the-n3w3st-g1rl-g1rl · 1 year ago
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I'm realizing that the fact that Rudy and Noelle call Kris "Krismas" implies that Christmas is still a thing in Deltarune's universe. Like, it's not called something else or anything. So even though their religion centres on an Angel, I guess Jesus is still part of at least a religion in their world idk I'm tired
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marshmarrowsans · 7 years ago
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Merry Christmas and happy new year, @lostsoulwolf​ and @undertalesecretsanta​!  You got us-- a blog run by two mods-- as your Undertale Secret Santa, so guess what?  We made you two gifts! ^-^ Mod Kasha drew this fan art of your CUTE AS HECK OC with Sans, and Mod Cerbie wrote this fanfic about your CUTE AS HECK OC with Sans.  We hope you enjoy them, because we had a lot of fun working on them! Summary: Another year passes by in the underground, and Sans isn’t too enthusiastic about it.  Luckily, Mikaela has a few ideas to get him in the holiday spirit...
A brand new year was arriving. Around this time many people make resolutions to better themselves, or maybe to save up money for a big goal, and still some just wish for a brand new, better start. However, far below the ground of Mt. Ebott, there was a population of decent folk who all just shared one dream every passing year: to finally attain their long awaited freedom from the magical barrier that trapped them down here.  
However that didn't stop the monsters from celebrating and welcoming in the New Year.  It was a way to try to keep up their spirits when all else seemed hopeless and grim. Every year was a hope and a dream that maybe this was the year they would gain their freedom. Of course, that didn't mean individual monsters didn't have other dreams. In fact, a short skeleton monster was dreaming of making do by sleeping at his sentry fort. At this point in his life the New Year's celebration meant very little to Sans-- he made more of an effort during Gyftmas, when he played "Sansta Claus" mainly for his brother's happiness, but it didn't really matter to him whether or not the New Year was greeted with celebration. As far as Sans was concerned, they would always be stuck done here.
As he snored away, a wolf-like monster came over, carrying a bunch of echo flowers in her paws.  Her fur was damp up to her elbows, the sleeves of her jacket rolled up.  She must have reached far into the water to gather them.  That wasn’t surprising, considering that whispering one’s New Year’s resolutions or wishes into an echo flower was a tradition, so they were in high demand at the moment.
“Oh Sans, there you are!” she greeted him, a cheerful lilt to her familiar voice.  Sans snorted in his sleep a bit.  He didn’t lift his head, though he was apparently awake enough to mutter a response.  It wasn’t like he could just ignore his best friend.
“mikaela…  i told you, i’m not into the whole new year celebration thing...”  
“Awwh, come on , lazy bones! There has to be SOME holiday spirit, even in you! You had it in you around Gyftmas.” She leaned over his side-- got right in his face-- and flashed him a toothy grin.  “You already called me Mikaela instead of shortening my name to ‘Kay like you usually do.  So see?  You can put in the effort for my sake, at least.  I mean, that’s a whole extra two syllables.”
He stuck his hand in her face, which would have been extremely rude if it wasn’t the kind of silly roughhousing they engaged in all the time.  “that was different, ‘kay.  i only did that for my brother so he wouldn’t lose his holiday spirit like i did.  it’s hard for me to celebrate the new year when i know it’s just gonna be another year of the same, y’know?”
Mikaela stared at him with her hands on her hips for a long moment.  When that didn’t work, she let out a sad whimper. “Sans, come on….don’t make me bring out the big guns.”
“...  no.  oh no, you wouldn’t.” “I would…”
“don’t you dare.”
“You leave me no choice…”
“nooo…” The short skeleton pleaded with her.  “i said….”
But it was too late.  She whimpered some more, bowed her head just enough that she had to look up at him through her eyelashes, angled her ears back and widened her eyes.  She was hitting Sans-- that poor, defenseless little skeleton man-- with the most powerful and skillful puppy dog eyes he had ever seen.  He practically felt his soul melting in his chest, along with a lot of guilt for denying her the holiday cheer she so desperately wanted to see from him.
