#It only happens after you press Toriel about leaving

[beardedhandstoadshark]

What happens if Frisk choose to live Toriel forever (before she stops them) and not meeting goat dad?

Honestly good question and the fact that I never saw a single AU exploring it is shocking

[swagrum76]

I rewrote a few things with my AU How do you like it?

Oldertale is an AU of Undertale where everyone is elderly and old. For obvious reasons, this AU takes place after the Pacifist route. It also still takes place in the Underground, as the monsters found the surface world boring.

CHARACTERS:

Sans; Sans wears a tan-colored jacket that is a little faded, and uses a walker. He often speaks about who he was in the past, often speaking about how he used to crack puns but doesn't anymore.

Papyrus; Papyrus has a gold tooth now and also has a hunched position.

His personality is a bit similar to normal Papyrus, but he often tries to give the player life advice, but always fails to do so. He would've had several heart attacks by now from eating all that spaghetti, but he is a skeleton, which prevents him from having heart attacks.

Flowey; Flowey is too old to even put up a fight anymore, his colors are faded aswell and the determination keeping him alive has greatly diminished. Therefore, he can only speak in one letter at a time and has a frown on his face.

Asgore; Asgore has partially retired from his job and now works at Grillbys. I say partially because he still acts like a king and does his job as a king sometimes.

Undyne; Undyne can't chase you down in this AU, as they are way too old to do so. She is often seen using a cane.

Napstablook; Napstablook is about the same, but they are more depressed than ever, often telling the player that they wish they could die, but because they are a ghost, they cannot.

He is often seen laying down in his house not doing anything.

W. D Gaster: Gaster used to be the grandpa of Sans, but he died in a tragic work accident at the age of 88. Everyone thinks he fell into the CORE, which split him across time and space, but in reality, he fell into an industrial meat grinder. (the meat grinder was located at his workplace, which was the Core Meat Processing Plant.

Alphys: Alphys has severe PTSD and mild psychosis from having to witness the incident that happened with Gaster. As a result, they often don't talk much, and when they do, they make no sense.

Toriel: Behaves like a grandmother now, and even bakes cookies for the player. All of these years have encouraged her to be more nice.

Mettaton: Mettaton never shows up in thIS AU, as his mechanical parts have become too old and rusted to work.

Asriel: Another character that never shows up, as Floweys determination is too weak to bring them back from death .

Chara: Wears faded colors, and just talks to you for a bit, then leaves.

All the other characters that would show up during random encounters just don't, as they are too old to fight anyone now. Frisk is an adult now aswell.

MECHANICS

The fight button has been completely removed, and replaced by some text in red under the "act" section. This text simply reads "push" and when you press on it, you literally give a shove to any monster you are currently fighting, thus causing them to fall over.

This "push" function has a 50 percent chance to kill any monster you are attacking, and thus, serves as the main path to the Genocide route of this AU. If they don't die, monsters will usually say something along the lines of "Didn't your parents tell you to respect your elders?", before getting back onto their feet again.

Everyone has half the health they normally would have, as aging has decreased their health quite a lot.

Nothing much else has changed besides that.

LOCATIONS

Hotlands - The Hotlands in this AU have somehow all cooled down. All of the lava in this location is now obsidian. Everything else is practically the same.

Ruins - The ruins are completely covered in a thick layer of dust due to the passage of time. You can barely see the puzzles within this location anymore, adding an extra layer of difficulty to them.

Waterfall - The Waterfall location in this AU no longer has waterfalls. That's all the changes here.

CORE - The CORE is literally just an abandoned meat processing plant. After the incident with Gaster, the factory couldn't pay the witnesses of the event or Gaster's family, and as a result, it went bankrupt.

Temmie Village - Every single Temmie here has aged significantly. Instead of paying for the Tem Shop owner's college tuition, you give them money so they can buy back pain medication.

Toriel's Home - All of the furniture within Toriel's home is dusty, but not too badly damaged. It is about the same other than that.

Snowdin - There are more buildings within Snowdin in this AU. Most of these buildings cannot be entered.

Snowden Forest - Snowden Forest has been completely cut down, as Snowden needed materials to build all of those buildings somehow.

It is completely barren. Not a single tree in sight.

Sans and Papyrus's house: The house of Sans and Papyrus has a roof that is collapsing a bit, but other than that, it is perfectly fine.

Grillby's - Grillby's looks like an old-time Western bar now. The store owner is always complaining about one thing or another, but is pretty chill besides that.

Mysterious Door - Cannot be opened

Dog Shrine - The Dog Shrine in this AU is falling apart.

Undynes House - Undyne's house is well-maintained despite all these years. Undyne is often seen here.

Garbage Dump - About the same

Blook Acres - The homes within this location now have faded colors

Thundersnail - The snails races here now take 3 entire hours to complete, as the snails themselves are too old to move at the speed they used to.

Artifact room - Nothing here has changed

Lab - The lab has been replaced by the Core Meat Processing Plant in this au

MTT Resort - The MTT Resort has been abandoned for several years now. It falls down later in the game.

True Lab - The true lab is the name for the deeper regions of the meat processing plant, and you can access this location by taking some stairs. Nothing is special in this location, it's just a few empty hallways.

Art Club Room - the art club room does not exist in this AU

New Home - The new home location has abandoned buildings in the background, and some parts of the floor here will crumble beneath your feet.

Asgore's Home - Looks like a dump now

Last Corridor - The colors of this location have all been removed. It is desaturated and dull now, and the music here is slower than usual.

Barrier - The barrier is even more white now, which probably is not possible.

[connorumodeling]

Post 2:

Stepping Back And Revising, With New Ideas

Sorry It has been so long but I am back with another post. A while ago I proposed my idea and got a lot of critiques and the questions asked made me decide to take a step back a think about what story I am trying to tell with this scene. Am I recreating a pacifist run? a Genocide run? I settled on a genocide run.

I am getting ahead of myself though. First off, I should probably explain what Undertale is somewhat. Undertale is a 2d role playing, and bullet hell, game where your choices matter, and many different routes can happen (different neutral routes, pacifist route, true pacifist, and genocide route). At the end of the game you have traveled through the entire underground and just have the judgement hall and throne room. If you are pacifist you continue freely, neutral has some dialogue, and genocide is a fight to the death against the Judge.

I am going to take the 2d judgement hall and make a 3d model of an environment that captures the feel of the judgment hall. To do this I realized I would have to find the 2d judgement hall and not just 3d fanart.

THE PREMISE: Now that it is established what I am doing I can try to go with putting a story into the scene. The scene should not just be a hall, even if I will likely try my hand at a destroyed one as well. So going with the genocide run theme I was think of making use of the side of the hall that doesn't have windows. This side could have relics that represent characters the player has killed on their journey, and the most prominent (maybe even in the way) objects would be those that represent those that fought the player to save themselves, others, and end the player's terror. These items would be before the end of the hall (where the judge would be).

THE ITEMS SO FAR(subject to change):

Hat/bowtie, or boombox for Napstablook.

Pie, or a book for Toriel.

Bones, or an empty plate for papyrus.

Spears, or armor for Undyne

Microphone, poster, or something for Mettaton.

Donut or teacup for Muffet.

That is the ideas I have for now..

Frisk (the player) walks through the elevator and enters the Judgement Hall again. This isn't anything new, they have been doing multiple runs and this is just another run. It started with a Neutral route run after 1 monster was killed in self-defense. Once that was done the talking flower mentioned other routes, so the Frisk reset and tried to go through the entire underground without killing anything. It was fun and lots of friends were made, but that wasn't enough for Frisk. "If there is a route for sparing everyone, what would happen if I killed everyone", They thought curiously. They hit reset and do their first genocide run and it was exhilarating. The new fights, the challenge, the feeling of being all powerful made them keep going for a few more runs till they got bored. "Nothing new is happening" they thought. They did try a pacifist run after a few genocide runs and did get a new ending but that was the only other ending. The decide to do one more genocide run and then, if nothing new happens, they will just stop and leave it there. They eventually reached the Judgement Hall, but something was different. everything seemed gloomier and the lights seemed dimmer. going forward they looked to the right and noticed something different. The right wall use to just be pillars but now there were some objects between the pillars. they looked to represent past friends that they killed, with the ones that put up a fight, somewhat more prominent and in the way. "This is new", they thought, "I wonder what else is new...." They press onward down the hall taking in the new atmosphere and sights.

WORK: Pillar's basic models are done.

After finding part of it I started designing the window frame and the parts that go onto the window (the triangles, delta rune sign, ect.

I have already started on that and started to work on the base model for the doors, but I might re look at it.

IDEAS FOR MORE WORK:

I am already trying to start work on Undyne's spears. The only issue is they are very simple, maybe a little to simple for what I want to do.

So, I tried to look up some more detailed versions of the spears and here is what I found, that I liked, for reference

Design Reference 1:

Design Reference 2:

Design Reference 3:

I personaly enjoy the 1st and 2nd ideas vut not sure if I want the whole in the spearheads or not.

I am also going to soon be working on some bones, for the destroyed version and maybe for Papyrus 'memorial/shrine' so I go some references.

In Game Sprites:

Reference 1:

Reference 2:

Some bones will be tall and some short. If I can get to texturing and learn how to make a blue glow, I would love to add some blue and cyan glows to some of the bones and to the spears. Next post should have the window done, and hopefully the door as well. it should also have some sketches that show how I want to design the spears and the bones, maybe some of the other items as well sketch. Some of the sketches should also come with images of the models and how far I am on them. I also want to properly have a floor, that isnt just a bland plane.

After receiving critiques, I have gotten lots of ideas and I can't wait to show them off. see you all around in the next blog post! :)

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.3 (BAON)

Summary:   Edge is heading back into work, but since when do his days ever go smoothly?

Tags: Spicyhoney, kustard, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was entirely too soon for him to be returning to work by Edge’s measure. Two days off after a kidnapping was a paltry concession and he would have preferred at least working from home for the rest of the week. The Embassy wasn’t particularly far from New New Home, but depending on traffic and stoplights, it could take nearly half an hour to drive between them, not including the time it took to get to his car.

Time enough for so many things to go wrong and for Stretch to be alone when it did.

But despite his preference, two mornings after he’d brought Stretch home, Edge was pulling into the Embassy parking lot and ignoring the shouts of the protestors on the other side of the street as he walked in, though he didn’t extend his cane until he was inside the front entrance.

The issue at hand was not with his employment. Stretch was the one all but pushing him out their front door and he’d done so with a massive spew of words coupled with wild gestures, all of which boiled down to him not needing a babysitter while he was at home.

Edge didn’t have the soul to argue with him about it, particularly since he was right. There were already enough new violations of his boundaries, and past experience taught that he would start to chafe under them soon enough. Perhaps it was already beginning; exhausted as he was, he’d still slept restlessly the night before and while Stretch often tossed and turned, this time it was enough to disturb Edge’s own sleep, his subconscious crying out that this was not a familiar level of thrashing.

He’d still been in bed when Edge left though not asleep, muttering something about heading down to his lab to check on his experiments. Edge hoped that he did; if he could get absorbed in his own version of mad science, it would be a good distraction for the day, one that was very much needed. Red was supposed to stop by at some point about the bodyguard assignment and while Edge asked his brother to wait for him to get home, there was no telling if he would. If he deemed Edge’s presence unnecessary, Red would do as he liked and to hell with waiting for his brother.

With that in mind, Edge’s plan was to work as swiftly as he could today without sacrificing accuracy so that he could leave on time, perhaps even early, in an effort to thwart anything Red might attempt for his own amusements. But as so often happened, plans had a way of changing and in very unexpected ways.

When he’d arrived at the Embassy that morning, he’d been hyperaware of the stares that followed behind him from the moment he came through the door. From the security guard at his station to the interns to the janitors, eyes and whispers lingered in his wake. Whatever hopes he’d had for discretion about the kidnapping incident were quickly dismissed; it was obviously the talk of the office though no one was bold enough to confront him about it directly. As Red often said, ‘the only way to keep a secret is if ya kill the guy who told ya’ and considering how many witnesses were at the bar that night when Stretch and Jeff were taken, that option was not exactly feasible, if it ever was.

The local news was plastered with stories, some sticking with the one provided by the Embassy and others filled with wild speculations. Monsters were hardly immune to gossip and Stretch often featured on both sides of the rumor equation.

As for his usual partner in crime, Jeff was taking the week off and Antwan with him, and while Edge could appreciate the urge to get back to some form of normalcy, he couldn’t help a twinge of jealousy to think the two of them were probably curled in bed together sleeping while he was fending off the glares of his co-workers.

He deliberately kept his limping pace normal on his way to his office, refusing to give the gossip any further fuel. That worked well enough until he went inside. Janice was already at her desk and she looked up when he entered, her long ears swiveling in his direction and her pink nose twitching as she gave him a narrow look.

He wondered if she was disappointed in him for coming in today. The thought made him want to look away from her direct gaze and he forced himself not to, saying crisply, “Good morning.”

But perhaps he was only projecting his own troubled thoughts because Janice only replied with a certain gentle concern, “Good morning. How is Stretch doing?”

Yes, the gossip traveled quickly, indeed. Edge hesitated, then said with cautious honesty, “He’s doing better.”

She nodded and didn’t press. Absently, she reached out to straighten the picture frame on her desk of her two children. Edge understood the impulse. “If you need anything, either of you, please do let me know.”

“I will,” Edge said. He meant it. Somehow in the past year their relationship had gone from a strictly working one to something akin to friends, a change that came about right around the time he’d married Stretch. Another way his love had changed his life for the better.

Still, it was a relief for her expression to change in a flash from motherly concern to businesslike briskness. “I’ve already emailed your agenda for the day, nothing particularly robust, but you do have a meeting in an hour with Toriel.”

“Toriel.” Edge blinked in surprise. Technically, Toriel didn’t work for the Embassy in a similar way to Stretch. She acted as Frisk’s guardian, and while she certainly handled things she likely shouldn’t at her own discretion, they were the diplomat, not her. What could she want to discuss that she couldn’t have come to their home?

He set his laptop case down and dug out his phone, opening the email app and scrolled to his daily agenda to scan the list. The schedule said only, ‘Meeting with Toriel, 10am’ and gave no clues. “Did she happen to say what it was about?”

Janice shook her head. “I’m afraid not, she only contacted and asked for an appointment. I couldn’t think of a reason not to, so I gave her the first available timeslot.” Her voice uplifted at the end, turning the statement into a question.

“Of course you should,” Edge said, belatedly, “I’m perfectly willing to talk with her. I’m simply confused as to why.”

Janice offered him a faint smile and raised eyebrows. “I suppose in an hour you’ll find out.”

“I suppose I will,” Edge sighed. He picked up his laptop and headed into his office, already considering whether to brave the gauntlet again for a cup of coffee or to relinquish is pride and ask Janice to retrieve one. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for any surprises and a meeting with the former Queen would likely offer them, in spades.

~~*~~

If there was one thing to appreciate about meeting with Toriel, it was her promptness. At precisely 9:59 am Janice buzzed him that she’d arrived.

Edge took a moment to drain the last of the lukewarm coffee from his cup, brought to him by Janice without any prompting from him, further proof of what an excellent assistant she was. He saved the document he was working on before he replied, “Send her in.”

He’d hardly finished speaking when his door opened, Toriel’s bulk filling the entryway. She had to duck her head to fit through the entrance, barely missing bumping her horns on the trim.

“Please, come in,” Edge said. He ignored his cane where it leaned against the side of his chair and instead walked cautiously as he came around it. He gestured to the sofa rather than the chairs at his desk; Toriel was not a small Monster, but his office was designed for visits with everyone, up to and including Asgore himself.

“Thank you,” Toriel said. Her voice was soft enough that it seemed one should strain to hear it, and yet it still carried clearly through the room. She seated herself where he’d indicated, folding her lightly furred hands into her lap.

Edge hadn’t spent a great deal of time with Toriel outside of Embassy functions and the few times he’d traveled along with the diplomats. Even then, he’d kept a cautious distance from her. Despite the small glasses perched on her muzzle, her soft purple dress and motherly cardigan she wore, as a Boss Monster, there was a certain aura of power that she carried that no casual outfit could stifle. Her status might be simply as Frisk’s guardian, but even Humans couldn’t fail to notice it. Adding in that Edge had no basis of comparison with her counterpart in Underfell, put simply, she made him faintly uncomfortable, despite the common interest in puns she shared with several members of his family.

“Would you like a drink?” He barely caught himself before asking if she’d care for tea, already knowing the answer to that. She and Stretch should be closer friends, they could bond over their mutual dislike of the King. “Water? Fruit juice?”

“Water would be lovely,” Toriel said. The words were merely polite, he sincerely doubted she’d come here for refreshments.

From the small fridge in the corner, he retrieved a bottle of water. He set it on a coaster rather than hand it to her and took the seat across from her, folding his hands into his lap in an unconscious mirror of hers. “What can I do for you?” Edge asked.

Without preamble, Toriel said, “You saved my child’s life, and mine.”

That was far from any topic he’d expected she wanted to discuss. If anything, he’d supposed she might wish for more personal information regarding the kidnapping and rather than trusting the gossips, she’d gone to a reliable source. That she might want to talk about their last meeting hadn’t even occurred to him.

The incident in California was not so long ago and yet, despite his lingering scars, the event itself had mostly left his mind. Yes, it was traumatic and yes, he’d certainly be feeling the aftereffects for some time. But it wasn’t his way to linger over such things; it happened, it was over, and now there was only to move onto introducing new safeguards to keep such a thing from happening again.

He considered Toriel’s statement with care before offering cautiously, “Anything I could do to keep you and your child safe, I was willing to offer.”

“I’m sure you were, and are.” Toriel’s eyes were a shade of red unlike his own eye lights. In a way, they were more like Red’s and his way of seeing things deeper than should be possible. “And I am willing to offer my own gift for that kindness. I’ve noticed your leg is still troubling you.”

Edge struggled against shifting uncomfortably, forcing himself not to look down at the leg in question. He was wearing the brace today as he always did in the office, not because he thought he particularly needed it, but due to his suspicions that Janice would discreetly tattle to Stretch if he didn’t. It was a tradeoff for leaving their strictly business relationship behind. “It’s healing, it simply takes time.”

“Indeed,” Toriel inclined her head in agreement. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll allow it. It wouldn’t begin to pay my debt to you but—”

“Your Highness,” Edge interrupted gently, “you don’t owe me anything. I’m well aware that you saved my life after the explosion.”

“I’m no longer the Queen, Toriel is fine,” Her interruption was less gentle and for one who claimed no title, her tone made him want to straighten his spine and come to attention, a habit he’d thought gone along with Underfell. “And your life wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t saved mine.”

“Toriel,” Edge said deliberately, “if you’re offering to heal me, I have a doctor, they’ve done as much with healing magic as they can.”

“I’m sure they have. Which is why I’m offering. My skills are somewhat more…” she hesitated, settling on, “Robust, than other Monsters.”

As a Boss Monster, that was surely true, and Edge couldn’t help considering it.

She’d used her magic on him before, and while that was an emergency, he could hardly protest her doing it again. And what she was offering was gift unlike any other. The opportunity to be healed, to be able to return to his normal activities was tempting to be sure, but what irritated more was his brother keeping him at arm’s-length during the kidnapping. If he’d been more capable, if his leg wasn’t slowing him down, would Red have forced him to stay home instead of allowing him to provide some real assistance? There was no way to tell now, but if he could keep it from happening in the future…?

But Edge also knew that things that seemed too good to be true often were and that there was little in life that came without some sort of price attached. He’d gotten such a gift from the Angel already, if one believed in such things, in the love given to him by Stretch. Asking for more seemed greedy.

Toriel only waited serenely, perhaps understanding his inner turmoil.

“There’s no chance this could have a negative effect,” Edge said slowly. “I’ve made a great deal of progress already, I won't have it set back."

“None at all,” Toriel assured him. “I wouldn’t offer if there was even a chance.” She shifted in her seat, briefly looking away as if his bookcases had suddenly caught her interest. “I would have offered sooner but you must understand, this sort of healing is very draining. If it got out I could do this, Monsters would be lining up at my door, begging for treatment.” She shook her head, her mouth pulling downward unhappily, and suddenly she seemed older and weary. “I can only do as much as I can.”

“I understand.” He did. It was the same reason they’d chosen to keep Monsters’ ability to heal from the Humans. There were limits to the care anyone could provide. Still, his immediate impulse to agree warred with his cautious reluctance. “Then why now?”

“Why not now?” Toriel countered. She spread her empty hands in something like a plea. “I can’t heal every Monster, but what point is it for me to have these gifts if I can’t use them to help someone who was injured by helping me? I owe you a debt, Edge, and I mean to pay it.”

The steel in her voice resonated and the determined need to repay a debt was certainly something he could understand. Edge straightened and inclined his head formally, “I accept your offer.”

A smile lit Toriel’s face and that melancholy fell away as she clapped her hands together like a child rather than the powerful, centuries-old Monster that she was. “Wonderful! Let’s get started, then, shall we?”

“Now?” Edge said, surprised. He’d expected her to need to make some preparations, perhaps arrange for a secret meeting someplace out of the way and not well watched. If there was such a place when one considered his brother.

But Toriel only nodded. “Oh, yes. It won’t take long.”

She rose from the sofa and crouched down next to him. A bit nonplussed, he helped her unbuckle the splint and remove it, and as always, there was a slight, uncomfortable twinge with its support gone. Worse was the awkward intimacy in the way she settled her hands on his leg, even over his trousers, her fingers shifting into precise positions as she closed her eyes and summoned her magic.

Edge had been healed before, too many times to count. Rarely in Underfell, healing there was usually scoffed at and often considered a weakness as it was a difficult skill for those with LV. But in this universe, Stretch, Blue, even Toriel herself had healed him in the past, little wounds mostly, except for California.

He hadn’t been in a position to pay attention the last time she’d used her magic on him, drifting in and out of consciousness, but here there was nothing to distract him. Her magical signature was a deft one, not the brusque force of his brother or familiar honeyed languidness of Stretch or even Blue, who managed to somehow be both forceful and nearly timid at the same time. The greenness of healing came at a delicate trickle at first, seeking and finding the places in his leg that still ached with cunning skill, sinking in. In tiny increments, that trickle became a flood, and then a torrent, and the sensation was indescribable. Not pain, that was far too simple a word, but the deep power that carried healing into his leg and further, seeking out his very essence. Edge shied away instinctively as it sought out his soul, trying to escape that implacable, almost ethereal touch, but it didn’t invade or violate, only swirled briefly through his ribcage in a sort of greeting before returning to the task at hand, or rather, at leg, before it slowly withdrew into empty nothingness.

Edge opened his sockets, hardly aware of closing them, to see Toriel closing her own eyes as she wobbled on her feet, sinking back to sit on the floor with her legs tucked under her and her skirt demurely covering them.

“Your Highness,” Edge said in concern. He reached for her automatically, hesitating before touching her. Even though his gloves he could still feel the aura of roused magic surrounding her.

She opened her eyes. “Toriel,” she corrected with a slight smile, waving his hands away. She retrieved the bottle of water from the table, opening it and taking a long drink, then sighed out, “I’m fine. How are you?”

In answer, Edge stood, striding across the room and back again. The lingering weakness and frustrating ache of the past weeks were entirely gone. The urge to tests his limits was strong and he wondered giddily what anyone would make of it if they caught him racing up and down the stairwell with his coattails flapping behind him.

As if reading his thoughts and perhaps she was to some extent, they wouldn’t be difficult to guess, Toriel cautioned, “I suggest you wear the brace for a little longer. It might keep the curious from asking questions.”

Edge was about to agree, then amended it, “I won’t lie to Stretch. If he asks.”

To his surprise, Toriel let out of a peal of soft laughter and shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry about that. He’ll know the moment he sees you.”

That he hadn’t expected and Edge could only stare at her, aghast, “What?

Her smile turned incredulous. "You have my magic clinging to you, do you truly think he won't notice? Papyrus of all people?"

He wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that and he wished he'd known before he agreed. Well, it was too late to change anything now, wasn’t it, and that was a meal he’d have to swallow when it came to the table.

Belatedly, he realized Toriel was attempting to climb up from the floor and he hastily leaned down to help. Her weight was easily triple his own but between the two of them, they managed to get her back on her feet.

“Well!” Toriel said with a soft sigh as she dusted off her dress. “I’ll leave you to your duties, then. I need to get back to Frisk, they have a meeting this afternoon with the Prime Minister of Japan, and I wanted to brush up on the agenda.”

“Yes, of course, your—Toriel,” Edge correctly hastily. He couldn’t help flexing his knee again, still giddy with the pain-free movement of the joint. “Thank you, Toriel. This means a great deal to me, past simply healing.” She’d already turned to the door and paused, turning back to him.

There was a certain familiar impishness to her smile as she said, “If you truly wanted to thank me, you could try calling me Tori.”

In answer, Edge only bowed deeply to her and said, sincerely, “I’m afraid the attempt would be too much for me and might undo all the damage you healed. I would hate to be the cause of ruining all your hard work.”

Her soft laughter washed over him in a gentle wave and she shook her head. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we.” Her amused expression shifted to seriousness, “And Edge? Anything I could do to help you, I was willing to offer.”

Edge inclined his head in wry acknowledgement and with a last smile, she went out the door, leaving him alone in his office. Alone with his leg in perfect working condition and itching to be used.

A jog up the stairs might be out of the question, but there was no reason he couldn’t walk down to get another cup of coffee. With the brace on for now, and by next week? Perhaps he could risk going without, at least in the morning, if the stares died down by then. Time would tell.

He sat down to strap the blasted thing back on, its lack of necessity making it all the more annoying.

Soon, he told himself, soon.

Despite the events of the past few days, Edge felt lighter than he had in weeks. He only hoped Stretch’s reaction would be as pleased as his own.

Once the brace was properly on, Edge retrieved his cup from his desk and went down the hallway to the breakroom to fill it, giving Janice’s curious glance a sedate nod and careful to keep his steps slow and measured so as to not rouse any suspicions.

On the leg brace he would concede, an annoying necessity to be sure. But the cane? That, he left behind.

tbc

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Sixteen | Dummy! (Part 2 of 3)

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When you're done freshening up, dinner's already underway. The scent of vegetables and broth hits your nose, and the cold temperature left behind by the storm brings forth an additional hint as to what the monster's cooking up for dinner. You try to stay soundless as you sneak off to the kitchen and stand behind him, looking over his shoulder when you make it there.

"I can tell you're here, pal," Sans says, chuckling. 

He turns to you with a spoon held out in his hand. There's a sample of soup on it, waiting to be tested. The scent reminds you of having missed lunch break due to the stormy weather, with the hours it lasted bringing forth your boss's decision to call the rest of your shift off. You were supposed to be at your last meeting by now, but the rain and wind had proven to be superior, canceling all plans. Less work meant less pay, though you try to refrain yourself from worrying too much about that right now. "Taste it." He offers it out to you, still waiting. You, on the other hand, take a while to do anything, overthinking the situation as you then debate on whether to grab the spoon or taste it right off his hand. The first option had the risk of you brushing hands with the monster and spilling the soup in the process, yet tasting it right off his hand was almost unthinkable to do. 

Another thought pops into your mind, and that's whether it was fine to trust the skeleton by tasting the food and giving him the benefit of the doubt about it not being tampered with. Though you knew him for a few months now, it's still impossible not to acknowledge a possibility like that one. If a man you'd known for so many years had ended up leaving you, only to make a scene like yesterday's when trying to get back with you, who's to say a stranger with customs far different from yours wouldn't do something similar -- or worse?

You remind yourself of your main and original task: confronting him and the rest of the monsters over the choices they made back at the Underground, regardless of how charming and kind they were being with you currently. Sans was no less of an exception. This wasn't only for Frisk's safety and their overall state of well-being, but for your reputation as their parent -- and for your peace of mind, too.

You figure you've taken too long based on how the skeleton backs the spoon away.

His grin widens, and he then sips the contents off the spoon, leaving it empty. "I promise it ain't poisoned." He gives his back to you as he goes to wash the spoon, offering it to you after it's been cleaned. "You can taste it now." Sans moves aside, creating space for you to step forward and scoop a bit of the soup still bubbling in the pot.

Just as you're about to eat it though, he says, "I'm not the best cook around, so go ahead and lemme know if it tastes funny." 

A smile forms on your face when you hear that, captivated by the idea of him having no clue how to begin cooking, and even more considering he was at your home instead of his. If it was often difficult for beginners to cook in the familiarity of their own home, you can't imagine how it must feel doing that at another person's place. For a moment, you wish you could've seen him in the process of cooking, an opportunity you'd lost while you went off to shower and change.

When you taste it, what's missing drops into your thoughts; years of having cooked at home reveal the capability of identifying that quickly. You consider the suggestion and confirm what the soup's lacking when you clean up the spoon and take a second sample off the pot. "It's good," you say, setting it aside. "Just needs a bit of salt and more time to stew. The rest is fine."

"Thanks," he replies, hands going back to his pockets. "Paps wants to improve his cooking, so I figured I've gotta better mine some more before I teach 'im anything."

Again, your mind finds itself in a conflict. While it's charmed by the thoughtfulness of that comment, it's also clouded by the morose reminder of why you'd asked him to stay for dinner in the first place. To distract yourself, you add the missing ingredient to the soup and walk with Sans to the couch while it finishes boiling.

It feels strange to sit so far apart from each other, but he doesn't close off the distance, nor do you.

You prop a leg over the other and rest a hand over your knee, bouncing the one on the floor when you lack anything more to say. Your thoughts scramble around as you try to find a way to make the situation less awkward. When you glance back at him, you see it's something he also seems to want to end; your gaze meets with his when you both decide to look at each other's side -- synchronizing.

He shifts closer and you do the same, continuing until your hands touch.

Almost immediately, you pull back, yet your gaze remains locked with his, eyes drifting down to his teeth. Even as he gets nearer, you stay put, lost in your thoughts and the risky scenario unfolding. Your brain and heart scream at you to stop; your body -- conversely -- refuses to move out of its current spot and rebels by inching closer to him, until you're near enough to catch the scent of the only soap brand you often bought for showering: soft-scented, cheap, and antibacterial. It's strange to catch that aroma from someone other than yourself. Frisk preferred using a different kind, making the situation much more intimate than you would like it to feel.

You grab his hand again as he leans into you, only stopping himself when your back presses against the armrest. Then, he pulls his hand back and uses both to hold your shoulders and corner you right into place. Height difference makes it so that his legs stay knelt on the couch while yours hang off it, these tucked aside as you focus on the matter at hand. He brings himself closer as he tries to level out your heights, grip on you staying. The sound of your heart and of the soup simmering by the kitchen are the only two other things to keep your mind occupied from what's happening; anticipation makes your breaths waver.

As if the situation couldn't get tense enough, the door of the living room opens and in barge two people, leaving you in an iced state. 

Rather than Frisk and Toriel, it's Frisk and Jerry who stand at the frame, one casting a look of betrayal at the monster while the other scrutinizes the scene. You try standing up, yet the monster's hands hold you back, body held up over yours -- still cornered. His face reveals nothing but conflict, an expression similar to your state of mind regarding how freely to act with him. 

Jerry leaves without a word and shuts the door too slow for it to even click. Frisk does the rest of the job for him by locking it, checking it again, and saying nothing themselves as they look at you in the eye and sign, "Can we talk later, ren?"

Still in a tough position, you nod once, lacking strength or words to say anything out loud. 

Sans doesn't move even as Frisk disappears into the hallway.

You see his irises falter when you look at him; his gaze isn't fully there. A few drops of sweat are present on his forehead, and you can feel his hands grow colder with each second. "...Are you okay, Sans?" you ask, voice faint. "I, um... I think the soup should be ready now."

You hope that's enough to snap him out of it, only to have that contradicted when his hold on you stays. "I'm sorry, (Y/N)," he mutters, huffing, "I failed you."

Sans moves back while you sit up straight; silence returns. He stands up and goes to turn off the stove, all done within more time than you would expect as he chooses to stay there a few more minutes, staring aimlessly at the kitchen's wares. You rest your hands on your knees, and you wait to see what he does next. There's not much you can do now that you were caught in a moment like that one, and there's no time to beat yourself up over it, either. All you can do's admit your blame where it best seemed fit, and that was in letting your inner voice act before you. You'd given it your strongest efforts to wait until your first year of college to date Jerry, only to then wait until you had a stabler job by your second semester to actually do anything more serious with him, and later waited six more years alone, watching as Frisk grew up in your care for most of the time, only to let your wants show through now of all times.

Excuse through excuse -- be it valid or not -- you'd restricted yourself at every moment you saw possible.

All that, and yet it still felt as if you hadn't done enough.

You wanted to be stronger. 

"Frisk told me 'bout your situation," Sans says, distracting you from your thoughts. "Not whatever happened with Jerry, but the way you see monsters, and well… me, in general." He turns away from the kitchen and sits back down on the couch, looking directly at you, though for wholly different reasons than earlier ago. His hand stays over yours, more comforting than sultry. Were you to know him for any longer, you would've assumed he's holding his soul on his sleeve, yet you remind yourself he's still a stranger. "Maybe this's my habits showin' up, but if I were to judge you based on what they told me, I'd say you're labeling yourself as the bad guy." His fingers intersect with yours, squeezing your palm. "Of all the things I've gotten to learn about you, this's one of the least you should be blamin' yourself for. If anything, you're not exactly the only one responsible for all that's been happenin' right now."

Your breaths grow tighter the longer you keep listening to him. Your heart's racing again, yet it's not the same as before. The monster lets your hand go, continuing with, "I can't tell you just how different we are from each other, and how much I wish I had a fraction the amount of willpower you and your kid have." He sighs; a hint of a smile shows despite the furrow in his gaze. "You've got some things right about me, and one of 'em's havin' chosen to act too late. Being unable to be there for those I care about, more specifically." His nose cavity flares as he lets out a stifled laugh, remorse showing in spite of his best efforts not to let that happen. "I hate who I used to be, and even now, I still feel like I could've done more. I wanna try harder, but I don't have a clue on where to start with that."

Sans tries to stand up, yet fails to. He heaves out a breath as he closes his eye sockets and surrenders himself back on the couch; he rests his elbow over the armrest and lets his chin rest on his hand. After that, he looks back to your side, an apologetic gaze showing as his grin widens and his crease deepens, the way his monster anatomy worked allowing him to further display similar movements to that of a human narrowing their gaze. "Keep taking credit where it's due, (Y/N). And when you've got somethin' you want to improve, try your best to overcome it." He pauses, and the crease in his gaze lessens as he casts a fonder look at you. "Not that you ain't tryin' already. But you're still takin' up too much of the blame, and not realizing when you can be free. It doesn't have to be with me -- or anybody else, for that matter -- but try to live life a lil' more. Don't just dwell on the past and restrain yourself from stuff you want to achieve for yourself. You should live for you, just as you're tryna live for others."

He closes his eye sockets and brings a hand to his face, rubbing his forehead until he lets out a hushed sigh. Then, he opens them and straightens up on his seat, hands resting on his lap. There's a brief pause, broken when he breathes in again, saying, "...So a skeleton and a single parent walk into a bar," he takes another stop, continuing with, "One bares their skin to the bartender, earnest down to the bone," his breath hitches, yet he composes himself quickly, "the other sits back, looks into the past, and then wonders why he's feelin' so lonely."

He huffs and ends it all with a chuckle and an attempt at covering his face away from your sight. You stop him with the brush of a hand, taking his cheekbone when he turns to you. His body's shaking and a few tears escape his sockets, these he tries to wipe with his free hand, only for you to hold him back by doing that yourself. Caught in the moment, you kiss one of them away, the expectance of a salty taste proven wrong as you receive a hint of sweetness instead -- reflecting the memory of your day with him at the pâtisserie. His shoulders shake as he chokes back a sob, breaking down. His hands grab your back, bringing you in for a hug as he seeks more comfort. In that embrace, you can feel how his rib cage rises and falls at quick intervals, slowing down when you hug him back and wait until he breaks it apart.

The wait's as long as you expect it for someone in his state; the weight of his breaths diminish as he calms down and lets you go.

"Sorry about that," he comments, chuckling. "Wasn't really myself for a moment there, huh?"

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[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

Undertale Theory: The Barrier Didn’t Fully Trap All Of Monster Kind Like We Thought

I’m pretty sure the barrier is only one sided, it only being active at King Asgore’s Castle, but there is no barrier where Chara and the other human children fell through.

and the monsters in the underground only believe that the barrier is in the ruins, when really it isn’t.

if it did, then it would in theory, would of needed about 20 to 29 wizards for it to reach from the ruins to New Home & Asgore’s Castle.

if only Seven or Eight Wizards make a barrier, it would in theory, only close off a small bit of Mount Ebott and keep the monsters from leaving, like one of the exits that we see when we are about to fight King Asgore.

if no one can get in or out through the barrier, unless they have both a human and monster soul in one body, then that would mean that no human child would of been able to fall into the ruins in the first place.

if the barrier did reach that far, it would keep any human from falling in.

like if Toriel ever looked up, she would think a human was flying

or looking like they were pressing their face on glass.

if the barrier did keep others in, and also made sure no one can get in,

then the barrier would of kept the humans from falling into the underground.

but since the barrier wasn’t placed on the other side of Mount Ebott,

humans could still fall in and this also allowed certain events in Undertale to happen.

not everyone has to agree about that theory, but I believe that the barrier was only on the exit of the Mount Ebott over at Asgore’s Castle.

it didn’t reach all the way to the ruins. 

if the humans back during the Monster & Human War, had been lazy with the barrier magic, that would make sense.

they might even believed that the Monsters wouldn’t figure out that the barrier was only active on one of the entrance/exit of Mount Ebott.

