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jamlavender · 4 years ago

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Unholy Ghosts deleted scene: Chaos Family Christmas

I was reminded of this fic the other day, and after giving it a scan I remembered that the first version of the Christmas scene was very different to the one I ended up including in the posted story. This first draft was longer and more comedic, and I decided to write another because the fic was already so long and the tone had already become more contemplative. Upon giving that first draft a reread, though, I thought it was funny, and have decided to share it here!

The necessary backstory for this is: Lord Asriel and Mrs Coulter avoided falling into the abyss (though still killed Metatron) and tricked Lyra into coming North five years later. After a rocky start, she spends her winter break with them. This is towards the end of the fic, and if you want to read about how they got to this point (or why she’s calling them Asriel and Marisa) you can read the full story here. Also, for some of the jokes to work, the version of Boreal mentioned in this is the older version from the books. I hope you enjoy!

One day, Lyra was wandering around the Saariselkä market with her mother, a migraine having confined a foul-tempered Asriel to the bedroom for the afternoon, when she spotted the date on a newspaper stacked outside the post office. Tucked away in the cabin, she’d largely lost track of time. “Look!” she said to Pan, who was rolling around in the snow. “It’s December twenty-third. It’s almost Christmas!”

They arrived home that afternoon with the usual spoils, along with a freshly plucked snow goose and a stack of root vegetables, ideal for roasting. They’d also found some sweet pears and fresh cream, which they could poach in red wine for dessert. Her mother had even let Lyra drive the motorsledge home, the wind whipping through their hair and flushing their cheeks the same bright pink as they charged over the white hills back to the cabin, both of them beaming, unbeknownst to the other.

Her father went off on a tirade when they explained what the purchases were for, of course, ranting and raving, saying that he hadn’t thrown God into an endless abyss to then celebrate his son’s birth like a sycophant. Marisa simply nodded along while she melted chocolatl into milk on the stove and spiked it with brandy, then guided Lyra to the sofa, mugs in hand, and whispered, “Let’s just wait for him to tire himself out, hmm?” which made Lyra laugh, and then she felt guilty for laughing, as she still did whenever they shared a shred of affection.

Lyra assumed that she’d prepare the meal alone on the day itself, but confronted with a sack of dirt-encrusted potatoes and a whole goose carcass, to say nothing of the chard or the gravy or the dessert, she realised that she might benefit from some assistance. She peered across the room to the lounge; her father was stretched on the sofa with a notebook on one leg and a newspaper on the other. She marched over with her hands on her hips. “There are too many potatoes for me to peel on my own, not if I’m going to stuff and season the goose too. I can’t do it all myself. You have to help me.”

He frowned. “I’m working.”

Lyra peered at his sparse scrawls. “You haven’t written a sentence in an hour.”

“I’m mulling,” he said petulantly, though Stelmaria had lifted her head, her ears twitching.

Lyra folded her arms, spurred on by his dæmon’s mild enthusiasm. “It’s Christmas.”

“You know that means nothing to me.”

“I don’t care.” They stared at each other, an imperious mirror image. She raised an eyebrow. “Marisa’s excited about it, about us celebrating together. I can tell her that you’re refusing to participate, if you’d prefer that.”

The corner of his lip twitched, the hint of a smirk. “Are you trying to play us off each other?”

“Is it working?”

He sighed. “Can’t your mother do it?”

“She’s even more useless than you are. And she’s in the bath.”

Stelmaria got to her feet with a yawn and padded into the kitchen, giving Asriel no choice but to follow, a scowl etched across his face and a triumphant grin sprawled across Lyra’s.

She put him to work preparing the snow goose for the oven while she mixed fennel and star anise and salt together for the seasoning, grinding the spices in an old granite mortar with a chipped pestle and adding a squirt of lemon juice at the end. She’d assumed that he could handle basic meat preparation – her parents’ brutal reindeer butchery had made it clear that he knew his way around a cleaver – but when she checked on his progress, her eyes widened. She’d tasked him with lightly scouring the goose’s legs and breast with a knife to help the fat render, and he’d interpreted that as gouging deep trenches into the bird, burying the knife into the carcass.

“Asriel!” she said, grabbing the knife from him. “God, no, not like that. Like this.”

He rolled his eyes as she instructed him, dragging the fine point of the knife over the goose’s other leg. He tried again and immediately created a deep channel in the bird’s flesh. Lyra glared at him.

“Have you ever been gentle in your life?”

He let his head roll towards her. “What do you think?”

She shook her head and took over, passing him the peeler instead and shoving him towards the pile of potatoes she’d already scrubbed clean. “I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me,” she muttered, tracing delicate scratches into the bird’s skin and then rubbing the seasoning into the fresh grooves. “Threatening to break my arm was your first instinct when I was a child – don’t think I don’t remember you putting me in an armlock in the retiring room, or all those times you dragged me to Mrs Lonsdale by the wrists – and then you tore the bloody sky in half! When it wasn’t even necessary. But that’s just what you’re like, isn’t it – ”

“What?” Asriel had paused, peeler in one hand, semi-shorn potato in the other. Lyra blinked; she’d assumed that he’d just tuned her out.

“Nothing. I was just commenting on your inability to do anything with restraint.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t necessary?”

She stared at him. “Well, there were lots of windows already, weren’t there? Even in Oxford. But no, you had to go all the way to the North – ”

He dropped the peeler onto the countertop with a clatter. “There were other windows? In our world?”

“Yeah,” she said, sharing a nervous glance with Pan. “You – you didn’t know about them?”

“How could I?” he said. “Within days of leaving Svalbard this world was several windows away. I didn’t spare a thought for home until your mother and I returned. How many? Where are they? Did you say Oxford?”

“They’re closed now,” Lyra said, an unwelcome memory of Will’s face disappearing behind a cruel, luminous seam in the air coming to her mind. “And I only knew about a few, the Oxford ones, mostly, though Will’s dad must’ve come through one too. But they’d been around for ages, they must have. I mean, Latrom had been crossing for years.” She tilted her head. “You really didn’t know that there were other windows? Even now?”

“No,” he snapped, Stelmaria grizzling beside him. “No one deigned to tell me. And who’s this Latrom?”

“That creepy collector guy, with the snake-dæmon. Oh, he had a different name in our world…”

“Boreal,” Pantalaimon piped up from beside her. “Lord Boreal.”

Her father’s eyes widened. “Boreal was travelling between worlds?”

Lyra nodded. “He’d been at it for ages. Decades, I suppose. He ran a big company in Will’s world and had travelled all over, collecting things for his weird basement. I think he was trying to impress Marisa. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.”

That made Stelmaria growl, and Lyra’s heart began to beat a little faster.

“Your mother went with him? To another world?”

“She was looking for me, I think,” Lyra admitted. “Latrom – Boreal – whatever, he’d stolen my alethiometer to force us bring him the knife, and she came to intercept us. That didn’t work either.”

At that moment, her mother swanned into the kitchen, wearing a red cashmere dress and a coal-black shawl, a fragrant bloom of perfume following her, the intertwining notes of rose and myrrh a smell Lyra had come to recognise as soon as it appeared in the air. She smiled at the sight of them, Asriel and Lyra side by side in the kitchen, though the joy was wiped from her face as soon as Asriel exploded, “You went to another world with Boreal?”

Marisa glared at Lyra, and she took Pan in her arms at once and clutched him to her chest. “What did you say to him?”

“I didn’t realise it was a secret!” Lyra said. “It was years ago!”

“When I asked you to go to another world with me, you refused. But when he asked – ”

The golden monkey was pulling gently on Stelmaria’s ears, trying to placate her, but Marisa herself seemed unperturbed. She poured herself a glass of wine, the same deep red as her dress, and leaned against the dining table. “He had something to offer me that served my own interests. You wanted me to simply abandon my life’s work in favour of yours, without a moment’s hesitation or complaint.”

“Semantics,” Asriel growled.

Marisa sipped her wine, pursing her lips, unbearably smug. “Are you jealous, darling? I thought you didn’t care about my lovers.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You and he… ugh! That’s disgusting!”

“Thank you, Lyra,” her father said, smirking.

“He was so… so smarmy, and so old, even then!” Lyra said.

“He was not that old,” her mother snapped, shooting daggers at Asriel when he laughed.

“Trust me,” Asriel said, leaning towards Lyra but not lowering his voice, “she went older.”

“I don’t want to know!” Lyra said, at the same time Marisa growled, “Asriel.” The golden monkey’s soothing caresses became a vicious wrench, and then both Asriel and Stelmaria were grimacing.

Lyra shook her head, reaching for the warped tin tray holding the goose and carrying it over to the oven. “Ugh,” she said again, shivering slightly, thinking of Lord Boreal’s oily voice and vault of trinkets. “You did that to find me and I still got away. No wonder you were furious.” She closed the cast-iron door with a smack. “What happened to him, anyhow?”

“An altercation with a spectre,” her mother said smoothly. “If he’d been paying more attention, perhaps he’d have seen it coming. Alas.”

“You quite certain that the old snake’s heart didn’t just give out?” Asriel said, irritation transformed neatly into amusement. “As your daughter has emphasised so thoroughly, he was getting on.”

“Seems rather hypocritical to be goading me about the age of one’s lovers, hmm?” her mother said, with a sneer. “How old was that Latvian witch? Five hundred? Six?”

“Hard to say, given that she looked younger even than you,” Asriel said, leaning back against the counter with a smug smile. The monkey bit Stelmaria, and Asriel grunted.

“Stop it,” Lyra said, pressing her hands to her ears. “Ugh, just – just stop it! Both of you!”

Her parents glanced at Lyra, and then looked back to each other. Silence fell across the trio, and just as Lyra thought that the ghastly conversation was over, her father said, “She was four hundred, I’ll have you know. The witch you’re thinking of was Siberian, and she was – ”

“You’re both so infuriating!” Lyra said, storming out of the kitchen into her bedroom, closing the door with a slam.

She sat on her bed and folded her arms, expecting one of them to come and find her, but it soon became clear that her flouncing off had done little to end the argument. She could hear them bickering, two familiar tones resonating through the cabin’s wooden walls, with the occasional sharper snap or outraged shout. Then she heard the sound of glass smashing and a chair scraping across the ground. Lyra lay back on her bed with a groan, slotting her head beneath her pillow and pressing the soft cotton to her ears.

She waited a few minutes before resurfacing, pleased that the brawl had quietened, and then spent several more minutes flicking through her book, hoping that their tempers would have burned themselves out by the time she returned to the kitchen. But when she made her grand reappearance, expecting to see some contrition on their faces, even just a grain of sand’s worth, she found the kitchen empty, the only sound the faint hiss of the kettle on the stove. She looked around the empty room, noting the glass shards on the floor by the sink. “Do you think one of them ran off, and the other followed?” Pan said, peering out of the window.

“Their coats are still here…” Lyra said, frowning.

At that moment, the workshop door swung open and her father appeared in the doorway. His cheeks were flushed, and he was tucking his shirt back into his trousers. “Oh. You’re back.”