“nooo…  you stop that, ‘kay! You’re not gonna change my mind!” Sans insisted. But he was wrong…  oh, he was so wrong. The whimper just got louder, it even turned to a whine for a moment, and her eyes grew even more pitiful.  She looked like she could cry.  Stars, he would never forgive himself if he made her cry.  “ugh…  fine… fine.  i just don’t see the point in--”
“Yesss! “ Just like that, she went back to normal, if not even happier than before.  Her ears perked up and her tail began wagging excitedly.  “As per tradition of the New Year, I brought you some echo flowers!  Seeing as how I knew you wouldn’t go out and pick them yourself.”  She began handing them over before noticing he was scratching his ass. “I wish you would stop that.”
“heh.  bit of a waste of one of your new year wishes, i’nnit?  and besides. there’s nothing there but a tail bone.” Sans chuckled before stretching and leaving his post. “you’re lucky we’re such good friends.  do me a favor, though, and don’t ever teach papyrus that trick.  the one with the eyes.  it’s my only weakness and i’m trusting you with that knowledge,”  he quipped as he took the flowers.
“Can skeletons even make a sad puppy face? Eh, guess you never know with Papyrus.  He can be pretty adorable.” Mikaela shrugged.  “So go on then, make a wish! Anything your soul desires.”
“anything, huh?”  Sans’ voice softened.  He traced the tips of his fingers idly over the glowing petals of the echo flower.  “... i guess…  i dunno.  you probably already know my biggest wish.  it’s the one we’ve all made.  year after year after year.  but it’s never enough.  each year we all make a wish to leave this place, but we’re still here.” Sans sighed, frustrated and downtrodden.  “so what difference does it make if i wish for it again?  just one wish in a sea of identical wishes.  and none of ‘em are being heard.  why would mine be?”
“Well…”  Mikaela tapped her thumbs together thoughtfully.  “Well, it’s less about believing that there’s someone or something out there that’ll actually directly grant your wish, and…  more about setting goals and instilling yourself with a sense of hope, I think.  So…  Yeah.  Even though nobody can answer us, we can still keep wishing and keep hoping.  After all, if we all lose hope then we stop trying, am I right?  And trying is what helps us achieve the things that we wish for!”  She smiled at him reassuringly.  “So never stop trying, Sans.  Even if it’s just a little.  It can make all the difference.”
Sans couldn’t help but blush and rub his neck.  She always made him feel like such a loser and a downer…  in the best way possible, of course.  She made him feel like he wanted to better himself.  “yeah.  i know you’re right.  heh, you must have been talking to my brother.  sounds like something he’d say.  well, i guess some of us have to remain strong enough to hold on to what little hope and happiness we have, but…  it’s been really hard for me lately.”  Sans admitted.  He noticed the worried expression on the she-wolf’s face. “but hey!  don’t let me get you down.  what about you?  what’s your wish?  you know, other than the usual?”
Mikaela sighed and smiled sadly.  “My wish is to help make you happy in whatever way I can, big or small.” She admitted.   Hearing that made his soul feel like it was fluttering in his chest.
“‘kay…  you’re too good for me, y’know that?”
She acknowledged his somewhat self-deprecating comment with a slight shake of her head, then continued.  “Isn’t there some other wish you have? Other than the usual?”
Sans shuffled his feet, as if thinking about if he really wanted to tell her. He was so used to being closed-off and secretive, after all.  He never talked about his own problems, his own feelings.  He just supported other people through theirs.  But as had been the case for many months, they were really good friends, so what the hell?  If he had to tell anyone, he’d rather it be her than anyone else.  He gave in.
“well…  there is this one little thing.  i’ve always, y’know, stared at the sparkling rocks in waterfall, but they’re not the same.  my wish is to see the stars.  the real stars, out there, so far away you can hardly comprehend it.  and the moon too.  but that’s not going to happen.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground, but not too quickly to see Mikaela’s face light up with a smile. “Is that so?  Well, Sansy, I may have just the thing. Come on-- I have something to show you!” She latched on to his hand and began tugging him in the direction of Waterfall.
“the thing just for me?” He repeated. “did you catch a bunch of stars? that’d be a paw-some feat.” He chuckled.
“Well you’ll never find out if you don’t move that tail bone of yours!” Mikaela let out.  That finally got Sans to follow her of his own free will.  Appealing to his sense of curiosity never failed.
“fine. but i’m pretty sure it ain’t nothing i haven’t seen before. “ Sans insisted.
“Oh, trust me. I think you’re going to love this! I discovered this ‘paw-some’ thing a few days ago! I couldn’t believe it when I saw it, but…  well, you’ll see.” She promised.