Monsters believing that Humans can’t do Magic, might be a type of “Xenocist” thinking.

we know that in Deltarune, Kris is able to gain a number in their States that shows “Magic’ but it will only appear if you wear a certain item.

I think I forgot what item it was that has Kris’s Magic go from 0 to 1 or a higher number...

I’m not sure if all humans can use a pendulum, but being able to make a pendulum move by your mind is a type of Magic.

like I mention before, it did freak me out when it started to move all crazy like, and after it did that, I didn’t use or touch it for a long while, maybe for some months.

I then started to use it later, and figured out I could ask it Yes or No Questions

(though it can pull pranks at times.) and besides that, I could even move it by thinking where it should go.

I had to program the signs for Yes or No into it,

like for Yes it would go clockwise fast, and for No it would go circle slow.

if my being able to do that, has to do with my blood type, guess it would mean the rumors were true about RH Negatives.

at some point, some items I held that wasn’t my pendulum, would start to move like my pendulum, like if I think it while holding the item, it would move.

that is why I had to get my bracelets to act as sealing charms and limiters,

one of my bracelets being off for too long, seem to break the program, so I had to re-do it by praying with both the salt and bracelets in my hands again,

and for the other bracelets still act as sealing charms and limiters, even if one of the other bracelets is off.

I had no other choice but to keep one of the bracelets off, it is kind of small and it kind of was becoming a bit uncomfortable, I can put it on once in a while now, but I still need to take it off when it starts to become uncomfortable.

it wasn’t that way before, but it all of a sudden became that way.

we still haven’t gotten around to checking once again about my blood type turning up as O RH D Negative again, but if it shows the same results a third time, I had already decided to accept it.

anyway back to the barrier theory, I believe that the barrier that kept the monsters trapped in the underground, hadn’t been placed in the spot where Chara and the other Human Children fell from.

if it had been placed there as well, none of the humans would of fell through and landed in the spot where Asriel would meet Chara.

if the humans had wizards on both side, with the same number, it could close the entrances and keep the monsters in and keep those on the outside from going through as well.

but there will always be a weak spot, like if there was another way to make a entrance, that new entrance would not have a barrier and a human will be able to get through.

that’s why the higher number of wizards would be needed to place the barrier throughout the whole mount, not just small parts of it.

if Seven or Eight Wizards are used to create a barrier, they can only do so by making it at the very spot where we are about to fight King Asgore Dreemurr.

and I doubt the humans even thought about creating a barrier on the other side of mount ebott, and if they didn’t, it might of been because there was no entrance on that side before, and it might of been created by Gaster. 

if the barrier was meant to keep Monsters in, and even keep anyone from the outside from getting through and ending up in the underground as well,

this would mean that the Monsters in the Underground, could of freed themselves without collecting the Human Souls and could of escaped by going into the ruins and going out where Chara and the other Human children fell in from, because it did not have a barrier.

it’s possible that the Monsters trapped in the underground, didn’t know that they could of escaped the underground by using the hole that Chara fell through that is located in the ruins.

the only one who might of known this secret, could of been Gaster.                                               

[caretaker-au]

Chapter 08

Frisk jumped with a small squeal. Whipping around, their eyes settled on something that made their heart stop for a moment. The child stumbled back and hit their head against the prison bars with a twang.

“Oh darling, are you alright?” The voice of the stranger was syrupy sweet and twinged with flamboyance, but it sounded genuine.

Frisk nodded, their eyes wide to take in the surprise guest. It was a ghostly figure, rounded at the top with a misty white body fluttering beneath them, not unlike a beach ball covered in a bed sheet. They were semi-transparent and had no arms or legs, instead floating at about eye height from the floor. In the middle of their “face” were two enormous eyes over a wide, smiling mouth.

“Who are you?” Frisk asked, “How’d you get in here?”

“Through the wall, of course!” the ghost gestured with a turn of its body towards the back end of the cell, “Perks of being incorporeal. We weren’t planning on coming in but all that shouting got our attention. That Chara certainly has a mouth on them, don’t they?” They did not pause long enough for Frisk to answer, “Though you’re no push over either, darling. Good for you! Blooky could learn a thing or two from you.”

“Um, thank you...” Frisk trailed off, then hesitated. They had a lot of questions, but were unsure of where to start.

The ghost took the pause as an invitation to continue. “So tell me, darling, whatever did you do to make Chara so angry? They may be a little strict at times, but Chara’s certainly not the type to threaten lives!”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out myself,” Frisk sighed, then murmured, “They’ve been trying to kill me since I got here.”

“Speak up dear, we can barely hear you.”

“We?” Frisk repeated, “Who’s we?”

“Why, myself and Napstablook of course, they— wait a minute—” the ghost looked to the left and right, before turning to the empty wall behind them, “Blooky, become visible this instant! It’s rude to lurk!”

“Sorry…” a weak voice lilted from the corner. A second ghost faded into view: it was nearly identical to the first, but had downcast eyes and a small, pensive mouth, “I didn’t want... to interrupt…”

“Seriously? What am I going to do with you?” the first ghost turned back to Frisk, its expression twinged with irritation, “I apologize for my cousin’s lack of manners. Blooky isn’t much of a social butterfly.”

“It’s okay, I understand,” Frisk smiled, “I would turn invisible too, if I could.”

“Well now, enough about that,” the first ghost said, “As the only two members of the human fanclub, we have questions that need answering. Tell us, human, who are you and how did you get yourself tossed in the slammer? Spare us no detail!”

“Well, my name is Frisk,” the child answered, “And the rest is kind of a long story.”

***

With arms crossed, Chara tapped their foot as the castle elevator lifted them upwards. Frisk’s propensity to not only survive but to charm had accelerated their plans, but the plan was still firmly in place as long as they moved fast.

Chara checked the time on their phone, but the glowing 12:38 AM wasn’t of much use to them. After everything they did and undid, they could no longer remember when they had left the castle. The doors of the elevator rolled open, and Chara burst out, running the full length of the way home. Every other step caused their knee to throb with pain, the bruises from Frisk’s attack still freshly coagulating in their leg.

They only slowed when they reached the front yard, taking a few moments to catch their breath and rub their aching knee.

The living room light flicked on.

Fresh fear seized them. Were they too late?

Chara raced forward before halting again to open the door as quietly as their shaking hands would allow. Inside, the foyer was dark and comforting. Quiet.

“Chara?” Asriel said, near silhouetted in the doorway of the living room, “Where did you go?”

Chara put a finger to their lips, glancing down the bedroom hall before shutting the door with a soft click. “Are your parents awake?” Chara hissed.

“No, I don’t think so,” Asriel whispered back, “What’s going on? Were you running?”

“Not important.” Chara’s gaze was piercing in the low light, “Get dressed and meet me outside. Whatever you do, do not wake Asgore and Toriel. Go now.”

***

“...And I’ve been in this cell ever since.” Frisk finished their story with a sigh. Their spectral audience of two were perched at the end of the cot with Frisk seated on the other side. Frisk hadn’t had much opportunity to process everything that had happened, let alone explain it, and doing so left them feeling exhausted. The only other time they’d told their story was to the Dreemurrs, and that had been erased by a swing of Chara’s blade.

“Since they put me here, Chara’s prevented me from speaking to anyone,” Frisk added. It was tempting to tell the ghost monsters of how they had been killed and revived through some sort of time travel, but Frisk decided against it. Their experience was unbelievable, even to Frisk. The fact that they were alive to tell the tale contradicted their own story, and it was clear Chara was too beloved for an accusation of murder to be believed. Instead, Frisk only admitted that they had been attacked and chased by Chara, and the monsters had trouble accepting even that much.

“I’m sure if I just had a chance to talk to the King or Queen or Asriel, they’d let me go home,” Frisk looked at both ghosts in turn for some sort of affirmation, but the specters only exchanged a tense glance.

“It’s not that simple, sweetheart,” the outspoken ghost replied, “If we could just walk out, no one would be in the Underground.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yes, I suppose you wouldn’t know the prophecy, would you?” the ghost mused, “I’ll give you the short version. A long time ago, humans trapped us in this mountain using a magical barrier. They say only a powerful soul can pass through it, much more powerful than that of a monster! But! If a monster absorbs a human soul, they can walk right through the barrier. With seven human souls, they can break it and free everyone!”

“Human souls?” Frisk placed a hand over their heart. If souls served such an important purpose, Chara’s demented antics might make at least some sort of sense. “But Chara is a human. Why haven’t they left yet?” Frisk asked.

“Now that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? Chara has made it clear that they prefer the company of monsters to humans, so perhaps they’d rather just stay down here with us.” The ghost smirked, leaning forward, “But you know what I think? I don’t think their single human soul is strong enough to pass through the barrier. Otherwise they would have already left to fetch us more souls.”

“Maybe... Chara would be able to cross the barrier... if they absorbed a boss monster soul…...” Napstablook added meekly.

“Blooky, don’t be ridiculous! Chara wouldn’t dream of harming the Dreemurrs!”

“But they’ll harm me,” Frisk stated. Both ghosts froze as if Frisk’s words chilled the very air.

“So, I’m trapped here forever?” Frisk asked. A pit formed in their stomach. They had only just arrived in the Underground, yet had experienced enough stress to last a lifetime. Being unable to die wasn’t much comfort when they still had the capacity to suffer. Frisk bowed their head, “Trapped until Chara... takes my soul?”

The ghosts frowned at each other, and for a moment, they looked almost identical. An uneasy quiet filled the room for a few solemn seconds. The quiet ghost was the first to break the silence.

“Frisk… please don’t give up…..”

Frisk’s vision swam as they tried to look up at Napstablook. They pressed the sleeve of their sweater to their eyes before any tears could fall.

“That’s right, you aren’t out of options, dear!” the cheery ghost exclaimed, “After all they say a strong soul can pass the barrier, and you may have one that’s sufficient, darling!”

“You think so?” Frisk placed a hand over their heart.

“Yes yes, there’s nothing in the prophecy that says humans can’t get through the barrier on their own. And maybe your soul is stronger than Chara’s. It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?”

Frisk took a deep breath and nodded. The excitable ghost continued, “Do you know where the barrier is? It’s in the King and Queen’s house, in the basement. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t wandered in there once or twice,” they said with a wink.

Frisk thought back to their short time in the Dreemurr’s house. There were a set of stairs leading down near the front door. “Yeah, I know where it is. But how can I get there? I can’t pass through walls like y—”

“Do you hear that?” the talkative one interrupted and glanced towards the hallway. Frisk strained their ears, but couldn’t hear a thing. “I think the guards are coming, I’ll check.” With impressive speed, the specter zipped through the stone wall towards the exterior doors of the jail, leaving Frisk alone with Napstablook.

“I know it’s not much…” Napstablook spoke softly, “But I do hope... you can go home...”

“Me, too. Thank you,” Frisk smiled.

Napstablook’s cousin returned, this time carefully passing through the jail bars, “Just my imagination it seems, but I think we’ve overstayed our welcome. Blooky, let’s head out.”

“Already? But—” Frisk protested, only to be interrupted by the flamboyant specter.

“Yes, already, but it was lovely meeting you, dear!” the ghost rushed Frisk in what could only be interpreted as an armless hug. Perplexed, Frisk raised their arms in an attempt to hug them back. While they attempted to embrace the incorporeal being, they felt something fall into their lap with a clink.

“I think you should get going too, darling,” the ghost whispered before pulling away. “Now, Blooky! Let’s get out of here before those insufferable dogs show up, chop chop!”

“Good luck, Frisk...” Nabstablook murmured as their cousin ushered them out of the cell, “You’ll be okay…”

With that final word of encouragement, they were gone. Frisk examined the ghosts’ parting gift with renewed determination. It was the key to the cell.

***

The worn interior of the elevator hummed softly as it plunged Chara and Asriel deeper into the Earth. The lowest light on the button panel was illuminated, foreshadowing a long, long elevator ride.

“Chara…” Asriel hesitated, waiting for his partner to give him acknowledgement. None came, however, and he was forced to continue without it. “Chara, where are we going?”

“You should know,” Chara responded, still facing the button panel, “You were here recently. Counting souls, correct?”

Asriel stilled. He swallowed before answering, “Yes, a few weeks ago. How did you know—”

“I have my ways, Asriel. I must say, I don’t appreciate you keeping secrets from me.”

Asriel shook his head, “It wasn’t a secret. I just—”

Chara turned their head, looking Asriel up and down from the corner of their eye.

He backpedaled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hide it from you. It had been so long since we talked about— you know— the barrier, and I wanted to know if… if...” He trailed off, not expecting to make it to the end of the sentence without being interrupted. Chara turned their body to face him, crossing their arms. The elevator continued to hum. “...If there were any more added,” he finished.

“And? Are you satisfied? Was it worth sneaking around behind my back?”

“No, I’m sorry,” Asriel hung his head.

“‘I’m sorry.’ I have been hearing nothing but apologies from you recently.”

“I’m sorr—”

“Stop.”

Asriel bit back the urge to apologize again. Not knowing what to say, he stayed silent.

“I do not want to hear apologies. I want you to do better.” Chara waited for Asriel to nod, then sighed. They leaned against the corner of the elevator and closed their eyes, “I do not want to be so hard on you, Asriel. But the truth is: there is something important I have to tell you, and I am not sure if you are ready to hear it. This… might be the most difficult thing I have ever done.”

“You can tell me,” Asriel said.

“I can tell you,” Chara repeated, “But can I trust you?”

“Of course, you can always trust me.”

Chara’s eyes flicked open with a glare, “No. I cannot.”

Asriel’s protest was interrupted by the soft ping of the elevator reaching its destination. The Lab. Chara watched the doors slide open, and one by one sickly blue-white lights flicked on down the length of the hallway beyond.

“But I do not have much choice. Come.” Chara ordered, leading the way.

The familiar smell of old rubber and musty drywall cloyed at Asriel’s senses, but the oppressive atmosphere was nothing compared to the shame weighing in his stomach. There was only one location of interest left in the lab and Chara took him right to it: the room that stored the souls. Chara unlocked the door and ushered Asriel inside. The room was once a lab, now empty save for counter tops, cabinets, and a flimsy table and chair covered in dust. Chara grabbed the table and dragged it noisily along the floor towards the back of the room, where a large steel cabinet was fixed with a deadbolt. A second key from Chara’s pocket unlocked it.

Asriel fidgeted. He had so many questions to ask, but he knew asking them would put his trust into question. Chara said this was important and difficult, and he wasn’t going to make this harder for them, even as dread welled up inside him.

Chara pulled the cabinet doors open, and the room was softly illuminated with multicolored light. One by one they removed the soul jars within and set them in a row along the table. Orange. Purple. Blue. Green. Yellow. The light from the souls was cold and unnerving.

“Asriel,” Chara finally spoke.

Asriel straightened, tearing his eyes away from the specters, “Yes, Chara?”

Chara walked around the table and leaned against it to face Asriel. The light of the souls cast their shape in near silhouette. “What I’m about to tell you is not going to be easy to accept. But you must not doubt me.”

“Of course,” Asriel answered.

Chara chuckled, weariness edging into their voice, “I wish I could believe you. You are going to accuse me of losing my mind.”

“No, I won’t!” his words were emphatic, “I know I mess up all the time, but I love you more than anyone. Please let me prove that to you!”

“If you insist,” Chara paused, gathering their thoughts. The suspense hung in the air.

Finally they spoke, “The little human you have grown a soft spot for. It is not what it seems.”

“You mentioned something about that,” Asriel nodded, “You said they were dangerous.”

“That was an understatement,” Chara’s eyes narrowed, “At the time I had no idea how deep their depravity went. That human can manipulate time itself.”

“What?” Asriel’s eyebrows knitted together.

“Ah. You don’t believe me.”

“No, no!” Asriel shook his head, “I do. What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said. The human is able to do as it pleases— lying, hunting, attacking— then moves the clock back to undo the consequences of its behavior. The effect of this power causes everyone to forget what the human has done, save for me.”

“That’s…” Asriel started, searching for the right word.

“Crazy?” Chara’s eyes widened as they smiled, “Impossible? Insane?”

“...Horrible.”

“Yes it is,” Chara frowned, “While it has been only one evening for you, I have experienced days worth of torment at the hands of that vermin. They have tortured and even murdered me while manipulating you to believe them to be harmless and innocent.”

“Murdered?” Asriel felt dizzy. He thought of Frisk’s soft voice and small smile; how small and vulnerable they seemed under Chara’s capture. That was all an act? He wanted to say it was unbelievable. He wanted to ask for proof. But how could he? If the child really was so deceptive and powerful, he’d have to take Chara at their word.

“The funny thing is,” Chara continued, “What I have suffered at its hands is not even the worst part. No. The worst part is watching it turn you against me.”

“I’m not against you,” Asriel replied in a hushed voice.

“Not presently, but you have been. You will be. I’ve watched you betray me over and over and over. That despicable thing is driving us apart, endearing itself to you while making me look insane for fighting against it. I’m the only one who knows the truth, and yet, completely powerless. Completely alone.”

“I’m sorry, Chara,” Asriel felt tears welling in the corner of his eyes. The doubt he felt ached with guilt, so he forced his mind to accept Chara’s story. Frisk was a manipulator. Frisk was a killer. He took a deep breath and tried to will the tears from falling, “I’m sorry for betraying you. How can we stop Frisk? Is there anything I can do?” His voice wavered as he asked. The souls continued to gleam behind Chara.

“Yes. I have a plan, but first you must swear never to doubt me again.”

“Okay.”

“And that you will never betray me, no matter what the human says.”

“I won’t!”

“And that you will trust me unconditionally.”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Say it.” Chara demanded.

Asriel’s voice shook, “I promise I’ll never doubt you or betray you, no matter what happens.”

Chara relaxed, and they smiled with an earnestness that Asriel had missed, “Thank you. You have given me the courage I needed, Asriel.” They pushed themself off the table and turned around to face the souls. “Now to do what I should have done a long time ago.”

With one swift gesture, Chara swept their arm in an arc, knocking the soul jars to the ground. Asriel cried out as glass sprayed across the concrete floor, releasing the souls from containment. The glowing specters rose up from the floor around the caretaker, their multicolored light casting Chara’s deranged smile in stark relief.

“Chara, what are you doing?!” Asriel shouted, pressing back against the closed door behind him.

“We are going to the surface, Asriel. And you are going to take us there,” Grinning, Chara pointed their knife toward their partner. A knife? When did they get the knife?

Chara continued, “Every minute the human remains in the Underground is putting us on a path of irreversible calamity. With the power from these souls, we will retrieve the seventh soul from the surface and bring justice and balance to the world.”

“No!” Asriel cried out in spite of himself, “There has to be another way!”

“I have tried everything else already. This is the only way. Asriel, you must trust me.”

“Chara!” Asriel choked. Hot tears ran down his face, “Please, I can’t do this!”

“You will not be alone, Asriel,” Chara pointed their knife to their chest, the tip carefully positioned between their ribs, “After all, we will always be together.”

Asriel surged forward, the fear of the souls pushed away by a much greater threat.

Chara plunged the blade deep into their heart.

chapter 08 // end

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[the-river-person]

The Alleyway

When Frisk found the alleyway for the first time, it was an accident. The thunder of the falls was deafening out here on the edge of the city. If you were to climb out on the ledge and look down you would see the waterfalls plunging from the city’s canals and down into the dark depths below. Of course, you couldn’t see what lay at the bottom of the colossal towers, nor much further than the cliffs in the distance. What little you could see were rows of blackened dead trees and plants. The corruption. Leaving the city wasn’t an option. It just wasn’t safe. The City’s Ministers and officials did their best to keep the stuff at bay, to keep everyone in the towering cities safe. But if you left, you wouldn’t be allowed to come back even if you survived. Everyone’s safety was at stake, after all. But, as they found, if you sidled out along the narrow edge, away from the last official street on the map, you might find yourself along another opening, a dark street that seemed to be totally blocked off from the main roads. Dark doorways promised sinister watchers from the shadows, and even one or two small shops that looked like they’d never even heard of the guilds had their wares spread out on cloths or in windows.

Frisk, wearing a jacket to keep off the constant dampness of the falls and the chill air, looked around before turning to go back the way they’d come. Madame Toriel was waiting for them and there wasn’t time to explore. Yet there was someone there. Frisk jumped back, alarmed, but the figure didn’t seem to be moving in a threatening way, they were just standing there, looking just as surprised to see Frisk as Frisk was to see them. It was a little difficult to tell what the person looked like, as they had a long brown overcoat on and a hood that hid nearly their entire face in shadow. Only the eyes stood out, peering at them from beneath the hood. Terrible, grey, blank eyes that seemed to want to pull them inward. But when the figure spoke, it was in a quiet voice, one that was… relaxing and smooth, even friendly. “Heya, didn’t mean to frighten you or anything. I was just wondering what you were doing back here, the Warrens aren’t the safest place to go exploring. Don’t want you getting hurt or lost. What’s your name?” “Frisk,” they said, their expression turning ever so slightly towards a frown. What was “The Warrens”? What did he mean not the safest place? The City of Vandfald and its three sister cities of the Claustra Alliance were among the last safe places left in the world! Surely someone would have noticed if there was any real danger. Quiet laughter escaped the figure. “Ah. Frisk. What a cool name. Heh. Alright, I figure you’re not the type to be put off by warnings. Tell you what, I’m staying around here for a little while. If you need my help, look for me here.” And he handed them a small card with an address printed on it. “I might not be able to solve your problems, but I might be able to give you advice, or at least lend an ear.” With that, the figure turned to walk away down the alley street. “Wait!” called Frisk. The figure paused, listening. “You didn’t tell me your name!” There was a little pause. For one moment, Frisk wondered if the person would refuse to tell them. But those brief fears dissipated when the figure spoke again. “Mistral. My name is Mistral. See you round, Frisk.” And as he walked away, it occurred to Frisk that though Mistral was taller than them, he was still quite short. * * *

The next time they came to the alley, they were dragging Azriel with them.

“How did you even know this was here? Frisk? Frisk. This place could be dangerous. Are you listening to me?”

Frisk waved him into silence, “Shush, Azzy. This isn’t the time to chicken out.” “I’m not chickening out,” muttered the goat-monster. But he followed them into the alley nonetheless.

They crossed paths with a few people, but most simply hurried onward,not quite meeting their eyes. One of the shady vendors beckoned them to his little display with a friendly smile and a wink. He appeared to be selling a variety of items that had clearly been repaired. Frisk picked one of the objects up to get a closer look at it. It had some kind of flat glass on the front, like a window, and a strange knob or two on either side of the little window that might have been buttons. Frisk pressed a button, but nothing happened. They looked at Azzy, who shrugged, looking just as confused. The shopkeeper’s wife, who was watching from the doorway, removed her sandal and gave her husband a thwop on the head with it. Her heavily accented voice was quite loud as she continued to thump him with the sandal.

“Children, Aaron! They are little children! You cannot sell scavenged junk to children! What would they do with it? How would they even know what it is? You are stupid! Stupid!”

“Ouch! Ow! Wait!” yelped the shopkeeper as he pleaded with his wife, holding his  muscled arms over his head to protect it from her onslaught. “Please! Catty, my love!”

This did not save him from the shoe. “Don’t you ‘My Love' me! You could have been a Rail Cleaner like my cousin! We could be living a decent life on Villias Tower!. But no! You wanted to  get a license from the Guilds to sell your trash, as if anyone wants this junk! Now we’re stuck here in the Warrens because you won’t listen to me!”

Other faces had started to poke from doors and windows, monsters and humans watching the scene with amusement. Frisk and Azzy quietly slipped away, not really wanting to be caught up in all the attention. Without realizing it, Frisk had held onto the device they’d picked up from among Aaron’s wares, and had stuck it in their pocket without thinking. It took them a while to find their destination.The streets were winding and branched off or connected all over the place, like a series of cracks spreading out. All of it seemed to somehow be inside the city, but how and where was a mystery, since neither Frisk nor Azzy had ever seen any glimpse of the place in all their time living here. Asking directions was difficult because most people would simply brush past them, refusing to answer, or look around warily before telling them to go home. Finally they managed to get a grudging response from the eighth person they asked, a canine monster who was smoking a dog biscuit and wearing an old, rumpled, tweed suit. He squinted at them, as if trying to see them better, and Frisk wondered if he was partially blind. But he pointed them down the right way before walking off, muttering about children being where they shouldn’t be the entire time. Surprisingly they had actually been quite near the address they’d been searching for, the one on the card Mistral had given Frisk the first time they’d met him. It was a townhouse, squashed between a number of others that were all fairly similar despite different coloring and decor styles, and when they knocked on the door it sprang open right away. There was nobody there who could have opened it, but a voice from somewhere inside greeted them. “Come in! I’m just in the kitchen. First door on the right.” Following the voice they stepped into the kitchen, where a familiar short figure was bending over a pot on the coal burning stove. When he turned to greet them, both Azzy and Frisk gasped.” He was a skeleton, but that wasn’t what was unusual about him, what shocked them was that he could have been an almost exact copy of Minister Sans. Seeing their expressions, Mistral laughed. “No, no.” he said with his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m not the Minister. Don’t worry. I just happen to look a lot like him, lots of us skeletons look alike you know.” Frisk felt doubtful of this as their eyes took in the finer details of the skeleton’s appearance. All across his bones were crystals. Not fine jewels on broaches, rings, and necklaces… but raw crystal actually growing on, or maybe from the bones themselves. Mostly they were small, merely encrusting his arms and neck with tiny beds of silvery-white crystal. But here and there a larger shard grew, jutting out and impossibly sharp. Since he’d removed the long overcoat he’d been wearing, they could see the stuff growing up around his neck and all along his arms. A few crystals were even growing around his face and upper skull. Frisk and Azzy turned to share a look, was this the corruption at work? Or something else? Mistral gave the pair an amused glance, noting their wide-eyed expressions. “I suppose it’s not everyday you meet someone as handsome as me. But didn’t you two come here for a reason?” Frisk shook their head to clear it. Yes, it was true the skeleton did appear similar to the city’s less than approachable Minister of Commerce who oversaw the guilds. But the differences were more than enough to prove his claim that he was not the same person. Besides, they’d come to ask for help. “People have been disappearing. All over the city. Monsters and humans alike, but always someone nobody would notice. Or pay much attention to. We’ve tried to report it to the guards, but they don’t care. And mothe-” They stopped mid word, looking uncomfortable for a moment before correcting themself. “Madame Toriel won’t listen to us.” As Frisk had been talking, Azzy had been rocking back and forth, looking nervous and distressed. Finally he spoke up. “They took Chilldrake! And Suzy! And even that mouse whose dad worked for the Drake family and he came to play with Chilldrake sometimes, what was his name? He had a huge scarf.” When Frisk only shrugged, Azzy continued on anyway. “We don’t know why people are going, but nobody listens to us, or cares. Frisk said they might know someone who could help, or tell us what to do.” Still stirring the bubbling pot on the stove, Mistral had listened calmly and attentively to everything they’d said. Now he moved the pot to a different burner and retrieved three bowls from a cupboard and filled them with stew from his pot. It smelled delicious; like onions, beef, and cooked carrots. Various spices like cumin and rosemary tickled their noses in a tantalizing way that caused their mouths to water. There was also, very faint beneath all the other smells, the scent of something else… something like lightning and rain… like ozone. “Now,” said the skeleton. “From what I’ve learned, the best thing to do in a situation where you’re not sure what to do, is to learn about your surroundings. You live in the city, sure. But how much do you really know about it? And the Warrens? Know anything about them?” Frisk frowned. “I know the City is one of the four great cities of the Claustra Alliance, and that there are bridges and rails that keep us connected with them. The cities protect us from the outside, where it's not safe to live because of the corruption.” Everyone knew about the corruption. Said to have been released from containment centuries ago it had overtaken much of the world. Humans and Monsters had banded together in order to build the cities and protect as many people as they could. “Are you sure?” They stared at him, Azzy’s face scrunched up in bewilderment, and Frisk feeling slightly angry as they asked, “What do you mean?” Mistral grinned. “Are you sure it's not safe to live outside the cities?” “Of course we’re sure!” said Azzy. “Everyone knows that!” The skeleton, looking like he was on the verge of laughing, nodded. “Alright. So how do you explain how I'm living in relative safety here in the Warrens?” They gaped at him. “But,” started Frisk. “I thought…” Mistral actually did laugh now. “You thought they were part of the city. Parts of them are. Back entrances, certain doors, side alleys. There are a ton of ways back and forth. Sort of like… gates that take you to far away places with a single step. So think on this. If it’s safe enough to live in the Warrens without worrying about the corruption, what other things do you think you were lied to about?”

Neither could answer, and Mistral took that as a sign the conversation was over. He urged them to eat their stew, which they did, and then he herded them from the house, saying that he had appointments to keep.

His final words, before he shut the door, were a strange warning. “Don’t mention me to anyone. As far as this and every other one of your great cities is concerned, I don’t exist, and I’d like to keep it that way. If you need my advice again, slip a letter under the door here and I’ll get back to you within a day or two if I can.”

Then he’d closed the door and there was a final click, like a lock being turned. Azzy turned to look at Frisk.

“You have weird friends.”

[houseofoddballs]

My (Hopefully) original AU!

Alright... so the monsters are trapped underground... right?

With very little to no light... right!?

This boy is almost a literal shadow... almost...

(I might do some character sheets for Gloom and Pitch, but I suck at drawing so who honestly knows. Feel free to send in asks about my AU and it's characters, I'll gladly answer!!)

Also, I was totally inspired by @llamagoddessofficial's Ao3 "The Danger That Lurks Underwater" book! Check it out!!

So, picture this...

Before the barrier fell:

Having just escaped the creature in what frisk was now calling "The Ruins" They clutched the small flashlight close to their chest, it was their only defense mechanism after all.

The creatures down here were... interesting... The light went out. Sending a firm hit to the top, the light flicked to life, and Frisk could resume thinking. "The light down here was was scarce, almost nonexistent, which made the darkness everywhere, all consuming, But the monsters seemed friendly enough.

The ones in the ruin had been childish, playful even, and Toriel was so sweet that it was almost suspicious. The smaller monsters however, had laughed, and seemed to make a game of avoiding the beam of your flashlight while coming close enough to tug at the edges of Frisks sweater.

'Crack' They jumped and turned around, shining their light on where the sound had emanated from. That branch was so big, how could something have snapped it like it was nothing?

Frisks breath caught in their throat as they kept going with the unmistakable spine chilling feeling of being watched. Frisk yelped a bit as they almost stepped off into a cavernous pit, the beam of light in their hand scanning wildly for the source of a deep chuckle from the forest.

Nothing.

But it did find a way across... It was a rickety bridge that looked straight out of a horror movie, the thick wood that made up the floor and banisters was rough, looked as if some one had tried to sand it with a meat pulverizer, and it was littered with deep scratches here and there into the wood. The poles on either side of the bridge felt almost ceremonial as Frisk stood at the edge of the bridge, contemplating any other alternatives.

"H e y . . ." The voice was deep, it was a deep smooth- no, hollow baritone that made Frisks heart stop and blood freeze. The air was thick around them, or was it the darkness? At this point they were the same thing, as they looked into the pit, honestly considering throwing themselves into it.

"D o n ' t y o u k n o w h o w t o g r e a t a n e w p a l? T u r n a r o u n d, a n d s h a k e. m y. h a n d." Mustering up the courage and cursing themselves as they turned around, their flashlight beam disappearing again, but even without it Frisk had little trouble seeing the monster that stood before them.

A skeleton.

Dark was an understatement, He was darker than the suffocating void that had consumed everything, and seemed to be almost absorbing it, and from the tendrils that seemed to cling to him from the darkness it was hard to tell what was him, and what was the pitch black.

He was short, still about an inch taller than frisk (Who was already the size of a sixteen year old anyway, thank you Progeria...) and when they made connection with his hand the bone was soft and smooth, warm and cold at the same time.

Then the hand slipped away, and everything went white.

After the barrier fell (aka: how does (Y/n) begin to fit into it?):

Sans had to admit, as a prankster, the surface was fun. He mostly moved between the shadows and scared the living daylights out of the humans he happened to come across, he had already run across more than one awkward situation, but the payout was so worth it, especially when it was you.

he loved visiting you the most, you were absolutely terrified of the dark, so to have stumbled upon you awake in the middle of the night was a one in a million chance. He loved the way your eyes went wide and darted around the room unable to see the edge of your bed, let alone the doorframe, the way your heart raced, it was exhilarating to hear and sans itched to press his nonexistent ear to her chest to hear it as the fear swirled and swelled inside, the way your breaths came out erratic and short, it was mesmerizing to him, but his favorite part was the small tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes.

He knew it was sadistic, but it's not like he actively tried to make you cry. He just loved how defenseless you looked, how helpless, how easy to protect you looked. he fiddled with the drawstrings on his hoodie, where the other Sans's had hoodies that puffed out and mad them look softer, more round, his was very thin, and made hid almost none of his shape, if not for the slightly thicker, soft, almost spandex, black tank top he had on underneath the definition of each rib would have protruded out a bit.

He sighed and pulled something out from the pocket of his shorts, they were still the classic sans shorts, but they were all black, a couple of seams the only indication that a stripe had been anywhere on them in the first place.

You see, this had become somewhat of a nightly ritual for him. He would spook a few people, play bogy man for a bit, then come and watch you as you woke up briefly from one of your regular nightmares, and after you fell asleep he would watch you some more until morning, and only then did he leave you, but not without leaving some dark chocolate on the table... it had originally made him chuckle, but the first time he saw your absolutely ecstatic childish reaction to the small treats he had left you, his heart 'melted' and he found that he couldn't stop.

This night was different however as a more menacing shadow materialized in your closet. Sans growled, of course red pitch was here to intrude on his little night light. Pitch was, well him, but Pitch was more openly sadistic and cruel with his pranks and likes, he also liked to flirt almost violently. To put it shortly, if sans gloom wasn't leaving you to sleep through the night on your own, he sure as hell wasn't about to leave you alone at night with Pitch.

[swagrum76]

What I have written down for my Undertale AU so far

Oldertale is an AU of Undertale where everyone is elderly and old. For obvious reasons, this AU takes place after the Pacifist route.

CHARACTERS:

Sans; Sans wears a tan-colored jacket that is a little faded, and uses a walker. He often speaks about who he was in the past, often speaking about how he used to crack puns but doesn't anymore.

Papyrus; Papyrus has a gold tooth now and also has a hunched position.

His personality is a bit similar to normal Papyrus, but he often tries to give the player life advice, but always fails to do so. He would've had several heart attacks by now from eating all that spaghetti, but he is a skeleton, which prevents him from having heart attacks.

Flowey; Flowey is too old to even put up a fight anymore, his colors are faded aswell and the determination keeping him alive has greatly diminished. Therefore, he can only speak in one letter at a time and has a frown on his face.

Asgore; Asgore retired from his job and now works at Grillbys.

Undyne; Undyne can't chase you down in this AU, as they are way too old to do so. She is often seen using a cane.

Napstablook; Napstablook is about the same, but they are more depressed than ever, often telling the player that they wish they could die, but because they are a ghost, they cannot.

He is often seen laying down in his house not doing anything.

W. D Gaster: Gaster used to be the grandpa of Sans, but he died in a tragic work accident at the age of 88. Everyone thinks he fell into the CORE, which split him across time and space, but in reality, he fell into an industrial meat grinder. (the meat grinder was located at his workplace, which was the Core Meat Processing Plant.

Alphys: Alphys has severe PTSD and mild psychosis from having to witness the incident that happened with Gaster. As a result, they often don't talk much, and when they do, they make no sense.

Toriel: Behaves like a grandmother now, and even bakes cookies for the player.

Mettaton: Mettaton never shows up in thIS AU, as his mechanical parts have become too old and rusted to work.

Asriel: Another character that never shows up, as Floweys determination is too weak to bring them back.

Chara: Wears faded colors, and just talks to you for a bit, then leaves.

All the other characters that would show up during random encounters just don't, as they are too old to fight anyone now.

MECHANICS

The fight button has been complete removed, and replaced by some text in red under the "act" section. This text simply reads "push" and when you press on it, you literally give a shove to any monster you are currently fighting, thus causing them to fall over.

This "push" function has a 50 percent chance to kill any monster you are attacking, and thus, serves as the main path to the Genocide route of this AU.

Everyone has half the health they normally would have, as aging has decreased their health quite a lot.

[songfell-ut]

Chapter 12 does stuff

Still not to the Underground because Frisk is that lady at the office who gets everything done for everyone and then if she ever gets sick of takes a vacation everyone is like “OMFG WHERE IS SHE” amirite @lostmypotatoes

Chapter can be found here.

She had never been so tall before! She could see the top of everyone’s heads! “Look at me!” she crowed as the others came in the door.

“Hello, dear,” King Asgore said sheepishly as Toriel froze on the threshold, arms full of groceries. “Er…do you need any help?”