Lyra stared at him. He glanced at the oven, chest heaving. “Is that goose ready yet? I��m starving.”

Her mouth fell open. “You – you – ” She shook her head. “Oh my god!”

“Lyra, darling,” her mother said breathlessly, appearing beside Asriel, her face the same deep crimson as the dress she was still straightening.

“You two are a disgrace,” Lyra said, with all the admonition she could muster, but her father only snorted. She turned and stalked back to her bedroom. “Disgusting. Disgusting!”

This time her mother did appear after a few minutes, her wild hair neatened and her face dusted with powder, Lyra scowling beneath the covers and pretending to read when the knock came at the door. Marisa opened it and skulked inside, looking – perhaps for the first time in Lyra’s memory – truly embarrassed, her cheeks still aflame, now for different reasons.

“I’m sorry about that, darling,” she said, running a hand through her curls. “I don’t know what came over me. Now, won’t you join us in the kitchen again, hmm? I’ve mixed you a drink, with the cloudberry jenniver. I know that it’s your favourite.”

Lyra gave her an unimpressed glare. Her mother smiled sweetly, one hand stroking her dæmon’s golden back. “And you know your father doesn’t know what to do with a paring knife, nor a roast potato or a pear. It would be such a shame to see your lovely meal ruined, wouldn’t it? I certainly don’t know when to take the bird out of the oven.”

That got her out of bed, her mother’s hand rubbing gently between her shoulder blades as they returned to the kitchen. Her father was hacking at the pile of potatoes again, a half-finished cocktail by his side.

“There you are,” he said, holding out her drink. Lyra took a sip and suppressed a hum as the sweet spirit hit her throat. He gestured to the countertop. “Now, what do you want me to do with these?” he said. Before long, their workflow had resumed, Asriel scoffing at Lyra’s comments on his knife skills but following her instructions nonetheless, while her mother sat at the table and offered unhelpful suggestions, a glass of wine in her hand and her feet propped up on a chair.

“Merry Christmas to us,” Pan said after Marisa had made a particularly useless remark. Despite herself, Lyra smirked.

This is a deleted scene from my story Unholy Ghosts, in which Lord Asriel and Mrs Coulter survive the abyss and reunite with their daughter. You can read the full story on AO3.

#my fics #chaos family #lord asriel #marisa coulter #lyra belacqua #bad parenting #i thought this was funny idk #this is a crack fic tbh #the full fic is a lot less silly

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ivebeenreadingandwriting · 4 years ago

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Check It out!

Iorek Byrnison crosses worlds with Lyra. He, Lyra and Pan find themselves in a transit city between their world and another, totally different. The fulfillment of a prophecy has them all as protagonists, but at what cost?

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"LYRA!"

The cry that had emerged from the throat of the Panserbjørne could not overcome the roar that the friction with the air emanated, much less the shock wave that shook every type of living particle in her body. But worse still… he had seen Lyra Silvertounge, her protégé, his little friend, the child he had sworn to protect, fall off the precipice, overwhelmed by the shockwave the cut had caused.

Her small body had been thrown out of the metal cage where he, by giving her a shove, had helped her approach in a last-ditch effort to save Roger. But the blade had got in the way between the delicate and strong bond between daemon and person with a growing hiss ...

And then the impact of the energy that was released.

The little boy fell back, all kinds of life now flown from him, every kind of color had been sucked from his normally red cheeks. And Salcilia was gone, she had dissolved into a cloud of golden dust merging with the air and abandoning the body state. And a few meters from where he was, Lyra had crashed disastrously to the ground. Her frail little body made such a powerful friction as it fell from such a height that a cloud of snow rose beside her ... and Lyra stood still. His breath caught vehemently right in his throat.

A Panserbjørn does not feel fear easily, it is not part of his nature to be scared. But Iorek, proud in all his being a bear, at that moment felt dying of fear when he saw that stubborn child, stubborn and innocent despite everything not moving an inch after that fall.

Come on, Lyra ... come on! It was what his nerves screeched as he ran to her, an unfamiliar panic attacking his lungs violently, squeezing them in the tightest, hardest of grips. She wasn't pale, she wasn't cold.

She at least she was alive, she must have just banged her head against the snow ... she was going to get away with it. Yet that paternal instinct that had only recently developed pushed him to move her face with his muzzle, the big wet nose rubbed against her cheek. "Lyra? Lyra Silvertongue, can you hear me?" And his deep, flat tone betrayed a hint of concern. A tinge of sheer terror that he didn't even try to suppress as he carefully sniffed the little girl's head, her red hat still firmly anchored to her dark head to check for any kind of confusion or injury.

Lyra didn't move, though, although she didn't look hurt.

Iorek's heart was going crazy in his chest, a pace only achieved while he used to run. Why didn't Lyra move? Why was she still motionless?

He nudged her one more time, trying to shield her from the cold ...

and then the girl stretched, stiff and confused. "Iorek..."

And Iorek allowed himself to breathe, and felt his solid chest let go against the plates of his armor in a sigh that he wasn't aware was trapped in his torso's cavity. Lyra tried to look at him, tilting her head up with confused eyes to observe the illegible expression of the Panserbjørn. His face hadn't moved, but his eyes spoke volumes. He let his eyes close for a brief moment, lowering his muzzle to examine Lyra (just to be safe), his breath lifting her hair in the process as she struggled to at least get to her knees. "Iorek, is that you?"

She had a fragile, broken voice ... helpless and scared. Iorek let a breath go against the back of her neck in comfort. "I am here, Lyra Silvertongue. Do not move, you've had a bad fall." letting his voice reach a low, comforting tone that could soothe her. But Lyra seemed to fidget even more under that imposition, and immediately she tried to turn around once more shaking on her own movement "R-Roger ... Iorek ... Roger is up there."

The boy was up there, yes. But he wasn't alive.

That smell of opacity, firmness that lightened in the air was clear. Crystalline. There was nothing left of Roger Parslow but an empty seat, and beside him the cage of his beloved soul, his Salcilia, was as empty as an arctic wasteland. He had smelled the smell of death before... But this was a drier, more absent and neutral version than when Hjalmur died.

And the helpless body lay there, in the cage, left behind as if it were a worthless rag doll. "Iorek- we have to go to Roger ... please let me get up there."

Getting up there to hold a dead body?

Iorek opened his mouth to try to dissuade her, but it was there that the two pairs of dark eyes met and the Panserbjørne was greeted by the sight of two red eyes on either side, glistening with water gushing freely from them down Lyra's cheeks, and the child's lower lip was curled inward, as if she was ready to start sobbing. But she did not take her gaze, that gaze full of agony, from Iorek's eyes... and it was those tears that pulled the strings of his heart, in such an unexpected way that the Panserbjørne blinked and looked at her intently.

He had seen Lyra cry several times during the journey, but one had been when she had crouched beside him and his battered body in the fight against Iofur as he tried to get up, one leg after another ... but it seemed that his muscles refused to answer for a brief moment, but in his mind it was all a show. A staging that the phony King had fallen for in full, believing that Iorek was dying by observing the way he couldn't stand up straight, how he struggled for air. And Lyra had been crying exactly after she had slipped to her knees beside him and wrapped her head with her arms to comfort him and had seen him slump his chin on her legs, worn out to the bone from her point of view. And that wild little head pressed against the side of his own with tenderness, warm tears crashing down her young cheeks as she murmured sobbing words including his name, over and over.

But then he had seen Iofur ready to jump on her, to sweep her away with a paw ... and Iorek felt a jet of anger counter the theatricality, with a sprint of energy mixed pure fury had rushed between Lyra and Iofur, but the tears of the child were not stopped so easily. Lyra had been to Bolvangar in the first place, first of all of them. She knew what they were doing there ... she knew why Roger was lifeless in the cage and why Salcilia was gone.

She wanted to say goodbye to Roger, to her childhood companion, her best friend.

An impromptu farewell, but no less poignant or sad.

Iorek granted it to her. He couldn't do anything else. Roger had been, along with Lyra, under his protection. And he had failed to protect him, a new failure for Iorek Byrnison. One of many in his life.

Lyra sniffed incessantly as she gently stroked the boy's face, Pan beside her with his paws resting on Roger's motionless arm watching him with sad eyes.

Lyra's face, in stark contrast to the stillness of Roger's, was a mask of tears, sheer pain and suffering as her hand continued to search for signs of her friend's life. "His face is still warm." she murmured, thick voice with tears that still hadn't come down. But her lower lip was already quivering and curling, her vision blurred of her as Pan reached her. Iorek stayed behind Lyra, watching that lifeless little body from behind the girl's shoulder letting go of sounds of consolation. When bear cubs were in pain, their mother would always let go of pacifying sounds to calm them ... in her heart Iorek hoped they could calm Lyra, too. But Lyra didn't seem to sense them. She just looked at Iorek in a lost, defenseless way. As if the Panserbjørne could magically bring her best friend back to life. "I-Iorek." his name sounded so strange said in such a broken voice "his face is still warm." she repeated desperately, looking at Iorek pleadingly. Yes, Roger Parslow's face was still warm... but his daemon was gone. There was no mistaking it... slowly Iorek shook his head. "he's gone, Lyra Silvertongue." he sentenced softly, though seeing Lyra's expression tore a piece of his heart. The little girl leaned over Roger, tightening her arms around him, shaking as if Roger were sleeping and she could wake him up by giving him some warmth. "I thought he wanted the alethiometer..." she said. Her eyes still fixed on Roger's sleeping face. "I was wrong ... I was wrong about everything."

Her father had deceived her.

First he made it clear that he didn't want her here. He didn't want his daughter here, after the little girl had traversed the north and earned a reputation as one of the bravest humans Iorek had ever known and one of her was so young. "I didn't even say goodbye to him." And with that a sob left her throat, and Lyra slumped over her Roger holding him tightly to her. And Iorek allowed himself to put a paw on Lyra's back to comfort her. Humans did that, right? he wasn't sure what to do. No one had ever cried in front of him.

"I brought him here." she murmured against Roger's face "I cheated on him...He was safe at Jordan college...I took him to his death."

No.

Iorek nudged Lyra on the shoulder. "You didn't bring him to his death." he told her, a paternal hardness in his voice (more paternal than Asriel's would ever be) "The Gobblers brought him here. Not you."

"But I suggested him to go north!"

The Panserbjørne shook his head. "You fought for him with all your might. There was nothing else you could do. You were valiant, Lyra."

But the little girl shook her head, fresh tears free-falling again. "Not enough. If I had been braver Roger would be alive." If she had been braver and had come here alone, Asriel would have intercepted Pan from her. He could have killed his own daughter, the blood of his blood, out of sheer selfishness. Iorek suppressed a shiver. "You would have been in danger if you had come alone."

"It would have been better...at least Roger would have been safe." A long silence followed, interspersed only with Lyra's sharp breaths and Roger's name inside each murmur. "what do we do now? Iorek...what do I do now?"

...what to do now?

