled and he took your hand. “let’s compromise on a good old fashioned ‘we,’ then. we did it. how’s that?”

You nodded brightly.

He sighed, resting back comfortably into the sitting angle of his mattress. That truly lazy smile, the one he had faked for so long, now pulled at his cheekbones genuine and unprompted. Oh, how you had missed it.

“get the sense i’ve been out a while,” he said. “what all have i snoozed on?”

Much had unfolded since waking nearly a week before him, and even more in the time preceding. After the barrier had broken and the rift had run rampant, the underground almost entirely collapsed. Thankfully, most monsters had already assembled in the capital to aid you. Among those trembling walls, Asgore needed no explanation to evacuate them. Meanwhile, Alphys had sent an alert to all else remaining, and monsterkind heeded her.

Not everyone made it out in time. After unpacking what Toriel and Papyrus already explained, many humans had offered their unconditional help to find you. Alongside SOUL, Asgore established HEART, the Home Excavation and Recovery Team, which worked through the ruins to rescue anyone left behind. No one would be left unaccounted for.

“There are still people they can’t find,” you said somberly, and then a happy glimmer lit your eyes, “but a few more monsters showed up that no one expected. People that had been . . . forgotten.”

Sans dared to let hope spark blue in his left eye. Through bated breath, he asked, “like . . . who?”

You wracked your brain. “I don’t know their names,” you said. “A few scientists, a businessman . . . MK’s twin sister.”

Goner Kid. The machine beside him beeped when his magic pulsed faster than it should.

“shut up, i’m fine,” he hissed and sat up straighter. “is that . . .” He hesitated, eyelight dimming. “did they find . . . anyone else?”

Your auburn eyes deepened, and it was enough of an answer. A resigned nod bobbed his head.

“They’re still looking,” you said. “I talked to dad—Asgore. He remembers now about your brother. I told him everything you did for me, and for Asriel. What you did for everyone, really. He’s grateful, Sans, like . . . tears in his eyes happy.” You tittered at your next thought. “I think he wants to knight you or something.”

Sans snorted. “no way,” he said enthusiastically. “absolutely not. he damn well pressured me enough into the old man’s judge gig; i do not have the shoulders for another title.”

“What, ‘Sir Sans’ doesn’t have a nice ring to it?”

“i am a fan of alliteration,” he answered pensively. “maybe if he can tack on an adjective, like ‘sir sans the sedentary’ or . . . ‘sir sans the science man . . . s.’”

“Sir Sans the Sensational?”

“sir sans the slam.” He threw you a finger gun. “dunk on that, kid.”

You snickered. “You know how dad gets, though,” you went on. “He’s on a mission now. There’s still hope we’ll find him.”

Sans nodded, and for once he allowed himself to feel that hope. It was timid, and it was terrifying, but he had already reached the light at the end of this long tunnel. Only one more step and it would consume him fully.

As you brushed your thumb across his phalanges, your smile slowly fell.

“Sans,” you said, “there’s something really important I need to ask you.”

The skeleton searched you uncertainly. His mind dashed to the machine, to the final confrontation with Asriel, how he had come to retrieve his soul, how he had escaped the void with a task. If you accused him of manipulating you, it would not be unfounded, regardless of his motivations, regardless of the outcome. His eye lights dimmed.

“well, shoot, kid,” he responded. “go for it.”

Your brow furrowed as if the thought were painful. Then, you gripped your broken leg and swung it around to rest across his lap.

“Will you sign my cast?” you burst.

Sans froze as if an error message had shorted his brain. Then, he chuckled from that place deep inside him, the laugh you liked most, the one that only happened when you had subverted his expectations beyond the bar. He grimaced past it and chortled, “ouch, kid; you’re breakin’ my funny bones, here.”

You held out a marker.

“permanent ink,” he noted. “dunno if i can handle that kind of responsibility.”

Once he had caught his breath, he eyed the wild graffiti incredulously. Where on earth would he sign it? Undyne had already carved her name across one half and Papyrus the other. Every other inch had been filled with good luck wishes, drawings, and signatures, from King Asgore himself to the humblest Froggit.

“eh, that’s okay,” he said with an easy smirk. “i think i’ve left enough of a mark on ya already.”

“But I saved you a spot!”

You had to search for a moment but finally you pointed out a tiny box by your knee with the small acronym “VIP” written just above it.

His grin widened.