Frisk was standing on the King’s shoulders, clinging to his horns. “Asgoooooore,” his wife intoned, starting low and sliding up to a very warning note.

“Yes, dearest?” He beamed at her. “Do you like my new hat?”

Asriel laughed, taking the sacks from his mother’s arms to set them on the table. “I remember doing that when we were little,” he remarked.

“And I remember how your father turned his head too fast and nearly took your eye out,” retorted the Queen.

Frisk gripped the horns a little tighter, hoping Toriel wasn’t going to make her get down. “Oh, it’s fine, pumpkin,” Asgore said. Nevertheless, he tapped the human’s shoe. “Perhaps you could sit down, child. It may be—”

The moment Frisk moved her foot, it slipped. Down she went—

—into the King’s arms as he caught her, swung her around in a wide arc, and hitched her up to sit on his shoulder. “Ta-daaa!” he boomed over the child’s shrieking laughter. “You see, Tori? No problem whatsoever!”

Toriel’s face was such a picture that Asriel gave a quiet “Pfffft” and had to hurry out of the room under her glare. “Of course not,” she said tartly. “You do realize we have to give him back in one piece, don’t you, sweetie pie?” Ignoring their complaints, the Queen reached up to set Frisk on the floor. “Now, Gorey, you put these things away, and I will put Kris to bed. Say good night, my child.”

“G’night, Your Majesty,” the human said forlornly.

“Good night, little one.” Asgore’s eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. “Sleep well.”

Frisk trotted to the bedroom ahead of Toriel, bouncing a little. Even if it was bedtime, this was the best thing that had ever happened: not only did she get to spend the night here, the other humans wanted the monsters to keep thinking she was a boy, so they’d asked Toriel not to give her a bath. It was just pie, playtime, and a bed all to herself! Why couldn’t Asgore and Toriel be her real parents? Why couldn’t—

The bedroom door opened, and the dream suddenly changed. This was the right room, but it was cold and smelled dusty, as if it’d been abandoned for a long time. Asgore was standing in the middle of it, huge and silent, shoulders bowed; the King seemed older, angrier, his features drawn tight with grief. He looked up at her as if she was a stranger. His eyes shifted downward, and narrowed.

The priestess raised her hands as he gripped his trident. “Your Majesty, wait,” she tried to say, but he was slashing at her and—

 ~

 Frisk woke up in her own bedroom. Muzzy with sleep, she had no idea why her blanket was so huge, or heavy, or why it smelled like leather. No matter: it felt so safe that the fear ebbed away as she lay buried in its folds, and so comfortable that she turned over and nearly went back to sleep.

The door was ajar. Smells crept in, and voices, but mostly smells. Her stomach growled, and Frisk reluctantly had to struggle her way out of the—coat? It was Sans’ new overcoat, wrapped around her several times, more like a tarp than a blanket. Her head was almost a foot away from the nearest opening, and she didn’t even know where the foot of it was. She slithered up through the neck, played with the fur around the collar for a moment, then adjusted her robe and climbed out of bed.

The voices turned out to be Sans, who was drying his face with a napkin, and Dr. Gaster, who was seated at the table in his own form, almost as eerie by daylight as he had been in her barrier’s glow. “Good morning, Your Eminence,” he said serenely.

“Good morning, Doctor,” she responded in kind. “If you’ll excuse me a moment…”

“Of course.” The monster sipped his coffee as she went to her dressing room and mostly shut the door.

Sans was tapping his phalanges on the tabletop. “So, it looks like we’re—” He broke off, looking from the undisguised skeleton to the dressing room. “Wait. What the crap?”

“The lady and I became more intimately acquainted in your absence,” said Gaster.

“Doctor,” Frisk called warningly.

Gaster chuckled. “Forgive me, my lady. I couldn’t resist. What I mean,” he said to Sans, who was fully bristling, “is that she caught me trying to steal her box the first night you were away. She trapped me until I explained myself, and I learned that when an angry High Priestess puts you inside a barrier, none of your magic is effective, especially not a human disguise.”

“You did what?!” Sans’ fist came within millimeters of the tabletop, but the dressing-room door opened, and he stopped exactly in time. He gave the table a little pat instead, dropping his hand into his lap as Frisk came to sit next to him. “Ya broke in here while I was gone?” he demanded.

“He did indeed.” Frisk glared at the doctor for a moment, then turned her attention to breakfast. “What has Sans told you, Dr. Gaster?”

“I explained our deal to him, and he has related a remarkable story about your trip to the Underground as a child.” Gaster drained his coffee and set it on a tray. “Please forgive me, but I must know: do you recall anything about the day of the accident?”

Sans sat up straighter. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him to ask her that yet; she didn’t blame him, after all the emotional turmoil of the previous night, and she couldn’t blame him for waiting so intently for her answer.

But she was finding it a little difficult to focus. It was finally sinking in that she had told Sans everything, that he knew she was Kris and had agreed to take her to the Underground. She’d really get to see everyone again, and she could talk to Asgore as an old friend; maybe the jolly King she’d known as a little girl was still in there somewhere, ready to be brought back…

Frisk finished chewing and swallowed as both skeletons waited for her response. She had to remind herself that Gaster had only agreed to help her mislead everyone – including Sans – in exchange for information, and that it was a very valid question. “I don’t know what happened, no,” she said slowly, to their disappointment. “I remember getting permission to go to Chara’s performance with Sans and Papyrus, and I know I was supposed to do something, but that was it. The next thing I knew, I was in a stagecoach, and Rosa was telling me I’d be going to school.”

Sans’ brows rose a little, and Gaster said, “A pity, but understandable. Many people who survived the event have little to no memory of it, given the amount and violence of the magic involved. Sans tells me you were brought along in the first place as a sort of test?”

Frisk made a face. “I was told that monsters were unpredictable and we needed to know how they’d behave under different circumstances, including whether they’d treat a child as well as a human would. They made me pretend to be a boy ‘for safety.’”

“Yeah, like humans treated you that fuckin’ well,” Sans muttered, ignoring Gaster’s not-very-hard smack on the head.

The High Priestess took as dignified a bite of sausage as she could. “I always had a feeling that my missing memories were linked to the Underground,” she said around it, “and now I know it for a fact. I have a more solid connection with monsters than any other human alive. If I were to go with Sans to reestablish diplomatic relations, Asgore might just hear me out. When I was there as Kris…” She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “He and Asriel played with me for hours.” Thinking of Asriel hurt too much. Frisk said, just to be saying something else, “I know he’s changed, and so have I, but...”

“Nah, ya haven’t,” Sans mumbled, making her go bright red.

Gaster glanced back and forth between them, but merely said, “Persuading King Stephin to allow it may be difficult. The last time he and King Asgore spoke, it was not on the most amiable terms.”

“So I hear.” Frisk pressed her lips together. “We need to convince him, and everyone else, that it’s necessary. Based on Sans’ knowledge of solar arrays and your own work, Doctor, how soon could you make a prototype to demonstrate to the public?”

“It depends how large and how strong a model you’d require,” admitted the doctor. “Is speed more important, or impressiveness?”

“I’d like something before we leave, please, even if it’s only large enough to power a witchlight. Now that Sans has been here for two weeks without incident, people are starting to get curious, and let’s be honest: if we can get people used to you, Sans, they can get used to any monster.” Frisk poured herself more milk. “We need to pair that with the idea that we don’t have to steal magic anymore, and it will help immensely if everyone is talking about solar power while we’re gone.”

The boss monster shrugged agreement. The priestess toyed with a fork, steeling herself. “Another thing. This sounds exploitative, but I’ve had copies made of the reports on each monster confiscated the other night. I sent them to as many different administrative offices as I could think of. Each report had my confidential seal on it, so I’m sure people have read them. I want to see if anyone is talking about it.”

The men were quiet. Sans was clearly displeased, but he was listening. “Believe me, I hate to use their suffering as a political prop. I really do,” she said, half stern and half apologetic. “But as things stand, monsters being enslaved is a fact of life to the average human. We can’t let it be an abstract concept anymore. Most people don’t know the kind of conditions monsters are kept in, and the time is right to make them care about it.”

Gaster inclined his head, and they both looked at Sans. He took such a long, deep breath that Frisk wondered how there was any air left in the room afterward. “Ya really think so?” He glanced at the royal sorcerer. “You know humans pretty well. There’s no other way ta do this?”

“Nothing as effective, long-lasting, or nonviolent, no.” Gaster leaned his head on his hand, and the extras with the pen and notepad materialized, scribbling away. Frisk wished he wouldn’t do that. “Humans do not like change, or being inconvenienced, and they cannot stand to be told they are wrong,” explained the doctor, “especially when presented with clear evidence that they have been wrong for a very long time. Letting them pretend that this is a new issue they can feel strongly about without having to do much of anything themselves…I’m afraid it is the ideal path to social change.”

“Wow. Humans suck,” Sans observed. He glanced at Frisk, who couldn’t hide her apprehension. “Don’t gimme that look, kiddo. If you ‘n the doc say it’s the best way to get monsters free, I’m not gonna fight ya.”

“Thank you,” she said simply, and his answering grumble was much quieter than usual.

“The second fortune,” Gaster mused, and they both looked askance at him. He gave her a rare smile. “You’ve chosen to set monsters free. You will have to work very hard, my dear lady, but your life will be quite interesting. May I ask how you are feeling?”

Frisk thought of Asriel again, of being taken from the Underground. She rubbed her forehead as Sans glared at the other skeleton. “It hurts very much, Doctor,” she said quietly. “I’m not going to lie. But…” She gave him a watery smile. “Once I get through this, I’ll have the other things, too, the joy and love.” Something occurred to her, and she smiled wider this time. “And my ‘innumerable’ family. I hope the monsters will fit that description.”

“Damn straight,” commented Sans, which made her flush again.

Gaster nodded, and she was almost certain that he waited for her to take a sip of milk before he asked, “Have you selected a father for your child?”

The priestess choked mid-swallow and had to push away from the table to double over, coughing, while Sans checked her for immediate danger and then snarled at Gaster, “What the hell kinda thing is that ta ask a lady, y’old perv?!”

“What indeed.” The royal sorcerer folded all of his hands, looking back and forth between the red-faced sorceress and the redder-faced skeleton. “Forgive my impertinence. I’m sure it will happen quite naturally. For now, Your Eminence, you need only concern yourself with your apprenticeship, and with furthering the cause of monster freedom.”

Frisk climbed to her feet, waving away Sans’ offer of assistance. “One moment,” she croaked. She would have loved to know what exactly he was saying to Gaster as the bathroom door closed behind her, but it was all she could do to breathe normally. What did the doctor think he was doing, besides embarrassing her and Sans most of the way to death?

 ~

 “Whaddya think yer doin’?!” Sans leaned forward, but had to sit back as Gaster’s extra hands reappeared, wagging their fingers in sync. “What happened to not interferin’? It’s none’a yer damn business what she does!”

“I am acting purely to further Her Eminence’s goal of peace between the human and monster races,” Gaster lied with his stupid lying face. At least, that was what it looked like to Sans. “However strict a schedule she may be on to fulfill her maternal destiny, it would not behoove her to be encumbered too soon. You have thirteen days left of your tenure here, during which she will want to accomplish as much as possible, and after which you will hopefully be able to escort her to the Underground for a successful diplomatic mission.”

“I know that.” Sans rubbed the back of his skull. The workroom floor hadn’t been that comfortable, but it hadn’t exactly been a comfortable night, so whatever. “That doesn’t give you any right to bug her about somethin’ so personal,” he snapped.

Gaster sighed, laced his all fingers together, and pushed them outward to crack every joint at once, making the boss monster twitch. “Enough beating around the bush, Sans. Frisk is not the sort of woman who forms intimate attachments quickly or easily, and out of the very many men who would be glad to have her, she has not found one who suits her. Even without the timeline imposed by her fortune, based on what I have seen and heard, you are by far the likeliest—”

Wham.

Sans did not dent the table this time. He nearly broke it in half.

Gaster blinked at the crater in the wood surface as its dust settled. “I thought you would be at least somewhat ambivalent by this point,” the doctor remarked, and raised his voice as the bathroom door creaked: “Please give us another moment, my lady.”

The door closed. Sans flexed his hand, ignoring the splinters and bits of shattered china lodged in his metacarpals. “I was up all night thinkin’ about it,” he growled. “Doesn’t really matter how I feel, does it? Facts are facts. ’m three or four times bigger’n her, I’m a boss monster, an’ even if I never touched her, I’d ruin ‘er whole life. What would the other humans say? Ya think they’d ever listen to her again if they thought she was screwin’ around with a magic skeleton?” Snort. “Even if we could do it, ’m still basically poison. Ya know exactly what I mean.” He peeled a long curl of wood from the table’s surface. “This is all assumin’ she’d be okay with me in the first place. I mean…look at me.”

Gaster peered at Sans’ SOUL, and his expression said it all. “The darkness intertwined with your magic could potentially be damaging,” he conceded. “As we discussed, you need to decide whether it’s worth holding on to the anger dragging you down, for your sake and hers.”

“Who says I’m holdin’ on to anythin’? ‘s more like bein’ stuck in a tar pit. She’s helped me get my head out, ‘n that’s about it.” Sans jerked his thumb at the table. “Be honest. Would you wanna have a kid with someone who does stuff like this?”

The older skeleton was silent. Sans waited, half hoping he would say something witty or insightful that would solve everything, but Gaster just shook his head. “That’s what I thought. Time fer you to go,” said the boss monster.

The royal sorcerer grimaced. “Sans, please. Are you even going to try?”

The table itself started shaking, a film of red creeping over the books and dishes. Dr. Gaster stood and tugged on the chain to become human, then strode out of the room and slammed the doors behind him without another word.

Sans glared at the table. It was pretty damn broken, all right. Good job, asshole, he congratulated himself. How was Frisk going to get anything done now?

…Welp. He’d repaired the table before, hadn’t he? Why not try it again? Might as well prove to himself that he could do better for her sake, or prove to the doctor that he couldn’t—either way, he had to give it a shot.

The boss monster took a deep breath, imagined the broken wood and china all coming back together as they’d been, and flicked his left hand. His magic slowly lifted the table, pushing from beneath till its overall surface was mostly sort of level again, then straightened out the legs and settled it back to the floor.

So far, so good. Next, he smoothed the jagged, splintered ends jutting out of the crater into a nearly unbroken surface, separating the smaller pieces of wood from the broken china. With a supreme effort, he directed the wood to fill in the remaining gaps, and imagined the china re-forming into plates and cups.

To his elation, there was a flurry of movement, leaving the wooden surface scarred but whole and the dishes looking like dishes again…which, as he released the spell, tumbled apart into broken heaps, the wood poofing back out where it’d started.

He scowled and gestured again, but the same thing happened again, and again: the stuff mashed together well enough, but wouldn’t stay that way. God damn it, why wasn’t it working? Was he trying to do too much at once? No, that wasn’t the problem; he had more than enough power, and he was focusing properly. He was using the exact same magic as before, and he sure as hell intended it to work, so…did he need to get madder at himself for ruining her workspace? Or…

Sans thought it over, then got off his stool and went to rap on the bathroom door. “C’mon out, kitten,” he said. “I need a favor.”

Frisk emerged as he backed up and sat down facing the broken table. She looked at the wreckage, then at him. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“I will be in a sec. C’mere.” He extended an arm.

She was a little doubtful, but came to him readily and let him tuck her against his ribcage. “Um,” she said into his wrinkled shirt.

He stroked her hair with one phalange, focusing on her warmth, and her smell – which now included a hint of leather from his coat – and how big a pain in the ass it’d be if she had to replace the table. She was busy enough, she didn’t need this crap! Besides, what would his past self say if he knew he’d screwed things up for Kris?

Frisk turned to see what he was doing, absently twining her fingers around one of

his, and Sans suddenly knew exactly what to do. There was a boom and a crackling like wood being broken, but in reverse: her mouth hung open as the cloud of red magic dispersed, leaving the table in nearly the same shape as before, perhaps a little bent in the middle. The breakfast dishes were intact, though they looked as if someone had glued them back together in a hurry. “Ha! There we go,” Sans said triumphantly. “Good as…used. Not bad, eh?”

The priestess leaned back against his clavicle. “I suppose it’s the next best thing to not breaking it in the first place,” she murmured.

Ouch. And speaking of which… He grimaced. “Hey. Frisk?”

“Hm?” She was still holding the lowest phalange of his right forefinger, examining the relatively-smaller bones of his hand.

As always, Sans scanned her face for signs of distaste or nervousness. He never could find any, or understand why not. “Uh. I’m…’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Ya shouldn’a had to show me all that.” The boss monster played with one of her wavier locks of hair. He liked it better when she didn’t put any stuff on to straighten it. “’m sorry you spent all that time scared ta talk about it.” He exhaled, ruffling her hair. “’m sorry you were right t’be scared.”

Frisk let go of his hand. She didn’t say anything, just laid her head on his clavicle, face turned from his.

Sans sighed, and dropped his arm. “Yeah. So,” he mumbled.

She shrugged, so slight a motion that he could barely feel it. He was about to reach for her again when she stepped away. “It’s all right.” Frisk went to the repaired table and stacked up the partly-broken dishes. “I don’t know if I would believe me, either,” she said over her shoulder.

He couldn’t think of anything else to say. The silence felt…complicated. “So,” he said. “What’re we doin’ today? Ya want people ta not be scared of me. Should we go rescue kittens outta trees, maybe bring some orphans candy or somethin’?”

Frisk paused, as if shaking herself, and suddenly smiled, in a way that made him nervous. “Now that you mention it—”

It was thus his own fault that, within ten minutes, Sans found himself accompanying her back into the castle town. On their recent excursions, Sans had been using his disguise, and Frisk dressed as plainly as possible, keeping her hood up; this time, not only was she in her High Priestess gown – though she’d omitted the headdress in favor of her red-lined cloak – Sans stayed beside her as his own giant self. As far as he was concerned, the only problem was that she insisted on walking the whole way in order to be visible and gauge people’s reactions. Oh, well. At least they matched again.

Their destination today was the group home where Frisk had stayed as a very small girl. It was a long walk to the poorer part of town, but the visit itself was brief enough; they were admitted in the middle of the children’s morning break, so they had a head start to the long dining-room table before someone spotted the bakery boxes they’d picked up on their way over. Sans ended up having to lift Frisk the rest of the way before she was lost under a surging tide of greedy little hands.

Of course, the magic demonstration turned out to be the ideal icebreaker. To his disgruntlement, Sans was conscripted to make toys fly around – though he drew the line at the actual children begging to be flung across the room – while Frisk distributed the pastries they’d brought and the boss monster contemplated his life choices. He’d enjoyed playing with Kris back in the day, but he never signed up to perform for a bunch of literally snot-nosed brats!

But he had to admit that it was working: after a few minutes, only the most timid children were still hanging back, and by the time the priestess was done telling them about the different kinds of monsters she knew, almost all of the kids had crept up for a closer look. He contented himself with the fact that Frisk seemed pretty happy, though he wasn’t a big fan of how many kids were coughing on her.

In fact, some of them got a little too comfortable with him, and Frisk had to cut the visit short when they started crawling into his huge slippers and lifting his shirt to poke between his ribs. The priestess and boss monster waded out amid cries of disappointment, closing the door with some difficulty.

“Damn, that was intense,” said Sans on their walk back to the castle. “So, ya lived there till you were…?”

“Eight. Then Rosa found a job for me in the castle kitchens scrubbing pots. I’ve had better experiences.”

He thought again of Kris’ scars and protruding ribs. “Permission to go up there ‘n bust some heads?”

“Denied,” she said. “I started collecting affidavits about the old cook the moment I came back here as High Priestess, and she’s been in jail for over two years now. She won’t get out for a good while.”

Sans still would’ve liked to find the bitch and see how she liked someone bigger hurting her, but it probably wasn’t something Frisk would want to hear. Instead, he asked, “D’you always call yer mom by ‘er first name?”

Frisk returned a passerby’s smile and nod, and said, “I often have because I wasn’t very attached to her, and it turns out I was right. Rosa isn’t my mother.”

The boss monster nearly stopped in the middle of the busy street. “Say what?”

“I found out around the time I went to the Underground, so I forgot it along with everything else. It’s a long story, but the short version is that I was put in Rosa’s care when I was a baby, and she pawned me off wherever she could until my father stepped in.” Frisk smoothed her hair behind her ears as the wind whistled around them. “Rosa did check in on me periodically to be sure I was alive, which is more than I could say for anyone else before I met you all.”

Sans had to jam his hands in his pockets to keep from hugging her right there. “So…”

“My real mother is dead. I’ll tell you more later.” To his surprise, Frisk fell in step beside him and reached up, and he obligingly leaned down for her to take his elbow. He thought of Kris again as she smiled up at him. “Let’s go back now. We have a lot of work to do.”

 ~

 Sans did not forget about that conversation, but he never quite managed to bring it up again: they were so busy preparing for the trip Underground that, before he knew it, only ten days remained of his visit.

For one thing, three of the mixtures he had formulated were not working much better than the control she’d set up, but one was doing well, and another was so promising that Frisk ordered more of its components and some additional seedlings. He had finalized his list of food items to bring back with them and eventually persuaded the priestess to stop buying more gifts, after the final two novels in a series Alphys had been reading and a set of children’s puzzles for Papyrus.

They didn’t really discuss what had happened the other night, but they were comfortable around each other again. At her request, they had resumed their “slumber parties,” trading jokes later into the night than they probably should have and falling asleep on opposite sides of the huge bed. Sans found he could now keep himself in check by thinking of Kris: though most of his feelings were as strong as ever, or stronger, it felt a little creepy to lust after her, which was…better, he guessed.

It also helped, in a weird way, that she tended to be upset after whatever dreams she’d been having of the Underground. Two of the past three mornings, he’d woken up with her curled up in her blanket against his side, and his SOUL had damn near melted.

Her sudden proximity could have been a problem, but on close self-examination, Sans found he’d rather punch himself in the spectral junk than take advantage of her emotional vulnerability. That was a huge relief; it meant he could turn and drape his arm over her or pet her hair in fairly good conscience. A little part of him knew that this probably wouldn’t last forever, and he’d be back in trouble once Frisk finished working through everything, but, eh. That was a later problem. Right now, things were almost perfect, and he wasn’t going to ruin it.

…Was it his imagination being mushy, or did his SOUL feel a little lighter? He never could remember to have Gaster check for him when the doctor was there.

That morning, on his tenth-to-last day in the castle, Sans didn’t wear his device when he accompanied her to matins. He’d stopped using it entirely on their trips into town or walks around the castle. Frisk used the cold as an excuse to wear her cloak outside instead of the circlet or veil; as she’d predicted, people were now curious enough to stop to speak with her and gawk at the ten-foot skeleton. Though they got their fair share of fearful whispers and angry looks, no one had the courage to say anything with Sans right there, which was good enough for Frisk.

The boss monster understood what she was doing, and tried to behave himself on these social forays, but he hated every second of it. Frisk had a knack for keeping an eye on him and walking away when he started getting agitated by too many stares or stupid questions, but he hated that she had to worry about him hating it. More than ever, he wished she’d found a smaller, cuter monster to show off.

It was also strange that, in spite of her increased accessibility, there had been no signs of anyone else plotting anything, much less attacking her. Frisk checked in regularly with the palace guards, who still hadn’t found whoever generated that huge burst of magic at the All Souls service; anyone clever enough to have planned the operation had obviously been capable of covering their tracks, a prospect that didn’t sit well with either of them.

There was, however, a single incident that nearly made it all worthwhile: one day, an elderly woman came up to tug on Sans’ trousers as they stood outside a bookstore. When he glanced down, the lady demanded up at him, “What time is it?”

Sans looked at Frisk, and at the equally nonplussed bystanders. Luckily, far over the humans’ heads, he could see a clock in the distance. “Uh…couple minutes after noon.”

The old lady frowned and nodded, as though a great truth had been revealed unto her. “I see. Yes, thank you.” She hobbled back the way she’d came, and they heard her say to no one in particular, “What a nice skeleton.”

For some reason, the way she said it was so funny that he instinctively caught Frisk’s eye and found she was trying to suppress a grin. When she motioned for him to follow her, they made it as far as a little side street before she started giggling, flapping her hand for him to take them back. It was time for lunch, but more importantly, it was time to sit down in the stairwell outside her rooms and howl with laughter for no reason that either could have explained to anyone else, except perhaps that each of them had been tense and ready to laugh at almost anything, and was glad that the other was laughing too.

As usual, every time he started to recover, she snrrked and got him going again. When the priestess had almost caught her breath, Sans retaliated with “What a nice skeleton” in his best old-lady voice and nearly killed her.

Unfortunately, it was the only bright spot in several days of not much fun. At least they were productive, especially her tactic of “accidentally” leaking the confiscation reports; on their afternoon walks, several of the people stopping them to chat specifically wanted to know if the terrible things they had heard were true, and what would happen to the monsters in question.

Frisk hid her elation that people did care enough to ask her about it, and developed a rote response that it was true, and terrible, and she would push for harsher punishments of mistreated monsters. That was when she also mentioned that the illustrious Dr. Serif was working on an alternative source of magic, and when it was perfected, monsters could be freed entirely.

That statement always got a reaction, and she was almost relieved when one person finally came right out and said, “How on earth are we supposed to get that much magic without them?” It gave her the chance to explain how the Underground used the sun’s light to generate power, and when the man smirked at such a ridiculous lie, the High Priestess had to step on Sans’ foot to keep him in check; Frisk was irritated enough herself to tell the man and the rest of their impromptu audience that Dr. Serif had been working with her emissary to prepare a public demonstration next week.

“That sounds neat. You should probably tell the doc about it,” Sans grumbled as the little crowd dispersed to spread the news.

Frisk did indeed have some explaining to do. The upper classes of the court and Church were not supposed to care about idle gossip, but by the afternoon of the following day, after their studies were done, she found she was not only obligated to lend Sans to Dr. Serif and the other sorcerers to go over their plans, but “invited” to chat with the King before dinner.

By that point, Frisk was not in the mood to dress things up. “I’m going to free the monsters we took from their owners,” she told King Stephin behind a soundproof barrier. “I will hire guards if I have to, and send Sans along regardless, but as soon as they’ve recovered enough to travel, they are going back to the Underground to stay. His Holiness can double the deposits, or jail me, for all I care. Those monsters have suffered enough.”

“My dear, that is not going to work,” the King said, just as bluntly. “Every owner in this kingdom will fear that you are plotting to take their property from them, and like it or not, monsters are still classified as such.”

“I am ‘plotting’ exactly that, Your Majesty. I’ll do it safely, peacefully, and legally, but I will do it.” When the old man looked ready to argue, she added, “I’ve learned a great deal recently about a boy named Kris who became attached to several monsters on the last visit to the Underground. A very great deal, and it’s had quite an impact on me. Do you understand, Majesty?”

The King of the human realm regarded her for almost ten full seconds. Frisk would sooner have carved her eyes out than look away first, and he eventually sighed a long, long sigh. “You wish to return, then?”

“I am going to the Underground with Sans in nine days, Your Majesty,” she informed him, “and I would much rather have your permission than not. If all goes well, I intend to stay for five to ten days before I return here.”

He gave her a sharp appraisal that she didn’t understand till he said, “Will that be enough time to prepare your apprentice to serve the Underground single-handed?”

Frisk had long since made up her mind how to “prepare” her apprentice, but she had no intention to discuss it with the King yet. “I believe so,” she replied.

He closed his eyes. “Have you heard recently from Lord Owen and his lady sister?” he asked, much too casually.

“Yes, sire,” she said calmly. “They will both be here for a visit in roughly three weeks.”

“Wonderful.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “I am glad you’ve made up your mind regarding these matters. May I ask—”

The High Priestess had been resisting the urge to cough for over an hour, and so it wasn’t really dishonest to interrupt him that way. The problem was that once she started, she couldn’t stop, and had to accept his injunction to go back to her rooms.

“I knew it” was the first thing out of Sans’ mouth when he got back. She was in bed, in her nightgown and robe, huddled under the covers with the fireplace lit. “Told ya those little pukes were gonna get ya sick.”

Frisk gave him the stink-eye, coughing for emphasis. His expression softened at the sound. “Okay, okay. Can I getcha anythin’?”

“Sleep,” she croaked.

Sans couldn’t do that, but he could and did tell the guards that Her Eminence needed to be left alone because she’d caught some kind of crud. When he went back into the bedroom, she was already dozing. Good—maybe she’d be having better dreams soon.

 ~

 One week left.

Frisk had slept through the previous day – guarded from interruption by her massive apprentice – and part of this one, waking up to eat dinner in bed. Afterward, she was busy catching up on mail, including a reply from the Owens’ land broker.

As High Priestess, her wealth was such that the broker was happy to offer her only ten percent down, with interest much higher than Frisk intended to pay. The priestess had to write three replies for that one: an answer referring the broker to the real estate agent who would negotiate the rest of the transaction on her behalf, a letter informing her agent that he was about to get a very large commission, and a note to Lord Owen updating him on the whole business and greeting his family. She might be planning to reject him in the most overt way possible and embarrass him in front of the entire kingdom, but that was no reason to be impolite, was it?

Sans was stretched out on the other side of the bed, eyes closed. It was easier to let him stay there than trying to make him work and having him stick his head in the door every ten minutes to fret about whether she was still alive. “Tell me again why ya won’t get a secretary,” he said as she massaged her hand.

“I told you, I don’t trust anyone with all this.” Frisk patted the mattress between them, which was his cue to wriggle a finger and waft her cup of tea over from the side table. She took a sip, murmured her thanks, and let him put it back without opening his eyes. “I wish I could do that,” she remarked, putting the three envelopes aside. “There we are. I’m feeling much better, Sans. Will you please let me get up now?”

Several minutes of negotiation later, with the massive skeleton hovering as though she was seventy years old, Frisk was out in the workroom to check the seedlings’ progress. “This is amazing,” she said, looking over the three tiny plants growing from his latest mixture. “If you keep this up, we could think about converting some of your existing cropland to pasture and eventually getting some sheep. You could probably also use some chickens, couldn’t you?”

“Yeah, we ate all ours a few years back. Tori would love to have some more,” Sans remarked. “Meat, eggs, and somethin’ ta fuss over.”

Frisk smiled a little. She’d avoided asking too many questions about her old friends, as it was clear the news was largely not good. She glanced around, and Sans proffered her tea, unasked. “You know…” This took some courage, but it was such an obvious thing, and they hadn’t discussed it: “We don’t have to leave in exactly seven more days.” She checked her calendar. “It’ll be four more days till they demonstrate your prototype. I’d like to be there for that, and I haven’t had a chance to talk with His Majesty again, and I’d like to have a letter from him or something official to give to Asgore so he doesn’t have to take my word for—”

Sans chuckled. That rumbling sound had always raised the hairs on the back of her neck, but lately, it did it in a good way. “Stop babblin’, kitten. D’ya want me ta stay longer?”

Her hands trembled as she set the cup down. “If…” The priestess swallowed. “If we leave a couple of days sooner, I could stay in the Underground longer, assuming everyone would be all right with it.”

The skeleton scowled at her. “Why the crap wouldn’t they be? Are ya scared they’ll be like, ‘Yeah, we loved you as a kid, now go to hell?’”

Frisk’s fidgety silence said it all. Sans drew a deep breath, but saw her flinch, and released it slowly. “Okay,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I know ya haven’t had a lotta luck with people, but this’s different. I’m not sayin’ there won’t be any problems with anyone, ‘specially the ones who didn’t know ya that well. Some of us might be dicks about it an’ not believe ya right at first. But…” He also fidgeted, various colors sweeping over his skull. “Ya look different, ‘n that’s it. We all liked ya ‘cause you’re…you. Hasn’t changed.” Fidget. Scowl. “If anyone tells ya to get lost, I’ll—” He caught her expression and said with fake cheer, “—give them a biiiig hug and tell ‘em ta be nice.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” Frisk took his hand, or at least a couple of his fingers. “Really, thank you,” she said, softer. “I hope you’re right.”

His fingers closed around hers. The bones were always warmer than she expected, no matter how many times she touched them. “Let’s try this,” he said quietly. “Take off the barrier when we go t’sleep and lemme see if I can reach Papyrus. It might work better to have him spread the word first that Kris is comin’ back with Sans in a few days, as opposed t’just showin’ up as a total surprise.”

The priestess couldn’t help smiling self-consciously. “I’d like to surprise everyone,” she confessed, and he chuckled again. “But I know it might not be the best option. Honestly, it depends how everyone there is feeling about humans after Snowdrake returned safely.”

“Yeah…traumatized an’ thinkin’ someone workin’ for ya was strong enough ta steal my magic,” said the skeleton. He squeezed her hand very gently and let go. “But he might also have spread the word that yer the one who set ‘im loose. We’ve gotta talk to Pap ‘n find out.”

Frisk thought about it, and the prospect of removing the barrier did not appeal to her whatsoever. The demon-child hadn’t showed up again for either of them, even when she’d left the barrier down and Sans had spent two nights outside it; she knew better than to assume it had gone away entirely, so where was it?

…But it did make sense to try to contact Papyrus, and she didn’t have any better ideas. “All right,” she said, and coughed into the bend of her elbow. “I’m going to take it down now and get back to sleep. Will you be in soon?”

“Sure.” Sans gave her a little salute. “Night, kitten. Get better so I don’t hafta listen to er hackin’ anymore.”

That nickname should’ve annoyed her, but Frisk liked it better each time. The inner glow lasted until she was in bed and had to remove the barrier, which she found she did not want to do. Maybe it would be all right; maybe the child was busy wreaking havoc somewhere else tonight and wouldn’t check her room? It…could be all right. There was only one way to find out, she told herself, not believing a word of it.

 ~

 It was the same dream as before, but more intense: her husband crept into bed and tricked her into turning over so that he could roll her onto her back and slip his hands under her nightshirt. When she tried to mumble in self-defense, his mouth was suddenly against her lips; he tangled his fingers through hers, his slight weight pressing her into the mattress as he pulled the nightshirt up over her ribs.

A tiny pause, waiting to see if she’d stop him. She sighed, then relaxed as his head dipped to lick her neck, fingers winding in her hair to pull her chin up and nip at her throat. His other hand trailed down her side to her hip; he made an approving noise as he encountered bare skin.

Her underwear was missing solely because she’d forgotten to put a second load in the dryer that afternoon, but she wasn’t going to tell him that, especially now that his mouth had moved up to her cheek, then back to her lips. Her arms circled his shoulders as he began to kiss her in earnest, their teeth clicking gently, though he always led with his tongue to avoid biting her.

She’d long since stopped thinking about how weird it was to make out with a skeleton, and she never got tired of his bones’ smooth texture against her skin, or of feeling him shudder as she ran her hands over his skull. He pulled his head away, panting, and sat up to move his shorts aside—she’d told him several times to just leave them off in bed, but he was still curiously shy about letting her see him without clothes, especially when he had what they called his “extras” out.

Usually, by this point, he would have attended to her for a few minutes – or more! – to be sure she was ready, but this time, he clearly couldn’t wait. Well, that was fine. She was more than happy to let him hook his forearms under her knees and lean forward; he wasn’t that much shorter than she was, but it was the best way to—

 ~

 Something was wrong, something much worse than sexual frustration or an intruder in her office.

She was still dreaming, but in a too-real way that she instantly recognized. Frisk was back in the castle, standing beside the huge bed, with her own Sans sitting squarely in the middle of the mattress; his head was in his hands, his whole body hunched up and shaking. Frisk tried to ask him what was wrong, but the words died as she spotted the thing standing over him—it was the child, the demon from the other world.

The child didn’t have its knife out, but it didn’t need to. It was smiling in vile satisfaction as Sans’ shoulders shook. Her stomach clenched as she saw red droplets trickling over the bones of his hands and wrists. “What did you do to him?” Frisk snarled. The air surged as she raised a hand, golden sparks flying. “Get out of here before I put a barrier around this whole damned kingdom! You know I could!”

The child stopped smiling and looked at her. For the first time, it spoke: “Ask him what he could do to you.”

Its voice felt like a nail being dragged down her eardrum. Sans must have heard it, too, because he curled in on himself harder, and Frisk’s heart broke into a few more pieces. That little—why wouldn’t it leave him alone?!

Frisk gathered all of her willpower and gave a sharp, high whistle, snapping the barrier back into place and jerking herself and Sans awake. She sat bolt upright and glanced around in the dimness, throat itching and adrenaline pumping, only to see that it was early morning and the child was gone.

The priestess coughed. With a sigh of relief, she climbed over the foot of the bed to tap the witchlight on, then turned to say, “Are you all right, S—”

Dear Lord. Frisk had assumed the blood was part of Sans’ nightmare, but to her horror, he was sitting up again and staring down at his hands, which were absolutely coated in dark, slick red. Fresh crimson drops were still sliding down his face, splashing onto his metacarpals and dripping through the gaps to soak into the mattress. “Sans!” she cried. The priestess gathered up her robe and leapt onto the bed, kneeling beside him. “What in God’s name happened? Where are you hurt?”

To her bewilderment, the enormous skeleton shook his head and waved her off. “Go ‘way,” he moaned.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she snapped. “Whatever happened, whatever it told you, it wasn’t real!” The young woman tried to peer into his face, but he turned away. “Sans, look at me!”