He could have taken Lyra back to Svalbard for the night, but the next morning? What would she do next morning? The Magisterium was looking for her, her mother was looking for her... sending her back to London was an unexaminable option.

So what to do?

Pantalaimon's eyes followed the trail of light that opened, tearing the northern sky. Where was it leading? Was it really the gateway to another world?

"What if dust is good?" It was Lyra's daemon who spoke, watched, reflected as that anomalous light fell upon them, brightening the night sky. "The magisterium is afraid of it, it fears it..."

Iorek and Lyra turned their gaze to the opening at the same time. Pan was right...if the Magisterium thought dust was evil, then most likely it was something that could be used to their advantage.

But at what cost?

The opening of the portal alone had already cost an innocent life ... Exactly as the works in Bolvangar had caused the disappearance and then the death of numerous children including little Billy Costa and his Ratter.

"Maybe It needs protection."

Lyra didn't take her eyes off the opening "are you saying we should go ... and find it before he does?" she looked skeptical, scared. She turned her gaze back to Iorek to see if he agreed, but she looked at nothing in his face except his usual hard scarred courage. "Do you know what that means? We would be alone ... you, Iorek and I...we would be alone."

Iorek gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder with his muzzle "We will help each other. No one is ever alone." he said. Yet without Roger the world now seemed a hundred times more lonely to Lyra as Pan scrambled gently into her arms and onto her shoulder.

Lyra's wet eyes moved away from Iorek to Roger again and his face pale and transparent in the light. "So we should ... leave him here?"

And it was like a stab in his heart as she bent down, leaning to hold that body close to herself. Roger was getting colder, less and less ... Roger. The little girl gently stroked the cheek of her friend, lips pressed to his hat in that tearful hug, the last they would have exchanged and which Roger could not reciprocate. New tears came down.

But Lyra, brave little Lyra, spoke anyway "We have to make sure they don't win." Lyra had told him some time ago that part of her was surely bear. She had been skeptical of her cheekiness of hers and how she wasn't afraid of him in the slightest, not even one bit. An ordinary child would have been afraid right away, but not Lyra who had proceeded to call him a coward on their first meeting. And the way her eyes now sparkled with determination behind the tears... Yes. Lyra was one of them.

She observed the opening between the worlds and then Roger's face "...we have to go, Roger. Okay?" He said, speaking to him as if Roger were actually just asleep. As if he could wake up and listen to her. Her voice trembled, but Lyra kept talking to him "me, Iorek and Pan ... we'll go to the skies and look for dust."

Pan stepped down on Lyra's arm. "we'll make sure your death wasn't in vain." she said softly "goodbye, Roger." and so Roger Parslow was placed on the cold soil of Svalbard as his final resting place. The snow would run his course, his body would serve nature.

Lyra caressed his head one last time softly, then placed a kiss on his forehead and finally stood up with squared shoulders, Pan about her in her arms and Iorek at a safe distance to give her time to say goodbye to her childhood best friend. Then she turned, and Iorek slowly approached.

They were ready to cross.

Lyra's gloved hand rested on Iorek's shoulder as she took her first step into the new world, the Panserbjørne followed suit.

Lyra, her daemon, and Iorek disappeared into the window between worlds.

#his dark materials #fanfiction

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vicunaburger · 4 years ago

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Imperfect and Inhuman, are we?

Fandom: School of Rock: The Musical (AU Verse) Chapters: 3/? Pairing: Dewey Finn x OC (Magdalena Newton) The Players: Dewey Finn, Magdalena Newton, Ned Schneebly, The School of Rock Students Word Count: 1,618 Warnings: M for Future Things

Notes: I’m just gonna sit here like it hasn’t been 2 months since an update

Chapter 3 - Late Night - Taxi

It was 1:30am.

There was a light drizzle all day, which turned mostly to slush due to the drop in temperature the last few nights. Not enough to soak through to the bone, but enough to make one excessively damp, which was arguably worse depending on the type of clothing one sported.

Unhappily, Magdalena sat outside on the fire escape, her umbrella doing little against the wind whipping the rain around her at such a height. Something was wrong, and it was gnawing away at her nerves by the minute. Dewey was supposed to have been home hours ago, so why wasn’t he going into his room? His van sat parked in its usual spot, having been there when she arrived, but she didn’t see him go into the apartment building. Faint noises through the apartment caught her ear, but they weren’t his sounds. Lighter footsteps, a softer touch on the light switches and refrigerator door.

Even though they had been meeting every night for the past three weeks - sometimes only a few minutes at a time - they had not reached the point where she could venture in and out of his home as she pleased. Dewey often met her on the steps outside, or as he got home from band practice. Never the right time to invite her inside.

What if something had happened to him? He could be lying in an alleyway somewhere, beset upon by local vandals. Maybe he was tutoring one of his students and lost track of the time?

What if he was on a date?

Magdalena pulled herself into the fur collar of her coat, resembling an unhappy feline as she stared holes into the window glass. If he was on a date, without her, she was going to be extremely distressed to say the least. She wouldn’t be too angry with Dewey; perhaps she was too old fashioned in her attempts at courtship. Too slow to reach the intended result. Truth be told, she was rusty in the art of new-age courtship; the very idea that she was pursuing him without reciprocation was almost too much for her to handle. It was unladylike, but so was this entire century.

The soft sound of the window being opened in front of her brought her attention back to the present, finding herself face to face with Dewey’s roommate. He blinked at her, which she mimicked, and cleared his throat with an awkward grumble.

“Uh… can I help you?” He asked, giving her a suspicious glance.

“I take it Mr. Finn isn’t home?” Magdalena adjusted her posture, trying to put on a more intimidating air. “Why would that be?”

Ned’s eyes seemed to glaze over briefly, “He’s at the bar on 5th.”

“5th and what?” She fought the urge to roll her eyes, not wanting to risk breaking the tenuous hold she had on his subconscious.

“Matinee. It’s open mic night, he’ll be there for a while until someone drags him home. Usually me.” He explained, seemingly unbothered by her on the fire escape.

Nodding, she took a deep breath, standing in preparation for descending to the ground below, “Don’t worry about him tonight, I’ll take care of him for you. Go to sleep or… whatever you do at night. If needed, you’ll recall this conversation happened in the hallway like a perfectly normal human interaction. La revedere”

—

Magdalena stood just outside of the bar under an awning, shaking out her umbrella and doing her best to put herself in a more presentable state. Offkey caterwauling of drunken patrons made her regret her sensitive hearing, wincing as she opened the door to the chorus of an 80s love ballad.

She weaved her way through the small bar like a serpent through the grass; the small room filled to the brim even so late into the night. It didn’t take her too long to find the musician, hearing his distinct laugh and following the sound to the far side of the bar. He was surrounded by empty beer bottles and a few random patrons - female, she noted - his face flushed with laughter and alcohol.

Dewey caught sight of his neighbor immediately; sticking out from the usual crowd wrapped in her fur trimmed coat.

“Snow! Wha- what’re you doing all the way here?” Dewey stumbled his way through the girls surrounding him, “I wanted to c-call, ya know. But I need your number… so I can call you and stuff. How’dya know I was here? Are you magic?”

He was trying to be subtle but having to yell over the noise made that rather impossible. Magdalena reached out her hands, grasping his shoulders to steady him as he wobbled in place. Dewey, perhaps misunderstanding the gesture, pulled her tight to his chest, engulfing her petite frame in a hug.

His body was so warm, she thought she might melt.

Magdalena wasn’t going to let his opportunity slip away, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the mixed scent of his soap, sweat, and the blood sluggishly running through his veins. Even when they would sit side by side on the front steps of his apartment, she had yet to be this close to him. Social convention dictated that a certain amount of distance must be kept between people of small acquaintance.

Technically, since he was the one who broke that social boundary, she felt comfortable enough to start showing him more physical affection, and not just hidden wordplay.

“Not magic, I’m afraid, just well informed. Your roommate told me where to find you, and warned me about how inebriated you might be.” Magdalena allowed herself the small victory of sliding one hand behind his back, patting him gently. “It’s late, Mr. Finn, don’t you have practice tomorrow?”

Dewey’s gasp was audible even with the noise around them, his grip tightening around her, “Oh… oh… OH SHIT. I gotta go to sleep. Gotta go home. Not in that order. Mags!”

He let her go, placing his hands on either side of her face as he struggled to see her clearly. She could feel him adjusting the placement of her head within his vision, trying to keep her head steady as he wobbled around.

“Mags, do… do you have a car? Did you drive?” Dewey leaned forward as though they were sharing a secret. “Can you take me home? Maaaaaaags, you’re my only hope.”

Magdalena didn’t answer him at first, completely thrown off kilter by his incredible closeness and his use of a new nickname for her. “Mags” was a new moniker in her history; often being reduced to “Magda” by close friends and family only. Was he being sincere? Condescending? His logic being muddled by the amount of beer in his system?

Eh, she would take what she could get.

Magdalena nodded her head, watching him follow the movement with his own, “Come, we’ll go home, Mr. Finn. No cars, but the walk will sober you up in no time. Get your things.”

It took a while to get him out of the bar; Magdalena made sure his tab was paid, and that he had his coat on before the stepped outside. Even walking halfway down the block was a struggle, but not because he had a few pounds on her and thought it was “a great idea” to lean on her for support. It was struggle because she could very well

It wasn’t the fact she had to support him; it was the fact she had to do so without using near her full strength. Truth be told, she could have easily lifted him off his feet and carried him over her shoulder, but that would have been terribly suspicious given her small stature. It didn’t help that he would start slumping over, tripping on something or other on the sidewalk and narrowly avoiding splitting his head open on the cement.

Magdalena managed to subtly put him back on his feet, thankful that he was too muddled to notice. Suddenly, Dewey stopped cold, wobbling in place as she kept him steady.

“Maaaaags. I can’t walk anymore. My legs are bad.” He whined loudly, “How far?”

She winced at the volume, knowing it was probably the result of him unable to hear himself clearly, “We’re not even halfway to your apartment, Mr. Finn. Come on now, if you can stand, you can walk.”

Pouting, Dewey slipped himself to the ground with dead weight, sitting down on the sidewalk with a huff, “Too far.”

For a brief moment, she questioned her mental faculties in regard to her affection for him, “Ahh… I see. Would you like me to leave you here out in the rain and call transportation?”

“…no.” Dewey’s pout became more pronounced.

“Then we find ourselves at an impasse,” Magdalena bent down to be eye level with him. “Tell you what, my home is about a block away. If you can manage that distance, I will offer my sofa for the night.”

He eyed her suspiciously, “Do I get a pillow?”

She nodded, getting up and extending him a hand, “Yes, and you’ll be next to a fireplace, Mr. Finn. I am nothing if not hospitable.”

At once, Dewey leapt up from the ground on his own, seemingly catching a second wind at the prospect of a warm place to sleep. He threw his arm around Magdalena’s shoulders, squeezing her tight to him with a goofy smile plastered on his face.

“C’mon, Snow White, take me to the cottage~” He waggled his eyebrows at her, earning him a soft bit of laughter from his escort.