“‘kay,” he said.

He was wise enough to shrug with one shoulder now before popping the cap off the marker and lazily sketching a skeletal smiley face in the enclosure. You giggled with satisfaction. Then, perhaps hesitantly, he took your wrist in his hand. The breath in your lungs lingered as a circle appeared in black on the soft skin below your palm. Zero.

Your fingers traced the new counter to replace your old one. Maybe one day when you were older, you would have it tattooed there. For now, the gesture spoke more than words could. You returned the gentle smile in his eyes.

“gonna be a real treat teleporting you to your room and back when we get home,” he mused dryly. He punctuated his statement with the sealing click of your marker cap. “ain’t nothin’ handicap-accessible about those stairs.”

As he handed it back to you, your face sobered again in earnest. You slid the pen into the pocket in your hospital gown, stalling.

“I do have something I want to tell you,” you said.

Sans eyed you expectantly. The sun had shifted down to highlight his bandaged chest and captive arm. Everything you had put him through, all he had done for you, only further embittered the taste of your next words.

“I think,” you said slowly, “I’m going to move in with mom . . . this time.”

“oh.”

An invisible weight dragged down on his shoulders, heavy with too many emotions to place. Confusion, sadness, regret. Heartache. He failed to answer why the decision had caught him off guard when the reasons seemed so obvious now. He pondered his response, struggling to hide the painful disappointment that crawled through his marrow.

“that . . . would be good for her,” he said hoarsely at long last. He cleared his throat. “yeah. makes sense. especially now, with your memories and all.” He avoided your eyes another pensive moment. “you’ll probably want your stuff, then. heh, clothes won’t fit for a while, though—”

Suddenly you were hanging off him, your chin tucked into the nape of his neck, your arms around his shoulders.

Sans didn’t understand why he was crying. You weren’t leaving him forever. You would be living right down the road. He would still see you. He would still take you out for burgers and stargazing and summer nicecream beach trips. You would still have movie marathons and sit on the porch swing to watch the sunset. You would still be his kid . . . wouldn’t you?

He wrapped both arms around you, sling and all. Even though it hurt like hell, the alternative would have broken him.

“you come over or spend the night whenever you want, okay?” he wept. “call me if you get nightmares. heck, call me if you just want to talk. i don’t give a damn what time it is. and . . . and be nice to your mom, okay? don’t give her that attitude i saw earlier. you can be a real piece of work when you’re upset and she doesn’t deserve that. a-and . . .” He choked on his next words. “don’t . . . don’t forget i love you. please. i might be a cynical bastard but i love you so much it hurts. i really do.”

Now you were crying. You could hear the plea in his voice not to leave him and most of you answered in kind. After everything you had been through together, leaving his side—even for a moment—had become almost unthinkable.

It couldn’t be helped. You knew that and you hated it but it would be for the best. Your adopted mother and father, though separated, recognized who you really were now. Asriel had finally come home. Choosing to live with Sans over Toriel now would be a crime far more cruel.

You agreed to his terms a hundred times over.

The two of you sobbed into a wet mess in each other’s arms. Finally, finally, after ages resisting, he couldn’t handle the teeth in his chest any longer. You helped him reposition the sling, and he held your hand instead. From inside his blue-flushed eye sockets, those bright lights peered through the tears in your own red-rimmed eyes.

“hey,” he said gently with a voice like gravel. “we’re gonna be okay. all right?”

You nodded.

He reached out a thumb and wiped the remaining saltwater from your eyelashes.

“i’m here for you,” he said. “i’ll always be here for you. where you live won’t ever change that.” He swallowed back another surge of tears and hissed, “heck if i’m not gonna miss you, though.”

“Me too,” you breathed.

“Frisk?” called Toriel. She popped her head cautiously into the room. “Come, now; let me take you back to your room. You should be resting, and so should Sans.”

“Okay, mom,” you answered shakily.

You bent in for another terribly long, though bitterly short embrace. He held you to his heart with the intent to keep you there forever if he could . . . but he could not. So instead, he settled for your shoulders at arm’s length and smiled a loose, endearing scrawl of a grin. He cupped your face in his hand.

“you’ll always be my kid, right?” he asked through a stone in his throat.

You nodded and melted your cheek into his bony palm. You remembered the first time he had done this, when you were small enough in age to match your stature, how it had been frightening and surprising and heartwarming in one. Now, you could only describe the feeling as “home.”