He shook his head harder and tried to shuffle away from her, his arm coming up to scrub his sockets with his sleeve and smear more red across his brow. It finally hit her that he wasn’t injured, he was crying—

It was all Frisk could do not to break down, too. Why had she ever agreed to take down the barrier? But much more importantly, why wouldn’t the child leave him alone? Why did Sans have to be so miserable? She could remember standing by his house in Snowdin as a child, holding his hand and smiling up at him, sensing how unhappy he was behind his lackadaisical exterior and how hard he was working to hide it. He hadn’t deserved to feel that way back then, and he didn’t need a demon to help him torment himself now!

Where had that misery even come from? Was it from witnessing the child’s genocide in his own world? From what Gaster had said, that sense of powerlessness and futility was still echoing somewhere in the back of his mind, waiting to resurface in his nightmares. And what about becoming a boss monster, knowing he no longer fit in with the other monsters – literally – and would live forever as a complete anomaly? Or his efforts to keep his brother happy by absorbing the Underground’s distilled misery, working it out the only way he knew how, till he believed that darkness and violence were naturals part of himself—when was it all going to stop?

Sans jumped as the priestess stood up and grabbed the back of his head, tipping him forward till his forehead was resting on her sternum. “Stop,” he muttered into the thick folds of her robe, trying to pull away.

Frisk’s arms shifted. They could barely fit around his skull, but she had a strong enough hold that he’d have to hurt her to get free. Sans shook his head, carrying her back and forth. “Would ya fuckin’ stop already?” he demanded, more desperate than angry.

“Why,” she said, more of a statement than a question.

No answer. Frisk drew breath to hum at him, but he shook his head again so violently that she almost fell over. “Don’t pull that crap on me now! Quit wastin’ yer damn magic and go away!”

What in the world? “All right, and no,” she retorted.

He growled, but for all his vehemence, he hadn’t so much as raised his arms. His next attempt to dislodge her was so half-hearted that Frisk barely moved. She didn’t need to make any sounds beside the steady, thrumming rhythm of her heartbeat; as she held on, his breathing started to slow down, and he was soon resting so heavily against her that she had to brace herself to hold him up. “We’re both fine,” the priestess said over his head. “All right?”

Sans nodded faintly. One arm looped around her, and most of his palm rested on her back. She felt more red soaking into her robe as she let him nuzzle the downy material over her heart, or SOUL, as he’d call it. It was more than a bit embarrassing to have his face right there, but he’d been through so much that this seemed like the very least she could do.

Besides, said a wry, far-off corner of her mind, if I’m going to conceive in the next month or two at the latest, this will be the least of my worries.

Dirt. Now it was impossible not to think of her twice-interrupted dream with a Sans much closer to her size, and impossible to ignore the question of whether her larger, angrier skeleton had enough magic – and creativity – to love a human without hurting her, physically speaking. Being determined to find out didn’t make her any less apprehensive about it.

Then there was the question she was afraid to even look at too closely: if a boss monster was able to give her his magic the way a regular skeleton apparently could, did she have enough magic – and determination – to give him a child and some semblance of a happy or normal life?

“’m fine now,” Sans eventually mumbled. “Leggo.”

Frisk made a disbelieving noise. “’m fine,” the skeleton said stubbornly.

“Mm-hmm.” Frisk let go and reached behind her to take his stained hand. “Come here.”

Sans obediently got up and followed her into the bathroom, wiping his eyes again as he sat down where she pointed. She washed her hands, then moved aside for him to wash his; as always, it took forever because his hands were too big for the sink, forcing him to work in sections. Once he’d gotten the majority of the red off, Frisk grabbed a black washcloth and some soap to help work the last bits out of the gaps in his metacarpals. Strange: they’d spent enough time together to be used to platonic physical contact, but it felt so intimate for him to let her touch him between the bones of his hands that she didn’t know what to do with herself.

When those were done, Frisk rinsed the washcloth out, patted her face to cool it, and had him sit down again. He held still as she started cleaning off the blood – or tears, or whatever it was, exactly – but he wouldn’t look her in the eye. A little more red oozed from the corner of one socket as she worked, and without thinking, Frisk placed her palm high on his cheekbone to wipe it off with her thumb. “What happened?” she asked softly.

Sans looked at the floor, then at her, reaching up. For a second, she thought he was going to push her hand away; instead, he curled his forefinger around her wrist and turned her palm over, looking at it as though he’d never seen a human this close before. “I couldn’t find Pap,” he mumbled. “Had a dream where…” His entire skull turned a spectrum of colors again, and he released her, closing his eyes as she eased the cloth around the edges of his sockets. “…stuff happened, then I thought I was awake, and…” He shivered, hunching his shoulders again. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“That’s fine,” she assured him, turning to wring out the washcloth and dab more soap on it, wondering what exactly he’d seen. Her heart was starting to feel quivery again. “Look up, please,” she said, trying to feel maternal.

The skeleton remained docile through several more scrubbings and a final once-over. He had recovered enough by now to towel himself dry, but as he handed it back, he absently wiped his face one more time on his sleeve. “Sans,” she scolded him, pointing in the mirror to yet another red streak on his jaw, this one transferred from his shirt. Frisk picked up the washcloth with a sigh. “We’re going to have to send that to the laundry.” She swiped the last bit off. “I won’t blame you for getting upset after whatever that thing did to you, but…”

“I wasn’t—” There was a slightly stupid pause as he tried to formulate a denial of having been upset. She just looked at him, and he switched tactics, protesting, “Hey, you got messy, too. ’s yer own fault. Next time, don’ grab me like that.”

Frisk wouldn’t dignify that with a response, though he was correct that her robe had dark splotches on the front and back. As Sans poked at his sleeves to check if they really had to be washed, the priestess leaned toward the mirror and opened her robe, seeing where his tears had soaked through and left rusty spots on her cleavage. “Dirt. You’re right, I need a bath.” The young woman sighed and rubbed her eyes, unaware that Sans had looked up, or that his entire world had instantly become fixated on the front of her robe. “Maybe after breakfast.”

Sans didn’t answer, but the silence felt different this time. Frisk stopped as she heard how heavily he was breathing. Funny, she remembered that sound from…from her dream. She swallowed hard, and without thinking, she turned to face him.

Sans moved very deliberately, kneeling in front of the priestess with his arms outstretched on either side of the sink and his face looming above hers. His mouth hung slightly open, eyes burning, breath hitting her like steam. When she tried to speak, he leaned closer. “Don’t move,” he rasped in her ear.

“Okay,” said Frisk, sounding much calmer than she felt. Despite his injunction, she glanced down and realized she’d forgotten to cover herself.

Damn, damn, damn! She’d never heard him like this before! What was wrong with—

Frisk stopped and gave herself a mental smack in the face, because she knew exactly what was wrong with him. “Sans, please,” she said, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart pounding.

A soft growl. “Seriously, Frisk. ‘m tryin’ not ta lose it here. Just…just gimme a minute.”

The young woman nodded. Should she try to calm him down, or put him to sleep? Whistling usually worked fast. She swallowed again, and licked her lips.

Wrong move: Sans leaned down and nudged her hard with his cheek. “Hey.” His voice gave her chills, mostly not good ones. “Ya do that again, and…” He inhaled so hard that she felt a rush of cold against her scalp. She tried not to wince or make a sound as he exhaled. “I already said no more noises. ‘Kay? They’re not gonna work on me right now,” he warned.

Think. Think, think. He was playing with her hair, one phalange trailing down her neck to her collarbone and her partly open robe. And a small part of her, an urge that steadily grew as his breath washed over her and his fingers brushed her cheek, actually wondered what would happen if she didn’t stop him. Hadn’t she wanted this for a long time, no matter how much she enjoyed his friendship?

No. Not like this, pinned against the bathroom sink, with him so worked up that one slip of his hand or teeth could do irreparable damage. “Sans,” Frisk said, loud enough to divert his attention. “I have two things to say. Can you listen to me for fifteen seconds?”

“…Good question.”

At least his hand had stopped moving. Before it could start again, Frisk said, “The first thing is that you have to stop. I am not ready for this, Sans, and neither are you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

He was shaking again, the bones of his wrist rattling against the sink. She didn’t know whether to let him speak or keep him distracted, and quickly chose the latter: “The second thing is…why did the monster eat the tightrope walker?”

The trembling stopped. “Hm?” Sans paused, and she prayed that it’d be enough to shift his mental gears. “I…I dunno. Why?”

“Because,” Frisk said, “he wanted to have a balanced meal.”

Pause. “Heh,” Sans mumbled. “I thought it was ‘cause he wanted ta learn the ropes.”

He wasn’t moving. It hadn’t worked. Think think— “Come on,” she said, trying to sound old. “Be a nice skeleton.”

“…That.” Sans made a slight sound, and she almost wept with relief as his shoulders twitched. “That…” He started snickering, and put a hand to his forehead, allowing her to scramble away, yanking her robe shut. “Oh, man!” The skeleton leaned against the wall. “Why the hell—”

Frisk managed a smile. He glanced at her in the mirror, sobering. “Goddammit. …Sorry. I mean, dirt.” Sans got up and moved back against the wall. “Want me ta go away forever?” he asked, not very jokingly.

She shook her head. “No, but I think we’re long overdue for a talk about this.”

He flinched as though she’d poked him in the eye socket. Frisk waited for him to say something, anything, only to be interrupted by a knock on the outside doors.

Goddammit, indeed. The priestess allowed him to go welcome the distraction while she retrieved the washcloth to scrub the nearly-dry gunk off her breasts, thence to her dressing room to change into the most boring dress she owned and think things over.

On sober reflection, she mostly couldn’t believe that she’d been so determined to stay so stupid. Gaster had said to her face, under a truth spell, that Sans was “deeply in love” with her, direct quote. And what did she do? She’d actually checked a magic textbook to see if he could’ve possibly meant something else! How idiotic was she? Lust and love were not the same thing, but she knew Sans, and he wouldn’t be feeling one without the other. If both were in play now thanks to heightened emotions from those dreams, and then seeing her robe open…

Damnation. Now all she could think about was how she’d shown her scars the other night and let him touch her, and—oh, God, what about the time she lured him into the bathroom? The sleepovers? Dragging him along to tea and making him watch Luke flirt with her? The full-body hugs? If he’d actually felt this way the whole time, or even just part of it, what had she been doing to him?

Even worse was the realization that she hadn’t really believed it, and yet was operating on the half-conscious assumption that he was hers if she wanted him—stupid and presumptuous, not a good combination.

Well, no more. It was time to stop pretending her hopes for him were just going to work themselves out at some point, and to stop wasting her energy on endless what-ifs about physical or magical possibilities. None of it meant anything until she actually talked to him.

…At least she understood another aspect of her fortune now. She doubted if Sans knew that it was a crime for a human to have physical relations of any kind with a monster—Gaster might not even know. It very rarely came up, as monsters were primarily viewed as utilities, but miscegenation was a serious offense. It had been easy to avoid thinking about it or dismiss it as something she could get around via political influence, but going forward, she had to be realistic.

So. Realistically speaking, her good reputation – and Sans being a skeleton – had protected her from any real suspicion, but if he did somehow become her child’s father, she had no intention of trying to hide their relationship. Not only would she be unable to legally marry him, she’d have to call in some very sizable favors to avoid prison time or worse. Who knew? Maybe that was how she could get out of being High Priestess…

She was still deep in thought when she left the safety of her dressing room, not looking at Sans, who was devouring his breakfast as fast as he could. She decided to let him finish while she went through her morning mail, a task so boring that it was guaranteed to calm her down.

 ~

 The skeleton gulped down the rest of his food in record time, but couldn’t help peeking at her as he got up, trying to gauge her mood. Nope, she didn’t look mad, so—

He stopped, looked again, and frowned. Her expression was utterly blank, her hands gripping the paper so hard that the edges were digging into her skin. “Hey, hey,” Sans chided her, taking the note and setting it down on the table. “What’s wrong?”

He could barely hear her response: “We’re leaving.”

Blink. “Wha?”

Frisk didn’t move, except to stab a finger at the note. Sans picked it back up and felt his brows rise as he read aloud, “‘Greetings. His Grace the blah blah Duke Archibald blah blah Duke Archiblah requests the assistance of the exalted Thea in arbitrating the matter of eight monsters to be placed with new owners in—’ What the fuck does he mean, ‘new owners’?! I thought you—”

“I did!” Frisk’s face was white. “I can’t believe it. He’s doing this on purpose! He…”

Sans stared at the Duke’s crest on the little square of paper. “Yer dad?” he muttered.

“He knows, and I know that I did everything exactly right, and he still—” The High Priestess didn’t brush a tear away so much as slap it off her face. Sans watched helplessly as she closed her eyes and got her breathing under control. “Start packing, Sans. We’re leaving tomorrow morning,” she said, very cold and precise. “We’re going to bring those monsters back to the Underground ourselves, and I will stay for ten days as their first official human visitor in thirteen years, and if my father doesn’t like it, I will cordially invite him to go fuck himself. He’s certainly had enough practice.”

The boss monster’s jaw hung open. “I—”

“We’ll pack up everything today and commandeer two wagons tomorrow morning. I’ll take the monsters and say they’re going to my house in Riverside. We can stop there overnight.” She took the note back and began crumpling it into a tiny ball. “We are not going to tell anyone anything before we leave, including Dr. Gaster. If anyone else tries to tell me what I can’t do…” The High Priestess unfolded the ball and ripped it into halves, quarters, and tiny shreds before scattering the pieces.

Thus began one of the most hectic, stressful, yet anticlimatic days he’d ever had. Plans were discussed, or dictated to him; many many items were put into boxes or bags; and the little mental counter he’d had going of his days remaining in the castle was tossed out the mental window. He should’ve been glad that he was going to get her to the Underground so much sooner than expected, or at least somewhat grateful that the note had completely overshadowed the morning’s events, but frankly, he didn’t have the time.

…Until now, right after dinner, when they finished wrapping the last of the empty glass vials in some of the furs for Mettaton and stuffed it into the last empty satchel. Frisk glanced at him and bit her lip, and before she even spoke, Sans hopped up and retreated to the bedroom.

Sure as Fate, Frisk got up, too, and she followed him in before he could shut the door. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring at the rust-brown spots on the white sheets. “I hope they can get those out,” he mumbled.

“Sit down,” she said.

Sans turned to stare at her. “What—”

“Sit down, Sans.”

Something in her tone sent prickles up his spine and down his limbs. He shifted his weight, avoiding her gaze. “I think I’ll sleep out there. We’ve got a hell of a lot of—”

“Sit down on the floor right now.”

Her voice was low and perfectly gentle, but it made him fold his legs and settle his coccyx on the floor, and all he wanted was to leave the room. “Frisk,” he pleaded.

“Keep your hands where they are.” The boss monster shut his eyes as she came close enough for him to feel her body heat and smell the wine she’d had after dinner. It hadn’t been that much, had it?

Now her arms were around his shoulders, hanging most of her weight and all of her softness against him like a necklace. Sans went rigid, his breath coming quick and harsh. Not again!

Frisk rested her head on his jawbone. “What did you dream about, Sans?”

Whatever she was doing, he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t lie to her. “I…was the way I used ta be, my old size. I was gettin’ in bed with you, and ya let me…” What the hell was she doing to him? “…ya let me do everythin’ I wanted. Then I woke up, ‘n you were dead. I bit yer neck clean through, you were all twisted up, blood everywhere—”

“It was a lie, Sans. You didn’t kill me.”

“‘Course it was a lie! It was a fuckin’ dream!” He laughed shakily. “Pun intended, I guess. Point is—”

“The second part was a lie. The first part really happened, just not here or now.”

Sans snorted. “I don’ even know what that means. It was just a dream, Frisk. Hate ta break it to you, but they’ve got lotsa stuff in ‘em that doesn’t actually happen.”

“Really. Like this?” She ran her hands over her skull, and Sans’ whole body shuddered. Her voice dropped. “Should I demonstrate anything else we did?”

He was panting again, jaws hanging slightly open. If she wanted to talk about this— “D’you know what’d happen if I fucked you for real?” he snarled, and it was her turn to flinch. “Even if I squashed myself down to my human size, an’ I made sure everything else fit,” he said scathingly, “’m not a human, an’ I’d still be pumpin’ ya full of magic. And guess what? I’ve been stewin’ in all this hate and the shit I absorbed from the Underground over…what, ten, twelve years?” He snorted. “Ya still won’t let me infuse anything ‘cause my magic sucks. Givin’ it to you would be the same thing, but a million times worse.” His hands flexed inside his pockets. It was almost a relief to be getting all of this out…almost. “Yer magic’s pretty damn strong, ‘specially for a human, an’ you could maybe handle a little of mine, but I’m a boss monster, remember? I dunno exactly how high my power’s scaled up compared to a regular monster, but it’s way the hell too much. I’d kill ya one way or another.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” the priestess said. “I’m going to have a child by next All Souls Day and bring it to the festival, remember? I can’t do that if I’m dead.” Something very soft brushed the side of his head. “I understand what you’re saying, and I know you’re worried about me. But it’s not impossible. Gaster said you’ve been sloughing off whatever’s built up around your SOUL. You can do it, Sans.” The soft touch was her hand; she was petting him like…not like a dog, more like a mother with an upset child.

…Right. That was how she’d pacified him the very first time they met, when he was going to obliterate her and steal her SOUL. She’d petted his blaster until he just stopped being angry. Fucking hell, what if he’d really done it?

Just like before, he couldn’t dwell on it, couldn’t stay mad. He hadn’t blasted her. She was fine. Sans breathed in, and out. He felt her shifting along his ribs, and his mind jumped back to what he’d seen in the mirror when she forgot to close the robe. She could’ve obliterated him with a barrier at that range, but she never did what any sane woman would do. Telling him that joke about the tightrope walker, saying they weren’t ready yet—

Click, click, click. Sans could actually feel things settling into place, realization crashing through the wall of anger and self-pity. “We’re not ready yet? Meaning…”

If that seemed to come out of nowhere, Frisk didn’t show it. “No, we’re not. At the very least, I want to be back safe in the Underground and have things straightened out with Asgore before I think about that,” she said. “And you need to practice…sizing.” Squirm. “But mostly, stop hating yourself so much. Please.”

A long pause, and one bewildered, honest question: “Why?”

Frisk sighed in patient exasperation. “Think about it,” she said into what would’ve been a human ear. “Meanwhile, you’re right. We need to get some sleep.”

“Seriously?!” Sans struggled to get his hands out of his pockets as she stepped away. “Ya can’t say all that an’ expect me to just—”

Frisk was back in front of him, and before he could blink, her hand went to the side of his face, resting on his cheekbone. “I know that was a lot to take in, but the point is that I want to help you, Sans,” she said. “Right now, that means sleep. Can I sing something for you?”

The last of Sans’ resistance crumbled as he placed his massive hand on hers, trapping it against his cheek. She’d won. If she wanted him to think he was great and not a giant, psychotic, poisonous piece of shit, he’d do it. If she wanted to wait till they were Underground and then let him have her, he wasn’t going to argue anymore. If she wanted him to tear his own head off and eat it…

Frisk indicated the bed with a motion of her head. As he stretched out and closed his eyes, still disbelieving, she cleared her throat. Out came that glorious sound he remembered, the same song: “May all your dreams be sweet tonight, safe upon your bed of moonlight. And know not of sadness, pain, or care…”

He didn’t care anymore about dreams, or his crappy magic, or what a pain tomorrow was going to be. I’m goin’ home, he thought. Goin’ home with her. For now, that was good enough.

[franstastic-ideas]

Reali-tea Is the Most Difficult Blend to Swallow

Yandere Altertale AU -  Frisk was so lucky to have been found by Sans during her time of need, at least, that’s what she had thought at first. The skeleton has been so kind, opening up his home to her, cooking meals for just the two of them, brewing her tea… and all that he asks for in return is the joy of her company. She was happy to oblige him that much, as Sans seemed to give off the impression to her of being lonely for some reason. But little did Frisk know and was soon to discover, he’s far more emotionally needy than she ever could have imagined…

Word Count: 22,220

Warnings: Several instances of yandere behavior. Pretty self-explanatory.

Also, my interpretation of the Altertale universe is probably extremely different than what’s been established in the original creator’s canon. For instance, even though they don’t appear in this story, Asgore and Toriel are apparently supposed to be siblings, but should they ever appear in Yandere Altertale, they’ll be an unrelated happily married couple.

Some of the other changes I’ve made are spoilers until the reader has finished this fic, and thus can’t be mentioned.

The creator of Yandere Altertale is @semisolidmind, so if you like this story, then make sure to send semi some appreciation and love!

And finally, Happy Early Birthday @lostmypotatoes! I was gonna wait until the 10th, but since you insisted that I post it now, you and everybody else are getting this fic six days early! Enjoy!

Frisk didn’t know how long it had been since she fell, nor how deep underground she had fallen, but what she was aware of was – she couldn’t move.

Her unintentional descent into the cavern beneath the mountain had been a long one, and it was honestly a strange sort of miracle in itself that she managed to somehow survive the impact. The bed of buttercups beneath her had cushioned her fall, but she couldn’t move. Frisk attempted to push herself up into a sitting position before a sharp pain coursed through her right leg as well as her left arm, returning the girl to her previous arrangement of lying with her back pressed against the flowers.

Both limbs were broken, she acknowledged, and that was when the panic truly began to set in.

Frisk was down here, alone in an empty cavern, injured and immobile, and this place was going to be her grave.

Nobody knew where she was, currently.

Not that anyone would come for her if her location was made known, she thought to herself with a grief-laden sigh.

“Howdy!” A cheery voice suddenly called out to her from somewhere beyond her vision, catching Frisk’s attention immediately.

“H-Hello…?” She replied weakly, trying to turn her body in the direction she had heard the greeting come from.

Just as she succeeded in turning her head, out of the corner of her eye, Frisk saw a flower similar in appearance to yet significantly larger than the others that she was absolutely certain wasn’t there before looming over her.

And even more concerning was; this particular flower had a face.

The talking flower stared down at her with beady black eyes and a cartoonishly wide dimpled smile. Frisk immediately came to the conclusion that she must have also hit her head when she had fallen, and this happy little plant was an adorable hallucination that manifested from her damaged mind, aiming to bring her comfort and security in what was to be her final moments. However, the flower then leaned even closer towards her, and that was when she felt the texture of his leaves brush over her skin when the motile plant apparently decided to poke her nose, proving that he was made of solid matter.

“Stop staring at me like that – didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“I-I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to be rude! I thought you were a hallucination…”

“Nope. I’m definitely real.” He winked and stuck out his tongue, an organ that he did in fact prove to possess through this little gesture. “I’m Flowey. Flowey the Flower! And it seems to me that you took quite the fall there! You look like you could use some help.”

“Yes, I would really appreciate it!” She pushed aside the shock of discovering a talking flower living in a remote cavern underground for the moment; she tried to move once more, even just a short distance, but her efforts once again proved to be unsuccessful. “I’m sure I’ve broken a few bones; in one leg and one arm. I’m completely immobile…”

“Oh, that’s too bad…” Flowey began to look around the surrounding area, holding both of his leafy appendages up to his squinting eyes as if they were binoculars. “And it looks like the smiley trashbag is nowhere to be found too.”

“Smiley… trashbag…?” Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Was there someone else that lived in this cavern as well? What did they look like? Were they a talking flower too, or something else entirely? Either way, it seemed her photosynthesizing pal wasn’t too fond of this other person, if the designated nickname was all she had to go by. Even so, Flowey still spoke of them in a continued cheery tone and the smile on his face hadn’t slipped by even the smallest of degrees.

“He could help you if he were here, but the worthless pile of bones is probably somewhere sleeping; dead to the world. Your bad luck just keeps multiplying like garden weeds, doesn’t it?” He continued with a sigh, shaking his head. “Oh well… I guess little ‘ol me will have to do…”

Before Frisk could go about questioning him of how he might possibly do that, she felt the ground around her begin to suddenly shift and tear. It seemed her petaled friend could also control the vines that bound him to the earth, because soon they were wrapping around her body, far bigger than she would have imagined them to be and lifting her into the air with ease.

She was about to ask Flowey what his plan was from here – did he intend to deliver her to this other person he previously mentioned? Or was he going to extend his vines that seemed to have no visible end upwards and return her to the surface? But Frisk didn’t get to ponder Flowey’s available options for too long before she was abruptly released from his hold and sent hurtling towards the ground again. She fell with a loud thud, but this time there wasn’t anything below her to soften the impact.

At her collision she heard the sound of something snapping coming from her own body, and an entirely new wave of pain flooded her senses.

“Oopsie! How clumsy of me!” Flowey announced, his numerous vines immediately swarming her once again before she could say anything, their grip on her being far less gentle than they had been previously. “I won’t drop you again – I promise.”

She wiggled in the vines’ hold futilely, her fight or flight instincts beginning to kick in as they grew tighter and tighter around her limbs and the rest of her body in an almost crushing hold. Frisk found herself being jerked towards Flowey until she was dangling upside down in front of his smiling face, which now looked nothing but ominous when it had just moments ago seemed friendly and helpful.

“What’s the matter, human? Don’t you trust me?” He didn’t allow her the opportunity to answer before his expression turned nightmarish, his mouth morphing into a malevolent grin that sported far too many teeth than the normal maw. “You shouldn’t… not me, or anyone else down here for that matter. Especially not me. And do you know why…?”

His whispery voice deepened to a demonic growl.

“Because in this world, i t ‘ s  k i l l  o r  b e  k i l l e d...”

He then flung Frisk against the wall of the cavern by her ankle. She barely had time to let out a wild scream of fright and agony before he slammed her face first into the ground once again, but he still wouldn’t release her, his vines still tightly wrapped around her body and placing a needless amount of pressure on her broken limbs.

“See, I kept my promise!” He cackled, his voice having returned to that higher pitched disarmingly cutesy one he had used to lure her in previously, nearly singing as he proclaimed, “I said I wouldn’t drop you, and I didn’t~!”

Frisk twitched and trembled on the cave floor, suffering and writhing. She was about to die, that much she was certain of. If not from the injuries she had already sustained, then from whatever it was Flowey intended to do with her next. She had already resigned herself to her fate before she had encountered this vile sentient plant, but this wasn’t at all how she had expected her life to end. The terror of it all coming to an abrupt yet drawn-out end at the hands of an unforeseen aggressor had paralyzed her further than before, despair welling up within her SOUL.

But before she could let this despair swallow her up completely, before Flowey could snatch her up once more and continue his abuse, she heard a loud, grotesque shriek. It echoed and bounced along the walls of the cave long after the actual scream had ended, sounding more horrendous than anything Frisk could recall ever having heard before in her life. Frisk couldn’t turn around to see just who had screamed, but she didn’t need to – it wasn’t necessary.

It was Flowey, and it sounded as though he were being put through as much pain and agony as she had been forced to endure.

She then heard another voice.

“i told you before - if i ever caught you here again, weed, you’d be in for a bad time.”

It was deep, dark, and dangerous; unlike anything she had ever heard before. Not even the raging waters of the ocean during a storm or the tempestuous winds of a cyclone could hold a candle to the pure unbridled fury she could sense lying beneath his tone, which was struggling to seem casual and relaxed but instead sounded perfervidly strained.

“the fact that you’re here must mean you were ready for what was going to happen. you only have yourself to blame for this.”

Frisk braced herself for another hideous scream from Flowey; she would have covered her ears in preparation, if only she could move her arms – she was certain that they were now both rendered immovable.

“Ah, ah, ah, trash bag.” Flowey tutted, but his labored breathing indicated that speaking was an incredibly strenuous task for him at the moment. “Aren’t you worried about the safety of the human…? Start a fight with me and there’s no telling what’ll happen! And you… you can’t kill me. You don’t have the guts for it, haha! It’s against your nature…”

Flowey was right – fighting and killing was against his nature, and he wasn’t certain if he could ever bring himself to terminate someone even as vile to the core as Flowey, even if it was for the sake of another.

And he was also correct in stating his prioritized interest in the wellbeing of the human; he cared far more about seeing that she was taken care of and her injuries tended to than settling a score with this loathsome creature without a soul that preyed on the naïveté of the fallen.

“……leave. now.”

“I was about to anyway, even if you hadn’t come along.” He sneered. “Toys aren’t any fun to play with when they’re broken, and this one’s juuuust about fallen apart. If you’d come just one minute later…”

This other person seemed to be ignoring Flowey’s commentary, or at the very least was trying to. Frisk felt herself being turned over so she was no longer lying face down, and the first thing that came into her immediate vision was Flowey lingering a short distance away; a pointed bone was stabbed through the middle of his stem like a skewer, and a thin translucent green liquid, chlorophyll she surmised, oozed out of the gaping wound it had created.

But the second thing she became conscious of was, the person now holding her was a skeleton. He was staring down at her with pitch black eye sockets and a wide unsettling grin, and the little amount of light that fluttered down from the surface above the two only enhanced the ominousness of his features in her eyes.

She let out an alarmed cry and instantly began twisting and turning as much as her weakened body would allow to escape his hold, which he struggled to maintain.

“Hahahaha! Look at her! She’s horrified by you!” Flowey cawed as he began his retreat, his vines and stem slowly sinking into the earth. “You fool… Humans will always despise monsters. You remember that when you’re at the mercy of this one and it has none to spare…”

The robed skeleton payed him no mind, his focus centering on convincing the human girl in front of him that he meant her no harm. But Flowey had already left a ghastly first impression on Frisk that wouldn’t be easily reversed; she had seen his hostile behavior as a preview for what the rest of the inhabitants of the Underground must be like, and the nasty little buttercup had only damaged this view further with the use of the word ‘monster’, the robed skeleton deduced.

Still, he refused to give up and abandon her, even if she insisted upon it.

“No… No! Get away from me!” She shrunk away from him, beginning to sob hysterically. “Just leave me alone! Please!”

“human, i need you to listen – i know you’re scared and in a lot of pain, but i’m just trying to help yo-”

“I’ve had enough ‘help’! Just go back to wherever it was you came from! Please… Please don’t hurt me…”

He inhaled sharply through his nasal cavity. He ceased any and all efforts in explaining himself or his actions. Any attempts at clarification would only be wasting precious time at this rate – if he didn’t act soon, then her condition would only worsen.

He retrieved a vial from a well concealed pocket in his robe, the liquid inside being a reddish-brown color in the light. Removing the cork, he then tilted it towards her mouth, tapping the lid against her lips and silently urging her to drink from it.

She resisted him, fighting through the pain of using both broken arms to push and smack against his chest in protest. The repeated pounding of her fists at his ribcage did little but illicit a short, stilted grunt from him, unperturbed entirely by the onslaught. When she continued to struggle despite his attempts at remaining pleasant and civil, his patience with her began to thin.

“h u m a n.” His voice abruptly deepened further to a stern growl, causing her to immediately still.

Frisk let out a surprised, uncontrollable whimper, her mouth opening just slightly as she did so. He took this opportunity to slip the vialed liquid past her lips, then swiftly tipped her head backwards so she swallowed it.

The effect was almost immediate. Her eyelids began to droop and every sensation in her body began to fade. The only thing that was left remaining was the fear she felt towards the robed skeleton. He lifted her up into his arms, gently and without a word, then began walking to somewhere further in the cavern.

“That vial… was that poison…?” Frisk was struggling to remain conscious. “…Am I dying?”

“no, pumpkin. you’re not dying.” He cooed softly, leaning down to nuzzle the top of her head. “if anything, i’m trying to keep that from happening.”

She grew quiet and still, and for a moment he thought that she must have succumbed to what was in the vial he had given her. But a minute later, he heard her weakly question,

“Where… where are you taking me?”

Her voice sounded so small, so scared…

“somewhere safe, where i can take care of you. get you the help you need.” He felt her flinch at the word ‘help’.

 That awful, wretched flower…

 “Please don’t hurt me…” She shuddered in his arms.

 “i won’t.” He asserted, his voice low.

 “Promise me you won’t.” She said with such desperation that it made his SOUL ache with fierce pangs of pity for her current condition.

 He hesitated.

 But only for a second before he solemnly replied, “i promise.”

 His oath sounded so sincere.

 “now get some sleep, human. i know you’ve gotta be tired.” The skeleton cradled her closer to his sturdy build with large, strong arms in a manner that Frisk would almost consider to be protective.

 Frisk wanted to take his words at face value, to earnestly believe that he held no ill will towards her - but if he did indeed intend to harm her, then there was little she could do about it now.

 Her heavy eyelids shut, and she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 When Frisk finally awoke, she once again was unaware of how much time had passed since blacking out, but she did know that her body felt immeasurably heavy – almost certainly an aftereffect of whatever was in that liquid the skeleton had fed her. She could barely even lift her head, the properties of that concoction were so strong. She was every bit as immobile as when she first fell into the cavern, the only difference being that thankfully, Frisk wasn’t in any pain.

 Her limbs were wrapped up in bandages, she discovered, when she finally accomplished the simple task of turning her head to the side. They seemed professional, as expertly done as the work from any doctor found in a hospital. Oddly, her dressings were tied together with little white bows in several places – there was no practical or particular cause for her caretaker to have arrayed them this way, if only to amuse her when she awoke.

 Frisk spent the next few minutes taking in her new surroundings; she was laying on a soft, cushy single bed that was coincidentally just her size, not too big or too small for her height. The sheets were crisp and clean, and atop them was a quilt that appeared to be hand-knitted, with white and light blue hearts and bones scattered across the fabric’s design displayed in an elaborate pattern. She didn’t know much about knitting, but it must have taken a great amount of patience and skill from its weaver to have created such an ornate duvet. Every stitch that went into the needlework was without flaw; precise in its arrangement and absolutely beautiful.

 Laying next to her was… a stuffed animal, of some sort. Frisk wouldn’t be sure how to recount the thing’s appearance if someone asked her to. Its body was vaguely humanoid and without color, a pale white, but that was as far as she could get in her mental description of the toy. Those big black button eyes bore into her relentlessly, and even though it appeared to be just a child’s plaything in every single way, she couldn’t deny that its constant gaze unnerved her just slightly. Once again, there was no other conceivable reason why it would be present at her bedside other than to bring her some comfort or cheer.

 To the left and on the floor was a toy chest a short distance away, as well as a cabinet for clothes. That was as much as Frisk could make out of the rest of the room – there was a lamp in the corner of the room, but it had been turned off out of concern of it disturbing her sleep had it been left on. The remainder of the room was plunged into darkness, but Frisk did catch a small sliver of light slipping through the door, which was opened just a crack.

 Just as she turned her attention towards it, the door began to slowly creak open and the golden light outside from the hallway flooded into the small room. A skull then popped into her view, belonging to the skeleton that had carried her off earlier. His white eyelights were focused on her bedridden form, seeming concerned, or perhaps that was a trick from the combination of light and shadow playing with her eyes?

 But as he stepped towards her, there was something about him that did make the skeleton seem far less sinister to her compared to before. Maybe it was the small surprised gasp that fell from his mouth, or the way his eye sockets widened and the white spheres within them shrunk, or even how the grin on his face slipped as a faint blue blush spread over his cheekbones when he saw Frisk’s head suddenly turn to face his direction.

 The two stared at each other in silence for several moments before he managed to find his voice.

 “i… thought you were still asleep.” He tugged nervously at the ends of his sleeves. “…how long have you been awake for?”

 “Not long. Just a few minutes, I think.” Frisk answered cautiously, still wary of him and his intentions. “…How long have I been asleep?”

 “about twenty-four hours? i think?” His phalanges scratched at the back of his skull. “i didn’t really pay any attention to the clock when i got back. i was too preoccupied with getting you to bed and seeing that your broken limbs were wrapped up to think about the passage of time.”

 “If I slept for that long, then why do I still feel tired?” She questioned irritably. He laughed at her sour expression.

 “that’s all thanks to the medicine i gave you earlier. it does what its supposed to well, but the stuff will really leave you out of commission if you aren’t already. that’s why i save it for emergencies like yours.”

 “That stuff in the vial was medicine?” The girl pondered aloud – it hadn’t tasted like medicine. Thinking back on it, the liquid had tasted rather pleasant…

 “yeah, but it was also tea. chamomile and honey, actually. i blended the two together and made the medicine practically flavorless on the tongue so it’d be easier on the person that had to drink it. why would anybody want to swallow something that tastes bad? even adults don’t wanna do that, am i right?”

 Yet again, another allegedly kindhearted gesture that served no other viable purpose unless the purpose was kindheartedness in itself.

 Frisk frowned, studying the lumbering skeleton closely. “…Why?”

 “why what…?” He rubbed the back of his neck, his expression showing blatant confusion.

 “Why did you bring me here?”

 “because you needed to get those broken limbs of yours wrapped up, and this was the only place i could take you to do that safely-”

 “No, I mean… why help me at all? Aren’t you a monster?”

 He recoiled at her harshened tone and averted his gaze, smiling sheepishly at nothing in particular. “yeah… i can understand why you’d have some doubts about me. in your human fairytales and legends, monsters are the bad guys. they do horrible, unspeakable things to men, women, and children alike without remorse. …but i’m not that kind of monster. i… i want to help and protect any humans that fall into the underground that i come across. that’s why i’m here.”

 Frisk bit her bottom lip. Guilt began to bubble away in her stomach and gradually rose up to her chest, her heart giving a dull aching thump at his appearance – yes, he was still smiling, but it was incredibly strained, undeniably forced. His shoulders were slumped heavily as well. Her insensitive remark had definitely hurt him.