“Cottage isn’t the word I would use, but do as you will, Mr. Finn.”

Writing Tags: @hoodoo12 @mr-geuse @paxenera @leiasolo77 @go-commander-kim @a-subconscious-manifestation @asriells @missihart23 @heknowshisherbs @mrgeuse @amywright @beetlebitchywitch

#school of rock au #school of rock fanfiction #dewey finn x oc #school of rock broadway #school of rock musical #writing time

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nighttimepixels · 6 years ago

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on deltarune

Okay, holy hell, I can’t start without saying that, quite frankly:

I loved it.

The music, the visuals, the new characters, the evolution of the battle style - it still retained so much of what I loved about Undertale, yet pushed further/evolved to suit this game.

I was nervous, admittedly, at the first battle - honestly, I’ve never liked team management RPGs too much because so often they get tedious. This, though? It was the perfect balance, and with the shifting team dynamic throughout the game, it really enhanced the story and added to it, rather than being a tedious distracting!

I also have to immediately say how much I loved the Dark World. The designs, the music, the uniqueness of the characters - seriously, Toby Fox did an incredible thing. This doesn’t feel like The Underground 2.0 - this feels like a different place, with beings that are different.... yet their attitudes and interactions still have that freaking charm and depth (even in minor NPCs) that I love about his style of storytelling.

Also, Ralsei is fluffiest best boi, I’m weeping.

Okay - I’m going to save the majority of my gushing over the team & team dynamic in the Dark World for another separate post, because given how much everyone is freaking out, i want to jump right into the meat of it:

Thoughts & Theories

First off... Do I think that this is Undertale 2: the Sequel?

No... but, also, kind of.

I do not think that Deltarune is in any way a direct sequel to Undertale. I especially strongly feel that it’s not an accurate take away to say this is ‘erasing the canon of Undertale’ or ‘destroying the characters/messing with what I love about them’.

I absolutely believe that this is, very literally, an alternate universe to the one we know and love in Undertale. The evidence is everywhere, especially once we return from the Dark World. The characters are nearly all there (and then some), and all the familiar ones carry the same personality and traits that make up the core of them, but the relationships, the context they’ve lived is different. This makes them different people in many ways- hell, with how widely accepted AUs became for the fandom, this should be nothing unfamiliar - but I think a lot of people are wildly thrown off by the fact that Toby Goddamn He Sure Did That Fox legitimately made AUs canon with this game.

Hell, the world of Deltarune seems to even give us the detail that The War (between humans and monsters) never happened here! There’s no hints of it - while the town seems to be almost entirely monsters but for Kris (presumably adopted), there’s no mention of some past sealed in the Underground (or the relationships/bond formed from such an experience), and frankly it doesn’t seem like there’s animosity between monsters and humans, either.

So if it’s not a Sequel™, what is it?

Deltarune is exploring a new theme, using familiar characters, a familiar setup, which in my mind makes it all the more powerful-

Namely, I believe Deltarune is taking two main characters/’entities’ from Undertale as it’s core focus-

‘Chara’ and Gaster.

Why do I think ‘Chara’? (and why the quotes?)

This, from the end of a No-Mercy Route:

and once you select ‘Erase’:

(see too, the fact that if you do a full Pacifist ending after a No-Mercy run, the post-credits include ‘you’ waking up in the middle of the night, and the ‘Chara’ face and familiar red glint occurring.)

Deltarune is a natural ‘evolution’, a follow-up to this specific moment, this concept.

Especially, especially, I note the phrasing ‘this pointless’ world’-

because a major theme of Deltarune (Chapter 1) is the idea that your choices have little impact on the world.

This is in direct juxtaposition to Undertale’s them of ‘choices matter’ - hell, in Deltarune, the ending is damn near the same in the Dark World even if you fight every monster - you can’t even kill any of them, because they run away, scared of you.

So, Deltarune’s theme - so far, your choices... don’t matter.

I’m not here to conjecture without proof - the fact is, this is Chapter 1, and we just don’t have all the details, not even close. We don’t know Kris’ origin (adopted, almost certainly, but how/why? from where, when there seems to be no other human in this town? are monsters largely separated from humans, or is this town just a case of a concentration in population?); we don’t know Gaster’s role (I’ll get to him shortly); we don’t know if the Dark World (and Lightners) are something even whispered about in legend in the world we came from.

(That said, I don’t stand by the interpretation of ‘all that being just a dream’ situation, but again, I’d rather have more info from the next Chapter before I try and conjecture there.)

We see in the beginning of the game something that the weight of doesn’t really hit hard until after it all- Kris, when facing the mirror and checking it, gets the flavor text ‘It’s just you.’

Naturally, at first playthrough, this largely just seems like a callback to the mirror text in Undertale, and a minor insight into Kris’ personal self-value - with the ‘just’ seeming a little sadly self-deprecating.

But after you’ve seen the post-credits-

Suddenly, that feels more like tired relief.

I don’t want to say for sure that Kris is ‘haunted’ or anything like that, but Kris is definitely not just Kris. The post-credits confirm that without a doubt. Suddenly, they lurch out of their bed - not moving normally, as if something else is... piloting them, for lack of a better term - they look like a freaking zombie, at best... and then they rip their soul out of their body and slam it into a cage. The next moment, we get the chilling red-glint and distinctive ‘Chara’ like expression.

I say this tentatively, but my guess is that Kris, being adopted (though certainly at a young age, given the text about Kris growing up with Asriel) came from a bad situation. Again, avoiding too much conjecture in this post, but there’s a lot of signs that point towards that - and I mean, the symbolism of ‘separating yourself from your heart/emotions’ after something traumatic...? The emptiness of Kris’ side of the room, the way that Kris doesn’t fight back in the beginning against Susie, the emotional distance... Seeming, based on interactions with others, like Kris has been largely reticent or at least distant from others more and more, with the exception of big bro Asriel? That’s a lot of red flags, in my mind-

But it’s more than just having issues from whatever happened in their past (and presumably to their birth parents...), it’s also that either because of or in relation to that, ‘Chara’ has become a part of them, and, apparently, takes over at times. That red wagon, that cage... that’s not new. It’s rusty, there are stains nearby seemingly from it/what it held-

This is why I keep putting ‘Chara’ in quotes. It’s moreover a name for the entity of hate/no mercy that you face at the end of the game, not so much the actual Fallen Child from Undertale.

We don’t know what’s been happening with that, we don’t know how much or how often ‘Chara’ has control - but they’re there, and Kris knows it.

This is what so strongly ties together that theme of choices don’t matter - because that seems to be what Kris feels.

Additionally, on the note of Gaster:

No, we haven’t ‘seen’ him yet, or received.... direct confirmation. But Toby Fox, despite being the greatest troll with the best payoff to have ever lived, doesn’t do things lightly. Hell, despite the overwhelming popularity of Undertale, he’s only ever done a handful of proper interviews, and rarely gives concrete details about anything - if he doesn’t want to imply or say something, he won’t.

But we know for certain that he never does things lightly, and the tweets leading up to Deltarune’s release were all in the style of the ‘Missing Entry’, the DARKER YET DARKER entry - ie, the Gaster entry. Coming from a background of writing analysis and style analysis, this matches to a T (though seriously, you don’t need any kind of background to notice that...) - and furthermore, matches the ‘character creation’ start of Deltarune.

Gaster, wherever, whatever he is, is likely ‘viewing’ all this from his position smeared across space-time... everywhere and nowhere at once. He’s positioned as the narrator in an overarching since - his seems to be the ‘voice’ speaking to you when you game-over, his is what you see in the beginning... I’d bet we’re going to be seeing a lot more, though almost certainly in unexpected ways, in future chapters.

Wrapping up-

There’s so much up in the air, but I feel certain about that much based on all the evidence so far. The fact that a game of this length came out of the blue when only some of us even dared to hope for a small demo from the Gaster Tweets on Oct. 30th... holy shit.

Some people seem to have mixed feelings, but seriously - Toby Fox released a 3-4 hour game (depending on how you played it, that’s about the fastest I’ve seen on average for first plays without rushing), with no Kickstarter, no whisper of it coming out - and it’s only the first chapter of the story. However you feel about that, seriously - this man is an incredible creator, and I couldn’t be more in awe.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to reblog this/add on! I might come back and do some light edits/add-ons as I’m sure I’ll think of something I forgot to say in hardly ten minutes, but anything major I’ll likely add in a personal reblog.

With that, I’ll leave off with one final note that I think no one’s brought up yet in what little I’ve seen on full thoughts of the game:

Anyone remember the Stretch Goals from the Undertale Kickstarter?

Well, under the last, largest one, Toby Fox wrote this:

The “other” game... I can’t tell you anything about it. Its very nature is shrouded in darkness.

Toby Fox, everyone.

Toby Goddamn Fox.

#deltarune #deltarune spoilers #delta rune spoilers #deltarune theories #deltarune thoughts #those are all the biggest points i wanted to put down to post! i have SO MANY MORE #but these felt most important #esp since i've seen some mixed feelings? idk i'm a very open person #and strongly of the camp that this in no way shits on or lessens the story of Undertale #it's different - very much so - and /challenging/#jfc though i'm so excited to see where this goes #and also fucking reeling still at the fact that TOBY HINTED AT DELTARUNE IN THE FINAL UPDATE OF THE UT KICKSTARTER #JFC #GOD TIER FORESHADOWING

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misty720 · 5 years ago

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Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Undertale (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Frisk/Sans (Undertale), Chara/Papyrus (Undertale), Asgore Dreemurr/Toriel, Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Chara & Frisk (Undertale), Chara & Asriel Dreemurr & Frisk Characters: Chara (Undertale), Frisk (Undertale), Papyrus (Undertale), Sans (Undertale), Asriel Dreemurr, Asgore Dreemurr, Toriel (Undertale), Undyne (Undertale), Alphys (Undertale), Mettaton (Undertale), Other Undertale Characters Additional Tags: Smut, Angst, Sex, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Headcanon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underfell Sans (Undertale), Chara & Frisk (Undertale) are Siblings, One True Pairing, Don't Like Don't Read, Aged-Up Character(s), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), oh ecto-penis we meet again, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, not fanfic related, Consent, Drunk Sex, Tags Are Hard, these are my favorite tags, Shipping, Human/Monster Romance, Minor Violence, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Light BDSM, Threesome - F/F/M, eventually, Tags May Change Summary:

After falling into the dreaded hole of Mt. Ebott, Chara and Frisk are taken in by Asgore and Toriel and raised alongside Asriel. Winning favor, and a little fear, with many of the king's subjects proved to be helpful in keeping the girls alive. Impressed with their abilities to fight, adapt, and survive, he decides to make them a subject of research and study in exchange for protection, shelter, and a family. Ten years have passed since and the girls are not only all grown up, but extremely fortunate to have survived for so long under the dangerous circumstances. With the Underground being full of rough, rowdy, hateful, but not necessarily evil monsters, how do they stay out of trouble? Their skeleton body guards of course. But things take an unexpected turn when love and lust are thrown in the mix.