“I love you, Sans,” you finally told him, and you realized all at once you never had.

“i love you too, frisk.”

For the first time since falling down, you allowed yourself to believe it.

NOTES

YAY, resolution! Next is the epilogue. <3

I hope you enjoyed! If you have thoughts, I love hearing them.

< Load | RESET | Continue >

#riftfic #rift #undertale #ut #undertale fanfiction #undertale fan art #sans #frisk #papyrus #toriel #my art #my writing #creative writing

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canvas-madness-txc · 2 years

Text

I Made a Promise to the Moon

[Reapertale Papyrus x Moon Deity Reader]

A lot can happen in a lifetime. But your life was not like any other, seeing as you didn't have one anymore. It had not hurt, a slip into a new world. A new beginning.

Your eyes slowly closed as you began slipping out of your conscious and your soul began to fade. The world was so quiet... so peaceful...

You blinked and sat up. A void surrounded you. You looked around, trying to take it all in but it was to surreal. A voice had called out to you.

"HELLO!"

You spun around.

"Who... who are you," you asked.

The figure who had called out to you stepped closer to you. They pulled off the hood from their cloak. You studied their face. A grinning skull looked at you.

"Are you the Grim Reaper?" You could barely keep back the shock. Though your tone was unclear, your voice rang through the void. Taking a deep breath, you stared into the face of your new companion. His grin faltered slightly and he shrugged.

"SORT OF... THERE ARE TWO DEATH GODS. "

"What...?"

"WELL I AM THE GOD OF PEACFUL DEATH. MY BROTHER, SANS, IS THE GOD OF PAINFUL DEATH!"

You tilted your head. Sighing, you deciding to see how everything would go.

"Oh... What's your name then," you questioned. He immediately perked up.

"MY NAME IS PAPYRUS! AND WHAT WOULD YOUR NAME BE, HUMAN?"

"Y/N," you replied as you rose to your feet. As you did, you noticed that Papyrus had his hand out for you.

"WELL, Y/N, IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO GET TO THE UNDERWORLD." Papyrus smiled calmly, gesturing for you to take his hand. In spite of some fears in the back of your mind, you felt safe with him. You slipped your hand into his and followed him as he took you to the afterlife.

The afterlife was peaceful. Mainly containing the SOULS of those long departed. In the short periods where you and Papyrus could chat, the two of you managed to become close. There wasn't anything that came to your mind that could ruin this everlasting tranquility.

Until, Queen Toriel died.

Life was crumbling as its embodiment died. The gods were in chaos and corruption spread through the worlds. Sans was enraged and could barely be calmed. The SOULS of living and dead were in entropy. Escape was futile.

Your legs began to give way as your struggled to lose the corruption. It held onto you, throwing you down by your legs and spread through you. A blurry figure made their way towards you.

Papyrus

Slowly smiling, you reached for his hand as he knelt by you. There was despair in his eyelights as he saw your condition.

"NO..."

You rasped out words of comfort, that it was going to be alright...

That you loved him...

As the corruption spread you looked up. The moon was out. Strange for the afterlife. There it was changing phases, mingled with the stars and blanketed by darkness. It was beautiful. It was the last thing you noticed before the world went quiet.

Then you stirred. Kneeling beside you was a skeleton. He was different than Papyrus and Sans. For starters, he had cracks on his face and holes in his hands. He was also adorned with a black robe and a cape that resembled the universe.

"AH, YOU ARE AWAKE," he started.

You quickly looked around.

"What happened!? Where am I? Did I die... again?..."

He brought you to your feet and began to explain.

"I SUPPOSE YOU KNOW ABOUT THE DREADED ANOMOLY OF BROKEN FATE AND THE DEATH OF THE QUEEN." He looked over to you. You nodded in response.

"WELL, I HAD SEEN HOW YOU HAVE INTERACTED WITH PAPYRUS." At his name you perked up.

"You know him?"

"I AM HIS CREATOR, OR FATHER IF YOU WILL. WELL, THAT'S WHAT HE THINKS OF ME," the mystery man replied.

"Oh, well who are you?"

"EXCUSE MY RUDENESS, THE WORLD CHANGING AS WE SPEAK AND I'VE GOTTEN AHEAD OF MYSELF. MY NAME IS W.D. GASTER AND I WOULD LIKE TO OFFER A SUGGESTION."