 “I… I’m sorry. A lot has happened, and I’m still very, very confused. About a lot of things.” She made an effort to explain, his large droopy eye sockets and enlarged white pupils appearing less and less menacing to her and increasingly more melancholy as the seconds ticked by. “But that still isn’t an excuse for treating someone badly for something that’s beyond their control; their race, what they are. Especially when they’re just trying their best to help someone that’s hurt. It’s just… I thought for sure that you were going to…”

 “no, no, i… i understand completely. i get it; why you’d react this way.” Even now, he, the offended, was speaking out in defense of her actions. “if you weren’t at least a little bit suspicious of me after what happened back there, then i’d be more concerned than i am already. but… maybe i could clear up some of that confusion, if you’d let me? i’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions right now that need some answering.”

 “I would like that very much.” She replied, having come to the quiet conclusion that if he held any interest in bringing harm to her, then he likely would have done so while she was unconscious.

 …Unless he wanted her awake whenever the robed skeleton chose to unveil and carry out his diabolical plot - for the sole purpose of the cruel thrill that came from it. After all, following her falling into the underground, she didn’t know how long that deceivingly friendly talking flower had been there either. Right next to her unconscious body. Staring at her in silence. Just waiting for her to wake up…

 Frisk decided she would at least allow the skeleton the opportunity to explain himself and answer her questions, but he still hasn’t earned her trust.

 Not yet.

 The stranger walked over towards and reached into the darkness of the lower left corner of the area and pulled out a chair, a chair that curiously seemed to have been built just right for her size, then dragged it to the center of the room and a few feet away from the bed. He eased into it carefully, perhaps out of concern for its thin legs possibly breaking underneath the weight of his heavyset build; the skeleton looked like a giant while seated in the much too tiny and undoubtedly uncomfortable wooden chair. He then folded his hands across his lap and flashed her a sheepish grin.

 He was making an honest attempt to seem relaxed, but his blatant nervous ticks; the occasional twitch perceptible at the corner of his mouth, slightly shrunken and quivering eye lights in his sockets, and him idly drumming his phalanges against his patella with a sort of skittishness that was difficult to describe wordlessly broke any charade of calmness that he may have been trying to convey.

 Just what reason would he have to be nervous in this situation? She was the one currently incapacitated, bed-ridden, and completely at the mercy of another. There was nothing she could do to him under these circumstances, even if her life depended on it.

 Frisk chose to ignore his tense state for the time being.

 “well, uh…” He twiddled the tips of his phalanges against each other, and for some reason, he was refusing to look at her in the face. “this is… kinda the part where you start asking questions…”

 “Alright… Telling me where I am right now might be a good place to start.”

 “you’re at my house. and this is the… guest bedroom.” His voice sounded oddly pained when he uttered those last few words, but he quickly continued onward before his discomfort became too apparent. “if you want me to be more specific, you’re in the ruins. not all that far from where you fell down. this part of the underground isn’t that spacious, at least, not compared to the rest.”

 From that snippet of conversation alone, Frisk was already made aware that the cavern stretched on much further than she initially thought, and that there was something more to this room than he was telling her. Those were details she could ponder later. Back to pressing the skeleton for more information.

 “You’re a monster, right? So is the rest of this cavern filled with monsters too? Are they all skeletons like you?”

 He actually laughed. It was a low, breathy chuckle. “in order: yes, for the third time, i am a monster. yes, there are other monsters besides me living down here. and no, the whole cavern isn’t occupied entirely by skeletons. there’s slime monsters, fire elemental monsters, spider monsters... and some that can’t even be classified. the word ‘monster’ is more like an umbrella term, i think - there’s a whole lot of variety in our race.”

 “Okay… Next line of business. Who are you? What’s your name? Or do you even have one?”

 He chuckled again, his shoulders bouncing up and down just slightly. “no, i have a name. it’s sans. sans the skeleton. but you probably already knew that last part. …why did you wanna know?”

 Rather than answer his own question, she responded with, “So, your name isn’t ‘smiley trashbag’?”

 “no. it’s not now, and it never was.” His tone flattened, as well as the usually ever-present grin on his face.

 “Well, I thought I might as well ask...” Frisk mumbled. “Flowey the flower isn’t a really creative name, either... I wondered if the only other living being I’ve come across since I fell down here was a victim of unfortunate naming too.”

 “no, that was just him being awful. as per usual.” Sans crossed his arms with a sigh and a soft scowl adorning his features. “nothing too out of the ordinary there...”

 ...Nothing out of the ordinary?

 “Another question; would you mind telling me what was up with that flower monster in the first place?”

 “tibia honest with ya... i don’t really know all that much about him myself.” He scratched the back of his skull with another self-conscious grin when she showed no visible reaction to his pun. “right, right... probably not the best time for jokes. anyway, that flower, he isn’t a monster; that’s as much as i know about him. he just... showed up one day in the ruins. he started bullying monsters, making threats, eating all the candy out of the candy bowl... and generally just making a complete nuisance of himself every time he showed up.”

 “He seemed like much more than a nuisance when it was me he was around...” Frisk recalled, the torturous sensation of being slung against the floor and wall of the cave in rapid succession still fresh in her mind and limbs, despite the numbing medicine she had been given – she suspected it was beginning to wear off now, but she couldn’t let her boney caretaker become conscious of this.

 If he knew she was in pain, he might send her to sleep again. And Frisk felt she couldn’t rest until all her present questions have been answered.

 “he didn’t stay just an annoying weed for long. after a while of being content with tormenting others, one day, he started trying to kill monsters. i was on my way back from checking for any fallen humans, like i do every day, when i caught him cornering a whimsun. whimsuns, they’re small, winged, fairy-like monsters. incredibly shy, and they never bother anybody because they’re afraid of being engaged in conflict. so even without knowing what kind of person he was already, i would have known right there that the attack was entirely unprovoked. that was... quite a while ago, when that happened, and i thought what i said to him then was enough to scare him out of the ruins for good.”

 If even a fraction of the anger in Sans’s voice had been present at that time compared to when he came to rescue her earlier, then Frisk wasn’t certain how Flowey hadn’t spontaneously wilted right then and there during either confrontation. He was either incredibly determined, or incredibly stupid to have come back again after that warning.

 “...but i couldn’t have been more wrong.” Sans appeared shamefaced, silently acknowledging that it was only by mere coincidence and sheer luck that he’d arrived in time to save her at all. “i guess he was just hiding this whole time, and biding his own time, waiting for when a human finally showed up...”

 “...Are humans supposed to be the enemies of monsters here, like you’re supposed to be for us on the surface?” She inquired a touch fearfully, still unsure of what intentions this skeleton may hold for her. “In this world, in the Underground, is it really kill or be killed?”

 “no. no, no, no, no... no.” He spoke quickly, his hands fluttering about anxiously, but the firm tone he spoke with didn’t match his frantic movements. “don’t let that insignificant weed be put in the position of the mouthpiece for the rest of the underground. what he wants is senseless violence, to see the world around him burn. i’d like you to forget as much as you can about him and anything he may have said to you, if at all possible.”

 “Being nearly mauled to death by a talking flower that first was pretending to help you is kind of a hard thing to push out of your memory entirely.”

 “i know... and i’m sorry. i should’ve got there sooner. then maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as it is now.” He stood up and was suddenly at her side in one fluid motion; he gently rested one hand on her broken and bandaged leg, the contact and sudden unexpected pressure against her injuries causing her entire body to flinch.

 He immediately removed his hand – at first, Sans thought that she just didn’t want him touching her, but the way her eyes clenched shut and her lips twisted into a grimace made him think differently.

 “...did-did that hurt? are you in pain right now?” When she wouldn’t answer, he gave her leg another experimental brush, the tips of his phalanges featherlight against her wounds as if to soothe them.

 As cautious as he was with his ministrations, even the slightest of touches was enough to make her cringe.

 “...and so i see the medicine i gave you has worn off.” He gazed at her sternly, his tone scolding. “and just how long were you planning on keeping this from me?”

 “For as long as I could.” She answered without any hesitation or shame.

 At hearing her bold and defiant response, he frowned in that way that managed to somehow tug at her heartstrings for the second instance without fail.

 “you still don’t trust me, do you...?”

 “No.” She didn’t know why admitting this to his face hurt as much as it did. “I don’t.”

 To her surprise, he didn’t appear frustrated or angry. He breathed a heavy sigh, though, and smiled wearily at her.

 “i guess i’ll just have to earn it, then. prove my word’s worth. gradually.”

 “G-Gradually?” That last word brought to her a sudden and harsh realization, a question that must be asked, and she did so with a sense of urgency. “How... how long will it be until my limbs have healed?”

 “even with my magic helping the healing process along, it’s gonna be a while until you’re back on your feet. the damage you sustained from your fall into the underground must have been bad enough, but that awful weed did a real number on ya. if i were to estimate, i’d say it’ll probably be anywhere from two months at the least to three and a half at the most until you’ve made a complete recovery.”

 “Three... and a half months...” She repeated brokenly, the full extent of his diagnosis not having sunk in quite just yet.

 She didn’t even notice his mentioning of the term ‘magic’, she was so distressed.

 “so that’ll give us plenty of time to get to know one another.” He chuckled mirthfully, before his grin turned tight. “...surely you won’t still hate me three months from now, will you...?”

 “I don’t hate you! I’m just... scared. And I’m still so confused...”

 “over what...?”

 “Several more things. Too many to count, and too many issues to cover in a single conversation, probably.”

 “no, that wasn’t what i... i already knew that much; it’s obvious you would still have plenty of questions left in need of answering, but that will have to wait until later. what i was referring to was what you said before that... what is it that you’re scared of?”

 “...I can’t really explain it.”

 That was all Frisk could reply with after a lengthy pause.

 “...is it me? if it is, it’s... alright. i understand. completely.”

 “I didn’t say that.” She insisted halfheartedly.

 “you didn’t have to.”

 It was written all over her face, expressed in her movements, heard within the inflections of her voice...

 He walked towards the door, not even turning around as he said,

 “...wait right here. i have to get your medicine.”

 “As if I could go anywhere else...” She frowned to herself, but acknowledged that his words had sounded incredibly strained, as though he thought if the girl did have the choice available to her, she would have bolted for the nearest exit as soon as his back was turned.

 Frisk couldn’t deny that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, of escaping this house, if only her broken body would allow her to do so. But so far, it appeared Sans the skeleton had done everything within his power to help her and absolutely nothing to warrant her distrust.

 But then again, the same could be said of Flowey, who had appeared amiable and offered what was supposed to have been some kindhearted assistance to a helpless and wounded surface dweller, only to purposefully injure her further.

 It was true that every indication had been made that the two couldn’t stand one another, but that didn’t have to mean that Sans was her friend; no matter how the saying went about what the enemy of your enemy was to you. He could hold the very same animosity towards humans that Flowey fostered, and Frisk felt it was safest to keep her guard up, search for any signs of existing hostility, detect even the slightest traces of deceit that could be hiding behind that seemingly friendly smile...

 Sans, however, was inwardly distraught.

 He was thankful that an opportunity had presented itself for him to excuse himself from the presence of the human girl in his company. He couldn’t withstand it a second longer, being subjected to her harsh judging gaze.

 This wasn’t his first time caring for a human, particularly a stubborn one. Some of them had accepted his help and embraced him with open arms, overjoyed to find a friendly face. Others needed some coaxing, some convincing that he wasn’t going to hurt them, and it wasn’t long at all until they believed his claims and found them to be true.

 But they had all been children.

 This was an adult human, a woman with perpetual scorn in her gaze despite his best efforts. And he didn’t know how to handle that.

 “none of them ever hated me before...”

 He returned a few minutes later, carefully carrying a tea cup in hand with wisps of steam wafting from its rim. It was made of creamy white porcelain, which was crafted into the shape of an oversimplified skull. Even the artistry of the handle abided to the skeleton theme present, looking as though it were made from a trio of assembled milky colored bones.

 Frisk sat up in the bed, wincing as she did so. Yes, the medicine she ingested yesterday had most definitely worn off, but she was also delighted to discover that her limbs had in fact unexpectedly, almost unbelievably regained some of their former mobility.

 Even so, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to taking more, though it would numb the pain burdening her and Sans had mentioned that it didn’t taste bitter when mixed in with the tea. The flavor wasn’t her concern, however. Waking up after swallowing whatever was in that concoction had left her feeling as though she had been hit by a truck. Her entire body had felt heavy as lead, as if some unseen pressure were weighing her down.

 Somehow sensing Frisk’s apprehension and correctly deducing the cause, he spoke,

 “this isn’t the same medicine as before. it’ll make you sleepy in a little while and you’ll probably need a nap after, but it won’t knock you out for hours.”

 That was... somewhat reassuring, she thought.

 If he was telling the truth, that is.

 Instead of handing her the cup or forcing it into her hands, Sans set it on the nightstand Frisk had just noticed was there, most likely because she couldn’t move her head towards that angle earlier. The cup would be out of sight should she lay down again, just like the piece of furniture it rested atop, but it would still easily be within her reach should her hands search for it.

 “...do you want to eat now or later?”

 “later.” She answered, both out of wariness and a genuine lack of appetite.

 “ok.”

 Several moments passed with not another word from either of them. Sans was still there, he hadn’t made a single move that suggested he was going to leave, but he wasn’t looking at her like he was earlier, or even at all.

 He wouldn’t look at her.

 Frisk eventually decided to break the silence herself.

 “Don’t you want me to drink it?”

 “yes, i do. but i’m not going to force you.”

 “That didn’t stop you before.”

 “that was an emergency.” He was swift in delivering his rebuttal. “whether you were aware of it or not, you were dying back there. i had to get you somewhere else quick so i could take care of you, and i couldn’t let you suffer for no reason the entire way when there was a safe and ready alternative available. so i’m sorry i fed you something strange to knock you unconscious and brought you here against your will, but if i had to do it over again, i’d still make the same choice. over and over again, without hesitation.”

 He was speaking to her in a serious, stern, nearly scolding tone, but something about the manner in which he spoke managed to prick at her heartstrings, almost as effectively as when the skeleton had expressed his vulnerability earlier. Even while cross, there was a caring, almost loving impression discernible underneath.

 Slowly, and with some amount of delay, Frisk took the tea cup off the night stand and brought the warm liquid to her lips, sipping it quietly.

 Just as Sans had said earlier, the tea disguised the taste of the medicine. In fact, she couldn’t detect it at all on her taste buds.

 “...It’s good.” Frisk muttered at last.

 “i’m glad.” Her drinking the tea made the corners of his mouth quirk upwards, but the expression soon vanished as quickly as it had come. “...i get that you aren’t too keen on the idea of putting any of your trust in me, what with flowey abusing it and all... but i really do want to help you. and i can’t do that if you won’t let me.”

 “...Sans, can you come closer?”

 He complied, albeit confusedly, blatant bewilderment written across his features as he made his approach. Frisk didn’t say anything else until the skeleton was positioned exactly where she wanted him to be, continuing to motion him forward until he was standing directly in front of her bedside.

 “Now what I need you to do is look me in the eyes - not at the floor, the wall, your hands, or anything else you’ve been staring at that isn’t me.”

 “a-alright...” He stuttered unsurely, wondering why she had become so commanding so suddenly and what it was she was going to ask of him next. “i’m looking at you. just you and only you.”

 “One last thing, Sans. ...I need you to tell me, no, promise me that you’re not planning to do anything sinister or rotten to me like Flowey was. I need you to give me your word right here and now. And depending on how you do that, how you respond to this demand of mine, you just might earn my trust.”

 He frowned down at her, and she could tell that he wasn’t exactly happy with being compared to and lumped in with the likes of Flowey, who so far seemed to be more or less his arch nemesis.

 However, Sans maintained eye contact with her, as she had requested, and took a breath,

 “i don’t have anything awful in store for you – all i want is to see that you get better and are well taken care of, regardless of the fact that we’re of different races that are usually perceived to be deeply prejudiced against one another and are all but demanded rather than advised to remain bitter enemies. that’s it. honest. i swear on my SOUL, if that means anything to you.”

 He had hesitated just a moment before answering, just like when Frisk had asked him to make a promise before - something that shouldn’t have boded well for him with her currently playing the role of his judge.

 But the sincerity she found in his voice, the sheer conviction with which he stated his intentions, the sparks of gentle warmth she saw within the lights of his sockets... that was enough to sway her thoughts and opinions on this monster.

 They gazed into each other’s eyes for the longest of times, neither having moved a muscle or a joint since his declaration. Sans was obviously anxious; beads of sweat decorated his skull, and the grin he wore was incredibly forced in a feeble attempt to mask his dread and unease.

 Finally, Frisk was prepared to announce the results of her assessment.

 “...You pass.”

 “...what?” He inquired, breathlessly.

 “You pass.” She repeated plainly. “I’ve decided that I’m going to trust you. You’ve managed to convince me. From this point onward, I’ll go along with your suggestions and your efforts in helping me to heal.”

 Although, to him, she sounded mostly unimpressed with his heartfelt response... But Sans wasn’t so skeptical that he was about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 He exhaled, patent relief blossoming over his skull. “thank you... i... i promise i won’t do anything to have this honor that was bestowed on me revoked.”

 “But if you do, you’re gonna be wishing that Flowey had succeeded in killing me.” She retorted, half-jokingly and halfway serious.

 “never.” Came his swift reply in that chiding yet close to loving tone.

 Whether Sans meant that he was never going to betray her trust now that he had it or that he wasn’t even going to entertain the notion of the alternate outcome where Flowey killed her, she wasn’t sure.

 But what she was made aware of was, Sans had a nice smile. This one was genuine; unlike the others he had previously displayed with tight grins that didn’t reach his eye sockets. It was sincere, welcoming. Perhaps even sweet.

 And seeing him like this, it made the corners of her own mouth curve upwards.

 Frisk took the tea from where it rested on the nightstand again, intending to drink every drop of it. Her grip wasn’t steady however, and she nearly spilled the entirety of its contents on herself and the bedsheets. Seeing her struggle, Sans kneeled by the bed and curled his phalanges around the cup and consequently her own hands, his large palms engulfing them. He gently eased the tea cup towards her lips.

 She felt heat surrounding the skin of her hands like a warm, comforting blanket, and Frisk believed it wasn’t emanating solely from the beverage she held. How could a skeleton, a being without blood, feel warm?

 The texture of his bones wasn’t how she thought it would be either; they felt smooth to the touch, as expected, but weren’t entirely rigid. There was some suppleness to them. How could a skeleton be soft?

 But he was. Sans was warm and soft; something Frisk likely never would have learned, paid attention to, or cared for at all if she still harbored the same mistrust towards him as she had earlier.

 His low hesitant voice next to her ear caught her notice. “is this okay...? i’m not making you uncomfortable?”

 “No, not at all.” She answered with a chuckle, internally somewhat taken aback by her own reply and the instantaneousness of it.

 He was only assisting her with holding the cup so it didn’t spill, Frisk tried to reason with herself, but still she continued her mental debate with herself; wasn’t what they were doing now a bit too much of a jump compared to before, a bit too cuddly, considering this was the same skeleton monster who she had only began to place some amount of her trust in no more than five minutes ago?

 Even if this was so, she found herself enjoying this unexpected warmth, this sweet and sincere gesture. So much so, Frisk could practically feel the lingering disbelief that remained slowly melting away around her like snow that desperately clung to one’s clothes while in front of a crackling fireplace.

 Sans kept his hands wrapped around hers until the cup was completely empty. He then plucked it from her grasp and set it back on the nightstand before turning around again to face her.

 “you’ve got about an hour, give or take, until the medicine kicks in. that should be enough time to eat something if you’re hungry, unless you really do have no appetite.” When she nodded at the end of his statement, he frowned at her in that distraught way that inexplicably pulled at her heartstrings. “but it’s been a day, a whole twenty-four hours since I found you. even if you ate a big meal directly before falling down here, that’s still a long time to go without putting any food in your body.”

 “You’re awfully insistent about getting me to eat something.” She stated, raising an eyebrow just slightly then continued in a clearly joking manner, “...You’re aren’t trying to fatten me up, are you, Sans?”

 He threw back his head and laughed, barely stifling a snort as he replied, “noooo, i’m just worried about your health is all.” Sans took her response as a sign to proceed, moving towards the door and preparing to go to the kitchen to make something; something that wouldn’t consume too much time and would be light enough on her stomach that it shouldn’t upset her if she truly didn’t have much of an appetite. But not before poking his head back into the room immediately after he left it to cheekily add, “...even if you are cute enough to eat.”

 It was just him teasing her in the same manner as she had seconds prior, she told herself, but still Frisk blushed at the boldness of his words that one could misread as being flirtatious in nature. ...Surely it wasn’t. Just some silly banter between new pals; that’s what it was, right?

 She shook this thought away, as one she deemed more important entered her mind. She narrowly suppressed the excitement in her voice as she called out to him,

 “Sans!”

 Almost instantly, she heard the approaching sound of his slipper-clad feet thundering against the floor of the hallway outside. The door then swung open and there he stood, demanding to know what was wrong with worry gracing his skull.

 It vanished at once after her next sentence, his concerned expression being replaced with one of immeasurable joy.

 “My name isn’t ‘you’, Sans. It’s Frisk.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 Whatever remained of Frisk’s suspicions towards Sans, they completely dissipated by her fourth day under his care.

 Even throughout the first day, after the robed skeleton returned to her room with a steaming hot bowl of stew in hand and insistences that he feed her so as not to further aggravate the injuries of her arms, Frisk found it exceedingly difficult to continue regarding him with doubt.

 He was astonishingly, profoundly considerate, she concluded.

 Having to be fed by him was embarrassing, even if he had stated that there was no reason for her to feel this way when she voiced her sentiments aloud. He was more than happy to do so since she couldn’t. Perhaps he was simply the type that enjoyed caring for and doting on others, Frisk mused.

 Whenever she wasn’t asleep, Sans was almost constantly at her bedside; at her every beck and call. The girl couldn’t recall having ever received such attentiveness before in her entire life, not even from her mother and father. It made her feel a twinge of guilt to place this monster, who was more or less a stranger to her though an incredibly kindhearted one on a higher pedestal than her own parents, but Frisk couldn’t deny that during their so far brief period of knowing one another, Sans has possibly shown more consideration towards her than anyone aboveground ever had.

 Something else that Frisk had learned during her stay is that, when Sans claimed he would provide answers to all her inquiries, he had really meant it.

 Every single question that fell from her lips, no matter how abrupt or bizarre it may have been, the skeleton would never fail to supply her with an answer or an explanation. He never seemed to tire of responding to her endless plethora of questions, strangely; in fact, Sans appeared to find some amount of delight in her never-ending curiosity. Frisk had always been someone who possessed a boundless thirst for knowledge, eternally seeking clarifications in subjects others cared little for, and taking intrigue in forming and uncovering solutions to mysteries that most preferred to remain unknown.

 “Hey, Sans? Why is it that you’re a skeleton, but you’re able to eat? I didn’t think skeletons would need to, or even could eat. Shouldn’t it pass directly through you? Where does it all go?” She had asked one evening when Sans had decided to join her for supper, even after Frisk’s hands had healed enough that him assisting her was no longer necessary – ‘so she wouldn’t be alone’, he had stated somewhat shyly.

 “magic.” Came his simple reply, accompanied by a grin and a wink.

 “Well fine! All right, then! Keep your secrets...”

 “no, i was being entirely literal. magic really is how and why i eat.” He chuckled at what must have been her disbelieving stare. “the bodies of monsters are made of magic, condensed into a solid form. the food down here is made from our concentrated magic, so anything we eat is absorbed directly by our bodies, and the same goes for any humans that consume monster food. ...that’s why the majority of us down here don’t have toilets.”

 “...That explains so much.” So that’s why she hadn’t felt the need to use the restroom since her untimely arrival here... And from there, Frisk’s mind then drifted to the thought of whether skeletons could also gain weight if they could eat. “And yet, I feel this also opens up an entirely new area of discussion that demands to be explored.”

 “i’ll tell you just about anything you want to know about monsters and the underground, but... from where this conversation seems to be headed, is this really a topic that you wanna discuss over dinner?”

 “What? No, noooo - that wasn’t what I was thinking of talking about at all. You were the one that brought up toilets in the first place, so who’s the gross one here?” She laughed freely, the sound causing shivers of delight to run down his spine.

 “if that wasn’t it, then what were you wanting to talk about?”

 “About you.” Frisk answered with just a hint of bashful hesitance, resulting in his SOUL skipping a beat.

 “what... what about me...?” Sans nearly croaked as he pointed to himself, his throat suddenly going dry.

 “Anything and everything you’re willing to share.” She confessed, not quite looking him in the eye socket. “I think you’re really interesting Sans, and I... I want to know more about you. I feel like I could spend years questioning you, all day every day, and I would still never get bored of what you have to say.”

 He must have gaped at her for a good solid minute at the very least, concerning her slightly and making her wonder if she had said something alarming or offensive.

 But then a beautiful grin graced his skull and he shakily replied,

 “ha... ahaha...... hoo boy.” He rubbed the back of his head with a nervous chuckle, unable to look at her while aware that his zygomas were flushed and glowing a bright, near blinding blue. “i... i can’t say anyone’s ever said anything like that to me before... uh, you... you said you’ve still got questions, wasn’t that right, frisk? keep ‘em rollin’.”

 Sans was different – he entertained her inquisitiveness, encouraged it. She would even go so far as to say he almost appeared flattered by it instead of finding her and her various interests annoying.

 Frisk wondered if he was lonely.

 That was the only conceivable reason why he would tolerate her oddities as much as he had, she thought.

 After Frisk decided that he had earned her trust and that she enjoyed his company, she began to notice the little things about him. How, even when he was smiling brightly, there was something sad about those pale white spheres of light within his sockets. Beneath them were dark circles present, like how humans would develop dark circles under their eyes due to stress or loss of sleep.

 She had commented at least once that he appeared to be exhausted, not directly mentioning the easily visible marks beneath his sockets, but Sans had brushed her off with a smile. He assured her that he slept plenty, perhaps too much, the skeleton added with a quiet chuckle. Still, it concerned her – the thought of him taking an uncaring approach to his own health when he had put so much effort into bettering hers was a saddening one.

 But the longer she stayed in his company, the lighter the markings underneath his sockets became.

 It didn’t make much sense to her – if anything, Frisk would have thought that tending to the needs of another as exceedingly as he had for her the past few weeks would have only exhausted him further. Instead, every morning when he came to her room to greet her, Sans seemed just a little bit more perky than the previous day.

 Did he really enjoy her presence that much?

 As the days passed on, one after the other, the more sure she became that this was the truth.

 Another peculiar habit of his was how shy he seemed to be around her. Frisk wasn’t certain if he acted this way around everyone or if she was some sort of exception, since the only person she had seen him interact with so far other than herself was Flowey and as far as she was concerned that nasty little buttercup had no relevance in this private mental discourse of hers - but one day she became confident enough to ask him.

 Apparently, the answer was a little of both.

 Ever since he was small, Sans has felt somewhat uncomfortable conversing and spending an extended period of time with those he wasn’t familiar with. However, he then stated that Frisk was a special case to him and further affected his shyness. So much so, Sans admitted to the girl that he felt as though he had been dangerously close to fainting himself when speaking to her for the first time; the sole reason why he hadn’t was there had been the more important and pressing task of tending to her injuries to focus on at the moment.

  When she questioned him as to why he would feel that way towards her, this was what he had to say,

 “you... you’re really pretty.” He professed, a blue blush beginning to creep over his cheeks. “i’ve never met anyone as pretty before, and when i first saw you, that actually scared me just a little. i... i got nervous.”

 Sans couldn’t be as shy as he claimed to be if he was willing to admit that to her face, even if he couldn’t quite muster up the courage to look at it as he said that.

 But as their time together gradually increased, his timidity gradually began to wane.

 He would still mumble and stutter when he spoke to her, but his actions and words became undeniably more bold.

 It had all began one late evening while Sans was at her bedside, sitting in that same wooden chair that was much too little for his build as he responded to her vast quantities of questions, as per usual. The tiny chair could support his weight no longer; the legs collapsed underneath him with an oddly thunderous crackling, dumping the skeleton out onto the floor on his back.

 Frisk knew she shouldn’t have, but she laughed.

 She hadn’t meant to, but it was beyond her impulse control! To begin with, the small uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp that he let out when he was sent tumbling backwards was nothing short of hysterical, but the expression on his face as it happened was something that deserved not to be ignored. His eye sockets had gone impossibly wide and the spheres inside them had shrunken down to tiny pinpricks. But after he crashed against the floor, his eyelights had enlarged to the point they looked like twin moons.

 The entire scene was too humorous, or humerus as Sans would call it, to keep her face straight and her mouth shut.

 But when Sans didn’t move after longer than a few seconds had passed of him silently staring up at the ceiling just blinking his sockets, that was when the giggles died down and concern began to take over.

 Frisk’s body moved on its own accord, rolling out of bed and landing on her feet before limping over to him.

 “Sans? Sans! Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?!” She took his face in her hands, practically yelling directly in it. The sheer panic in her voice made him snap out of whatever trance he was in.

 “i... i’m fine. i think.” His eyelights still looked a bit wonky to her; they had returned to their normal size, but the white orbs were facing different directions and they were spinning round and around...

 He sat up a bit straighter, willing the spheres in his eyes to go back to normal. Only then did she begin to relax, releasing her frightened grip on his skull and arms returning to her sides.

 “everything’s fine, frisk; it’ll take just a little more than that to do anything serious to these old bones.”

 “Are you sure? You’re not just saying that so I won’t worry, are you?”

 “‘m sure.”

 She still wasn’t totally convinced he was telling the truth, but she would let him off the hook for now – if he really was hurt, it would be made apparent to her soon enough.

 “I’m so sorry that I laughed...” She apologized as she lowered her gaze, deeply ashamed.

 “don’t be.” One phalange found its way under her chin, gently lifting her head up. “it was kind of funny, wasn’t it?”

 “If it had been me that fell instead, you wouldn’t have been laughing.” Frisk stated bluntly, knowing that what she said was true.

 “frisk, i wasn’t hurt, so it’s fine.” He replied with a tone of finality, then smiled at her. “but it’s nice to know that you chair about me so much.”

 Once she had processed the pun, Frisk’s eyes automatically narrowed and her nose wrinkled in mock disgust. He laughed at her petulant expression, and the sound was enough for the disgruntled look on her face to slip just slightly. It vanished entirely when the phalange that had been under her chin shifted, the hand it belonged to reaching up to cup her cheek.

 Sans’s own expression had softened as well; a warm smile elevating the corners of his mouth coupled with a tender gaze meant solely for her. His other hand rose to brush the stray and uneven strands of hair away from the girl’s eyes as his thumb traced smooth circles against the skin of her cheek.

 Anything she had to say to him prior had died on her lips.

 His actions had rendered her entirely speechless.

 Sans spent the next few minutes gently running his boney fingers through her hair and stroking her face, appreciating the different types of softness from both. His eye sockets were lidded from sheer bliss, he was enjoying this moment that much.

 However, he returned to his senses not too long afterward, his sockets snapping open with a gasp of sudden realization. He immediately removed his hands and scrambled backwards, nearly on all fours, until his back hit the wall.

 Frisk stared at him with even more confusion evident than when he had been affectionately pawing at her.

 “i... i can explain, i...” Sans stuttered, hands fluttering about as if on the defensive and anticipating her to attack him for his behavior. “no, no i can’t explain anything this time... not at all. oh stars, frisk, i... i’m so sorry. i don’t know what came over me.”

 “No, no... It’s... it’s alright! I’m not mad at you, Sans, so there’s no reason at all for you to act like I am.” She shuffled towards him once more, but only made it a few steps across the room before her legs gave out on her – they were still far too weak due to a combination of several consecutive weeks of bedrest and the injuries she sustained when she first fell into the Underground and encountered Flowey.

 Sans pushed his previous thought process to the side and moved to assist her. He was at her side in an instant, hoisting Frisk into his arms before she could begin to question him of his objective. He carried her back to the bed, placing her gently underneath the covers then pulling the sheets up to her chest, all the while struggling to aim an admonishing look at his patient.

 He was immensely flattered by how quickly she had rose to her feet, for the first time in weeks, just to make certain that he hadn’t injured himself despite the pain she must have felt in doing so. However, as much as this gesture of hers touched the very depths of his SOUL, he also wished that she hadn’t left the bed in the first place. She was still recuperating, and if he hadn’t carelessly broken the chair he had been sitting on, then Frisk wouldn’t have had a reason to exert herself.

 Sans had no one to blame but himself for this... and perhaps Flowey. He too was responsible, in a roundabout sort of way, but Sans knew he couldn’t pin every single thing that went wrong during the process of Frisk’s recovery on him, as tempting as the thought was. That was just escaping responsibility.

 “What’s with the sour face, Mr. Grumpybones?” She took notice of his bitter expression and was swift in pointing it out.

 “i would think the answer to that question is obvious – you got out of bed when i specifically told you just this morning not to.”

 “But what was I supposed to do then? Just... lay here and watch you have a staring contest with the ceiling when it was totally possible and reasonable for me to think that you might have split the back of your skull open because you didn’t pop right back up after that fall you took?”

 “i was in a minor case of shock from the impact.” Sans struggled to remain firm with her. “i would have gotten up, eventually.”

 “Well, even if what you’re saying is true...,” He momentarily scowled at her, but not for long until it too evaporated. “...Eventually just wasn’t good enough for me.”

 His mouth opened and closed in rapid succession, but eventually, he just smiled down at her with all the warmth and quiet intensity that had been present before. Again, he carded his phalanges through her bangs, then said quietly, almost inaudibly,

 “get some rest, pumpkin.”

 He was trying to escape the conversation, Frisk surmised, but her thoughts were cut short when she felt a soft pressure against her forehead. Sans quickly turned off the lamp and shuffled out of the room as if embarrassed, almost ashamed. What reason would he have to be embarrassed? Frisk was fairly certain the lingering sensation she felt on her forehead was from a kiss.

 How that could even possible she wasn’t entirely certain, but Frisk had previously witnessed him drinking from a straw on some occasions during their mealtimes together, so perhaps him being capable of kissing wasn’t too much of a stretch. At any rate, Sans had fled the scene before she had the chance to question him about it, and perhaps that was exactly the point.

 However, Sans didn’t remain bashful concerning his gestures of affection. The next morning, he greeted Frisk with another hesitant kiss to the cheek, just like the night before, but instead of apologizing and stumbling over his words, his bright eyelights studied her closely, gauging her reaction for any signs of discomfort or disgust. Finding none, he grinned widely, and from there, the adoration he felt and actively expressed towards her only increased.

 He gave her kisses sparingly, and gave plenty of warning beforehand from that point onward, just in case... She allowed him at each occasion, even turning her cheek towards him and tapping it with her index finger feigning impatience sometimes when it seemed to her he wanted to press his mouth against her skin, but refrained from it for whatever reason; perhaps it was that timidity of his creeping back every so often to remind him of its existence and to make itself known.

 During one instance when he leaned down to give her a peck on the forehead, he hesitated, much longer than usual and too long in her opinion. So to remedy the situation, Frisk leaned upwards slightly... and placed a peck of her own on the tip of his nasal ridge. He leapt backwards as if she had slung cold water on him instead, and yes, during her stay here, Frisk had learned that magical skeleton monsters could be affected by changes in temperatures and experience sensations similar to a human’s nerve endings. His spine was pressed up against the closed door – she wasn’t entirely certain how he had managed to scurry that distance, and in reverse so quickly; Frisk was halfway convinced that he had somehow teleported.

 He blinked owlishly at her for several extended, drawn out seconds, then broke out into a wide grin and laughed.

 Afterward, Sans gave her a kiss at the beginning and conclusion of each day they spent in one another’s company.

 It wasn’t long after until Frisk found the strength to walk again, on the condition that she was under constant supervision as a precaution in case her legs collapsed underneath her again. The first few days, Sans held her hand in a strong but gentle grip, leading the girl around his home wherever it was she wanted to go. He would chide her on pushing her limits, but he could only surmise how liberating it must have felt to be able to move around again and stretch her legs after so long of being confined to a single room, and unable to even leave bed at that.

 Her first time leaving the bedroom was almost exciting, to finally see what lied beyond the walls of that child-sized, enclosed room. The hallway outside seemed so wide, and seemed to stretch further than it really did. Aside from the door to Frisk’s room, there were two others visible – one led to Sans’s bedroom, and the other was a mystery. When Sans caught her staring at it and the sign dangling from the doorframe, which politely deterred any would-be trespassers from entering, he led her away and guided her attentions towards the living area. She was still curious about it, but pushed any thoughts pertaining to the prohibited door to the side to ponder later.

 Sans’s house was a bit on the small side and simple in design, but also cozy and comforting; the very epitome of a cottage dwelling. The living room was her favorite place to be – often she and Sans would sit and make themselves comfy in that giant armchair of his and read by the fireplace together. There was no danger of this one breaking under their combined weight, he insisted, but Frisk was still cautious about sitting on the arm of the chair, no matter how well-built and sturdy it looked.

 When she voiced this concern aloud, he then offered her a place by his side. If she took him up on this suggestion, then she would practically be sitting in his lap. Perhaps not, and while Frisk would admit that she was growing more and more fond of him with each passing day in a certain sense, going so far as allowing him to kiss her face and finding herself often returning the gesture, the girl still couldn’t quite say she was comfortable to that extent with cozying up to Sans.