*Disclaimer: Undertale and all related characters belong solely to Toby Fox.

#fanfic #headcanon #underfell #au #papara #papyrus x chara #frans #smut #fluff and angst #shipping #otp #monster x human #dont like dont read

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firemama · 7 years ago

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Drabble: Gentle Hands

He watches his hands quietly.

The area is not quiet, not like him. Far from silent.

The loud sounds of children playing in the street in front of him.

The city underground is loud- with people, yelling and shouting. With electronics and vehicles blaring. The bustle of work and the cheer of play and the chatter of socializing.

The children, laughing and giggling.

He watches his hands, then looks up at the children.

Chara and Asriel chatter beside each under the oak tree near bye. Frisk has started a snowball fight with Sina, against Susan and Sarrah. Marshall and James make snow angels, only to mess each other’s up with sabotage, and try to make new ones. Max is trying to make a snowman.

The district of the city of Snowdin is alive with sounds, and he watches his children as they play.

Toriel is away. She is very busy today.

Last night he killed.

He looks at his hands.

They are clean. Pristine. Whiter than the slushy snow in the street- churned with dirt with the occasional passing car that sends the kids running from the street mid-snowball-throw sloshing it further.

He’s washed his hands a million times. They are clean.

Maybe they are clean, but, they are bad hands.

Last night he killed a mother.

He hadn’t known she was pregnant- no, no he hadn’t.

He would of killed her either way. It was his job.

He killed a mother.

He killed a child.

An unborn child.

The streets are loud around him, his hands are very clean.

He is angry.

Dark purple blotches stain the air as he stares at his hands. His anger grows, as does the magic in the air.

He looks up at the children.

The air clears as he watches his children play in a bustled city street.

A dirty grimy street.

This city is a slum.

He’s a rich man. A very wealthy man, but, he cannot take his children somewhere better.

Monsters live in slums.

His children must live with him- Toriel must live with him.

Monsters must live in slums. Monsters and their children.

He is a rich man. A rich monster. He holds his children back.

He’s a rich man. A dangerous man.

He looks down at his hands.

He killed a woman, and her child.

She was a human. An angry human.

Asgore hired him to kill this woman.

He does not blame Asgore.

Asgore doesn’t even know who Ace is.

Ace is faceless.

He hired a man with no history but murder.

Asgore would never of hired a man that raises his own son and children to of done this job.

Asgore would never of hired a man with so many children to love to kill a woman and her child.

Asgore hired a man who’d get the job done.

He did the job.

He killed a pregnant woman last night. Heknows her other two children are orphans now.

She was a judge.

A bribed judge who fought each of the steps for equality.

Humans like her were the reason that this city was a slum.

Snowdin was a zone for monsters. A city with little funds. A limit.

A city of crime and angry, desperate people.

Monsters were a people. Not a human, but still a person.

He killed a woman and her child last night. Orphaned her sons.

He had left no evidence a monster had snuck out of the limits of the city. No sign she was killed by monsters.

No. He shot her through the head with a human’s weapon of choice.

He killed a woman last night.

He’d gotten angry when he’s seen the ultrasound photo slip from her dead hands.

She’d never felt a thing, but the baby in her belly- it would die slow. Suffocation.

He’d been so angry.

His hands were clean when he fired the gun.

He fired it again at her stomach until it was empty.

He was angry.

So angry.

He tore into her stomach, violent, crushing.

His hands were so toxic to the touch, his magic so hot. Her skin burned and melted in his hands. He crushed her baby in with the mix.

So angry.

He killed a woman. He killed a child.

So angry.

He looked at his children.

The dangerous pockets of purple and black magic fade out of the air as he watched Frisk throw a snowball at Asriel. He and Chara join the snowball fight.

His hands are clean.

They were not clean last night.

He looks at his hands.

He burned her body, her home.

Her children were orphans, but she- like him- was wealthy.

They would be okay. Live a long life. A wealthy life.

Not in this slum.

He already knew from the news, they were living with their aunt. She has a mansion.

They suspect the woman was killed in the fire- nothing had been left but charred bones.

He’d torn the bullets out and thrown them out in a stream. When the house had burned he knocked a heavy beam to crush her skull. He’d started the fire using candles by bursting a gas pipe and sparking it.

There was little evidence that foul play had occurred.

No one suspected.

Only Asgore and who he told would know.

No one but they would ever know.

Ace was good at his job.

He killed a woman and her child.

He would have done it anyway if he knew she had a child.

He would do what it took to take his children out of this slum.

He was a rich man because he did what it took to make money in a city like this.

He didn’t want his kids to be in a place where this was the only way to get what ou want- what you need.

He didn’t want this for anyone.

He had a gift for it. He would use it in any way to get monsters free.

A woman and her child paid a price.

He’d do it again tomorrow night if he were hired to.

He looked at his hands.

They were very bad hands.

Angry Hands.

Dangerous Hands.

Bad Hands.

Hurtful Hands.

The world around him is loud.

The air is black and purple.

A child cries with a screech and he looks up, at his feet.

Frisk cries.

They cry, loud, as the other children cluster around. They cry that they’ve broken their hand.

He panics and flies down the stairs and across the street- narrowly dodging a car with a shortcut that honks at him like it’s cursing.

Toriel opens the front door- she heard the cries from the door.

Frisk is so very small. He hovers, panicking. He does not know what to do.

He can feel his face grinning, crouched as his knees dig into the snow, and his hands hover.

His hands cannot help.

He cannot heal, he cannot aid.

His hands.

Toriel is joining his side, sliding up into a crouch that scatters snow on his suit. He doesn’t care about it.

She takes Frisk’s hand, cooing calming words to them when they cry harder, trying to see it.

Toriel smiles kindly. “It is not broken, my child, no. You must have skidded it on the cement beneath the snow.”

His smile falls a little. He’s relieved to hear that it isn’t broken.

Frisk cries. “no! no! it’s broken!” they look at him. “say- sayrus! You know! You know bones! Tell her! its broken!”

He cringes back at the request, smile widening. “My, dear Frisk- I cannot assist you. You know your lazy bones cannot help such ways.”

Frisk cries harder.

He jumps.

Toriel slaps his shoulder and he winces a bit.

“Sayrus! Please! You know how to care for your child, what is wrong with you today?”

He grins at her, sweating, and looks down. his hands twitch.

Suddenly she has taken them. Her hands are so warm. Too warm for the cold slums of Snowdin.

“Come now, no more of this, my child! No more of this- I’ve told you! You’ve good hands, dear.”

His hands will always be for bad.

She rubs them with her thumb. She speaks softer- too soft for the mob wife she really is. Rarely does she speak that way, even to her children or to him.

“My dear. You know you have gentle hands, Sayrus.”

She lets him go. She begins to instruct or children to leave; it’s time to head inside.

He remembers the first time she told them that. She’d asked him to hold Asriel- he was newly born. She scowled at him when he said it was a bad idea, he could not touch fragile things.

“Gentle hands, Mr.Serif. I will show you how. Small things need gentle hands.”

She made him hold that fluffy little baby.

Gentle hands.

Asgore, still her husband then, he’d laughed at Sayrus’ fear. He wouldn’t have laughed if he knew what kind of person Toriel was handing their child so dear to.

Gentle hands, Sayrus.

It was how he calmed Chara in their panic when he first met them. Gentle hands, a little child of only 3 with a knife, panicked and slashing just inside the walls of the Monster District. He’d never understand how a child had fallen into the restricted Zone of monsters.

Gentle hands, Sayrus. The way lady Toriel had told him when he’d try to play with her son, so young, 4 years old. When he’d hold him. you must use gentle hands.

Gentle hands, sayrus. For precious things. Things you love, things that are fragile.

She’s had to teach him when he was first made. The scientist that had made him- he had never shown him gentle hands.

He did not know how to be good. His hands could only hurt.

He’d never known a gentle hand. He’d bitten Toriel the first time she’d touched him. He was a mere child. She taught him.

You must be gentle to help.

He took Chara to her. she adopted Chara. Two children, he helped with gentle hands.

Three. Four. Five.

Always more children, to fall into this city. They never belong here.

Panicked scared children.

With fear you must be gentle.

When Toriel and Asgore split, she’d needed a home. She’d live with him.

Her children knew him. they liked him.

He lived with these children. Chara and Asriel. Asriel told him once, he was a good father figure. Very kind. Very loving.

More children fell into the walls, one after another.

He brought them home- humans were not safe in this city, or any monster city. Humans were unwanted.

With Gentle hands, he calmed their fears, he took them home. Patched them up, settled them in. A gentle, loving home.

Gentle hands.

He didn’t have gentle hands. They were bad, bad hands. But if he tried, like Toriel taught him…

He could be gentle, too. Even if he was not made to be. If he tried.

You must have gentle hands, sayrus.

Carefully he picked up Frisk as they cried, lifting them from the snow that slowly soaked their sweater.

Toriel smiled over his shoulder.

With an angry frown he brushed Frisk’s hair out of their face, where it had stuck to their tears.

Gentle hands, Sayrus.

He could be very careful.

Ace was a very careful person, the best monster in the underground world for any job.

Gentle hands.

He had bad hands, he hurt easily.

He took his child inside, whispering soft things and stupid jokes that could make them smile.

With gentle hands he took them in.

He had very bad hands, but. They can be gentle.

#Ace #i do like him #hes a good alternate #a little twisted up #but a good boy #in a bad world

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nycto-draggo · 7 years ago

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Flow Trek 2: The Wrath of Goat [Part 2]

Ah yes, ye olde goat versus fish fight. With a human thrown in the mix.

This is a conversation between Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr and yourself, ❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)].