You waited for him to continue.

"I AM THE GOD OF MAGIC AND ALONG WITH ASGORE [skies/ ruler god] AND GERSON [wisdom] I HAVE THE ABILITY TO CREATE NEW GODS. AND IF I COULD DO SO, YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO RESIDE IN THE WORLD OF GODS."

"All because I have become friends with your son?" Something did not seem to make sense.

"ALTHOUGH YOU BARELY KNOW ME, I CAN ASSURE YOU I QUITE CARE FOR MY FELLOW GODS," he replied with a small smirk. You decided to give in.

"Okay, but as what?"

"THAT WOULD BE THE MOON."

"But the gods were made from stars?"

"NOT ALL. THE GODS OF DEATH WERE CREATED FROM DARKNESS. THOUGH, I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT MATTERS. ALL PARTS OF THE UNIVERSE MUST COME TOGETHER TO SHOW ITS TRUE GLORY. STARS CAN'T SHINE WITHOUT DARKNESS, THE MOON RELIES ON LIGHT FROM THS SUN FOR ITS BEAUTY," he explained. You began to feel elated as you accepted his offer. The world went quiet yet again.

Your eyes opened to Papyrus holding your face in his hands. Tears streamed down his face and he stunned when you woke up. Sitting upright, you felt different and looked different.

You were dressed in a long robe of black, white and silver. A cape was spread around you, a gradient joined with the phases of the moon. At your side, a staff showing the new moon. You looked at your staff, then to Papyrus. He seemed fidgety. You sat in silence. Finally, he spoke up.

"Y/N... I KNOW THIS IS ALL SO SUDDEN, BUT I FEEL I MUST CONFESS MY TRUE FEELINGS NOW RATHER THAN LOSE YOU AGAIN. ... THE TRUTH IS, AS WE BEGAN BEING CLOSER I THINK I HAD DEVELOPED FEELINGS FOR YOU. AND I HAD PROMISED MYSELF THAT ONE DAY I WOULD TELL YOU, BUT THEN I LOST YOU. NYEH, IT'S STRANGE HOW THINGS CAN CHANGE SO FAST," he said with a pained grin. You couldn't help smiling. Slowly it came to you that your did feel the same. Without a moments consideration, you pulled your lips to his cheekbone. He sat stunned as you pulled yourself away.

"S-SO YOU FINALLY REVEAL YOUR TRUE FEELINGS AS WELL! FINE! THEN I SHALL TAKE YOU ON A DATE ONCE THIS IS ALL OVER!" He quickly pulled his cloak hood over his face to hide his embarrassment to which you giggled. The world was quiet, not because it was empty, but because all that needed to be said and done was in the past. It was time to focus on the future with a new beginnings in the realm of gods.

#undertale #papyrus #reapertale #reapertale papyrus #papyrus x reader #fanfiction #undertale fanfiction #tw mentions of death #tw major character death

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the-fandom-qu33n · 11 months

Text

Chapter 10____To Strike A Match

(UF Sans/Reader)

Rated M...violence, profanity and much else soon to come

_____________

summary

___________

burnt out sick of the recurring timeline everything is starting to break him down little by little... day after day drink after drink he needed something different a smoke would be good... just needed a...light?

_______________________________________________

".....'s dat so?"

....those words echoed in Grillby's head as his gaze shook in pure panic....he was staring right at you...he knew...his face he HAD to know....Grillby shook and flickered in fear...his breathing quickened...this wasn't happening...his perfectly calculated plan in shambles...in a matter of minutes...this...bastard...

flash backs began to run through his mind taking over his vision as he froze stiff again...

the first time they had met....... ...when was it?...what had happened...?...how DID he meet red?...

the scene set before him in dark shadowy whisps ...each whisp of the memory fade morphed into monsters set in the...once bright throne room...a clean ...large throne room...this is one he didn't recognize...perhaps this was because he was freaking out a mistake in memory..a faulty misconception.....this place wasn't the throne room he knew......the castles walls lack the decay and rot ...no cracks...no dust...it seemed this place was...taken care of...well kempt.....that wasn't right...Asgore couldn't he wasn't in the right mind after the child had died...what was his name again...no matter...the son of the king and queen was no where in sight...why was his majesty ok all of a sudden..?