Sans shrugged, letting her pull him along without a fight. He was pretty sure he had seen just about everything there was so see down here…  except, apparently, for a crevice that led into a small cavern.  It was hard to see in the darkness, away from the lanterns and the glowing flowers.  And besides that, the opening had been blocked by a patch of overgrown marsh grass and could easily be missed. “...  okay, i stand corrected.  i guess i haven’t seen everything down here after all.”
“And that’s just the entrance!” Mikaela noted as she continued pulling him along. “I noticed a nice smell coming from inside.  Something I’ve never smelled before in the underground.”
She continued pulling Sans along and around a corner next to the ice cube carrying river, and then she finally stopped. The area didn’t look like much-- just another dark blue rocky walled cave-- until, that was, Sans noticed a tiny bit of light leaking from above.  He glanced up and his pupils widened at the wondrous sight that awaited him overhead.
Way up on this part of the underground, the ceiling had an opening just wide enough to let in a ray of true moonlight and a glimpse of the actual stars themselves.
“Well….what you think??” Mikaela asked.  Her tail made little scuffing noises against the ground as it wagged in anticipation.
Sans remained quiet, staring up at something he never thought he’d see in his lifetime. To him, it was like finding a treasure chest. Suddenly his broken smile didn’t seem so broken.  In fact, it seemed genuine.  If for only a little while, it was a true smile. “...  damn, ‘kay.” He finally let out after a long stretch of silence.  “wow.  i…  i don’t know what to say.  this is amazing.  heh.  i guess… some wishes can come true.”
Her tail began frantically wagging as her toothy grin returned. “Didn’t I tell you?  Isn’t this place magical? Ha, and I guess that means two of our wishes came true! I was able to make you happy again.”
“you’re right about that.  this is a better start to the new year than i could have ever predicted.” Sans smiled back at her. “y’know, i think maybe i can hold on to some hope after all.”
“Make that three wishes coming true, then.  Papyrus’ wish was you finding renewed hope,” Mikaela told him. “Three wishes come true.  Can’t beat that.”
“or maybe you can.”  Mikaela knew that tone.  It was the tone of a man who just had a brilliant, brilliant idea.  “you know…  i’ve heard of a new year’s tradition the humans have up there.  and i know we aren’t exactly buddy-buddy with humans on a lot of matters.  but i think they’ve actually got a pretty good idea here.”
His friend was intrigued, her ears perked up in curiosity.  “Ooh?  And what tradition might that be?”
Sans turned to her and pulled his hands from his pockets. “here, let me borrow this.”  He took one of the glowing echo flowers from her paws and turned away. Quietly he stared at the flower for awhile, as if making his wish in silence, before letting out a big sigh and as loudly as he could, he proclaimed, “i wish for a kiss from my best friend at midnight!  y’know, as per human tradition.”  He shot her a wink…  although it was the most nervous wink of his life.  He felt like his soul was going to explode in those moments awaiting her response.
   “...  Your best friend?” Mikaela didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but they did constantly say that they were each other’s best friends.  
“oh, yeah.  she’s a real gem.  about yea high--” he stretched up and placed the palm of his hand directly on top of her head-- “long hair.  super pretty.  like can’t-take-your-eyes-off-her pretty.  most convincing puppy dog face in the world.  great sense of humor, and, ah…  honestly, she could cheer up a guy who’s so far down in the dumps he’s practically in the bottomless pit below it.  can’t miss her.”
Mikaela’s soul began to pound in her chest.  She knew it.  She knew she hadn’t been imagining something more going on between them.  His lingering touches on her arm whenever they were around each other, the abundance of hugs he liked to give her, the occasional joke that just crossed the line into the realm of the flirtatious… “Well…  If you’re sure, then…  Hell yeah.  Let’s make it four wishes come true, then.”  She was quick to pick him right up off the ground and give him a big kiss, before either of them lost the courage to do so.  He was ready for it, and he held on tight.  Though he couldn’t kiss back without lips, he nuzzled his teeth against her in a way that conveyed the same effect.
They only pulled away from each other when Sans began to laugh against her lips, his soul glowing like a miniature star of their own.  “damn, ‘kay! you really went for it.  you must have been waiting for that almost as long as i was.  there’s just one problem.  uh…”  He scratched the back of his skull. “it’s not midnight yet.”
“Oh dear.  I….  I’m sorry about that.” Mikaela apologized and sat him back down on his own two feet.  Her ears folded back a little and she blushed with embarrassment. “I guess I got a little carried away in the heat of the moment.”