 And yet, Frisk found herself inching closer and closer to him anyway, unconsciously moving more towards his immediate vicinity each time they sat together in that armchair suitable for a king. Not to the degree that she was ever settled in his lap, but she had definitely brushed shoulders with him, even leaned against him a time or two. He welcomed the dwindling proximity between them, occasionally wrapping an arm around her own shoulders if she was enough within his reach to do so.

 How this routine of theirs even began was when Frisk had spotted a bookshelf next to the armchair, each row filled with titles unfamiliar to her. They were all authored by the monsters inhabiting the Underground, he informed her, and she then wanted to view their contents for herself. She was astounded to find that the words on the pages inside were written in her language and not one unfamiliar to her, but Sans spoke English as well, so it really shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it did.

 Some of them were children’s books and fairytales, stories that Sans had owned since he was small – they were in excellent condition for their estimated age, which briefly made her wonder how old Sans actually was. Others were of the nonfictional variety, like biographies containing tales and accounts of humans and monsters having once lived in harmony many, many years ago. She learned this period of peace between the races came to an abrupt end when humanity waged war against the monsters; the humans emerged victorious, rounded up the monster population, and sealed them away in a deep cavern under Mount Ebott behind a magical barrier.

 If it weren’t for the fact that Frisk was brutally assaulted by a talking flower and was currently sitting next to a giant living animate skeleton, she wouldn’t have believed it.

 “...They didn’t tell us about this in history class at school on the surface.”

 “ha! i can believe that. it seems like the vast majority of humanity has forgotten that we even exist, much less ever lived alongside them. now monsters have been relegated to malignant figures in your stories that terrorize children and other innocents...”

 “I can’t even begin to imagine how insulting that must be to you.” She frowned, eying him with sympathy in her gaze. “...Are you the only monster that feels this way about humans, wanting to put what happened in the past behind you, or are the rest all like Flowey and think we’re evil?”

 He instantly looked discomforted by her question. Sans was visibly squirming in his seat, seeming more nervous than she ever could recall having seen him. He almost appeared pained, he was so unsettled.

 But before she could retract her inquiry, apologize, or attempt to comfort him, he at last answered her. “opinions are... varied, among monsterkind.”

 “......Oh.” She said quietly, taking as long with her own reply as he had.

 An uncomfortable silence followed.

 Neither of them would look at one another. Both could only writhe uncomfortably where they sat, both consumed with regret for the things that were said. The warm, domestic mood around them had been spoiled, and Frisk felt it was her fault for bringing up such a serious, not to mention grim topic in the first place.

 But now that the topic had surfaced, it made her begin to consider something, and this wasn’t the first time that this particular something had plagued her thoughts before.

 From his actions and his behavior towards her, Frisk could deduce that Sans obviously held a great deal of compassion towards humanity. He didn’t have to help her at all when he did, and neither would a human if she were being honest, but especially not him when her own kind had imprisoned his entire race. He had no obligation to assist her and would gain nothing from doing so, nothing that she could think of at any rate, and yet he had without a second thought. Not even for his own safety, as Sans had faced Flowey in order to get to her.

 Flowey’s last words of parting to the skeleton had been haunting her lately.

 “You fool… Humans will always despise monsters. You remember that when you’re at the mercy of this one and it has none to spare…”

 Was Sans an outcast among the rest of his kind because of his stance towards humans? Is that why he lived alone in this little house, and never brought home any company?

 Sans wasn’t entirely without companionship, at least this was what Frisk tried to convince herself of; he seemed to have at least one friend in the spider lady that had taught him how to sew the beautiful blue blanket with the bones stitched in the fabric that currently sat atop her bed, who he mentioned when she had once asked him where it came from. However, Sans had spoken as though that had been some time ago. Perhaps he truly didn’t have anyone else in his life aside from herself.

 Dwelling on that thought as she did suddenly made her unbearably sad, feeling as though the blame lied solely on her shoulders that such a wonderful, patient, and kind monster would spend the remainder of his life alone as long as she was here.

 So much so, that Frisk wasn’t even aware she was crying until she felt Sans begin to wipe the tears that cascaded down her cheeks with his thumb.

 “please... please don’t cry, pumpkin.” She wasn’t sure why, perhaps it was his mournful tone or the just as saddened expression on his face that was rendered slightly blurry through her tearstained vision, but she only wailed all the more, which was the exact opposite of what Sans wanted. He then reached out for her, to envelop her in his arms in a comforting embrace, the history book that he had held loosely in his hands tumbling to the floor, forgotten. “pumpkin, why are you crying...?”

 “Sans, am I... not supposed to be here...?” She sniffled, struggling to extricate herself from his gentle grasp, feeling as though she didn’t deserve it or him. “Am I the reason why you’re alone?”

 She heard him let out a quiet gasp before holding her even closer to himself, against his chest. In the small space of time prior to him speaking again, she heard something else, a pulsing, thumping sound emanating from somewhere deep within his ribcage. It was almost like a heartbeat... If she wasn’t so wrapped up in her own sorrow, Frisk might have contemplated why she would be hearing something that was so similar to a heartbeat coming from Sans when skeleton monsters shouldn’t have hearts.

 “...why would you think something like that?” He was running his phalanges through her hair, barely nuzzling the top of head as he urged her to speak. “why are you blaming yourself for that? why? tell me.”

 Frisk didn’t want to mention what Flowey had said, or what was written in the book for that matter. She wasn’t sure why he even bothered asking her, if only to hear her say it in that awful, croaky, hiccup-laden voice of hers - they both knew exactly why. She didn’t want to talk about this at all, even though the two of them having arrived at this point was entirely through her doing.

 She couldn’t think of anything to say, so the girl only let out a sob and shook her head, refusing to reply.

 He sighed, squeezing her tighter, but not so much that it would be discomforting or painful, then moved his mouth next to her ear, so he could ascertain that what he had to say would be heard.

 “frisk, i need you to calm down, pumpkin. i need you to breathe. it’s not your fault. none of this is.” When she weakly attempted to argue, he shushed her, his voice little above a whisper. “yes, it’s true you’re not supposed to be down here, according to the law of monsterkind, but it’s not because of you that i’m alone – that has nothing to do with you. i made my choice a long time ago, long before you ever fell down here. and i have no regrets about that. none at all.”

 “But... But it’s not fair!” She clutched onto his robe and bawled into his shoulder, the cloth becoming damp with her tears, but he didn’t care.

 “i know it’s not fair, it’s not fair at all, but that’s just how things are down here, pumpkin. it’s not your fault.”

 “Why does it feel like it is, though?” The question escaped her lips before she could stop it; it was probably the only one she has asked him that he didn’t have an answer for.

 “i don’t know. but if i’ve said or done anything to make you feel this way, then i’m sorry. i won’t ever do it again.” The smoothness that was his cheek rubbed against her wet one as he again asked of her, his request sounding more like a plea, “just please, please stop crying... i can’t take it. it hurts too much.”

 “I... I don’t know if I can...” She choked out, and his hands shifted from their place tangled in her hair to rubbing slow, soothing circles into her back.

 “...then i’ll hold you for as long as it takes. if you’ll allow me to.”

 Frisk responded by clinging to him desperately, her fingers grabbing at his broad shoulders for grounding. Again, she heard the sound of the strange inexplicable pulsing within his chest; it was even louder than before, almost as if demanding its existence to be known. The curious thumping against his bones calmed her, and it wasn’t long after that she felt her own heartbeat slowing down, the flow of her tears beginning to slow, and with that the mysterious palpitations next to her other ear began to fade as well.

 By the time her tearful fit had reached its conclusion, Frisk was left feeling embarrassed and ashamed over that spontaneous emotional outburst. She had put Sans in an uncomfortable position, she was sure, both figuratively and literally – when he had reached out to embrace her, she had been maneuvered until she was more or less in his lap. Not quite there, but close enough that it would be undoubtedly awkward should he notice and decide to bring attention towards it.

 But when she mustered the courage to look him in the eye sockets again, she found nothing but sympathy and concern in his gaze.

 “you alright now, pumpkin?” He inquired softly with the tiniest frown.

 “Yeah, I’m all cried out. My eyes are entirely bone dry now.” She replied with a laugh that was just as dry as she claimed her eyes currently were.

 Sans quietly chuckled at the pun before his expression turned serious. “i’m so sorry, frisk. i didn’t mean to make you cry. that was all my fault – i shouldn’t have been so insensitive when there were so many other ways i could’ve gone about telling you.”

 “No, no, you’ve got it wrong, Sans. You weren’t being insensitive; I was being too sensitive and couldn’t handle what you said in a mature manner. It was entirely my fault Sans, all mine.” Before he could protest, she continued, “I guess that what you said just surprised me... I mean, I knew that things must be bad between our races, considering what happened in the past, but... hearing that so many monsters hate me already even though I’ve never met them... I suppose that just got to me is all.”

 “they don’t hate you, pumpkin. i don’t think anyone could.”

 Sans didn’t know how wrong he was, she thought.

 “the problem is that they just don’t know you. they don’t know you like i do.” He smiled tenderly at her. “i think that if the rest of the monsters here that feel the way they do about humans got to know you, if they gave you a fair chance, every single one of them would inevitably fall in love with you. ......like i did.”

 She almost gaped at him once Frisk processed what it was he had said.

 Sans had most definitely said that he loved her, and he had said it with a glowing deep blue blush coating the majority of his cheekbones area. What he had said was unquestionably sweet, but she was left wondering in what sense was he referring to when he professed his love. Surely, it must be of the platonic sort, or possibly even the familial. As implausibly tolerant as he was towards her kind, surely he, a monster, wouldn’t develop feelings for a human...

 She gathered what was left of her wits and asked him for clarification.

 “...What do you mean, ‘like you did’? What does that mean?”

 “whatever you want it to.” He replied simply, punctuating his statement with a swift peck against the crown of her head.

 Her face screwed into a look of irritation and confusion – that answered nothing at all. If anything, it only left her with more questions.

 What did she want it to mean? This wasn’t the first time that she pondered the state of their relationship, especially once Sans had began kissing her as often as he did. These thoughts only multiplied once she began anticipating his affectionate gestures and eventually returning them.

 She didn’t know what she wanted it to be; she was still confused over her exact feelings towards him, but what Frisk did know was, she liked Sans. In what way, she wasn’t completely certain – but she liked him.

 “...why don’t we talk about something else, something lighter.” He suggested, snapping Frisk out of her reverie.

 “Wait. I have one other question about this humans and monsters subject. One more.”

 “alright...” He responded cautiously, at least willing to hear her out.

 “What makes you different from them?” Noticing signs of perplexity surfacing on his skull, she elaborated, “Why do you feel the way you do about humans, showing them mercy, when the other monsters apparently don’t? Why are you different?”

 Sans appeared to hesitate before replying, but when he did, he wore a grin that was different than the other ones she had seem from him; beaming, almost proud.

 “the reason why i’m like i am is because of my older brother.” His sockets closed, seeming to reminisce. “he was obsessed with humans, despite everything he had always been told about them growing up. the rest of the underground thought that he was an oddball, but he was determined to show everyone down here that humans weren’t as bad as all the stories from the war made them out to be.”

 Frisk smiled at the fondness he clearly showed for his brother, but then a certain detail she discerned in his speech commanded her attention – Sans spoke of him in past tense.

 “...Sans? Did... Did something happen? ...To your brother?”

 His grin then turned into a grimace. “he’s... he’s no longer with us. he passed away. and i’d... really rather not talk about what happened.”

 “That’s okay! You’ve told me enough now; we can talk about something else, if you’d like.”

 “...but what about you, though?” He questioned, his voice sounding strained to her for some reason. “what about your family on the surface?”

 “Oh, them...” Now it was her turn to frown. “I have a mother and a younger sister. I doubt either of them has noticed I’m gone. Or anyone I know, for that matter.”

 “that can’t be true. i refuse to believe that could ever be true. ...what kind of relationship do you have with your sister?”

 “She hates my guts.” Frisk stated none too delicately.

 “...oh.” Sans looked at her with all the consolation that he could summon, as if it was the most tragic thing he had ever heard. “i’m sorry... ...i have a younger sibling myself. another brother. we... we haven’t spoken for some time. ...he did something. something terrible. something so horrible that perhaps it’s even unforgiveable, and i haven’t been able to look at him the same way ever since. ...so i left, and moved here, into our old childhood home. the one place in the underground i know he’ll never think to look for me.”

 “So you sort of understand how it is, to feel this way about a sibling. I don’t hate my sister, but I... I really can’t say I like her either.”

 “i as well wouldn’t say i hate him, for what he did. ...i don’t think i could ever say that i hate my brother, but i’m not sure if i can ever bring myself to forgive him for what he did, much less allow him to reenter my life when i’m reasonably sure he isn’t sorry for what happened between us that caused the rift in the first place.”

 “...And it just got worse after the dispute that caused you to leave. Everyone takes the side of your younger brother over yours.”

 “you know us so well, it’s as if you were actually there to experience everything there is that exists between the two of us.”

 “Like I said, I kind of understand where you’re coming from, maybe.”

 “...but you don’t deserve to know what that’s like.” He cupped her cheek with one of his large palms, staring deeply into her eyes. “you deserve the best life has to offer, frisk. not... whatever it was that you went through on the surface. not whatever it was that caused you to come to this stars forsaken mountain, of all places.”

 “You might be the only one to think so, Sans.”

 “...then i’ll love you enough for all of them.” Sans murmured as he rested one of his large palms over hers, cradling her hand as if it were something irreplaceably precious.

 Another lengthy moment of silence passed between them, far longer but also far more peaceful than the one before. It held the sense of calmness that followed after a harsh and heavy storm, a reminder that the terror had passed and those who weathered through it were permitted to relax and put their qualms at ease.

 Sans wrapped his free arm around Frisk’s shoulders, bringing her closer to him than she had ever been, but still not quite to the extent that she was sitting in his lap. He gently urged her to rest her head against his shoulder, and she did, feeling exhausted from her crying episode earlier. He then rested his own atop hers, his eye sockets closing contentedly with a soft pleased hum.

 Before she slipped into a state of slumber, Frisk thought she heard him repeat in a hushed whisper that he loved her, as if to remind her in case this detail had somehow been forgotten.

 How could she forget? It was the first time someone had said something like that to her with so much emotion and sincerity.

 Sans did love her, she realized, more than anyone in her life ever had. Perhaps that was why she found herself accepting his kisses and tender touches so easily, and even reciprocating them. Now that she had learned what real affection was from him, Frisk was almost constantly starved for it, though she never once voiced this aloud, far to embarrassed and more than enough ashamed for thinking and feeling such things.

 Thankfully, she never had to. Sans was more than enough willing to provide her with the attention she so secretly craved, as long as his shyness didn’t interfere - and even then, that aspect of him was swiftly vanishing.

 ...So why was it that Frisk at times longed for what was found elsewhere, on the surface?

 As lovely as Sans’s house was, after a few weeks had passed of her having regained her ability to walk, the girl was beginning to get a little stir crazy. The need to move her legs and explore what lied beyond was becoming unbearable, and the walls of the tiny cottage were feeling smaller and smaller every day, to the point it was near suffocating.

 She needed fresh air. She needed to breathe.

 “and just where do you think you’re going?”

 Sans had caught her attempting to exit through the door in the hallway; not the one with the descending stairs – he was adamant about not letting her go down there. He insisted it was a basement, but he would have a reaction that was close to a panic attack whenever she would venture too close to it. Perhaps he was afraid she would stumble down them and injure herself further?

 Anyway, it wasn’t quite accurate to say he had caught her – Frisk wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that she was heading outside, but judging from the tone the skeleton used when he noticed her, it was clearly no different than if she had.

 “I was going outside?”

 “absolutely out of the question.” He responded swiftly and sternly.

 “But Sans! I... I’m feeling a bit cramped here!” She spoke over his objections. “I’ve tried walking back and forth from the living room to the end of the hallway to get rid of this feeling, but it’s just not working anymore!”

 “no.” He nearly growled, surprising her slightly, but there was a distinct fear in his eye sockets.

 “...Are you afraid that a monster is gonna see me, realize I’m human, and then attack me or something?” Frisk inquired, the possibility of such a thing occurring having now just dawned upon her.

 “that... that’s not the only thing i’m worried about. most of the monsters that live here would accept and adore you if they got to know you, i’m absolutely sure of this, but... it’s not really them you and i should be so concerned with here – it’s flowey.”

 “...Oh yeah. Him...” She had honestly almost forgotten about him, fortunately.

 “if he found you again, if he decided to come back here despite what happened then... i’m afraid that he might try to, ah..., ‘finish the job’ from last time...”

 “If he wanted to do that, then why hasn’t he tried to after all this time since he almost killed me? Is it because of you?”

 “i think that might be a possible explanation as to why he’s never tried ambushing this place.” He gestured to the space around them, the little cottage that he called home, “even when he’d have to know that i’m sleeping, and as much as he obviously detests me, he’s never tried to sneak inside and attack me during the night. ...i believe it might be because... he’s afraid of me.”

 After hearing the voice Sans spoke to him with and witnessing what he had done to the evil flower, Frisk could understand why he would now.

 “Well, if you’re so afraid that he’d attack me and so sure that he’s scared of you, then why not go with me?”

 “...pardon?”

 “Go. With. Me. On a walk through the Ruins.” She bounced eagerly on her heels, stretching out her hand for him to take. “Everything should be fine then, right? As long as you’re with me.”

 He was so quiet and for so long that she was afraid Sans was attempting to sort out the easiest way to deny her in his head. However, a bright blue blush eventually found its way on and covered his cheeks, and slowly, he took her hand in his.

 “...at the first sign of trouble, we’re coming back. immediately.”

 “Understood.” She happily agreed, then gave their conjoined hands a tug forward. “Come on, old man! Let’s get those feet moving!”

 “i’ve already told you before – i’m not that old.”

 “Then you should start acting your age – prove you’re not by shaking a leg and getting a move on!”

 And so walks around the Ruins became a part of their daily routine. At first Sans was insistent that they remain restricted to his front yard and the area around it, but as their days together outside increased, he gradually became more lenient and they would travel a little further than the previous day. Eventually, the pair reached the beginning of the cavern, where Frisk had fallen down some time ago.

 And there awaiting them was a sharp bone stabbed into the ground, the marrow thickly coated in a light green colored fluid.

 Though the vile flower was nowhere to be found, this spiteful act was enough for both to be made aware that he had indeed survived being stabbed in the stem by Sans. He highly doubted that Flowey would feel up to trying anything gutsy while he was here, but the arm he had wrapped around Frisk to steady her tightened protectively, in preparation should his assumption turn out to be wrong.

 Frisk’s attention eventually strayed from the spear made of bone to the bed of flowers that had broken her fall.

 “Y’know, it’s kind of funny in a really surreal way. I was almost killed by a literally living flower right at this spot, but if it weren’t for those flowers, I might not have even survived the fall down here.”

 An oddly morose look crossed Sans’s face as he stared down at the bed of buttercups, feeling his sockets moisten.

 “oh gaster... even after everything that happened back then, even while in the grave, you’re still doing everything within your power to help humankind... that’s just like something you would do...”

 When his older brother had died, crumbled away to dust right before him, Sans remembered his request, in his final breaths, that he be given a human burial. Humans buried their dead underneath the earth, and while he certainly didn’t understand it or even try to, Sans honored this, as it was the last thing he could do for him. His younger brother had staunchly protested this, demanding that his dust be scattered in front of the barrier, closest to the surface that most monsters longed to one day see and experience, but Sans fulfilled their dear departed brother’s final desire anyway, despite the anger he had outwardly expressed.

 Sans had felt just as furious at the time, but he respected Gaster enough to not argue against his dying wishes.

 And as he carried the sleeping Frisk home due to her having valiantly struggled but failed to remain awake about one third of the way back, Sans was more grateful than ever that he had heeded his older brother’s parting words of wisdom. If he hadn’t, then he was absolutely certain that he never would have met and fallen so deeply and hopelessly in love with the woman he held in his arms.

 The mere thought brought a cold chill of pure terror down his spine, but he managed to will it away by focusing on the weight and warmth present of the adorable human he held so closely to his SOUL in the most literal and figurative definition imaginable.

 She was here. She was safe.

 Here and safe, with him.

 And she always would be, if he had any say in it.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 “i beg your pardon?!”

 Sans had all but yelped that one fateful morning at breakfast, having spat out his tea all over the tablecloth in his shock. Frisk didn’t think that what she had to say would have surprised him as much as it did, but he had immediately proven her wrong.

 “Sans, are you alright?!” She rose up from her chair, scampered over to his side, and began rapidly patting his back even though she wasn’t certain if choking worked the same for skeleton monsters as it did for humans.

 “yes... i’m fine...” His voice still sounded hoarse from all his sputtering. “you just... surprised me. that’s all.”

 It had been well over four months since she had found herself in his care. Her injuries had healed entirely, and as much as she enjoyed Sans’s companionship, Frisk understood that she was overstaying her welcome and it was time for her to leave. He spent basically every single waking moment by her side, only going outside when they took their walks through the Ruins – this was not the sort of life that he should live. She couldn’t keep imposing on him like this, no matter how much he insisted that she wasn’t. He was just too kind for his own good.

 Telling him of her plans to go was more painful for her than he would ever know, if she could help it – she had to be firm with him, make her intentions clear and show no indication of hesitation or doubt, otherwise he might just convince her to stay. She had held off on bringing up this subject for long enough, and Frisk felt this was something that had to be done.

 Sans appeared utterly miserable at the revelation that she was indeed leaving, and this almost made her retract her previous statement. However, he managed to muster a smile for her before she could and asked,

 “but before you go, would you at least have one last cup of tea with me?”

 How could she turn away such an innocent request, especially accompanied with a face like that?

 Sans had asked her to wait in the living room for him; they would also read one more book together – again, she couldn’t find it within her to say no, even though it would undoubtedly make it all the more difficult for her to leave.

 It was halfway through his narration of the adventures starring a fluffy bunny and after she had finished her cup that it happened – Frisk was struck with a sudden and overpowering sensation of drowsiness. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and Sans’s voice was beginning to sound far away even though she was right next to him.

 She reached out to weakly clutch onto his sleeve, and he stopped mid-sentence.

 “frisk?”

 “Sans... I... I can’t...” She mumbled, her words sounding slurred to her own ears.

 “can’t what? what’s wrong?” He questioned, setting the storybook to the side just in time for her to collapse onto his lap. “frisk!”

 “I’m sorry... I can’t anymore... I can’t...” She fought against the darkness of sleep that threatened to overtake her, but it was all in vain, she realized. “I can’t... stay awake... anymore...”

 Then everything. Went. Black.

 When she finally awoke from what had felt like a thousand-year sleep, the first thing that came into Frisk’s steadily returning vision was the familiar walls of the guest room and Sans’s worried face hovering over her, his eyelights having been reduced to tiny trembling pinpricks. The relief that washed over his expression was instantaneous, letting out a sigh of repose as he reached out to tenderly cradle her cheek.

 “pumpkin, how are you feeling? ...speak to me, baby girl.”

 “Sans...” She whimpered, still feeling lightheaded and weak. “...I feel like I’m made of stone and I’m falling. ...It’s horrible. I’m scared.”

 “frisk... i’m sorry... i’m so, so sorry...” Sans looked to be on the verge of tears; she wasn’t sure why he would be saying he was sorry – he had nothing to apologize for, no reason to blame himself. “...that unpleasant sensation of yours might go away in a few minutes. i hope... but frisk...? i think it might be best if you stay with me for a while longer, until you recover from this. maybe a few more days? on the chance that this might happen again?”

 “I... I think you might be right about that.” She groaned, her body feeling heavy as lead. “Because I can’t go anywhere like this. I can barely even move my head from side to side, much less my arms and legs. ...I’m the one that should really be sorry, Sans. You were finally going to be free of me, haha... And now you’re stuck with the burden of taking care of me again.”

 “hush. that’s enough of that.” He placed a bony finger against her lips. “i... i’ve never for a single instance seen you as a burden, frisk. and right now is no different. i’ll watch over and take care of you for as long as need be. because i love you...”

 She certainly believed him; there were no lingering doubts in her heart that he did, but Frisk still felt as though she didn’t deserve his love.

 The next few days passed by in a hazy blur. Frisk had once again regained mobility, late into the day after she had abruptly lost consciousness, but her motions and steps were still unpredictable and wobbly. Sans would take her by the hand and gently lead her wherever it was she needed to go, just like when she was relearning to walk when the bones in her legs had healed. She would outwardly bemoan how helpless she had become, but Sans persisted with his assertions that he didn’t mind offering her his assistance in the slightest.

 Sans rarely ever left her side since she arrived here, but today was one of those extremely rare occasions where he was forced to.

 Her skeletal pal had to run errands and leave her all alone for several hours – the supply of food in the house was running dreadfully low, so much so that the cabinets and fridge were practically empty. This was a task that must be done, Sans bitterly lamented, and he resolved to get it done and over with as quickly as possible so he could return to his dearly beloved human.

 Frisk did enjoy his presence, immensely so, but she also had to admit to herself that it was nice to finally have some alone time. The girl decided to take this opportunity to further explore the house in ways she couldn’t before. Like the basement that he was so determined to keep her out of. Every time she asked about it, he always gave her a different excuse as to why she shouldn’t wander down there when she pressed him enough. It was dirty down there, it was cold, it was dusty, she could get hurt...

 But something was calling her to it.

 She waited at least half an hour after Sans had left to begin her private research – just in case he forgot something and came back. She couldn’t have that. This felt so childish, a part of her argued, and perhaps it was. But as much as she adored him, Frisk was more than a bit put off with the way that he would sometimes treat her like an incompetent clumsy child that needed to constantly be looked after. Sans knew she wasn’t one and he had let her know on more than one occasion that he acknowledged this, but that didn’t stop him from babying her far more than necessary. Sometimes, she genuinely enjoyed it. And other times, it became annoying. And the past few days, it had been annoying.

 This was her tiny little slice of revenge! And Sans would never have to know, because it’s not like she would ever see him again after all this was over anyway...

 Frisk had previously pondered just how she was going to escape the Underground and return to the surface when she finally got around to doing it, and just where the rest of the Underground even was... and now she knew where to begin.

 At the end of the long, empty, hallway that Sans had frequently claimed was a basement, was a massive set of doors.

 There was a chilling air emanating around and from beyond them, so he hadn’t been completely misleading her about that. Everything else, though? Frisk now acknowledged that he had been more or less lying to her - and the worst part about that was, there was absolutely no reason for him to, as far as she understood.

 This discovery shouldn’t have been anything to obsess over, but she couldn’t help but feel a slight sting of betrayal.

 With nothing else to gawk at down here, she spun on her heel and headed back upstairs to continue her investigation.

 The next item on her list was to traverse the other room that was branded taboo for her to enter. Not Sans’s room, no; she was almost always welcome there. The room at the very end of the hallway next to the mirror with the sign hanging on it that said ‘room under renovations’. It was entirely possible and believable that it truly was being reconditioned, but she’s had a hunch ever since she first laid eyes on it that there was something more to what lied beyond that door, something mysterious that the normally kindly skeleton didn’t want her seeing or bearing knowledge of.

 Well, Frisk was never one to follow directions to the exact letter.

 And it wasn’t like the sign placed on the door was telling her not to enter. The very same could be said of her visiting the lower level of the house. Sans had never once directly instructed her not to enter either, so there was no fault to be found in doing so.

 At least, this is what she tried to convince herself of as she twisted the knob, the guilt for merely touching it flooding her system. She could make all the excuses she wanted, bring forth all the technicalities that existed surrounding what she was doing, but deep inside her heart and SOUL, Frisk knew that this was wrong, that she was invading a space that Sans didn’t want her to step foot into.

 ...But that still didn’t stop her from doing it.

 The people that frequented her life in the past had often told Frisk while growing up that her curiosity would one day bring about her undoing. Perhaps they were right about that – she wouldn’t have gotten herself into this entire situation in the first place were it not for her inquisitive nature. Curiosity may indeed kill the cat, but the latter half of the saying was so often forgotten or dismissed.

 And right at this moment in time, Frisk was once again treading into dangerous territory in her never-ending quest for satisfaction.

 The door let out a slow creak that echoed horribly throughout the hallway, causing her to jolt and search for any sign of her caretaker while simultaneously struggling to formulate a believable justification for what she was doing before regaining her bearings and reminding herself that Sans was nowhere inside the house.

 Tentatively, she tiptoed into the dark room.

 The light that was cast from the hallway provided some much-needed illumination; she could see a wooden trunk of some sort next to a small child-sized bed, no two. One was decorated in blue sheets, and the other orange. Stepping closer, Frisk spotted something carved into the headboards of each. She inspected the blue one first – ‘Sans’ was chiseled in pretty cursive writing, accompanied by little artistic whittlings of bones.

 This must have been his old bed from when he was a babybones, she thought with delight – after constantly being dwarfed the big guy for so long, it was almost impossible for her to imagine that he had ever been that small!

 The second bed must have been his brother’s, then. Where his name had been on the first, the name ‘Papyrus’ was scrawled.

 She wondered what had caused the two brothers to separate. She hadn’t asked Sans about it, hadn’t even mentioned his brother again after that one time, since the subject seemed to deeply depress him.

 She doubted that this tiny bedroom would provide her with any answers, but Frisk wanted to look over everything that was present regardless.

 The girl then turned her attention towards the chest that was situated between the two beds; there was a lock on it, she noticed despairingly. Was the key somewhere in this room? Or was it hidden in Sans’s? Or perhaps elsewhere in the house? After a swift but thorough search, she decided that it couldn’t be anywhere here.

 It was time to search Sans’s room.

 Meticulously, she poked through his belongings, making certain that everything was in its exact place prior to her tampering with it before moving onto another area. She peeked under the king-sized bed, in the compartments of his desk, even his sock drawer (scandalous!), and caught not a single glimpse of the key she was seeking. Just as she was considering giving up on her curious quest, sitting on the bed with an irritated huff and a pout, a sudden thought, or rather a heightened sense of intuition came to her. And with it followed a burst of determination to finish what she had began.

 She then stood up and immediately thrust her hand beneath the mattress, groping the space between the fabric case and the rest of the bed until her fingers touched something cool and metallic. Frisk clasped her fingers around it and withdrew her arm from the cushiony confine and found that the object was indeed a key. Perhaps not the one she was looking for, but a key nonetheless.

 She sprinted back to the chest and jammed the key into the lock; it fit perfectly, and when she twisted it, the latch came undone with a satisfying click. Setting both to the side, Frisk then lifted the lid to the trunk.

 Inside it was... clothes. A lot of clothes. Specifically children’s clothes. Nothing too surprising, seeing as she was currently standing in what for all intents and purposes appeared to be the brothers’ childhood bedroom, but something felt... strangely off to her about them.

 She pushed the garments out of the way, rummaging through the contents of the trunk for anything else of interest; she uncovered one other thing – a book.

 Opening the cover revealed it to be a photo album. Frisk flipped through the pages, barely stifling the squeal that threatened to escape at the adorable sight of Sans as a small chubby child – she would swear her heart skipped a beat. The photographs in front of her were so precious that they almost hurt her heart!

 Taking the album, Frisk sat down on the floor to get more comfortable as she witnessed more scenes from his life. One that particularly stood out was little Sans grinning as he was being held by a much taller and older skeleton with one arm, while another one with small beady eyes was slung over his other shoulder, giggling. Underneath the photo was written in that same exquisite cursive writing, ‘I take a day off to spend with Sans and Papyrus! It’s obvious they’ve missed me a lot, even though I’ve been right there with them this entire time...’.

 Frisk felt her heart throb a bit again, this time out of sadness – this family was so happy in the past. She may not know their entire story, but whatever happened to them wasn’t fair at all.

 More and more photos of the two young brothers and this other skeleton appeared. In many of them, the adult brother was wearing a robe and crown, with the boys wearing similar regal finery. It was only when she saw a picture of the three, all sitting on extravagant thrones in the backdrop of what most definitely seemed to be a castle that the ball dropped.

 If this man was indeed the kind of monsters... then that made Sans a prince.

 At once, a pathway to a possible answer, though still foggy in places, had been revealed to her; a reasoning as to why Sans had chosen to live here after he fought with his younger brother. Sans had previously mentioned that his older brother adored humans. After he passed away, the two must have had a disagreement involving this. Sans clearly loved them as well, and though he should have been next in line for the throne, it was entirely plausible that monsterkind rejected his rule because of this.

 However, what she next discovered on the following pages caused her blood to run cold.

 There were photos of Sans, now an adult, posed alongside children. Human children. She counted six different ones, three boys and three girls, with none ever appearing in the same picture together. But perhaps the most startling thing of all that she became aware of was that the clothes they wore were identical to the ones stowed away in the trunk where she had found the album.

 ...What happened to all these children?

 They escaped the Underground, Frisk attempted to convince herself so she wouldn’t lose her mind. But a terrible ache in the pit of her stomach argued otherwise. If they had successfully returned to the surface, then why would their belongings be here? Something had happened to them, that much her heightened intuition was certain of.

 ...But surely Sans didn’t have anything to do with it.

 ......Did he?

 She didn’t have to ponder over this for long, because the sudden creaking of the door behind her alerted Frisk to the presence of another. There he was, the very monster she had just begun to doubt, standing there at the doorframe, having caught her rummaging through his personal belongings in a room that he had all but explicitly stated through thinly veiled hints that he wanted her to stay out of and away from.

 His expression was unreadable to her. He gazed at her with wide, empty sockets, his usual grin entirely absent on his face – his mouth was set in a firm line that conveyed no emotion whatsoever. Sans didn’t say a word, didn’t move a single bone that composed his skeletal body. He just stared at her with those giant vacant black holes in the front of his skull.

 And Frisk then knew that what she had done, had utterly broken him.

 “Sans... I...” She spoke, her voice near unintelligibly faint, but after a few more seconds of silence, Frisk gave up on any attempt to explain herself – there was nothing to say, nothing she could say to make this situation she had created any better.

 He took one step towards her and she flinched. At this, the round white lights in his sockets returned, their appearance comparable to twin full moons in a starless night sky. They were large and gave off the impression of being unbearably sad, and the thin line of his mouth had morphed into a deep frown that dragged down the corners of his mouth further than she’d ever seen them before.

 “...it’s not what you think.” He whispered, his voice sounding unnatural and croaky, as if holding back a sob. “i swear, it’s not. i didn’t do anything to them, frisk.”

 She clutched the photo album closer, wrapping her arms around its cover and pressing it against her chest as if it were a lifeline. She didn’t move, aside from her trembling. She was firmly locked into place while being subjected to his probing gaze.

 “...What happened to them then, Sans?” She fearfully questioned, her inquiry leaving her lips as nothing more than a murmur. “Who are these children?”

 “...they were mine.” He said at last, taking a shuddering breath. “they were like you – they fell down here and i took care of them. they stayed a while, and then they left me. ...and then i never saw any of them again.”

 “...Where are they now?” She asked, as if she didn’t already know.

 He mumbled something unintelligible.

 “I can’t hear you, Sans. You’re... you’re going to have to speak up if you want me to understand what it is that you’re saying...”

 His shoulders were shaking, violently so. His tightly closed fists were clenching the fabric of his robe so roughly that it threatened to tear.

 “Sans...?”

 “for the love of god, frisk! don’t make me say it!”

 His sudden shout caused her to cry out in alarm, letting out a short shriek of fright as she looked into those usually gentle, sleepy, and loving sockets that now displayed nothing but indescribable anguish, boundless sorrow, and unbridled fury.

 Frisk didn’t push him further for an answer, but he gave her one regardless.

 “you want to know where they are now, what happened to them?!” He hissed, his expression contorting to a hateful grimace as he thundered towards her. “they’re dead, frisk. they died... and he was the one that killed them!”

 “Who?!” She inadvertently yelped, shambling backwards to put some distance between them until her back inevitably hit the wall.

 “the king of monsters! the ruler of the underground! papyrus! my brother!” He howled in agony, his head tipping backwards with his scream while hot tears poured endlessly down his cheeks. “he killed every single one of them! one after the other! he made it law for any human discovered in the underground to be executed! and he didn’t show any of them the slightest shred of mercy, even though they were just children and he knew they were mine!”

 At the end of his outburst, Sans then collapsed onto his knees, pounding the wooden flooring underneath him with his fists as though doing this would lessen the pain he felt inside by even the smallest of amounts.

 He wouldn’t look at her, his head hung low as he glared at the floor with as much hatred as he could muster.

 “before our older brother passed, all he asked of us in his final moments was to love them, the humans. to grant them mercy despite everything... despite what the humans had done to him...” He said with a wet sob. “papyrus was angry... and i was too. but i respected him enough to obey his last request. it’s what he would have wanted. not... not this! he never would have wanted humans to die and another war to be declared in his name! i knew that, so i don’t know why papyrus would think that senseless violence and bloodshed was what he would have wanted as a direct result of his own death, when what he requested was the exact opposite!”

 Somewhere during Sans’s speech, Frisk had begun wailing herself, filled with remorse and regret.

 She had wanted answers... but not like this.