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: ((n i c e))

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: ((First try))

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: // Awesome.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: The robot's swarm of parts 'shook' its 'head'. "Nothing, 'prince'. He simply spoke to me, after his defeat of me. After all, HE is the prince here. Not you." he said.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: ((Imagine https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxicyJSygkc playing, for example))

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "You wanted to be an inspiration! Not their destroyer!" He shook himself, holding the Mini-Galaxy in both hands, a stereotypical chainsaw grip on the weapon.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: His disjointed pieces motioned as though flipping his hair with a hand, and he scoffed. "An inspiration to MONSTERS, darling. All too often does one discover dark secrets behind their idols. Even I had several I wouldn't have wanted monsterkind to find out about." he said, with his standard click of melodrama. He then formed his hand together as best he could to snap his fingers, and his soul-eye above started shaking..... Before its pupil split into many, and started projecting light beams like the reflections from a disco ball. As Mettaton's body started dancing with an unheard melody, the eye started rolling and turning itself, spinning blue, orange, red and yellow lasers all over Flowey's monitor.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "To humans as well! You had dreams of leaving the quadrant, becoming the galaxy's biggest sensation--" He held the trigger and started firing at the eye, holding his ground and burning through the magical ammo supply. You could only fire off so many shots without starting to fatigue yourself.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: Mettaton's body seized up as his eye was shot at- why hadn't Asriel thought of that before.... "Ack..!" he sputtered, his 'eye' squinching shut and flying away. "Irrelevant! The humans are simply what my likeness was born of!" he spat, the other eyes turning to watch. "You want to shoot MY soul directly... I'll simply send in a stunt double!" A warning siren was blaring in the back channel of his comm link- at his feet, the screen had gone white again, displaying Flowey's energy meters. The pink heart had been hammered down to 73% power. He actually injured what was left of Mettaton.... And his body's parts flew after the eye as it retreated out of sight behind Flowey.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: The screen flashed a dull red when Mettaton was done cursing him. "For the last goddamn time, Mettaton, I am NOT your stunt double!" ...Undyne. Fuck. His. Life.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: ((***Note for readers after this: I was waiting all day to cut the MTT fight short, hahaha***))

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: Asriel tossed the Mini-Galaxy aside, grabbing the Sabres and twirling them again. One shortened itself, much better for parrying with. Undyne, he held a deep respect for her, and he wouldn't just... shoot her. No. He'd fight her the way she'd fight.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: The siren blared louder after the guard captain's outburst, as the red on Flowey's monitor glowed brighter and brighter.... Until everything was red, and turned to static. For a few moments, everything was dark, and Asriel couldn't make anything out. His bare feet felt like they were standing on something smooth, like glass....... Until he felt a heavy tremor nearly knock him over. A spatial fighter ship had just jetted past him, narrowly missing its open opportunity to splatter him across space. Its plating was painted bright cyan.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: (( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvoL6mT7Flo :P))

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: The proximity alert of his sensors was already going off due to Flowey, so he had no warning of the ship's approach, and flinched aside after almost getting taken out by Patience. "Undyne! Will you, at least, fight fair?"

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: He'd hear chuckling in the distance.... Not from his comms. There was atmosphere here.... Somehow. As he challenged Undyne, various teal circles appeared around him, surrounding him as the ship curved around in the distance. Once the ship had completed its U-turn, Undyne's spears shot up from the ground, trapping him in place... Unable to dodge away from the ship now speeding towards him....

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: ... instead, he braced for impact, the Entropy Sabres (well, more like Entropy Sabre and Entropy Dagger now) held out in front of him. They'd absorb most of the blow, and hopefully deflect it so that it bounced up. "I'll take that as a 'no'."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: But..... The ship phased right through him. He felt a bizzare ripple through his being as the ship and human passed through his own body, but he was unharmed. It was because he was standing still. When he opened his eyes, he'd see.... A disturbing sight. Undyne stood with a pike made of celestial energy, pointed at his face, while the other spears were gone. Her armor was melted in some places, and her face.... Her right eye was burned out by some form of plasma. She was wholly blind, now. "What other option do I have, punk?" she breathed.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "... surrender?" He almost laughed as he suggested that - yeah, as if. Undyne had never surrendered, even while training as a kid - she'd only given up when she couldn't fight any longer. He quickly caught the pike in the two little notches on the back side of his Sabres, and shoved it up, using the momentum from that to swing himself forward and kick her back.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: Of course, this plan was ill thought out- Undyne's pike wasn't quite close enough, and as he raised his swords, she sneered, jabbing her weapon in between them on purpose. With a circular swipe, she knocked the dagger out of his hand with ease, kicking it with the boot of her armor. It shattered into bits as she turned the pike sideways and shoved Asriel back by his sword. Once he'd stumbled to a stop, the ship flew back, phasing through both of them. Almost too close... "Surrender...? You're fucking hilarious." she quipped.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "I know, I know." He held the Sabre in both hands now, adjusting the sensors to track the ship. That also turned the proximity alarm off from Flowey, which was quite helpful with it no longer ringing in his ears. "You don't DO surrender."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: She chuckled, keeping her 'gaze' locked in his direction even though her eyes were both gone. For some reason, she still kept that eyepatch over her left one... "Exactly." she spat. "And I'm not gonna let humanity hold us away from what was once our home- a lush, massive planet with liveable atmosphere and a variety of climates anyone could live comfortably in.... But humans decided it should only be them."

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "There are other planets like that! And you can reason with them as well!" He stepped closer, only pausing when the ship seemed to be coming on another attack run. "You don't have to kill them all."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: Undyne's mouth twitched, and she gripped her pike tight. "You didn't hear the others, huh. It's wired in their minds to want control. Superiority." she said flatly. "'Made in God's image' but not with the power to match the self-value. Once THEY start exploring other planets, they'll colonize and conquest, enslaving or killing whatever tries to stop them." she said sourly. "You know I'm right."

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "So they're a species just like Flowey? Misanthropists?" He feinted a blow to the right, then a quick swipe left, aiming for the already weak parts of her armour. "You and your goal aren't RIGHT, and I will do everything in my power to stop you... for your OWN GOOD."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: Undyne drew a sharp breath, her spear quickly following his sword as it moved. She was evidently relying on her hearing... And Asriel was talking, breathing, and displacing air with his sword's movements. "We're numbered a tenth as many as we once were." she hissed. "Humanity nearly slaughtered all of us, then said, 'let's leave some alive so we can jack eachother off about being merciful'. They knew full well that that was the far crueler way to go about it."

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "And if we'd won? Love, mercy and compassion make up a monster's soul... but they don't define it. I've SEEN malice, self-obsession driving monsters to commit atrocities, and when I was the damned flower I killed EVERYTHING because I WAS BORED!" He made a point of swinging mid-shout, hoping to catch her unaware of the Sabre's movement. "Humans won the War, and that council of seven SAVED every single Monster they could!"

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: Undyne furrowed her brow, quickly shifting her pike up between her hands to catch his saber with a ridge at the middle of the spearshaft. "Humans were the instigators too. They wanted to eliminate the threat of what THEY dubbed 'monsters', that could become absurdly powerful with just one human soul." she retorted. "If their 'United Nations' truly cared, they wouldn't have allowed the civilization's generals to start the war in the first place. Monsters would've been happy to continue living peaceably as was, following Asgore's example." She sniffed at mention of Asgore... Asriel would see that she was carefully holding back a couple tears, while the human's ship circled them in the distance.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "Undyne, you've disobeyed direct orders before." He rolled his eyes, taking a step back. "Those human generals went above the UN's head. Started a war nobody truthfully wanted. You haven't got to read human's history, I HAVE."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: She gritted her teeth, forcing Asriel's sword aside to jab at his stomach. "ASGORE WAS *THERE*, ASRIEL!" she shouted. "HE WITNESSED IT ALL HIMSELF, FIRST HAND! SAW HIS FRIENDS DIE BEFORE HIM, TURNING TO DUST IN HIS ARMS! DON'T YOU DARE CLAIM THAT YOU KNOW IT BETTER!"

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "So a War started by rogue agents is the fault of ALL of humanity?" He shoved the spear down with a burst of magic, then rammed his fist into her face. That was a benefit of using a sword, didn't need two hands to control it. "The UN publicly denounced them! Didn't stop them attacking!"

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: Undyne grunted, tensing up and actually dropping thee pike when he punched her. But that proved to be a hell of a mistake. Without another word, she slugged him RIGHT back, with a punch from her gauntlet that snapped a couple joints in hiss neck out of place and sent him reeling back... The ship flew by again, but she'd JUST knocked him out of its path in time. "...Fuck it, you're not worth the argument. You aren't his son, let alone my brother." she grumbled. When he looked back, Undyne was gone, and he pike was raising up on its own... Before being joined by various other weapons, scaled up to about three times his size. All started spinning as the ship narrowly flew amidst them. As it happened, a voice got picked up by his comm link- probably the human. "Captain's log, stardate unknown. We seem to have entered a sudden field of space junk. This'll require some tactical flying I definitely have the skill to do." It was a girl's voice... Barely an adult by the sound of it. And a fucking nerd, from her talk.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: He picked himself up, the suit pushing his spine back into place. It hurt, but that was the automated medical module for you. With none of the weapons focused on me, he tuned into the commlink. "Hello? Can you hear me?" The second Sabre had reformed by now, and he placed his hands on the ground before pulling them back into his hands. Didn't want to risk them slamming into the ship while being recalled.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: // focused on him, not me!

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: The voice chuckled dryly. "Computer, fix the damn security on this channel. Looks like a wispy goat's eavesdropping on us." she said... As the ship made another round, it flew past with one of the massive weapons between it and Asriel. As it shot by, its upper part blew open, ejecting the human out before closing again and shifting as it went into autopilot.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "Not eavesdropping over open comms." He chuckled, twirling the larger Sabre, the Entropy Dagger on his hip. "Please tell me you're more reasonable than everyone else so far."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: The human landed down on the 'ground', watching a spinning 'knife' fly past them. She was indeed pretty young.... And her whole body was pale-fleshed, and covered in frost. He'd have a good view of her clothes as she pulled out some kind of cylinder.... A red Star Fleet uniform, straight out of a convention hall. She was doomed to die before she even arrived. ...And with a press of a button, the cylinder projected out a cyan beam of energy. It was a straight up lightsaber. "Not really, no. I watched Star Trek religiously enough to see Flowey's point...."

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: The shirt was an omen, but one he'd ignore. He stepped forward, blade raised. "He's wrong. I... was wrong. Humanity's destruction isn't necessary. We can make peace with them."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: She shook her head slowly. "...Real fitting that your fur's white, too. You wouldn't understand the degree humanity can't even make peace with itself." she said, holding her saber two-handed as she stalked towards him in a circle. As she moved, he'd glimpse Undyne in the distance, before she disappeared behind one of the weapons..... Her right eye was burnt out by the light saber the human was approaching him with. The human had killed her.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "I understand what they're capable of. But when were you last on Earth?" He didn't bother to attack. She was Patience, she wouldn't strike first unless he baited her into it, and being on the defensive was advantageous.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: She narrowed her eyes. Her movement was slow, due to her evidently freezing and suffocating in the nil atmosphere of space... "Years ago. Not long enough for a truly impactful difference to be made." she said. "Slavery took centuries, gender equality was still a problem when I left. Racism is rampant, and a shitstorm starts up if you say you'd rather kiss your own gender than the opposite. That's just between people of the same species."

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "A few years... YOUR time. Didn't you learn anything about time dilation? It's been a couple millennia back on Earth! And you won't bother to see peace as an option." He shook his head, lowering the sword slightly. "None of you will."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: The human scoffed, narrowing her eyes. "Says who." she said. "You aren't from this universe. You have no way of knowing." She had a point...

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: He tapped the screen below him with a foot. There HAD been a map on it when he'd first seen it...

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: Except.... No screen. It was some kind of techy floor. The human stalked around him, rolling her head around to pop the joints. "What're you doing...?"

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "... what?" He looked down, then straight back up at her. No getting distracted. "Great. Flowey, stop warping reality around yourself. It's very annoying."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: The human raised a brow. "He isn't. He teleported us into a pocket realm made from the other five and I's magic. I said to give me a holodeck." she said.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "Well, I WAS standing on his monitor. Had a map on it." He adjusted his grip on the Sabre. "... how the hell did he convince Kindness?"