“ ‘eh...but who’s countin’?” Sans shrugged. “you can just give me another one when the time comes.  And another one after that…  some more after that…”  He put his hands on her waist to pull her a little closer, earning a bashful giggle.
“Alright, well don’t get carried away,” she teased him.  “I won’t keep kissing you if you fall asleep on me.”
“dude.  my entire life isn’t about sleeping.  and besides.  humans also have this saying about kisses.  i dunno what they mean by it, but it’s perfect.  y’know what they say?”  He leaned in a little, got up on the tips of his toes, and said it to her in a quiet voice, like a secret: “every kiss begins with ‘kay.”
“...  That joke sucked, Sans.” “i love you too.”
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Bonely This Gyftmas
finally posting my contribution to the @sorieldiscord​ (not so) Secret Santa for a Good Clown Pal, @purpleangrywitches !! belated Merry Gyftmas my dude, I hope you like it~~   shoutout to the wonderful @drawingwithgreen13​  for helping me out with some parts of this and of course @mintkupocream​ for organising this exchange for us!! ^w^;; FellSoriel is something I’ve wanted to try for a while now so hopefully this turned out okay! (basically “more cursing and everyone is tsundere” lmao - that’s how you Underfell, right?? anyway yeah feel free to lmk your thoughts etc!! <3)
on AO3
Another Gyftmas in Snowdin – not that it really meant anything, any more than any other “season” did in the Underground. Snow was a permanent fixture, and so was the threadbare pine tree in the centre of town, the only difference being the half-assed decorations and dimly flickering lights draped about its branches, and the kids still young or dumb enough to gather around it and casting hopeful glances at the parcels underneath. If Sans had it in him to care, he might even have felt bad for the little shits, watching the light die in their eyes year after year at the meagre offering, until that one bear who hung around the tree “arranging” the presents all day growled at them til and they beat it.
Other than that, it was same shit, different day – Papyrus didn’t believe in holidays, and as he never tired of harshly but not incorrectly pointing out, Sans did so little that his entire existence was basically one big break. He was more than happy to live up, or down, to his boss’ expectations, taking every opportunity to slip away from his post and deep into the forest where, at least, he had the promise of more interesting company.
“Yo, anyone alive in there?” he asked the door, rapping his phalanges against the ancient wood and sliding into the routine as easily as he did into the snow. “Why did Sally fall off the swing?”
“Oh, now you are here?” The response was curt, even for her. “How profoundly lucky am I to be graced with your presence.”
Sans scoffed, lifting a brow bone as he leaned back against the door; Door Lady was crankier than usual tonight. It was gonna be a fun one. “Geez, lady, someone rattle your chain or what? ‘Scuse me if I missed the memo on the fuckin’...school timetable or whatever this is.”
“Hardly. But you have been stopping by approximately the same time for the last three nights – it is called setting a precedent. And surely even you should know it is impolite to keep a lady waiting.”
“Good job it’s just you, then, ain’t it?” Sans snickered as he could practically feel her unamused glare through the thick, battle-dented wood that separated them. “Now do you wanna hear about Sally or what?” (He was actually sorta proud of this one; he’d been saving it for a worthy audience, and those weren’t easy to come by.)
“I suppose,” the lady answered, the slightest hint of a pout in her voice. “Why did she fall off the swing?”
“‘Cause she had no arms.”
“Oh.” A beat went by. “Well, that was a little lacking, even for –“
“Knock knock.”
She huffed an irritable sigh. “Who is there?”
“Dunno, but it ain’t Sally.”
That finally got the reaction he wanted as a snort rumbled through the door, followed by her throaty cackle - long, low and filthy, it sent a shiver of satisfaction through Sans as he chuckled with her. Making her laugh always felt like a victory, somehow. “Oh, how unfortunate,” she drawled, sugary sweet and dripping with contempt for the imaginary kid. “She was one of the lucky ones.”
“Don’t sweat it, she’s totally armless.”
“I suppose that really put her out on a limb.”
“I’d say you gotta hand it to her, but…”
Their snorts and guffaws rang out through the barren forest, sounds it probably didn’t hear often and that definitely would have aroused suspicion, but not many monsters ever wandered this deep into the forest anyway. “All she wants for Gyftmas,” Sans continued, on a roll, “is a break.”