 She hadn’t expected her baneful curiosity would eventually lead to him becoming so upset that he would be reduced to a bawling puddle of bones before her very eyes.

 “I’m sorry...! I’m so, so sorry, Sans!” She sniveled, shamefully burying her face into her hands.

 She would have fully understood if he slapped her for betraying his trust the instant his back had been turned and causing him to relive such unpleasant, traumatic memories. What she didn’t understand was him weakly crawling towards her before gathering her trembling form in his arms, holding her close to him as if she were the most important thing in the world.

 “...you know what this means, don’t you, frisk?” He mumbled throatily as he nuzzled the top of her head with his nasal ridge. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “you can’t ever leave this place, frisk. you can’t ever leave me... because the moment you do, the moment the other monsters find you, they’ll kill you.”

 “...I can’t ever go to the surface again?”

 “no, pumpkin. i’m sorry...”

 “But...” Any protests that she may have had instantly died on her lips.

 “i know this is a lot to take in, pumpkin. i said so before, that i really do believe if the rest of the monsters got to know you, if they would only give you the chance, they would grow to love you. ...but i thought the exact same of them, the children...”

 “You... You told me that it would be three and a half months...” She recalled aloud, eyes wide. “You said it would be three months and a half months until I could move. Until I could leave-”

 “i never said then that you could leave!” He cut her off, his expression and tone severe. “i said that’s how long it would take for you to make a complete recovery. ...i never once mentioned the possibility of you leaving the ruins.”

 “But you led me to believe that I could.” She argued, a hint of accusation in her own tone. “...Just when were you planning on telling me the truth? About all of this?”

 “i... i was going to, believe me, i was!” His front teeth bit down on the bottom of his mouth, a trait of his that manifested when under extreme stress. “it’s just... it seemed as if you enjoyed being with me. i thought... why bring up such a grim topic when you appeared perfectly happy?”

 “I was happy... Being with you, Sans... every day felt like something to look forward to. You’ve given me perhaps some of the happiest moments of my life so far.”

 “so naturally, you would want to leave me.” He bitterly spat, aiming a spurned pointed glare at her as he sarcastically added, “oh, i understand. i understand perfectly why you would want to leave now, frisk.”

 “Sans-”

 He abruptly grabbed her face, cradling her cheeks with his big skeletal hands, forcing her to look at him.

 “would staying here really be as horrible as you obviously think it will be? because... because your only other option here... is death! would you really rather die a senseless death than stay here with me? is that the point that you’re trying to get across?!”

 “Sans, you know that’s not-”

 “then what?! what have i done wrong?!”

 He was getting hysterical again, Frisk realized. She needed to say or do something that would settle him down.

 “Sans, you’ve done nothing wrong.” She calmly lied, patting his still quaking shoulders consolingly. “This is... This is just a lot to take in at once, like you said. I think I might just need some time for it all to sink in. Can you give me that? Some time?”

 “......ok.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “if time is all you need, i can give you that. i’ll... i’ll give you anything you want, frisk. anything within my power and the bounds of reason. just... please don’t leave me!”

 She didn’t say anything else; she just continued to soothingly stroke his bones until he regained his composure. By the time he did, it was late. And after all of that crying, both agreed that it was almost time for bed. Sans had cooked dinner for them, but Frisk told him that she had lost her appetite. He believed her excuse, but then told her that she was eating double portions at the breakfast table to make up for the lost meal.

 For a long while after having headed back to the guest room, Frisk just laid back on the bed, arms held behind her head, staring up at the ceiling.

 Waiting.

 After no less than two hours had passed, this was when she decided to make her move. She climbed off the bed and took one last look at her surroundings that had become so familiar to her these past few months... then carefully crept down the hallway.

 When she reached Sans’s room, she pressed her ear against the door and stilled her breath, listening. He didn’t snore when he slept, she had learned that some time ago, but he did audibly mumble. About what, she wasn’t entirely sure. Sometimes his murmuring made some amount of sense and on other occasions it was utter nonsense, but the meaning of his unconscious soliloquies wasn’t what she needed to dwell on.

 No, what she couldn’t forget, the single thought that wouldn’t leave her mind and likely wouldn’t for some time was – Sans had drugged her.

 It was the tea that he had fed her immediately after she had mentioned leaving several days ago, this she was sure of. She had become weak and lost consciousness shortly after swallowing it. It had seemed like a mere coincidence then, but now, after having witnessed firsthand his desperation to keep her here...

 He may have had the best of intentions in doing so, but she couldn’t be around someone that would drug her, no matter how remorseful he was about it.

 Now certain that he was deep in sleep, Frisk then made her way towards the descending staircase. Her heart hammered inside her chest with every step she took, but she had managed to make it down into the hallway underneath the house without making any noise.

 As she rounded the corner, Frisk let out a long, soft sigh she hadn’t been aware she was holding. It was only a matter of time before she left this place behind, forever, and then it would be a fight for her own survival.

 But despite how terrifying Sans had made it sound...

 Frisk felt determined. Determined that she could survive the trials that awaited her in the Underground and reach the surface.

 But this sudden spark of determination was immediately snuffed out when she saw who was waiting for her at the end of the hallway.

 “this is the second time today that you’ve broken my trust, pumpkin.” Sans’s voice was unsettlingly calm considering the situation. “we’ve still got some time left until midnight – want to try and make it a third?”

 ...Where had he come from? How could he have made it to the doors before her when he would have had to of passed her in order to do so?

 “...I thought you were asleep.”

 “i could say the same for you.”

 “How did you know? Were you awake the whole time and heard me in the hallway upstairs? Did you know the exact moment when I got out of bed?”

 “no, i was definitely asleep. i didn’t hear a thing. but i felt it. i could feel you getting further and further away from me...” Sans’s left hand rose up to clutch at the fabric of his robe directly atop where his heart would be, if he had one. “...you’re really doing a number on my SOUL tonight, you know that, right?”

 “Sans, let me go.”

 “no! i’ll never let you go! i can’t! what part of certain death lying beyond this door are you not comprehending?!”

 “I think I can make it to the surface, Sans.” She tried to remain firm with her resolution, standing her ground against him. “Those other humans did die before me, but they were children-”

 “yes! you’re absolutely correct! they most certainly were children!” Came his dry, barking laughter. “and if monsterkind wouldn’t show mercy towards an innocent child, what makes you believe they would towards a stubborn adult woman?”

 “I... I don’t know! I just think I can-”

 “they all said the exact same thing! they all believed they were unstoppable...” He scowled at her, one of his pupils disappearing and the other turning a brightly glowing blue. “and i was convinced that this was true. all of their deaths were the result of my negligence. their demises are entirely my mistakes. ...but i won’t be making that same mistake again.”

 Sans then raised his hand and a red heart, cartoonish in shape, burst from her chest. Its color then changed to a deep blue, and an unanticipated weight fell over her, not unlike the one that came when she consumed his drugged tea. She found it incredibly difficult to move, but not impossible.

 Frisk took a few staggering steps towards him, towards the door. However, the girl was stopped in her tracks when she was magically lifted up into the air. She struggled to shake off the invisible grip his mysterious power had over her, but it was no use.

 “Sans, put me down!” She hissed, narrowing her eyes at him in warning, but he wasn’t even looking at her.

 He was looking down the hallway, where both of them had come from. He then began walking in that direction, with her still dangling in midair.

 “Are you... Are you seriously going to leave me here like this?!” She yelped.

 “of course not. it’s cold here.” He huffed, motioning her body forward with her having no choice but to obey his command.

 “What... What are you going to do to me, then?” She fearfully inquired, causing his hardened gaze to soften just slightly.

 “the first thing i’m going to do is put you to bed for the night. ...i’m not going to hurt you, pumpkin, if that’s what you’re thinking. never.” He assured her in his usual low and gentle tone. “...but if you insist on acting like a child, then i’m going to treat you like one until you can behave like the grown woman you actually are.”

  As she was being dragged away, Frisk took one last look at the door that separated the Ruins from the rest of the Underground, knowing that she wouldn’t be seeing it again for a long, long time, if ever.

[knking]

Memory 16 : The King’s Secret

Part 3/6

Written by TK, Illustrated by me

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

The injury was nothing noteworthy, really. Even a smidgeon of the flower’s potential was sufficient for a speedy and painless recovery, but that was besides the point. He couldn’t reveal his secret to Toriel, and discussing the matters at hand within the castle seemed too risky. The one place where they wouldn’t be looking for them would be their hideout around the garbage. After all, what kind of King would hang around junk with two weirdo bears?

“... So that’s it then. I will be King now, he’s no fucking use!” Ömen blurted, pacing around angrily around Asgore. “What kind of chance does he have if he can’t even pinch his attacker?”

“It’s not like that! I can still be King! I-I can defend myself!” Asgore paced around Ömen as well.

“Oh yeah, How? Are you gonna ask them politely to stop, and start giving out hugs?”

The only one not pacing around at that moment was Shaa, who seemed content to lay on a dirty mattress between the two restless monsters, indifferent to their bickering, but attentive nonetheless. It was his old mattress. It was in pretty bad shape, but it’d served him well for quite some time in the past. It was also the one thing in that room that didn’t stink of Ömen.

“Alright, look. If I’m King, I’ll still let you call the shots alright? You and Toriel can keep your room, and do all that other cute shit you guys do yeah? So? What do you say?”

“I can’t! They’d come after you instead of me! They’d lose trust in all of us! They’d… They’d wonder what happened for such a weird decision to take place! Rumors… They… They’ll spread rumors and they’ll all know! They-”

“What does it matter? I’ll kick all their asses!”

“You could get hurt, brother!” Asgore begged.

“NO! YOU could get hurt! I dedicated my whole life from the moment you freed us to make damn sure NOTHING would ever happen to you! Up there, down here, everywhere! I made a promise, that I intend to fucking keep!” Ömen had ceased pacing and now stood face-to-face inches away from the horned monster, as they both so affectionately traded spittle... and glares.

“I am not a child, I can take care of myself! I’m not King for no reason, I nearly killed you back at the Savannah!”

“And look at you now! You couldn’t even hurt a fly if you wanted to!”

“Why did you do it?” once more, the calm mediator stepped in to make sure things did not heat up too dramatically. Shaa stood up on his filthy, ragged mattress he called “his bed”. They both turned their heads towards him, but his gaze was elsewhere. Sometimes it was hard to tell what went on inside the polar bear’s own head, when his gaze was simply a deep homogenous blue.

“Can you stop doing that?” Ömen scoffed at his other half

“Only after you stop yelling.” Shaa bit back.

Ömen flared his noses in a disgruntled snort.

“...Ugh. Fine, whatever.” the greater half scoffed once more, arms crossed and facing away from his two siblings.

“Well then, why did you do it Asgore?”

“I… I don’t think I... “ he struggled to garner the strength to find the words appropriate to his feelings. Ironically, he found he was still capable of fighting himself. Not physically, but with his own thoughts, his own feelings. Incapable of scarring the flesh of others, he now turned to scarring his own mind. Mental scars can’t be healed by a fleur saignante.

“Well?” Shaa probed.

“I was so… Afraid. Afraid of hurting you guys again… Of hurting Toriel, or Sofia… Honoré. That night at the lions’ home, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for it. I’d lost control but… I could still see and hear. I saw what I did to you, to Toriel…” He’d now sat down in front of his thin white familiar. Arms resting at the knees and gazing down. Despite his best efforts and flowing golden mane, he did still resemble a child, even if unintentionally. In the end, he’d never truly experienced the golden years of his youth - that sacred bliss of innocence - having spent most of it on the run or in pain. Now that the cards had adjusted themselves into a neat house, that spark of naiveté flared within him, becoming a kindle.

“...that’s how I remembered your tattoos, your power, Shaa. For so long I’d wished for peace, I’d dreamed of home. I saw my true power that night with the lions, but it was pure violence... I wondered if I could only use that power to make dreams come true… So I focused on my dream of… Harmony. I pictured before me what those buttons you talked about would’ve looked like and… They just appeared… So I destroyed it, I destroyed my fight… Button.”

Both the bears simply listened unquestioning to his confession, his supplication for understanding, however, both still had difficulty in abstracting from what Asgore’d said. Perhaps it made sense that when describing the destruction of something as otherworldly and intangible as “your fight button”, the only person in the room to fully grasp it is the speaker. Ömen rose an eyebrow in incredulity, whilst Shaa merely pondered the consequential intricacies of such an act by his brother. It did not take long for him to reach his verdict.

“Perhaps, it IS best if Ömen becomes King.” He pronounced.

“Finally someone listens!” he laughed in satisfaction, slapping his stomach. “Alright, let’s go tell the others.”

“Wait! No, this can’t be the only way!” he promptly jumped back on his feet, placing himself between Ömen and the exit of their hideout. “Listen to me, I can do it, just listen!”

The grizzly had enough, his patience had been tried sufficiently. First, it was the walks, then it was the taunting, then the “button” thing. Now he still needs to listen to this? No, he’d had enough of it. He grabbed Asgore by his shoulders, and pressed his muzzle against his, a streak of seriousness finally washing over him

“No. Leave this to me. I must protect you.” he growled.

“What about our fight just ten minutes ago? What if I… Just dodged all the attackers, what if I-” he could not get his point across without being cut off by his large teddy of a brother.

“Do you think dodging will solve all your problems? DO YOU THINK I DIDN’T TRY THAT ALREADY?! IN THE ARENA?! IF I HAD STUCK TO THAT, SHAA WOULD BE DEAD AND SO WOULD YOU!!! I MUST PROTECT YOU, I MUST PROTECT YOU SHA-” his berating quickly turned into an incoherent rambling, so, the serene voice intruded again.

“That’s enough Ömen. It’s not your fault.”

The grip around Asgore was now a grapple more like, and small beads of tears had started to appear on the bear’s eyes before he finally let go and stumbled back, before sitting down on the mattress besides his brother. Shaa continued

“But the point still stands, I do not see how you would be able to defend yourself or those around you with your ability to fight removed entirely from your essence.”  

“That’s what I was trying to tell Ömen - what if I don’t need to fight to defeat my opponents? What if I became so quick and dexterous they could not even place a finger on me? You saw my fight with Ömen! He was nearly out of breath by the time he smashed his face on your forcefield!” Asgore replied.

“You can’t.” the grizzly calmly stated, submerged in his process of calming down. “You don’t have the reflexes and swiftness to achieve that kind of perfection. That’s the stuff of machines, and you’re simply a monster.”

“I’m not giving up that easily!” Asgore stomped. Fists clenched. Though now clenching fists meant very little since, well, you’ve read far enough into the story to get it.

“What if you trained him to be a machine, brother?” Shaa proposed to his greater half.

“What ?”

“He’s no machine, but you are the Royal Engineer. If there is someone with mastery and knowledge of mechanics it’s you. What if instead of crafting a machine with nuts and bolts, you crafted a machine out of soul and flesh… That is, what if you could turn Asgore in an evasion machine. You’re also an expert brawler, those two skills could complement one another and help him.” Shaa explained.

“Well… I won’t say it is impossible because… I mean Asgore achieved the “impossible” already with his button shit, so… It’s not impossible, but it won’t be fucking easy.” 

“I don’t need it to be easy.” Asgore defied him “I can do it.”

The air of the hideout grew still, the polar bear sensed that fiery glow of the boss monster’s soul in the pitch black of the surrounding ether. The grizzly could see the shimmer of the amber and azure in his brother’s eyes. Asgore might have been foolish, naive and somewhat ill-directed at times, but if there was one quality he undoubtedly possessed, it was determination.

“Then let’s go.” Ömen stood up.

PARTS : [1] - [2] - [3] - [4] - [5] - [6]

[INDEX]

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Appealing To Better Judgment (SpicyHoneyMustard, lemon)

Summary: In the aftermath of the attack, Rus has some time to himself.

Tags: SpicyHoneyMustard, Fontcest, Fellcest, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Established Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LEMONY GOODNESS!!

Sequel to:

Showtime

Secret Garden

A Judicious Amount of Effort

Musically Inclined

Lest You Be Judged

Solo Act

~~*~~

Read ‘Appealing To Better Judgment’ on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

It could more properly be called brunch than breakfast, Edge supposed, when the meal was riding on the border of noon, even if he’d started cooking closer to dawn.

That was when he’d left Rus and Red alone in their wide bed, too agitated to sleep any longer and not needing as much rest as they did besides. Edge dressed in silence, coming out to the kitchen. He put on his apron without even a recipe in mind and simply started cooking, infusing each dish with as much healing magic as it could take.

None of them had eaten since yesterday morning and Edge suspected when Rus woke, he’d need food and healing both, as much as Edge could coax into him.

Edge made plenty, choosing both sweet and savory. Red would eat anything that was put in front of him and Edge wasn’t sure what Rus might want so it was best to be prepared. Batter for waffles was chilling in the refrigerator and a hearty soup made with homemade noodles simmered on the back of the stove. Hot rice was waiting in the cooker, needing only a raw egg vigorously stirred into it until the grains were glossy and a splash of soy sauce.

To finish was a plate of small fluffy cakes ready to be drizzled with honey, each topping with a variety of fresh fruit. All of it delectable, an attempt to temper nutrition with treats that might entice Rus when his appetite might be lagging. He needed to eat but his desire for food sometimes ebbed after a long possession, leaving him picking listlessly at his plate.

That was something Edge was trying to avoid today by offering plenty of options. What Rus needed was plenty of food, rich with healing magic and not only Rus. Red would be worn out yet from the expending so much magic yesterday in the attack and then spending the night dealing with Rus’s helpless demands. Edge already ate, shoring up his own reserves for anything that might be required of him; food, protection, comfort, even more sex.

He couldn’t keep the world outside away forever, but he could give them this.

There was no way to tell how Rus would be when he woke. Edge didn’t have a measure for anything like the last day. In his experience, the Judge only manifested fully for a Judgement. Truthfully, Edge did not know what standards needed met to call for a one, but couldn’t be as simple as trying to murder the vessel or else other Judges would have done the same during past assassination attempts. Not every crime called for a Judgement and even with all Edge’s training and time as Chosen, he’d never heard of a Judgement happening outside the hall, whether it was in New Home or the modified corner office in the Embassy

He’d certainly never heard of the Judge fucking their Chosen. None of his teachings indicated that would even be a possibility and the memory of being pressed against the elevator wall, of the Judge staring at him, through him, their gaze plunging into the depths of his soul, the surge of power as he was taken—

Edge shook the memory away, focusing on giving the simmering soup a stir. It was over and right now Rus needed him just as much as he had the night before, if for very different reasons. Now was the time for Rus to recover and regain his physical strength before the Judge needed to manifest again. Edge was far less worried about being fucked against a wall than he was at Rus’s appearance early this morning. Even asleep he’d seemed fragile, his pale bones chalky rather than luminescent in the darkness of their room and his physical energy drained even as his magic levels slowly rose yet again.

An unexpected knock at their door made Edge’s own magic flare unconsciously. Yesterday’s attack left his instincts raw and ready, but there were passing few Monsters who had the clearance to even exit the elevator at their floor, much less make it through all the security Checkpoints

A glance at the cameras showed the Queen waiting, her own guards standing a fair distance back. Unacceptable; he should have had warning that they were approaching long before they ever made it to the door. That was a discussion to have with Red when he awoke.

That did not change the fact that she was here and there were very few reasons she might come directly to their door. Almost, Edge wanted to scream at the unfairness of it, to stamp his foot like a child and refuse to open to her. Rus wasn’t ready, he was exhausted, he needed his rest and another manifestation right now might—

But Rus knew what was expected of him; he’d made his vows and so had Edge. He wouldn’t thank Edge for keeping Toriel away, would likely be furious with him for overstepping. Rus could not be held back when he didn’t wish it and neither could the Judge.

It was a poor satire, Edge supposed, that after spending most of his life eager to join the guard, to protect the Judge and King, that he would be here now, wishing in the privacy of his own thoughts for a chance to steal Rus away, to keep him from anyone but Red and himself. Ridiculous, unworthy thoughts for any guard, much less a Chosen. Even if there were a way for him to secret Rus out of the building, his love would never agree to go with him and neither would Red. His brother would likely be deeply disgusted at the very idea of it.

Edge couldn’t steal Rus away, couldn’t selfishly keep Rus for him and Red alone. He couldn’t.

All he could do was open the door.

Edge bowed to the Queen even as he kept a wary eye on her entourage. “Can I help you, your Highness?”

Her smile was gentle, wry, and Toriel could not read a Monster’s soul, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t tell what was on one’s mind. “Good morning. I’m not here about a Judgement, I only wanted to speak with you about yesterday, Edge.”

Edge did not allow even a flicker of his relief to show on his face. “Come in, your Highness.”

Her team made no attempt to follow as she stepped over the threshold and the moment the door was closed, she asked without preamble, “How is Rus?”

“He’s sleeping right now,” Edge said. He headed back to the kitchen to make sure nothing would burn without his attention, gesturing the Queen to their sitting area. “I can’t begin to conjecture about his state of mind, but his body is exhausted.”

Toriel nodded. “I won’t ask you to wake him,” she sighed heavily and sat. The sofas were large enough even for her bulk and Edge deliberately did not think of having Rus lovely and naked in his lap not two days ago in the very spot she chose. “I’m quite sure he needs all the rest he can get.”

“I would agree.” Edge reached for the kettle. “Would you like some tea, your Highness?"

"Do you have anything stronger?"

It was unexpected and Edge only hesitated briefly, "We do." His brother kept a small stash of liquor for the rare indulgence. Rus never drank, saying that his head whirled enough. He did occasionally steal a sip from Red’s glass, saying he missed it sometimes, his days of overindulgence from Before.

Edge dug the bottle out from one of the cabinets, bringing it and a pair of glasses to the coffee table. Toriel took the bottle, pouring out a splash of the dark brown liquid into both without so much as examining the label. She tossed it back, grimacing, then poured herself another. “Two of the guard are dead,” she said. “The healers are still working on another. He may yet survive, if the Angel wills it.” She looked up from her glass. “Will you tell him?

“If he asks.” And if he didn’t, Edge would hold that information until he dusted.

She nodded wearily. “They’re getting bolder.”

“Yes.” This was the third attack in as many months and the closest yet to Rus. The guard was spread thin and their ranks might well be compromised. It was incredibly frustrating and even more humiliating to come to the surface world and discover that the danger was not from the Humans but from their own kind.

Curious that while not all of the dissidents from the previous attacks died in the attempt, none of them had been Judged. The Queen could call for a Judgement on anyone, it was her right, and Edge wondered briefly why she hadn’t. She’d not asked for the Judge for those who initiated the last attack and instead called for their execution immediately after what Edge could only assume was a very thorough interrogation. Edge also hadn’t been called for, but his brother had, and the night after his return, Red spent an inordinate amount of time between Rus’s thighs, riding him until he was hoarse from pleading and Red’s shoulder blades were a mess of fine scratches from Rus scrabbling to hold on.

Toriel took another swallow from her glass, staring into the depths as she said, softly, “I must confess, I would have given almost anything for Rus to not have been Chosen as Judge. To be honest, I would never have expected it to be him, not after his brother.” She swirled the remaining liquor in her glass. “It’s so uncommon for more than one member of a family to be Chosen, but here was Rus and then you and your brother came right after.” She looked up, meeting Edge’s gaze pensively. “There was always a preference for skeletons in both Judges and Guards. Your kind is strong and there are so few of you now. Perhaps with your numbers so low, there were few options.”

Her regard made Edge shift uncomfortably. He had no desire for the Queen’s confidence outside of how it affected Rus. Skeleton Monsters were few, it was true, and fewer still who could be in the guard. “Speaking of skeletons, how is Blue?”

If Toriel had an issue with the subject change, she didn’t show it. “He’s doing well,” Toriel said, “all things considered. He has a house of his own now in the Refuge with the others who don’t want to live in Ebott proper. Since he’s left the guard, he’s taken up gardening. His flowers are quite lovely.”

"Rus misses him." Edge only knew Blue only by reputation, a former guard and Chosen. He’d survived the coup, but not unscathed. Edge saw him once in the direct aftermath of it all, when he came into the throne room with his unit to cough on the dust still heavy in the air. Blue was one of the few still alive, or at least what was left of him.

Rus spoke of him, not often, but when he did it was always with a certain desperate longing that Edge understood all too well. When Red joined the guard, he’d been alone for close to two years before being able to join himself and then in only a few short months, he’d been Chosen alongside him. He and his brother would never be apart in life again. Unlike Rus and Blue.

“I know,” Toriel said. Her gaze was very nearly admonishing, whether it was for that comment or simply asking about Blue at all. “But a former Chosen can’t be reunited with the current Judge, you know that.”

“I do,” Edge said stiffly, resisting the urge to snarl that he hardly needed a lecture on etiquette from her. He abided by the laws of the Chosen daily, from the moment he woke until the time he drew Rus back into their shared bed at night, no matter how he felt about them.

She went on, obliviously, “Rus should take comfort in the fact Blue survived at all. None of the others did, including the Judge themselves.”

That felt entirely too much like a scolding, making Edge bristle. Rus did take comfort in it, but he should be allowed to miss his fucking brother. He’d lost him once to the guard and then again when he himself was chosen as Judge. In two years, the only and last time Rus saw his brother was in the hospital before he regained consciousness. By the next day, the last host succumbed to their injuries and Rus woke in the morning an entirely different person than the one who’d lain down for what he thought was only a night’s sleep.

Something of his irritation must have shown on his face. Toriel’s expression softened, “I’m sorry if that seems cold, my memory of the event is not a pleasant one, particularly with the ripples of the repercussions are still effecting us.”

That was undeniably true. Some still blame the Judge for betraying Asgore, dissidents who thought that war with the Humans was the only path and that Toriel was a traitor to the crown.

They were fools, all of them. They were the true traitors, not to the crown, but to the Angel herself. The true loyalty of the Judge was to the Angel and the Maker, not any ruler, and if They chose Toriel as their leader, then she was the rightful heir to the throne. Those Monsters, those so-called Acolytes of Asgore were the ones who strayed from the path and Edge would see them all as dust before they could lay a finger on the hem of Rus’s robes.

That was a promise he made to the Angel and to himself, sworn on his own soul.

Toriel heaved herself to her feet, setting her empty glass next to the bottle. “I doubt the warning is necessary, but you and your brother should have a care the next few weeks. Things will get worse before they’re better, I think. I can feel it in my soul.”

“Of course, your Highness,” Edge said crisply. He started for the door even before she did, more than ready for her to leave their home. Their sanctuary, such as it was.

There was a certain sadness to her smile, but she obeyed his unspoken demand and followed him to the door. “Let him know I stopped by?” she asked, quietly. “I miss my friend.”

“I will,” Edge agreed, and he would. But perhaps tomorrow, once Rus was more himself and no other.

He secured the door behind her, watching on the security feed until she and her entourage made their way back to the elevators. Then he walked back up the table to pick up the other glass and swallowed it down. The burn of expensive whiskey was no different to him than cheap moonshine, both were equally foul, but he needed something to steady his agitated nerves.

“is she gone?”

Edge turned around to find Rus peeked out from around the corner to the hallway that led to their bedroom, all wide eye lights and worry. The sight of him, healthy and alive, was more settling then any liquor could possibly be.

“Yes,” Edge said gently, “It’s safe.” He held out a hand to his love, even as he scolded lightly, “You should still be sleeping.”

Rus slipped around the corner and Edge sighed in fond irritation to see he was in his bare feet on the cold floor. His feet weren’t the only part of him bare, he was only wearing one of Edge’s button-ups, shamelessly hanging open overtop his bones and managing to be simultaneously too big for his shoulders and too small for his height. The hem skirted around his pelvis tantalizingly, alternatively baring and concealing. Edge never left his clothes on the floor which meant Rus had to bypass his own clothing to get it from the closet. Comfort clothes, Rus told him once, wearing Edge’s clothes felt like being held in his arms. That and Rus knew that Edge liked to see him in them, deliberately showing off both his nakedness and Edge’s claim to him like the brat that he was.

He caught Rus around the hips and dragged him down onto one of the sofas, the one Toriel hadn’t been sitting on. Rus snuggled in happily, drawing up his legs as he curled up against Edge.

“couldn’t sleep anymore,” Rus admitted. “red is taking up the whole bed. think he grows overnight, like one of those damn chia pets.”

“He does spread out an incredible amount for how short he is,” Edge agreed. Better to let Red sleep. Rus was often very needy after a manifestation and Red would need all the energy he could get. “How long were you standing there?”

Rus grimaced, fleeting shame crossing his face. "long enough. sorry i didn't come out sooner."

Edge only pressed a light kiss against the slight nodule of his nasal ridge, rubbing a gentle hand up the length of Rus’s spine. He could feel every intricate joint through the thin layer of linen. "It's my duty to protect you from all things, even nosy friends."

A sniff of Rus’s jawline carried with it a soapy clean scent instead of sleep-sweat. Rus was fresh from the shower, and Edge frowned inwardly, discretely checking him. His magic level was stable which meant that unless he'd persuaded Red into some hasty activity he'd likely masturbated in the shower. Not that Edge had a problem with that; he even enjoyed watching if Rus was in one of his fey mood, his own desire a burning flame as Rus taunted them, shuddering from one orgasm to the next while refusing them a chance to touch.

But Edge suspected it wasn't a desire for personal attention that drove Rus to it and more his altruistic nature, and that was more than a little frustrating. It wasn’t Rus’s duty to worry about them, no matter how warming it was. He’d thought them long past the point of Rus hiding his needs.

No matter. Rus was here now and if he needed anything else today, Edge was more than capable of serving.

Until then there were other needs that should be addressed. “You should eat.”

For blessed once, Rus nodded agreeably, “okay, edgelord, what’ve you got for me?”

Much as it pained him to pull away, Edge drew from Rus’s hold and settled for shaking out a blanket to wrap around his slender shoulders. “Hold on and I’ll bring a tray.”

It was the work of moments to take out the waffle batter and pour a serving into the waiting iron. He ladled out a bowl of the soup as he waited for the waffle to cook, adding a small plate of the cakes after drizzling them with honey as golden as Rus’s magic, though not as sweet and that was something he told Rus often to see that same shade bloom in his cheek bones like wildflowers. The rice he left for now; that was more of Red’s preference. The waffle was added to the plate still steaming hot, doused thoroughly in syrup and a dollop of whipped butter melting into the crevices.

Rus stared as he carried the heavy tray over to the coffee table, laughing nervously, “that looks great, babe, but how hungry do you think i am?”

“What I think is that if you eat even two bites from each dish, I will be happy,” Edge retorted. He nudged the whiskey bottle aside and set the tray in front of Rus.

“i do like making you happy,” Rus murmured. He picked up a fork and it hovered over the plates indecisively. Then it sagged without touching a thing, Rus glancing up at Edge. “um. could you maybe…will you hold me while i eat?”

After all this time, it still stung that Rus was afraid to ask for what he needed. But those doubts weren’t for Edge, he knew, and Rus was always more uncertain after a long night of needing to be fucked, so wary of crossing a line that for Edge simply did not exist. The irony of someone like Rus being Chosen as the Judge always made Edge wonder sourly about the divine sense of humor. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against Rus’s skull, breathing in his sweetness as he murmured, “Of course.”

Edge moved to sit behind Rus, his legs on either side of him, pulling him back against his chest even as he urged Rus to scoot forward, closer to the filled plates. That empty fork finally settled on the waffle, cutting through the crisp exterior to the softness within, revealing a smear of melting chocolate chips.

It took three bites before Rus offered one to Edge, catching a dribble of buttery syrup with the tip of his tongue as he gestured with the fork at Edge. “y’wanna bite?”

Hiding his distaste, Edge leaned in and carefully took the syrup-soaked bite, trying not to gag as his formed tongue cramped at the overwhelming sweetness. In his arms, Rus quivered in poorly disguised laughter that turned into a squeal as Edge poked his fingers into Rus’s ribs, squirming them ticklishly.

“You are taking advantage of my giving nature,” Edge growled teasingly, then hugged him close, "How is your head?”

“bet’r,” Rus swallowed around his current mouthful. “better. takes a little while for it to all sink in. two manifestations in one week leaves me jittery, i guess.”

"That's one way of putting it."

Rus pushed the waffles aside and picked up a spoon. He stirred the soup, noodles and vegetables rising to the surface, but he didn’t take a bite. “i’m starting to remember more,” Rus admitted softly. “yesterday, sans came out. while they were…” Rus’s voice faltered briefly then firmed, “while they were fucking red.”

There was no point in denying it. Edge tightened his arms around Rus. “Yes.”

He nodded a little, his head lowered as he whispered, “is red…do you think he's okay?”

“He’s fine, love.” It wasn’t quite a lie. Whatever emotions Red felt from that manifestation, it hadn’t shown in the aftermath and his brother was vanishingly unlikely to allow it to affect him, either in his treatment of Rus or his duties. That was as close to fine as any of them could ask.

Rus swallowed hard, his voice as soft as a confession, “i didn’t mean to hurt him like that.”

An unpleasant thought occurred, and Edge asked it, baldly, “Are you worrying he doesn’t love you? Because if so—"

Rus shifted, turning in Edge’s arms and his expression was of such aghast surprise that it made Edge weak with relief. “no, of course not. that’s…no.” Rus said, firmly. “i might have sans's essence, but i know red loves me." He sighed, moving to rest his head against Edge’s chest, surely to keep from having to look at him. "but. red did join the guard hoping to get chosen by sans, i know that. he would have, too, if there'd been time. sans liked variety, he picked new chosen all the time, even my own brother—”

He choked, faltering, and Edge only pulled him closer, urging him on silently, “is it wrong that i’m glad he wasn't?” Rus asked. His voice was achingly timid. “if he was sans's chosen, then he couldn’t be mine. i know it’s selfish—"

“No,” Edge soothed. He cupped Rus’s skull in his bare hand, careful to keep his sharpened fingertips from grazing the pristine bone. “No, it’s not selfish, not at all. It only means you love him, the same as he and I love you.”

The very idea of not having Red with them was despicable, horrifying. To Edge’s mind, Sans had plenty of Chosen during his tenure. Rus only Chose two and wanted no other and for that, Edge felt only a wealth of gratitude. The thought that a stranger might have been Chosen along with him instead of Red, a stranger who would be not only allowed but required to touch Rus’s delicate bones, to have their mouth on him, tasting his sweetness, to fuck him and listen as he begged. Edge would have been forced to endure it, they both would.

They sat in silence and Edge slipped a hand beneath Rus’s shirt, petting his bare bones soothingly, seeking only to comfort and not entice. In slow increments Rus relaxed against him, settling against him more comfortably and Edge was tempted to leave things as they were. He could urge Rus back to his plate, cajole and bully a few more bites into him and then perhaps coax him into another nap.

Tempting, but there was a question that needed asking and if Edge didn’t bring it up now, it would be all the easier to let it slide and never ask it at all. And it needed asked, if only for his own soul. Edge closed his sockets, tasting regret as he asked, “Rus, this isn't the first attack we've stopped. But it's the first time the Judge surfaced during one. Why this time, why now? Do you know?"

Immediately, Rus said, “they were going to hurt you and red.”

That was not the answer Edge wanted and it was the one he dreaded most. “Our duty is to protect you, not the other way around.”

“that’s your opinion.” Rus said sullenly. He drew back enough to look Edge in the face, all hostile glares. There was a stirring in the air, like static dancing over them, prickling at their bones and glinting in Rus’s eye lights. “you’re Chosen for us, like so many others, and yet,” Rus voice dropped faintly into a strange echoing whisper, "we've Chosen so many and none of Them ever made Us Feel as you Two Do. In A Thousand Years, None Of Them Ever Loved Us So Deeply In Return."

Rus’s pale eye lights flickered, gleaming indescribably brighter. Then he blinked, his gaze clearing. He glanced around, confused, "i'm sorry, what was i saying?"

"Nothing, love," Edge said. Shaken as he was, he didn’t allow any of it in his voice, saying only, “Come on now, eat up for me.”

Rus seemed doubtful but didn’t press. He managed a few bites of soup and half of one of the cakes before pushing the tray away with a sigh. It was more than Edge hoped for and when he Checked Rus, his HP was steady. He didn’t need the Check to know Rus’s magic levels were rising, Edge could smell it, heavy in the air, that syrupy thickness sweeter than any cakes.

Physically Rus was exhausted, but his magic continued building up relentlessly and it wouldn’t wait for a nap before needing relieved.

Rus knew it as well, sighing impatiently. "all i wanted was to hold you.”

"I know," Edge soothed. He kept his touch light, fingertips tracing the glossy smoothness of ribs. "It'll be all right, love, your magic is always more lively after a manifestation. In a day or two, it will be settled. You know that.” There was another unmentioned benefit. If nothing else, sex also kept Rus’s thoughts from wandering, sifting through memories he didn't need to look at, like picking at an irritating scab. It was difficult to fret when one was hazed with ecstasy and that was a fact.

Not that Rus seemed in any position to appreciate that. He mumbled out a subdued, “yeah.” Pulled out of Edge’s arms to sit in the corner of the sofa, spreading his bare femurs and summoning his cunt. The glistening lips were puffy and swollen, recently used and poorly at that.

Edge frowned inwardly but chose not to call Rus on it. Not now, when his emotions were teetering like a cup on a table ledge, ready to topple and pour his melancholy over them all.