it was strange to see...the king standing in all his glory smiling...a broken smile...his eyes was minus a few eye bags and every scar he adorned now.. wearing his old robes colors his old kingdoms symbols ...before the prophesy.....horns no longer broken...and ...Queen Toriel stood beside him? ..stars how long into the past had he taken himself in this panic attack?...seemed right before the first human had fallen...but...why was he remembering this..

why did his mind reel this far back?...did he meet Red here and not notice?...surely that couldnt be it...Red wasnt in his life that long...was he?...who exactly were these skeleton brothers...what had he missed so long ago...how old was this damned memory??...where was red and papyrus...he didnt see them in the room...could he even move...?

shaking his head away from all his thoughts he growled moving to one room or the other...each room was different...bright shining rooms that held...monsters conversing in a hushed tone...none looked like how he remebered...there was armour here...perhaps it was the dogs...?... if so why didnt he hear barking...no tails wagging no burnt dog biscut smell...heck he didnt even see Undyne..infact...judging by the armor the guardsmen were wearing... brilliant black metal laced in a shining silver... these guards...werent the royal guard...no wait...his gaze landed back on the king and queen...their faces...shown distress..

...damaged royals...a broken hope...

he saw it in their eyes as his soul seemingly stopped beating even for a slight second....there was fear in them...

he shook more looking around...no no no this wasnt right..this place wasnt right...these monsters couldnt be...the bright rooms...strange monsters...the fear...the castle...the symbols and newly polished guardsmen armour....

he knew this time...he knew it all to well...he knew these monsters... he knew why the king and queen looked so distraught this wasn't after the kid had died...

no...this was before...

a guard looked over at where he was...tilting its snake like head as it hissed out..

"sssstatuss report on the northern boundariesss"

.....no....

the snake monster slithered over asking again....but what could he do...he couldnt speak...he couldnt be back here... another guard rushed over a cat one this time as it came when the snake had slammed its tail on the ground for help....they were concerned...checking over him ..words muffled by the now ringing in his skull as his gaze shook....

....no.....

more and more guards rushed over to check him...but he couldnt do anything but hyperventilate and watch as each and every monster in the guards hall rushed in to see if they could aid him...each one brandishing the symbol...wearing the armour of the king...he knew these monsters...he knew their families...he knew their names...

...no...

he had to leave...this was a nightmare and nothing more...he refused to be here he refused to remember!...rushing past a few of the guards he heard them call out in alarm as he ran...left...right...down the second hall to the right again...down the spiral stair case...everything was as it had been...every decorative piece the royals had filled the walls with...every sword wielding statue..every painting of the greats before Asgore and lady Toriel...

each hall way and room he glanced into was as bright as the last...flowers in vases...flowers of various colors and types...none blue and glowing...more guards tried to slow him down as he ran throughout the castle ..but none fast enough as he...no one ever was...gripping the cloak around his neck tightly as he ran ripping the hood over his face...the magic taking ahold of him as his body shook...the coolness of the fabric ...the smell of ash...the glowing of the bright lava gem shone brightly as he ran before dulling again to a dark red....

the cooks were in the kitchens...the service staff awaiting their next request...the décor even the furniture made his soul ache...every damn room was the same...quickly he ripped open the next door he saw tears began to cascade down his face as he scanned the room...a beautiful library...thousands of books lined each and every wall...no space was empty on the white pristine shelves... books he knew all to well...the singe marks on his favorite chair...next to the crackling fireplace...the shelves of fantasy practically calling out to him again...running his fingers along each books spine he felt colder and colder...345 pages...the next was 238 pages..used to be 239 but he had accidently burned it to ash......160 pages...stories of grandeur stories of romance..adventure...stories his mother used to read to him...stories he read to himself in the late hours of the night until early dawn...every single book in this place he had read at least twice... looking to his arm he sobbed....he was wearing the damned armor to...wearing that damned bracelet his mama had given him before...she dusted...looking out the window he sobbed even harder falling to his knees at the first glance of the blinding morning light as the guards rushed in surround his broken state with medicines...a physician...the royals....and a mage....

.....................this was....

...this was before the war...

on the SURFACE

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hope this was ok...sorry ive not been in the right head space lately... im sorry its a bit short...

if you took the time to read this i appreciate it...

#fell sans #fell #sans #sans au #sans the skeleton #underfell #daddy's got a gun/baby better run #underfell fanfiction #possible smut #uf Grillby #sans underfell #sans x reader #sans x y/n

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