The lady still laughed, but a little less heartily this time. “Oh, is it that time of the year already? I would not know - such things tend to pass one by when every day is much the same as the last one. How nice for those of you with something to celebrate.”
“Yeah, right.” She had a point, Sans had to admit, with a dry, sarcastic snicker. “Don’t mean shit to me either, but I guess it’s somethin’ for the kiddos. ‘Least, til they get old enough to figure out there ain’t no miracle happening any time soon to get us out of this hellhole.”
Weird thing was, he couldn’t even remember being a kid like that himself, a time when he didn’t understand how the world worked - with his HP, he’d had to wise up pretty fast or he’d be long dusted. But he did remember walking hand in hand with Papyrus through the snow - way back  when he was still shorter than Sans and either of them might ever have considered such a display acceptable - and how his brother used  to getso excited he’d almost tripped over his boots until Sans yanked him upright, and let himself be dragged towards the presents at top speed before they all got snatched away. But before they started, Papyrus would always pause to look up at their pathetic excuse for a tree, his sockets sparkling with hope and wonder as if it was the most amazing thing he’d seen since - well, last Gyftmas, as astounding as the stars they’d never get to see.
Might’ve been the last time Gyftmas meant something.
“Yes, well.” Door Lady gave a dismissive snort, snapping him back to reality. “What use have I for such child’s play? The last few foolish enough to wander through my door...well, suffice to say they are long gone.”
That, somehow, didn’t surprise Sans, but noticing her slightly sharper tone, he decided against pointing it out. “Hey, look on the bright side. Maybe this year one of the suckers that throws themselves down here’ll get lucky enough not to make it, and you got you a real nice traditional Gyftmas dinner.”
She hummed, a long, low noise somewhere between intrigue and what almost sounded like desire. “Mmm, I do hope not. Fresh prey always tastes better when it puts up a little struggle, does it not?”
Not for the first time, Sans wasn’t totally sure whether she was kidding – and he kinda liked it. He was pretty good, usually, at reading people, picking up on the little pauses and stutters that most assumed he was too dumb and/or lazy to notice. It was a good way to survive, being able to see through the bullshit, but it also took some of the fun out of seeing how far he could push it when he knew to the second how close Papyrus was to throwing a steaming plate of lasagna in his face.
Door Lady was...different. Probably helped that he had no idea who or even what kind of monster she was, of course, but even though they’d fallen into a thing of telling jokes and talking shit to pass the time, her mood seemed to swing back and forth a hell of a lot more than the door ever did. Some days he just seemed to irritate her, and she’d snap that if he wasn’t going to entertain her, he might as well go off and not do his job elsewhere. Which, whatever - wasn’t like that was anything Sans didn’t hear on a daily basis anyway, but in a weird way her unpredictability was part of the thrill. Made it all the more satisfying when he did get to hear her laugh. And damn, her laugh...
True to form, she dismissed him not long after that, saying she had business to attend to and she was sure he must be terribly busy with Gyftmas preparations for his beloved brother. They shared a sarcastic chuckle at that, but hers had sounded a shade darker than usual - bitter, almost.
Maybe he’d said something to annoy her (unintentionally, mostly) or she was getting bored with him, or - well, whatever, wasn’t Sans’ problem. She was just a voice behind a door, a convenient distraction. None of it meant anything.
He was sharp enough to know by now that you didn’t survive long by imagining it did.
Days went by, and the pile of presents under Snowdin’s tree grew steadily bigger. How many of them would actually make it to Gyftmas unopened was another story, especially if there was anything that the thriftier locals might be able to sell on to Muffet or one of her goons, but whether it was the prospect of more gold or just the place looking a little less of a dump, people did seem happier, or at least less likely to metaphorically or literally snap your skull off for looking at them funny.
Sans had his own reasons for keeping a socket on the gyfts, his grin tugging a little wider when he spotted the telltale gleam of curiosity in his bro-slash-boss’ sockets as they passed the tree every day – not, of course, that the Great and Terrible Papyrus would ever admit to the slightest interest in such things. Gyftmas was for baby bones, Sans, he’d better not be thinking of wasting their hard-earned gold on such frivolous nonsense.