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "Or Justice, for that matter."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: She smirked, waving a hand. "Altruism and Vigilantism? Pretty obvious." she noted. That was right, the traits of the humans were skewed in this environment... Rather than patience, this human was Curiosity. Two holograms appeared, of the green and yellow souls. "His heart ached seeing monsters suffer so badly, and remembering all the pain humans have caused throughout history." she said, motioning at the green one. "And she's been fed up with humanity's bullshit for a LONG time." she continued, motioning at the yellow one. "Me? I already explained my case..."

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "Your case? That humans are incapable of changing, that they are so stubborn and set in their ways that it's impossible for them to ever get along with each other... Oh, wait. You yourself said differences that were made." He shook his head. "It'll take time. But don't you want to see that? When humanity's something you can say without a bitter taste in your mouth?"

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: A hand suddenly grabbed him by the horn, pulling him back. Undyne was there behind and to his side- rather, in front and to his side, now, and turning to face him. "Yeah, because it's not like the latest stance on slavery among humans says they can use convicts as slaves. That people who don't conform to the majority sexuality are freely allowed to be treated as lesser than others. That 'law enforcement' favors those of their skin color to others. List goes on." she said dryly. "But oh, you're the prince. None of that effects you."

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "Of-- COURSE that would affect me! I'm pretty sure the majority sexuality isn't asexual, and I would debate those laws in courts the way they're MEANT to. Not kill people because they disagree with me!" He twisted his head to shake Undyne's grip off, scowling slightly. "You're supposed to be a heroine, Captain. Start acting like it."

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: "I'm a heroine to monster kind." she hissed, summoning a spear as the human circled around to Asriel's other side. "Humans as a whole are not my friends. The only exceptions are here right now, watching us as we speak."

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "And the only thing that makes them exceptions is that they side with Flowey." He lowered the Sabre, pointing at Undyne's various wounds. "Tell me if I'm wrong, but that energy weapon of yours, human... it melts things, doesn't it?"

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: Undyne shook her head slowly as the human shrugged. "It can. Depends on the situation." she said. Her tone said she was knowingly avoiding the question.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "She killed you, didn't she, Undyne." This wasn't as much a question as it was a statement. "Under any other circumstance, you'd be trying to kill each other, not me. That's what Flowey wants. Obedience without question, a common vilified enemy in humanity and anyone who fights for them. Why do you listen to him?"

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: Undyne's mouth twitched. "She beat me because I was a fucking idiot about fighting her." "It's not like I was given a choice. If I didn't kill her, one of the others would've." The captain waved a hand dismissively at both of them, turning her head away. "I wasn't in my position when she came and died." "And wasn't it humanity that nearly destroyed you, too?"

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "Humanity killed me, but I was the one who tried to attack THEM. And even after that, a human fought to bring me back." He slowly shakes his head. "You know they can change, and you can MAKE that change, without killing them. Why do you listen to Flowey?"

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: The human's nose twitched slightly, and she turned her head away as well. "There's a reason they call it human error. Even humans expect other humans to be assholes. That's the first instinct, not an afterthought." It was pretty clear they were both really stubborn on the matter....

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "Answer the Rune-damned question, why do you listen to him?!" This was just frustrating now.

❤❤❤Sigma Flowey❤❤❤ [S is for Space =)]: Undyne took a deep breath, grimacing as she turned her pike and jumped to kick at Asriel's torso. "She doesn't have to tell you!" she spat.

Outertale!Asriel Dreemurr: "BOTH of you do!" He ducked under the kick and caught it, springing back up to seriously throw Undyne off balance. "He doesn't feel anything. He's manipulating you, you both know it, WHY are you going along with it?!"

#shamchat #Flow Trek

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antarestyl · 8 years ago

Text

PTA Sans - The one with Flowey

Where a machine gets activated.

Warnings: Some strong language, Flowey, sad dad Asgore,

AO3 Link

Asgore had been king of the Monster for a long time, even before the war had started, and even before the war, there was conflict. Nothing was perfect after all and he as a king was supposed to find solutions for the problems of his people, big or small.

He was in a lot of situations which had overwhelmed him or that he didn't understand. There were times where there just was no time to comprehend everything. There were times when he just had to go with whatever flow there was, make decisions based on vague feelings instead of understanding.

He had never felt so at loss about everything thou like when he was standing in Alphy's basement, faced with a machine that looked like somebody had taken a giant skull and had shoved it into a telephone box and then set everything on fire.

Well, it didn't look like that at all to be honest. For once it wasn't on fire... but still. The skull part was there, there were machine bits and bits that looked strangely... melted and other bits that were glowing faintly.

On top of THAT Asgore had the feeling that thing was staring at him.

“Well... uh... Asgore... uhm... before we start. Is there anything... uhm... you don't understand about this?”, asked Alphys, clicking her finger-claws together nervously.

“There... is absolutely nothing I understand about this.” said Asgore and absolutely meant every word of that.

The walk from Grillby's to Alphy's place was a strange one, to many thoughts colliding in his mind. Sans remembering everything, their talk earlier, the memories of Gaster's fall and his own failures, seeing Grillby again after... how many years (seeing him SMILE and happy), seeing Alphys, seeing Frisk and...

Asriel. Flowey. His son. Or... the one that used to be his son.

His sweet little child who bleaked when startled and who loved to eat cinnamon pie and who would sit on his shoulder and sleep in his arms, whom he had told so many stories, whom he had hugged and kissed and told that he loved him.

Whose dust was spread in his garden, whom he failed and lost, together with his adopted child.

Who was now a flower without a soul and insisting the one he once was was long gone. It felt a bit like he regained his son and lost him in the same moment. It was the highest of joys and the deepest of despairs and the result of it was...

He was feeling dumb.

So much had changed. So much for all of them.

And now there was Sans again and the machine of Gaster, a friend he lost to the madness that was the wake of his own damned rage. He had wronged them both, Gaster for placing pressure on him and not realizing how much his foundation was crumbling, and Sans, for not taking action and being ignorant to the fallout of the breaking and falling scientist.

And now they were here and offering to bring back something he lost with the same ignorance and near-sightedness that had led to the mess there were in to begin with: a soul for his lost son.

Said lost son who was a flower and wasn't looking at him. His son who lived for years as a flower.

“Oh... do you... uh... want me to explain... it?”, asked Alphys.

Asgore shook his head. “I rather just know what I need to do.”

“Oh, that's quite simple.”, said Alphys, smiling a tiny bit. “You will... uhm... just have to provide your love to the new soul! It's... uh... just like... when a new soul grows naturally.”, she mumbled, blushing dark-yellow.

“Just like... but...” Asgore looked to the machine and back to Alphys, to Flowey and the back to Alphys.

“You... uh... will know what to do.”, she mumbled.

Asgore doubted that.

He hadn't known what to do in a very long time. He suddenly wished Toriel was here.

On the other hand... no. She was hurt enough by losing Chara and Asriel and all the other humans he...

Well... it was done and gone and past now. He was living in the present. There was Flowey. There was Alphys and Sans and Frisk. And the machine.

“Alphys is right.”, said Sans after a while, winking at him. “My... Gaster managed it without meaning to, you will do fine.” He looked at the machine. “This thing here will draw in magic, compassion and love and will press it together with... stuff. And create a new soup that will be put in Flowey. So, piece of flower-cake.”

“Urgh, be silent, trashbag.”, mumbled Flowey. Frisk hushed him and Asgore just tried to focus on Sans and Alphys for now.

Asgore nodded. There was nothing else he could do.

There still were some things that needed to be fixed, Sans and Alphys filled the machine with some strange liquids, silver and shiny and red and all sorts of other things. Flowey was placed on a small table in front of the machine, Frisk sat down on a chair and watched the process.

Asgore stood beside what used to be his son and felt more and more awkward.

“... you know, you don't have to get high hopes here.”, said Flowey after a while, rustling his leaves. “It's like I said. I have his memories and I am so TIRED of being in this stupid form... but I am NOT Asriel. Not really anymore. Asriel was a stupid crybaby that got killed because he was so damn naïve and weak.”

“Language, my child.”, Asgore finally said.

Flowey huffed at him, baring sharp teeth. “Didn't you listen to me? I am NOT Asriel!”

“No.”, said Asgore, sighing deeply. “I came to terms with that my son is dead. Still... as far as I understand this...” he made a gesture to the machine. “This will... give birth to a new soul. With my love for it. So in a way, you will become my child.”

“Hmpf.”, made Flowey. “Nobody knows if it will even work.”

“I have faith in Sans and Alphys.”

“The one who melted monster together instead of healing them and the other who shattered his father and was to lazy to do anything when the timelines started buckling.”, death-panned Flowey. “The queen of trash and the trashbag, what a trustworthy duo.”

“I don't appreciate you talking about them like that.”

“Urgh, don't give me that crap, I heard it enough from those stupid flames! “I don't appreciate you talking like that”, HAH! Don't do so then, I don't care.”, huffed Flowey. “... I CAN'T care.” he added after a few seconds.

Asgore felt the emptiness inside him pull at something in his stomach.

“Do you... really remember everything?”, asked Asgore after a while.

“Pretty much.”, mumbled Flowey. “And a lot more most of you idiots remember. Stuff that happened in other timelines. Mostly boring stuff. Or stuff just got boring after some time.”

Asgore just nodded again. There was nothing he could say. The implications were there. He looked to the machine. He looked to Sans and Alphys and Frisk. He looked back to the flower that once was and maybe will be again his child.

Maybe not the same... but still.

His soul was filled with... SOMETHING. It might be hope.

Sans in the meantime was filled with something else. To be specific, his skull was filled with his own internal screaming. He was freaking out in all directions to appear to be standing still.

This was such a bad idea, it was a bad idea all along, on every plane. How could this ever work? The stupid machine of his father that BROKE freaking YEARS ago, all the experimental stuff he had thrown at this thing, the Determination, the MYTHRIL (holy FUCK he had stolen a highly magical substance from a human lab ON FRISK'S FIELD TRIP holy fuck he was the WORST) and now ASGORE was here and Flowey and Frisk and why the fuck did he thought this was a good idea?

It wasn't, it just wasn't, it was the worst of all ideas.

But he did it anyway.

He took a look at the machine. His internal screaming intensified.

“Sans?”

A whisper pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked down at Frisk who looked at him with a mix of worry and curiosity.

“Uh... yes kiddo?”

Frisk raised their hands again, now that they had Sans's attention again.

“You were getting lost in your head again.”

“Heh... can't hide my numbskull from a sharp bone like you huh?”

Both of them chuckled a bit before Frisk continued signing again.

“You didn't told me Flowey was on the surface.”

Sans made a little face at that. He really hadn't meant to keep Frisk out of the loop. It was just... easier to not tell them about stuff before he was fully ready to deal with it. On top of that was Toriel and he honestly wasn't the slightest ready for THAT.

“I'm sorry kiddo... Had to make sure things are really working and... uh...”