He said the same every year, and every year Sans ignored him, because he still couldn’t think of many better ways to spend his gold than adding to his brother’s now-substantial collection of action figures - if only to catch the briefest glimpse of surprise and excitement flicker across his features, just like when they were baby bones, before it hastily rearranged into his usual scowl. He’d sigh and roll his sockets and mutter something about how if Sans really wanted to help he’d buy him something actually useful, like that new stove they so desperately needed, while mysteriously never getting around to selling the figures that had stood artfully arranged on his desk for years. Sans would shrug and pretend to believe him, while slurping extra appreciatively and obnoxiously from the extra-large bottle of mustard that appeared under the tree for him every year from some mysterious benefactor.
It wasn’t much, but it was their thing – tradition, even, if you wanted to call it that –  and maybe about as close as he ever got to feeling...safe. Comfortable – not, obviously, that Sans or Papyrus or anyone in the Underground with half a brain cell would ever acknowledge it. You sure as shit didn’t survive long down here by laying your soft spots bare for anyone to rip into.
Sans might be a good-for-nothing lazy lump of bones and countless other more colourful terms, by his own admission, but he wasn’t stupid – and yet for some reason, he’d kinda thought that maybe it’d be cool to be able to tell someone about the time he’d had to shove that deluxe Mettaton action figure into his jacket before Papyrus got in (that ultra realistic chainsaw stung like a bitch) or the priceless look of pure terror on that one kid’s face when his mom told him Krampus would be coming for him if he didn’t quit tripping over his tail. Really, he probably should’ve known Door Lady wouldn’t wanna hear about that – or much of anything he had to say, lately. There’d definitely been laughter and a lot more snapping and sighing and the the glare of barely concealed irritation he could practically feel through the door.
If he didn’t know better, he’d suspect she had some kind of issue around the whole Gyftmas thing – bad memories, pretty much everyone was carrying something, or maybe she just hated the idea of other people having fun. But it was an even bigger waste of time than usual, and not the fun kind, to wonder about it – everyone knew you didn’t talk about these things, didn’t trust people outside your closest family (if you were lucky or unlucky, depending on your perspective, enough to have any) with anything the slightest bit personal, and you didn’t get involved with other people’s baggage unless you’d come prepared for a fight. Sans was too tired to start shit; he’d been too tired for most things for a long time, even if she kept wandering into his skull at the most inconvenient times, and he’d catch himself wondering what her deal was. What had happened to the lady with the dirtiest dead baby jokes and even dirtier laugh, the one who made sentry duty with the boss breathing down his clavicle sorta bearable, because – if he was dumb enough to consider being honest with himself or anyone else – he might have been starting to miss her.
The smart thing would’ve been to cut his losses and move on, since he’d obviously outlived his entertainment value and there were plenty other places in the Underground he could nap or jack up the price of hot dogs to a more appreciative (or nonexistent) audience.
Thing was, Sans wasn’t stupid, but he also was never big on doing whatever he was supposed to.
It was, by Toriel’s estimation, the night before Gyftmas. A fact she would not have known, nor would she have cared to know, had it not been for her...friend? It still seemed absurd to think of him as such, a disembodied voice with no face nor name, and yet he was probably the closest equivalent she had had for decades, perhaps centuries, or however long it had been since the term meant anything.
Perhaps visitor was more appropriate;  a moderately amusing, yet inevitably temporary distraction from the tedium of her day-to-day life. Toriel was not alone in the Ruins – she had seen the monsters scurry away into the shadows each day when she swept through the halls, her sharp eyes scanning every corner and crevice for anyone foolish enough to have fallen into her domain, but that was exactly how she wanted it, was it not? The last thing in the world she needed were these snivelling, pitiful little Froggits and Whimsuns getting attached to her in any way, getting under her feet and clutching at her paw. Heaven knew, her nurturing days were long behind her.
Fear was power – as the former queen of the Underground surely knew better than anyone – and having vacated her throne, it was the only sort of power she could hope to yield these days. Yet, she could not quite put her paw on when it had all started to feel...empty. As empty as the Ruins, for all their inhabitants, might well have been when she was around, and empty as the many rooms she no longer had any use for, sitting untouched gathering dust for years. Though she did not care to admit it, her visitor had reminded her of that; of just how good it felt to laugh again, even playfully trading insults. His lack of fear, casual disregard for the authority she would never disclose to him – she could not help but welcome the change, and occasionally found herself anticipating her daily surveillance more than she ever imagined she would, her ears pricking up almost without her permission at those first few raps on the old forest door.