“You didn't want to upset mom?”

“Yeah....” Since when could his kid see through him this well? Heh, see through. He was a skeleton. “But look, Grillby took great care of him, didn't he?”

“He did.” Frisk nodded.“But why did you gave him to Grillby?”

“Well, for one I can trust Grillbz, see?”, Sans winked. “He's a cool guy, despite being made of fire.”

Frisk giggled at that. Score.

“And, well, if things WOULD have gone sour, Grillby is the best flame to stop a naughty little flower getting dumb ideas.”, he added with a grin.

It wasn't a lie either. Grillby was one of the few surviving members of the royal army of the war and there was nobody in his right mind that would mess with him. Even in the worst resets of Flowey, Grillby was one of the few constants that would prevent the insane flower from just killing everything and everybody.

After a few very interesting resets he had started to avoid Snowdin and Grillby's especially. A reason more the bar in Snowdin felt like a second home quickly. Grillby could make you feel completely safe.

“Flowey wouldn't have done anything...”

Sans looked at Frisk, sighing a bit bit. There was a time when he would have believed that. When Flowey was his best friend, when he couldn't remember the resets clearly, before he found his own notes and the memories became clearer.

Memories of dust and scarves in the wind, of the screaming of his loved ones. Memories of the feeling of vines on his bones and laugher so close that it was coming from his own skull.

He knew it was just a kid without a soul and in a lot of pain. Still, it made it difficult to trust the flower. So, Grillby as the overseer of the little flower it was. At the moment it looked like it was the right choice.

“Kiddo...”, sighed Sans and patted Frisk finally again. “It's nice that you believe so much in him but this old bag of bones just wanted to... keep things a bit more safe.”

“... at least Flowey looks like he had fun with Grillby.”

Sans chuckled. “Like I said, he is a cool guy. Always keeps a cool head despite things heating up.”

Frisk giggled and Sans felt like he just saved the day or something. Nice. He should tell Grillby the next time he was over how puns about him saved Frisk's day. Maybe.

“Sans? Will everything be okay?”

Sans looked at Frisk.

“Kiddo, I promise.”, he said, smiling, and desperately trying to convince himself of his words as well as Frisk.

He looked back at the machine as Alphys filled in the last vial of the needed chemicals. The eyes of the skull-like main structure started glowing a bit more. Sans shuttered, remembering the last time this thing activated.

He had interfered in the last second then, causing everything to explode, for Gaster to fell into the thing, to be shattered and taken apart and for Papyrus to forget so many things. To be totally honest, he was afraid of this thing. But on the other hand, he HAD taken it apart and put it together again with the help of Alphys. He knew every part of this thing like his own bones.

This hunk of trash took his father (in one sense or an other), almost his brother, a good part of his life and maybe even more from him. It's high-time it gave at least SOMETHING back.

It was almost a bit to easy. Just sit Flowey with Asgore in front of the machine and press a button. Easy.

It still shook him to the bones when the machine came to life fully, opening it's mouth and...

and everything went dark.

Sans knew how the machine was supposed to work, this was normal. It still freaked him out a tiny bit to be honest. What was worse was that from now on he couldn't do anything more than to watch and hope for the best.

Asgore in the meantime held on to Flowey's pot, staring into the void that opened up in front of them. Flowey in his hands was shaking, his leaves and pedals trembling and making a small noice.

“P...Please don't kill me...”, he could hear and it just... broke his heart. His son or not his son... in this moment it was just a child, a terrified child. And he just...

He just...

It was getting darker and darker, there was a strange pulling sensation and Asgore felt himself pleading to the stars or whatever would listen to him.

Please let this work. Please give this child a soul. Please end this suffering. Please help.

Something darker than darkness seemed to drip out of the mouth of the machine while something bright seemed to form inside the left eye of it. Something seemed to vibrate in the room. There was still the pull but at the same time a push begun to built up. SOMETHING was happening and Asgore had no way in experiencing what exactly. Something happened and it was outside his comprehension.

Then everything went white (soul white) for a moment and then dark. For a moment he could have sworn to see Frisk's red soul in the corner of an eye, glowing red with Determination. He himself just held onto the pot with Flowey, with the child that no doubt was still terrified. A beloved child he just found and wanted to protect.

The darkness grew darker. For a moment Asgore could have sworn he saw Sans's blue eye glowing before it was swallowed by the darkness too.

And then there was a... voice.

It wasn't much of a voice just... garbled sounds that may or may not could be words. He couldn't understand but the voice said... SOMETHING. Maybe it was just the machine making strange noises.

The darkness slithered away. The room became brighter again, the machine visible with both eyes glowing intensely. There was a flash again, bright, way to bright...

And when Asgore opened his eyes, everything seemed to be... alright. There was no strange darker-than-darkness there anymore. He was sitting on the ground in front of a machine that looked strangely death now, on his left side Alphys, Sans and Frisk who stared at something in his general direction and when he looked he saw it, just in front of him.

Just in front of Flowey.

A tiny soul, the little up-side-down heart-shape of a monster soul with a slight red tint, was hovering just right there was in the process of moving closer to Flowey. Into Flowey. Asgore felt himself holding Flowey closer to himself. And maybe it was just his imagination but it was almost like the pot in his hands grew... warmer.

And then Flowey begun to glow.

“What the ever loving Fuuuaaaaah!”, Flowey cried out as there was a flash again. Asgore had to close his eyes. He felt a shift of the body in his arms and when he opened his eyes again there was...

There was...

There was definitely not Asriel, that was sure. But it wasn't quite Flowey anymore. In his hand now sat a monster of the plant kind, all green and yellow and white. Asriels's colours, Flowey's colours. But he wasn't a mere flower anymore. He had legs and arms and a face that was surrounded by yellow pedals, making him look a bit like a flowery version of a lion. His hands had fingers and his feet had toes but they looked green and like made out of plants. He looked just like the higher plant elementals that used to live before the war and humans killed them all. Beautiful monster shaped into vaguely humanoid forms out of trees and other plants with a strong affinity to healing magic and able to manipulate plant's growth around them... how curious. And wonderful.

He wasn't Asriel. But he was something new now. And he was alive!

And Asgore felt a rush of love and adoration going through him. His big arms enveloped the small form in his hands (he was still so small) and after a while he felt the little body move slightly.

“Uh... d...dad?”, the boy mumbled and what might have been a rush of love turned into a flood.

“Y...yes my child?”

“...you are squeezing me...”

“Oh... excuse me...” Asgore let got a bit, now looking in awe at the child in his arms.

“AZZY!”

For a moment everybody was confused who screamed this, given the voice sounded unusual and kinda airy but the source of it was revealed when Frisk's body slammed into Asgore's, hugging the child in his arms tightly. It seemed like this instance qualified as one as the few moments when Frisk got their voice to work.

“W..what? Frisk? Urgh!”, made the newly named Azzy (Asgore kinda liked the name, Asriel and Flowey made Azzy, didn't it?) as he was squeezed tightly. “Y...you got a strong grip.”

Frisk beamed at him, freeing their hands to sign finally at him.

“It worked! Wow, you look like a plant-lion now! But cool! I am so happy you are here!”

“Uh... I am happy to be here too.... and... what did you call me? Azzy?”

“Flowey and Asriel. Azzy. I took a page out of Grandpa Asgore's book.”

A groan answered them. “Frisk, dad SUCKS in naming things... but... uh... I kinda like Azzy. I don't really feel like... either Flowey or Asriel in the moment...”

“You like the name?”, asked Frisk, their eyes shining.

Azzy smiled a tiny bit at the honest excitement of Frisk. “Yeah... I do... thanks Frisk.” He turned then to Asgore himself, then over to Sans and Alphys. Asgore could see the emotions playing on his features.

“Uh... thanks... Smil... I mean... Sans and Alphys...”, Azzy mumbled. “And... I... I am really sorry...”

“Don't sweat it kiddo.”, answered Sans easily, his hands in his pockets, lazy grin on his face. “You were kinda soulless when things happened. Would be soulless of me to hold stuff against you huh?”

“S...still...”, mumbled Azzy.

“Kid, we talk later.”, decided Sans before looking at the machine, a visible shutter running through his bones. The machine now looked even more dead and empty than before. “You gotta figure out stuff for you now... and me and my science-sis here have to dismantle this hunk of junk.”

Asgore saw Azzy nod slightly at that, still in Frisks hug as he turned to him.

“Uh... dad... I think we... we have a lot to talk about now.”, he mumbled.

Asgore just nodded. Despite everything, despite all the hardships and all the complicated stuff no doubt lying in front of them... he felt the happiest since... a very very long time.

In the darkness that was the word between words, the void filled with nothing, something stirred when the machine was activated. Something was locked inside it so long ago and something had happened to it.

The machine was designed to isolate Human soul traits, Determination especially. It was designed to get something from a soul and press it together. The other features came later.

So many years ago, a full soul was thrown inside it, the Determination poisoning it ripped away but with it parts of the soul too and locked inside it. The left-overs were shattered across the space, flung away like parted by an explosion. It took time but most of the splinters were drawn into the void, unable to exist in the real world, outside of it.

It was most of a soul now, shattered and glitched. The concept of a soul, of a mind, a person. Base emotions like sadness and happiness and some complex ones like love and regret. It formed a barely aware mind, just enough to remember bits and pieces, to know it was suffering but not enough to know why and how to do anything about it.

But when the machine was activated, when the determination was released... it released something else too, the last splinters of something missing.

And in the darkness between worlds, in the void that held everything else together, a broken mind and soul begun the task of putting itself together again.

Aaaand there we have it, all that built-up for... Flowey! :D Or Azzy now.

I thought about getting either Flowey or Asriel into this verse but I compromised with Azzy for now. The reasons? Well, Flowey on his own does not have a soul. He doesn't care, he CAN'T care about anything and... this AU was supposed to be happy so we really don't need that much of a “I don't have a soul and can't feel” angst plot, don't we? :D And bringing Asriel back seemed a bit... cheep to be honest.

Both Asgore and Toriel (as well as Frisk to be honest) had faced Asriel's death in the past and all of them had dealt with it. Asriel is dead, it was sad but they moved on. To bring Asriel back would be awesome but would also put a lot of pressure again on Toriel and Asgore. Ontop of that, Asriel DID spend a lot of time as Flowey and this WILL influence him, no matter how you look at it. So, he isn't either anymore. He got a soul no so he can care but he isn't the sweet innocent Asriel anymore. He is Azzy for now. A plant elemental with the memories of the fallen monster prince.

… well, let's see how things in the PTA-verse go now with him, shall we? :D

Also, I am still figuring out what to do with Gaster. I might bring him back, maybe not... we will see. ;)

So, all in all, I hope you had fun with this chapter. See you in the next one then. ^^

#Undertale #PTA Sans #PTA AU #Asgore #Flowey #Asriel #Frisk #Alphys #PTA Sans AU #Undertale AU #Undertale Fanfic #Sans #the machine #The one with Flowey #seriously #I had that much build up #for a Flowey gets a soul arc

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