He had been reminding her of many things, as of late, and there were many, many things Toriel did not care to remember, this and any other time of year. At first, she had tried to find it endearing, in a simple-minded way, listening to him prattle on about Snowdin’s Gyftmas preparations with a unmistakable note of fondness that belied his professions of indifference. Yet it was much more difficult to conceal her disgust, much less pretend to be as amused as her visitor was when he turned to stories of the “Krampus” Snowdin residents, in particular, seemed to take such delight in threatening their children with. Of course, she thought bitterly, paying the least amount of attention possible as her visitor recounted the story of one little brat who had seen his presents dissolve into fire magic before his ungrateful eyes, the fool would persist in playing ridiculous games instead of attempting to restore the smallest modicum of hope to his people that no doubt still suffered and squabbled and tore each other apart every day, as they had for centuries.
Pathetic, utterly pathetic – well, let them suffer. Toriel had abdicated her part in the whole sorry charade long ago, and she certainly had not returned to the Ruins to discuss her former husband. She could never be so careless as to let the slightest hint of her true identity slip through the door, of course; any sentry worth his salt would immediately run off with such sensitive information, throwing it out for as much gold as they could get to the many Royal Guards out for her head. As much as she sometimes welcomed the idea of a fight – an opportunity to unleash centuries’ worth of anger and frustration by turning all Asgore’s lackeys to dust – preserving the relative peace and safety she had here was her best hope, if she imagined she would feel such a thing again.
Peace she certainly had, as her visitor had not stopped by for the last two days. Toriel had wondered idly whether he was busy, although she had gathered that his interpretation of “busy” was most often not having time for a nap and drinking copious amounts of mustard on one of his many lunch breaks. Regardless, it was no business of hers; they had no formal obligations to one another, although she had briefly toyed with enlisting him as her eyes on the outside, but that idea now held little appeal. In truth, she could not claim to be surprised if he had finally tired of her pointed remarks and taken his business – or lack thereof – elsewhere, just like the rest of them.
Good riddance, she ought to have thought, for it could have been nothing more than habit that carried her back to the halls, vanquishing the cobwebs with her broom and taking small satisfaction in the startled squeaks of the gold-grubbing spiders dangling from the ceiling, until she reached the familiar, well-worn door. Toriel sighed, shaking her head at the now futile, yet automatic stirring of anticipation in her soul as she nonetheless tapped her claws half-heartedly against the old wood. There was no reason for him to come by tonight, she had not even bothered to suggest it last time they’d talked, so she did not know why...
“Who’s there?”
“...Oh.” Toriel faltered for a moment, blinking foolishly at the door; having not actually anticipated a response, she had not come prepared with a suitable joke. “Old – old lady.”
“No shit. Old lady who?”
“I did not know you could yodel.”
The joke was much more innocent than their usual exchanges - and ancient, almost as much as Toriel herself, but when it elicited a familiar gravelly chuckle she felt herself relax a little, her own muzzle curling into a smile. “Lady, there’s a lotta things you don’t know about me.”
Well, that was certainly true for the both of them, and yet she felt a peculiar kind of relief, a warmth settling over her like an old, scratchy but nevertheless comforting blanket as she sank into a sitting position, leaning back against the door with her paws clasped around her knees as she awaited his response.
“‘Kay, I got one. Why didn’t the skeleton go to the Gyftmas party?”
“I cannot imagine why.”
“He had nobody to go with.”
“Oh, that is truly dreadful,” Toriel snorted, her braying laugh echoing through the empty Ruins - so dreadful it was genius, and actually her favourite kind of joke since she was a young girl, like a distant whisper of simpler times. She would not tell her fr - visitor that, though, for he was surely smug enough as it is.
“C’mon, it’s a bone-cold classic. Hey, uh, speaking of...” As their laughter slowly died away, she heard him scuffling about in the snow, followed by what sounded like the crinkling of paper, “don’t get mushy on me or nothing, but I found this lyin’ around and I thought maybe - uh - here, just take it…”
An even louder snort escaped her at that, though more of disbelief than anything. “My goodness. You have not brought me a gyft?”
She was waiting for some punchline or other, but instead a rectangular object, crudely covered by a few sheets of old newspaper, poked its way through the small space under the door before jamming halfway through, causing the old wood to give an almighty creak. Toriel simply scoffed and rolled her eyes at the soft grunt of exertion and his poor attempt to shove it through the space, a little sorry he could not witness the full effect of her disdain.
“A flawlessly executed delivery,” she observed, deadpan. “Here, just let me -"
She grasped the sides of the package and tugged, and after a moment’s struggle it slid free and her fingertips brushed against something else. Slight and bony, yet surprisingly warm, they were unmistakably fingers - his fingers, and that briefest of contact sent an unexpected jolt of electricity up Toriel’s arm and through her magic as she immediately pulled her paw away as though she had burned herself on the stove.
Hurriedly, she turned her attention to the object in hand, her claws making short work of the wrapping (if one could call it that) to reveal its contents.
“Human Hunting with Fluffy Bunny,” she read, arching an eyebrow in bemusement at the sight of a simplistic cartoon rabbit, proudly bearing an axe in its teeth while holding up a distressed-looking head. “...What? Why in the world are you giving me this?”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” her visitor retorted, effortlessly bouncing back her own sarcasm in a way she could not help but smirk a little at. “It’s the boss’ fave, y’know. Swiped it fresh from the librarby.”
She was about to correct his abysmal pronunciation, but as she idly drummed her claws over the bunny’s face, Toriel felt a few joints slide into place in her mind, and the revelation hit her: “Wait a moment. It is you. You are the skeleton.”
There was a long, protracted silence, more than enough to confirm her suspicions. “...Heh. Welp, congrats, lady. Finally saw through me, huh?”
His tone remained flippant as ever, but having many centuries’ experience of keeping and guarding secrets, Toriel easily detected the tremor in his voice, that potentially fatal moment of hesitation as he waited to see how she might leverage this new-found information against him. Though, honestly, it ought to have been of no interest to her whatsoever - the species of a lowly sentry mattered not in the slightest. It was her identity that may have been compromised by that...moment of contact, her hand reflexively curling into a fist as she recalled how very tiny and fragile his fingers - phalanges - felt against her own; to her simultaneous embarrassment and immense relief that the man on the other side could not see her, Toriel became aware that the warmth was rising to her cheeks as well. This was ridiculous - had it truly been so long since she had touched another monster, however briefly or inadvertently, that it should affect her this much?
“Hmmm. How very interesting,” she mused, elongating the vowels to regain most of her composure through drawing out the wait, and rather wishing she might be able to see him squirm. “It has been such a long time since I have seen one of your kind. Why, I would not have been surprised to hear you had all died out some decades ago.”
He let out a gruff chuckle, perhaps just a touch more defensive than usual. “Well, maybe there ain’t too many of us left, but lemme assure ya, lady: calcium’s tough stuff.”
“Now that I think about it, it does explain a lot. Of course, only a genuine bonehead could consider this an appropriate gift for a fully grown woman.” Fully grown and considerably larger than him, as she now understood, although it did not explain quite why that thought lingered in her mind as it did.
He laughed more fully at that, a sound she had come to savour; it sounded a little like he was gargling rocks. For all Toriel knew, he may have been. Perhaps it was a common skeleton practice.
“Okay, geez - you don’t want it? Just slide it on back to me and -”
“No,” Toriel protested, a little more forcefully than she’d intended as she protectively clasped Fluffy Bunny to her chest - it was absurd, she knew, but any book she had not read a hundred times over was indeed a rare and precious commodity. Plus...it was a gyft. However unsatisfactory, one did not simply throw such things back in someone’s face...or under the door, as the case may be. “I mean, I...I want to know what happens.”
She did not need to see her visitor to be absolutely certain that his grin was now at its smuggest. Even more curiously, she was discovering, it was infectious. “Gotcha. No spoilers. Lucky we already got, like, five copies back home - trust me, you do not wanna try sending Boss to bed without his bun. Huh, right, guess I should…” Toriel heard the creak of the door as he got up, followed by a barely audible popping noise and a soft, satisfied sigh; stretching out his bones, she supposed, now more curious as to what it might look like than she ever imagined being. “G’night, lady. And, uh...happy -“
“Do not,” Toriel interrupted, before he could say it, but she could summon no sincere vitriol in her voice and he simply chuckled knowingly.
“See ya ‘round.”
Neither of them had any need for such sentiment, and Toriel carried no more affection for the season back to her empty house than she had left with.
But perhaps, she reflected, walking briskly back through the Ruins with her first real gyft in centuries carefully tucked under her arm and the remnants of a smile lingering on her lips - of all the Gyftmases she had still to endure, some of them might be a little less...bonely.
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