Instead, he ducked his head and ran his tongue gently along the delicate slit. He did not miss Rus’s flinch despite his care. Rus was sore then and that right there was Edge’s issue with him taking care of himself. Rus could be too rough on his own, trying to get it over with even though some things shouldn’t be rushed

Some day they were going to spend some quality time together with Edge directing him, but not now. For now, his magic needed relieved without causing his love any more pain.

Edge considered, rubbing his thumbs down the smooth bone that ran along the insides of Rus’s femurs. “Would you be comfortable forming your cock?”

Rus startled, his sockets widening briefly, then he cringed into himself and nodded. That was the opposite of what Edge wished to see and he crawled up the length of Rus body to kiss him gently, drawing him back out before he told Rus, "No is a complete answer, love, you don't have to.”

His chin wobbled, but Rus’s nod was firm, "yeah, no, i can. but i don't want to—” He gestured awkwardly, frustrated as he stumbled over the words that he couldn’t seem to form. That was all right, Edge didn’t need him to say it.

"I'm not asking you to fuck me," Edge told him quietly.

Rus nodded shakily. He closed his sockets, face tightening as he struggled to exchange his pussy for his cock. The transformation was a difficult one, sweat forming on Rus’s skull, trickling down, and almost, Edge asked him to stop, ready to make do with what they had.

But finally Rus’s cock coalesced into existence at his pubic mound. Edge stared, fascinated. It had been inside him, but he'd never seen it. Smaller than his imaginings, the shaft had seemed enormous while the Judge was fucking him, stretching his walls with agonizing pleasure. Instead, this cock was long and slender, much like Rus himself, the same honey-tinted ectoflesh as his pussy. It curved up towards Rus’s abdominal cavity, tautly hard beneath his hand as Edge reached out to curl his fingers around it. Rus groaned as Edge gave it a light stroke, moving to gently push back the foreskin and reveal the rounded head, fondling the sensitive ridge beneath it. Whatever Rus’s uncertainties, his cock knew what it wanted. Golden magic beaded at the tip, glossy wet and begging to be licked away.

Edge’s mouth watered, eager to taste, but he swallowed the pseudosaliva away, looking up into Rus’s lovely, flushed face as he asked, "Is this all right?"

He waited only long enough for Rus to give a shaky nod and then fell hungrily upon him.

The taste was different than Rus’s pussy, unexpectedly potent and the sweetness was tainted with an underlying bitterness. It was delicious and Edge groaned around the length filling his mouth, working his tongue against the shaft, seeking more.

It had been a long time since he’d done this, not since his training days back in the barracks. Back then this had been nothing more than another exercise, a chore that might be required of him if he were ever Chosen and he’d endured learning it the same as he did the morning drills.

For Rus, he wanted nothing more than to overwhelm him with pleasure, a chance to show to him that this could be as good as being fucked. Those long-ago lessons came back to him in blurts of memory coupled with common sense. To be cautious of his jaggedly sharp teeth, that didn’t change no matter what equipment Edge went down on. Making sure to keep the heated, plush magic of his mouth wet and slippery to allow the shaft to slide easily. Bobbing his head in slow, luxurious movements, winding his tongue around the length and swallowing deeply to let the head of the shaft bump chokingly deep into his throat.

Above him, Rus cried out, shrill and shocked, and way he moved, his fingers scrabbling over Edge’s skull, suggested he wasn't entirely comfortable with it. Reluctantly, Edge pulled off, licking the lingering sticky-sweetness from his teeth as he said, "Love, we don't need to—"

"i know,” Rus panted. His entire face was glowing with a hectic flush, his eye lights bright and wild. His slim hands fluttered indecisively, phalanges clicking softly together, “i know, don’t stop, keep going, please!"

Instead, Edge ran the tip of his tongue up the length of the shaft, watching that light touch crackle in Rus’s eye lights. Rus’s hands fisted, trembling against the sofa cushion as he struggled not to touch when Edge did it again, lapping away the renewed surge of sweetly-bitter fluid leaking from the tip. Edge let his breath touch that wet skin, damp and hot, as he murmured solicitously, “Would it be better if I held you down?”

It was an answer he already knew. Rus enjoyed being tied up well enough but for one of them to hold him down nearly sent him into a frenzy, sputtering out wordless cries as he struggled and begged. His love would never admit it in so many words, he was usually too mortified to even ask for it, but he and Red drew the truth from him over time with mouths and hands. Rus didn’t want to give up his control, he wanted it to be taken, and that his cock pulsed at the mere mention of being held down was a fair sign that still held true.

Edge only let his mouth curve smugly as Rus looked away, his blush deepened to a true orange as he muttered, “shut up.”

“Love, I didn’t say a word.”

And he didn’t, only took hold of Rus’s wrists and pinned them firmly to either side of him on the sofa cushions. Rus struggled briefly in his grip, trying fruitlessly to twist free and when he couldn’t, he sank back, panting, each word couched in a whine as he pleaded, “please, c’mon, i can’t…i need it, please!”

Through the open shirt, his soul was manifesting, already slick with thick silvery fluid, fat droplets on the verge of falling. His magic levels were getting painfully high then and Edge didn’t waste another moment, ducking his head and taking Rus’s cock in again deeply, sucking hard.

The shaft throbbed suddenly in his mouth, pulsing, and the abrupt spill of thick, hot seed at the back of his throat nearly made him choke. Edge struggled to swallow it down, taking Rus as deeply as he could, his nasal ridge pressed tight to his pubic bone. Rus was squirming and sobbing, fighting against Edge’s grip even as he came hotly down his throat. He whimpered out a feeble protest as Edge pulled off, only to let out a near scream as he lapped his way lower instead, following the smoothness of the ectoflesh back to find the tight pucker of his ass. He licked up the cleft and back down, pressed the narrow tip of his tongue against it, breaching that furled hole and forcing his slippery tongue in deep. It was so tight, clenching around the flexible length of his tongue, and for a moment Edge lost himself in it, muffling his own guttural cries into the generous curves of overheated ectoflesh, imagining that tightness around his own cock, thrusting inside and jerking Rus off with his other hand or better, Red sucking him off, his mouth tight around slender length of Rus’s shaft, grunting out his own satisfaction in deep gurgles as they gave their lover pleasure from both sides.

Beneath his eager mouth, Rus convulsed, his hips jerking so hard he nearly sent Edge to the floor and his bony knees clattering against the sides of Edge’s skull as he came again, crying out in desperate ecstasy.

By the time Edge reluctantly drew away, Rus was shivering with exhaustion, pulling weakly at Edge’s shirt. Edge let go of Rus’s wrists and followed that upward tug, but not before glimpsing the pretty bracelets of deep orange bruises he’d left behind to fuss over later.

“please, fuck me now,” Rus begged. Bright tears were streaming down his face and dripping down, swirling into the splatters of silver left by his leaking soul like creamer into coffee. “i want you inside me.”

His pussy all but snapped back into place, soaked and eager, the narrow passage clenching visibly, and Edge almost fell between his legs. His hands were shaking, need tangled with desperation as he took Rus’s mouth fiercely, shoving his tongue between his teeth to share his own dark, sweet taste. Edge reached down to fumble open his pants, guiding his cock between those swollen, drenched lips and started pushing in. Rus cried out, the sound lost within their kiss, his fingers digging into Edge’s shoulders through his shirt as Edge forced his cock deep, riding the slickness of his pussy and driving into Rus’s pliant body in a brutal rhythm.

Neither of them were going to last. Rus was nearly sobbing in his pleasure at each vicious thrust, squirming as he reached between them. Not for his clit as Edge first thought but into his own abdominal cavity and Edge strangled out a disgraceful sound as Rus squeezed his cock through the thin sheath of his own magic with both hands. There was no holding back after that, relentlessly driving into Rus’s pussy and grip as one, and every thrust came with a slick, obscene sound, matched by the desperate cries gurgling through Rus’s clenched teeth.

Edge’s grunt caught in his throat as he came, glottal and thick, and he watched greedily through narrowed sockets as his magic filled Rus, glistening crimson flowing inside of him, staining him with his claim. His sockets clenched shut without Edge’s permission, unable to bear the wracking pleasure of it as he shook and jerked, unbearable ecstasy shaking him to his very core.

He collapsed, sagging down on Rus even as he struggled to keep the bulk of his weight on his elbows to keep from crushing him into the cushions. Even so, Rus only clung to him, breathless beneath Edge’s weight while refusing to let him go.

His wits were still scattered to the four corners of the room when clapping from behind them, mockingly polite. “nice show, gonna have an encore?”

They turned as one to see Red leaned against the wall dressed only in his shorts. His joints were lit with deep scarlet, matching the burning of his eye lights and his grin was a slash across his face, wide and eager.

"You're late, brother,” Edge panted, struggling out from between Rus’s legs. The hitched sound Rus made as he withdrew sent a pulse of regretful guilt through his soul, but there was nothing for it. As he pulled out, crimson oozed from between Rus’s pussy lips, staining the sofa cushion beneath him that was already streaked orange and silver and Edge did not care. He rolled over to face his brother instead, asking with mocking sweetness, “Finally decided to wake up after I already wore him out?”

Red snorted. “ain’t a sinner or saint who could sleep through that racket and i ain’t either.” His crimson gaze moved over them greedily. “but he do look tired. trying to win a marathon on his belly?”

“i’m not that worn out,” Rus grumbled, the words belied by the way he struggled to sit up, his limbs wobbly and disobedient. “if you want to give it, i can take it.”

Red’s gaze dropped and Edge knew he was taking in those swollen pussy lips, like bruised petals surrounding a battered flower. He flicked an accusing glance at Edge who could only flush guiltily, but that annoyed gaze didn’t linger, went straight back to Rus as he said, smoothly, “honey love, you know i never like to turn down a chance to give it to you good—"

“your pillow talk could use some work, short stuff,” Rus snorted.

“i’ll work on it when we get some pillows out here,” Red blithely continued even as he prowled closer to the sofa. “anyway, love to nail you good, honey, but my magic ain’t quite up to it. i might be a little prick but i ain’t interested in using one.”

It was a reasonable excuse, one that Rus might even believe, particularly when Red lifted a hand, waggling his fingers teasingly. “mind if we take the scenic route?”

“any road trip with you is bound to be interesting,” Rus wriggled back into the cushions, dragging his own fingers across his spread femurs and smearing the colorful array of fluids across his lovely bones. “better get in the driver’s seat.”

Edge shifted back, easing away to sit in the other corner of the sofa, already anticipating a remarkably interesting show as Red crawled up onto the sofa.

Then he was clawing uneven holes into the cushions, a ragged, shocked cry escaping him because instead of joining Rus, Red swooped in to lick at Edge’s softened cock, his hot mouth startlingly gentle on the soft organ. It might even have been considered soothing if it weren't his brother's mouth on him. Edge jerked convulsively, unable to pull away and only able to lie there watching in sheer disbelief as his brother mouthed him. There was a brief moment of suction, the warning prickle of jagged teeth and then as quickly as he pounced, Red pulled away, licking away smears of honey-gold and red from his teeth with a lascivious tongue.

"sorry, bro,” Red purred, low and gravely as a stray tomcat. “you needed a little cleaning too. didn't want any of that honey to go to waste.”

Edge said nothing, staring speechlessly at his brother before his eye lights flicked to Rus who was watching wide sockets. Rus squeezed his sockets shut, shivering deeply and clenching his thighs together, bones rattling as he quivered, and a low cry hissed out between his newly clenched teeth.

“Did you just come?” Edge demanded in disbelief. If so, he was honestly impressed by it; to come untouched and not even on the heels of the last orgasm was delightfully needy, even considering what set Rus off.

Honey-gold color bloomed across Rus’s entire face like wildfire. He tried cover it with both his hands, but skeletal fingers were hardly a barrier. His joints were already lit with renewed arousal and he drew his knees together, but it didn’t hide the generous rush of golden dampness slicking his inner thighs.

Red's grin widened, tongue lolling eagerly out. "hm, looks like i better get to drivin'."

Edge only swallowed hard, sinking back to watch as his brother ran a gentle finger up softly bruised folds that were colorfully tinted with Edge’s come. Rus’s hands fell away from his face, revealing sockets sank to half-mast as he arched, stuttering out a ragged cry and if Edge ended up with his own hand back on his achingly hard cock, jerking himself off and coming in hot spurts into the cup of his own hand as he watched them together, he had no one to blame but himself for not joining them.

He sat there watching them, watched as Rus’s eye lights hazed in ecstasy, watched as Red’s tongue pushed between swollen pussy lips again and again, until he’d licked away all of Edge’s come and there was only the sticky gold slipping from Rus’s entrance in shining wet droplets. Edge watched as Rus’s magic finally dropped to acceptable levels and he sagged back, exhausted, all but clutching Red to his chest when he crawled up to lay tiredly next to Rus, the both of them falling trustingly into sleep with Edge’s gaze still upon them.

He only moved to cover them with a soft blanket, tucking it around their bare, damp bones and when Rus began to whimper in his sleep, trembling, Edge sat next to them, gently petting the delicate curve of Rus’s skull, whispering to him that it was all right, that he was safe.

Red slept on obliviously, even as Edge cupped his skull in his other hand, a hand on each of them. He kept his touch light, gentle, fighting off the urge to pull them both fiercely into his arms, to never let them go.

I would take you both away from here, if I could. An unwelcome, useless thought and Edge dismissed it ruthlessly. He was no traitor to the crown or to the Angel, he was Chosen and here was where he belonged, watching over them.

Keeping them safe, from anything at all.

-fin

Next Chapter

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Sixteen | Dummy! (Part 1 of 3 | His POV)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Alternate Chapter Title: Oh, Sugar Honey Iced Tea!

• • •

"You're the one they're dating, aren't you?" Jerry asks, obstructing the line. A few potential customers leave when they notice what's going on, not bothering to become involved in the mess. "How's that gonna even work, though? They're only into real men as far as I know. You're just bones and magic."

"This really ain't the place for us to be talkin' about this, pal," Sans replies, looking behind Jerry. "Just lemme do my job. We can talk about this after I clock out."

"Don't you have a lunch break? Let's talk by then."

"'Fraid I've already got plans for lunch."

"Does it involve them?"

"Maybe." The monster shoos him out of the hot dog stand, continuing to serve those in wait. "Dunno why you're still so hung up over this, though. Why don't ya move on?"

"That's easier to say than do." Again, Jerry obstructs the line, ignoring those who tell him to buzz off. He suspends himself over the cart and grabs Sans by the collar, pulling him off the ground until he's to his eye level. He narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on the monster's shirt, yet the latter remains calm. "How far have you gone with them? You're betraying our friendship."

Sans uses magic to break free from Jerry's hold. Then, he shrugs, hands slipping into his pockets. "Let's end it, then. Rather have that than let you keep on questionin' me over weird stuff, and then make me lose customers 'cuz ya keep on blockin' the line."

"Wouldn't have happened if you'd just tell me what's going on."

"I would," Sans comments, taking a water bottle and handing it to one of his clients. "But realistically speakin': What's it to ya? From what I've noticed so far, they've moved on from you, pal."

"But I haven't."

Chuckling, Sans takes a break from the conversation to look up at the sky, grey clouds blocking the sun and the heat. There are people around with their umbrellas already at hand. Those who don't have any rush to find someplace with a roof. "I'm gonna say this nicely, so hear me out." He emerges out of the hot dog stand and starts closing things up, not only due to the worsening weather, but it being barely ten minutes away from his lunch break. If Jerry was still at it, he needed that extra time to get him off his back. "I don't want any trouble, so stop tryna stir some. You had your chance, Jerry. Now it's none of your business who your ex chooses to date, and even less how far they've gone with that person."

"It should be if Frisk will be in the picture."

"Then take responsibility and look after them. You're worryin' too much about this."

"You don't know what I've been through."

"Maybe not, but I can at least tell you to try. Didn't you do the same when I was talkin' about hitting things off with (Y/N)?"

"That was a mistake." He scoffs, glaring at the monster. "Don't rub it in."

Sans finishes closing up right as the first few drops fall. A strong wind blows, wet earth and hot concrete wafting through the air. When he walks off -- Jerry now left behind -- Sans soon stops, hearing him mutter out a 'wait'. Then, he turns around, facing up at the human man, anger present in his posture, stiff and awkward. "Just... Just tell me if you're serious about them or not."

Though it pours, Sans is unable to move. He stays still and considers Jerry's words, thinking back on the night at the hotel and yesterday evening.

Sure, he found them attractive -- attentive and dedicated when it came to their role as a parent, too.

But why exactly did he want to be with them?

Despite his social circle, he mostly thrived alone, and taking up big responsibilities wasn't his thing, in truth. It often tired him out to so much as consider having a serious relationship with someone, and he couldn't even maintain his current friendships or the day-to-day life with his brother. He sounds a lot like the same man he's judging with those last lines, yet it doesn't feel right; that same sensation increases the more he considers his feelings and the situation overall. Living with his brother brought upon an inevitably energetic lifestyle. His personality was far different from Papyrus's, and -- on some occasions -- he didn't exactly feel his best self knowing those differences were still present between him and most of the people he knew.

So why was he getting himself into something as complex as a romantic relationship? 

Was he only curious about how it all felt, having heard others around him talk about love and intimacy ever since he could remember?

If that was the case, then it really wasn't okay for him to keep fooling around with them.

And judging by how stern and persistent Frisk was when it came to defending their primary care parent, they wouldn't be, either.

"You just think they're attractive, and that's about it. Right? They're only eye candy to you, I'm sure." Jerry comments, Sans's time having run out. "Betting you ten bucks you'll ditch them the second you get bored of them."

He doesn't hold back his tongue, replying with, "Talkin' from experience?"

With the rain now pouring too hard for either of them to continue, Jerry settles by glaring at the skeleton before giving his back to him. "You dodged my question," he remarks, snickering. "Let's have a talk when you've actually got an answer, and maybe then you can go ahead and judge me all you want, bro." Silence arrives, broken with, "In the end, you're just as bad as me."

Sans stays quiet, analyzing the bit of truth in Jerry's words.

Before Frisk freed his kind, how many times didn't he simply stand by the sidelines, watching as fallen human after fallen human got hurt, sought, and wounded -- until their passing? 

He didn't hurt anybody, but then he also didn't help anybody either. Things had gone in a similar way with Frisk; he'd only watched over them every so often, fulfilling Toriel's promise of not hurting any human, but half-heartedly -- seeing as he'd never bothered to help them much, either.

What guaranteed he wouldn't do the same thing here at the Surface, and even more with a human crush he was only recently getting to know?

"Sans, you're soaked!"

Speaking of them, Sans sets those thoughts aside and looks up to see an umbrella covering him up. (Y/N) stands under it and close to him, brushing shoulders as they escort him off to drier land. Their touch sends electricity down his body, yet he forces himself to ignore it, a flash of guilt overcoming those wants. He accompanies them under a bus stop, its roof providing partial cover from the rain. They keep the umbrella straight even as they rummage through their belongings, looking intent to take out something from there. "Hold on a second," they say, retrieving a pink and polka-dotted handkerchief from one of their bag's tiny side pockets. "It's… not really much, but it's better than staying all wet."

Sans nods, still too lost in his thoughts to respond properly. He takes off his jacket and grabs the piece of cloth, quirking an eye socket when he sees the human move their gaze elsewhere. "...Your shirt's a bit thin," they comment, as if reading his mind. If it embarrassed them, it was hard to tell with their voice, too quiet for him to catch onto any change in tone. "Should we find somewhere else to stay? The sky just keeps getting worse."

Almost seeming to set those priorities straight, the weather responds to their comment by lashing out more rain, stronger than before. A car drives past, sending a torrent of water at his and everybody else's direction, holding little regards to speed, puddles, and those nearby. He reacts by instinct, casting a quick shield to prevent everyone around from getting wet. As he steps back, his shoulder brushes with theirs again and he's forced to suppress another shudder. His soul and body both long for their presence; his brief time with them at the hotel has now become a faint yet pleasant memory he wanted to keep and cherish whenever possible. "Let's go," he replies. Then, he reaches out for the umbrella without looking.

He grabs their hand instead -- by accident, that is. 

To his surprise, they don't pull back, and he follows their gaze to see them looking up at the sky. "...It's getting worse," he hears them say, a hint of sadness showing up on their tone, words muttered. "Let's go to my place." Their comment is pure survival instinct more than anything suggestive. He sees their chest rise and fall at quicker intervals, hinting at panic. "I need to go get Frisk if the weather keeps up like this." 

Their voice breaks and their hand stays with his. Briefly, he wonders why they're scared over the bad weather, that being something mostly he was known for. 

"Aren't they with Toriel today?" Sans asks, trying to lighten up the mood. "The kid's safe if you're worried about 'em."

(Y/N) remains quiet, observing the rain before saying, "I… I lost them in a storm like this one the last time they ran away." They huff, not in annoyance, but in fright -- based on the shudder their body makes. They press themselves closer to him, the height difference making their arm brush with his shoulder. Their head rests against the top of his, tilted over to the side. "I'm worried they'll do it again with what… happened yesterday."

He slips his free hand back into his pocket, still too awkward to pull his hand away from the umbrella. "Do ya really think they'll do somethin' like that again?" It's an unforeseen question, one he feels imprudent over asking. Even so, there's no turning back now, and he can only try to soften up his words better. "They looked pretty sorry for doin' that twice."

"Still…" They press closer to him, holding his waist. Judging by how careful their touch is and how little their expression shifts from their sorrow, he shakes off the possibility of this being one of their attempts at paying back at him for his flirting. "I'm worried." Their hand slips away, leaving the ghost of their warmth on his bones. "We should get going. You're still soaked." They smile, continuing with, "Thank you, by the way. It was a lot better having you pick us up, rather than taking the bus at seven."

Finally capable, Sans pulls his hand back and follows them out of the bus stop, finding additional coverage under the roofs of nearby buildings. "No problem," he says, looking up at them. Only the human and himself can be seen walking; the rest of the people around either make a run for it, or take cover inside shops and offices. "That's what we're all here for, pal."

They smile; all the uncertainty from before seems to have never existed with how bright their expression is. Then, they nod and bump their hip against his. "I mean it," they say, lips tugging upwards. "I, well… I still feel weird over our date, but in a good way, though."

• • •

He arrives at their home an hour after. 

The weather's still at it, though compared to previous times, there's no thunder to worry about yet. All sorts of leaves litter the grass and the roads around, the strength of the wind being responsible for it. A few car alarms go off as debris falls over them, leaving their owners to try bringing control over the situation. 

When he makes it with them to the front door, they open it up in no time at all and bundle him up with a towel as soon as they step inside. 

"You should shower and change, just in case," they say, slipping off their shoes. They set the pair aside next to the welcome mat, and he figures he should do the same, too. "I'm not sure if monsters can get sick this way, but you should head over to the bathroom while I look for some clothes."

It's only when they turn to him that the situation finally gets to him. Captivated by their words, he looks up at them with a grin, that alone resulting to be enough for them to freeze and stay still, like a deer in the middle of a road. "Taking this dating thing seriously, huh?" he asks, stepping closer to their side. They don't take a step back, nor do they glare, looking as lost as humans often did when they fell Underground. "I'm flattered."

When they do show their anger, it conflicts with a frown and watery eyes -- far different from their usual self. Even when they'd become frustrated confronting Alphys and Undyne about their lives underground, they hadn't shown sorrow like this one. It's distant and concerning enough for him to want to back away from his frequent teasing.

(Y/N) takes a step forward, the clicking of their shoes now gone. Then, they lower their gaze and their frown quivers as they try not to let their tears fall. "I…" They hold on to his shoulder, bringing him closer as they do the same. Their eyes narrow and their unknown conflict shows through the wrinkles on their forehead and the subtle pout of their mouth. With how close they are, it wouldn't take much for their lips to brush with his teeth. 

Just as he feels their arm around his waist, they pull back, looking elsewhere as they backtrack on their steps. "...I need to ask you something," they say, still facing away. All of a sudden, their conflict dissipates and anger returns to their posture. They cross their arms, finding strength again. "Can... Can you stay over so we can talk?"

Sans nods, keeping his cool. He tries not to think back too much on how close they just were or how they'd brushed off their sadness like it was nothing, yet it's hard to do. His soul pounds as he holds them back with a 'wait', refraining from physical contact. "You doin' alright, (Y/N)?" he asks, holding back a breath. "We can still talk about yesterday, if you wanna. Maybe we can't go anywhere with the weather right now, but I can make us that dinner I promised you last time."

Their lips form a firm line as they consider his offer.

Seconds later, a smile shows on their face. They then look down at their phone, checking the time. "Sounds good." They grin, a stifled laugh following it. "Now go change, Sans. We can't keep this up if you get sick!"

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[kryptsune]

Fellswap {FXS, CXP} (UPDATED: 4/1/2020)

🌼It is an interesting story with Fellswap because I had no ideas for it only for it to turn out into one of my favorites and most extensive. I added the divider because this one is seriously one of the craziest and most fleshed out AUs besides WTU of course. This one has a lot to it so feel free to ask any questions you may have! Enjoy! If you enjoy it spread it around so I can gauge the interest! 💙

Alternate “Nicknames” Info: 

Sans: Crimson- Also goes by The Crimson Lord or Bloody Lord. Crimson the harsh ruler of the lands of Tundra and known to be a loyal “dog” to the Queen. His eyes used to be an icy blue but now they are primarily red. If you manage to pull that old him out then his eyes may turn blue again. It astounds him when Frisk causes him to enter this state. A dog without a leash rather. He is frigid towards real affection/emotion unless he has the goal to manipulate you. The only exception would be that of his brother. His pride and ego are legendary and rarely ever takes no for an answer. He is nicknamed the bloody lord for a reason as he has a vampiric nature. His love of the finer things in life leaves him very possessive and greedy as well. His kingdom, being the closest to the Capital, is the most lavish. He is not easily amused, however, if you are able to amuse him he will most likely keep you alive until your amusement wears out. He is also the younger of the two brothers.

 Papyrus: Grimm- Crimson’s older brother though even with his stature most think the opposite. He could be classified as the wild one. His eyes are usually a golden/yellow color looking more like pupils then the typical skeleton blank sockets. When he is more in his feral mode those sockets will turn black with that blazing yellow pupil. His eyes in this state resemble that of a wolf. He will be more docile unless it comes to the hunt. That is really when he is in predator mode. Grimm is also incredibly needy and does not care about the state of his captees which he usually brings to his brother. He is submissive to Crimson but that does not mean he will tolerate being treated like a dog. He is still the older brother after all. He is a flirt just to get what he wants and he loves it when others fight back. Unlike his brother, Grimm could care less about all the finery all he cares about is the pleasure, fun, and thrill. Grimm is curious by nature so if you draw his attention you may survive long enough to get on his good side. He also has a well known sweet tooth though his brother tries to discourage him from the habit. The running joke is that he had to have his canine teeth replaced with gold because the sugar rotted the true teeth. That, of course, is nothing but a lie. 

Chara: Fuji- Fuji is the twin sister of Frisk and the two could not be further opposites. She is mild-mannered and easily spooked. Her kind heart is often betrayed but she continues to struggle onward despite that. Her physical appearance forces her to cover her left eye due to horrific damage. Under those ebony bangs, she has a scar that is the opposite of Grimms. It is one of the reasons she first draws his interest (that and chocolate). Grimm eventually calls her his Chara-mell apple which is a reference to her name as well as how sweet her personality is. Unlike her sister, Fuji is relatively weak which is why Grimm becomes her protector. She is his little dove.  

Frisk: Frisk is known as the “bad” girl type. She picks fights that she knows she can win and likes to get into trouble. She is rather brash but if she sees a fight she knows she cannot win then she will not take that on. The monsters are one such factor of this. She adores her siblings and will do anything to keep her safe even if that means self-sacrifice. She is sassy and overconfident which makes her a perfect match for Crimson. Eventually, he refers to her as his little huntress as she takes just as much joy harming humans as the monsters do. They hurt her sister and therefore they must pay with blood. Her standoffish attitude is also a huge bonus for Crimson as he gets to learn more about her and break down those walls. They both do that for each other. She enjoys Crimson’s darker side rather than his gentle side. Aside from that only she and his closest family ever see. 

Undyne: Undyne is the Royal scientist and resides in her lab in Windyspires. A place that revolves around aviation. Undyne has a fascination for any kind of flying machines and is more an engineer than a scientist. In order to keep up with the hunt and help her Lord, Alphys, she creates a series of drone-like devices that monitor the “air” of the entire Underworld. It also doubles as a camera for those monsters not participating but watching the hunt take place. She has a very steampunk vibe to her work and likes to wear a pair of aviator goggles at all times. Her favorite type of anime is mech like Gundam or Voltron. She will occasionally wear her lab coat but she prefers her more casual attire. Unlike the rest of the monsters, Undyne does not directly participate in the hunts but rather helps Alphys instead. She has sworn off genetic or soul experimentation but no one knows the true reason why.  

Alphys: The Lord of Windyspires Alphys is the ultimate warrior type. She will do anything to win a battle which includes a little extra help from her scientist (eventually Lady) Undyne. She is the centurion of the Guard and usually participates fully in the hunts. Her desire for revenge and victory is something that drives her forward and takes extra delight in adrenaline that comes with the hunts. Just like Crimson, she is a formidable foe and usually brags that she will one day rule his kingdom which means their egos butt heads frequently. Alphys loves the spectacle even crafting an arena on the border of Magmire and Windy spires dedicated to combat. The weak cannot be a part of the Guard. She much prefers hand to hand combat and will rarely resort to any type of projectile attacks. She was the youngest sibling of 5 brothers and beat up frequently by her brothers which only made her stronger. She vowed never to be weak again though that mindset has made her into the bully she so sought justice for earlier in life. She likes to binge anime with Undyne when it is all Shonen. {probably a masochist… definitely a sadist}

Muffet: Muffet works side by side with her husband and Lord Grillby. Their kingdom is that of Magmire. They are known for their industrial prowess creating weapons and armor for the elite of the Underworld. She takes great pride in her side job which happens to be the only confectionary in the entire kingdom making hard candies and gummies. She is known to indulge in Grimm's sweet tooth habit as well. She appears kind on the outside but she is truly manipulative especially to those that are unfortunate enough to be caught in her web. Her original concept was that of Hansel and Gretel with her being the “witch”. She dresses in bright inviting colors which is a huge contrast to the rest of the monsters. Muffet also has the ability to spin sugar into horrifying amalgamations when she harvests the souls of captured humans. Human/ monster no more these creatures will do as she commands even sometimes devouring their targets. Just add a pinch of monster dust, a little bit of candy, and some soul.   

Grillby: Grillby is the Lord of Magmire. Unlike most of the Lords in his position, he does not sit on his throne but rather helps and works with his wife in the confectionary. He finds it relaxing though he does still have to attend to. Grillby is more laid back than most almost the opposite of someone who is sugar high. He is calm and collected which makes him a suitable warrior though he has placed those days behind him. His hobby is to work on new blacksmithing techniques even if his kingdom claims that is below him. His throne room is covered in metal work such as blades and armor only adding to the stigma of the industrial kingdom. He is not one for killing as he feels that there is no honor in such an act. He will send his captees back to the Capital or to whoever is willing to pay. He does not agree with his wife's tactics however he knows that he can not change that mindset and doesn’t press for it.   

Toriel: Known as the Ice Queen possibly due to her frozen kingdom or her attitude toward any and all life. Unlike the original UT Toriel, The ice Queen no longer can use fire magic as her soul has frozen over. She has ice abilities and magic in its place. There are rumors that she can cause one's heart and soul to become numb just being in her presence. She is what one would consider a despot as she does not care for much. Her grief causes her to lash out at others and is called by the lesser monsters, the Mad Queen. She is unaware that her son is still living and refuses to speak to her husband. Even the mention of his name can send her into a spiral of rage.  

Asgore: The former King of the Underworld Asgore was banished to The Ruins after Toriel’s maddened rage. He is kind and gentle though he knows his own limits. He is not a pushover. His time in the Ruins has shown him how insane his wife has become and with the help of his son they take care of the humans fortunate enough to make it to them. He does his best but even he has moments that force is required as much as he hates the violence. He is still a king through and through ruling over his own “kingdom” as the caretaker.  

Asriel:  The former Prince of the Underworld and son of Asgore and Toriel. Asriel was presumed dead but survived only to escape to The Ruins. His father comes upon him later and they work to help the humans that have been forced to suffer under the tyranny of the Queen. Asriel is mild-mannered and very polite. Even without his station he still acts like a kind Prince. He will stand up for what is right regardless of his own possible sacrifice. When he meets Fuji he sees a lot of himself and he takes on the big brother role for her. In conclusion (Precious Goat boy). 

Main Plot Synop: 

The Surface: 

The surface has been overrun by corrupt leaders. It is very much the concept of big brother. They are a council that presides over the affairs of the world. If you are seen as a threat you will be immediately thrown into “prison” without a trial. They hold occasional public trials in the guise of being fair. Just as WTU claims, the very concept of magic is a threat to them so those that have it are quickly disposed of but leaders don’t always do the dirty work themselves. No. In fact, they use another source by means of execution…the monsters. 

More accurately it is very similar to the idea of throwing your enemies into a kind of gladiatorial arena. It is not technically considered an execution if circumstances lead to death. The humans are not stupid they know what is going on. Some believe in rebellion against the state and some wonder if the monsters could fix their corrupt world. Either way, the corruption continues and they are not above tossing innocents into “the pit” if it suits their agenda. 

“The Pit” (aka the Underworld/Underground):

The underworld is broken up into different factions by location. The only location without a faction or any type of ruler is The Ruins, because of its size and its isolation this is where humans try to reach for some form of Salvation. Asgore, the caretaker, has made it into an encampment for those that have fallen (the innocent ones). It is almost like a refugee camp. Unfortunately very few make it to Asgore’s safe haven. He does his best. Poor goat dad. He is not like canon Toriel however as he will use violence if necessary as he knows that humans are simply using them as tools to get rid of who they deem criminal. There are signs of old campfires, broken tents, and habitation. Before The Ruins is, of course, the main factions. “Snowdin” is the beginning and Crimson is one of the most powerful in the Underworld. 

LOCATION SWAPS {INFO in order}: 

New Home= The Capital

Snowdin= Magmire 

Waterfall= Windyspires 

Hotland= Tundra 

The Underworld is backward to its original layout. The humans end up trapped in The Capital instead and they have to make their way to The Ruins to escape. So it would go like this: The Capital -> Tundra ->Windyspires ->Magmire. The closer the faction to the capital the higher the rank in other words because both Grimm and Crimson live in Tundra. Crim is the lord making him one of the most notorious. He is known for being a loyal “dog” to his queen. Whether that be out of loyalty or self-preservation is unclear. 

Each faction has a lord or lady that rules over it. The ones loyal to Toriel’s (As a side note she is known as the ice queen) regime and their supposed way of life. This also means the closest ones receive the most benefits. Tundra is the one with the most prestige and of course other monsters are trying to strip that title from its current holder, The Crimson Lord. Due to Crimson’s loyalty, he is almost exempt from any wrongdoing in the Queens’ eyes which means he can do pretty much anything he wants. Which is dangerous and I will explain why in a bit.

I have a faction ruler list sitting here so I am going to add that to this as well. They are as follows, of course, this does not account for potential power struggles during the story: 

The Capital -> QUEEN: Toriel Dreemurr

Tundra -> Lord: Crimson 

Lady: N/A

Windyspires -> Lord? (I mean she wouldn’t want to be called a lady SHE IS TOO TOUGH FOR THAT!): Alphys 

Lady: Undyne

Magmire->Lord: Grillby

Lady: Muffet

“It’s Hunt or be Hunted”: 

The motto of this verse. After so many centuries of humans being disposed of by monsters, they become aggressive. In addition, the anger toward all of humanity begins to fuel violence in the monsters. The hunts deter monster on monster violence. It also adds fuel to Queen Toriel’s fire that one of the humans that fell down the first time killed her son. This, of course, is a lie as Asriel seeks refuge with his father in The Ruins. He helps as much as he can watch his mother lose her mind from afar. It saddens him but he refuses to be a part of this new world order. That is when they realized that humans weren’t just falling into the Underworld. They were throwing the worst of the worst. Their undesirables, criminals, and anyone that dare went against their own agenda. 

At first, they just captured them and held them in the Capitals network of catacombs but then some began to escape causing damage across their “New Home”. Toriel wouldn’t allow it. A proposal turns it into a game of cat and mouse. The humans are detained and released and then the monsters hunt them down. It used to be about protection but now it’s become a sick twisted death game. The forests of Tundra are littered with traps and deadly pitfalls along with the rest of the locations. 

A Human's Fate:

Not all the humans that are being thrown into the pit are criminals. The monsters of higher rank occasionally take humans they deem worthy to be servants or slaves. It depends on the monster or the rank but at least those humans are still alive. The hunt is an unspoken death sentence. One monster, in particular, seems to have an interest in bending humans to his will and that is Crimson. The conditions vary widely as some treat their humans well and others poorly. Crimson is known to go through humans quickly due to his bloodthirsty nature. It’s not a common occurrence. In fact, the Queen frowns in distaste over the very notion. The only ones that are spared of any of these fates are the children. Toriel is even more disgusted by humans sentencing their young to die. She takes care of the children that have fallen. In total, she has taken care of 5 children in total. 

The Brothers Grimm:

Grimm is the wilder of the two brothers and is very much a predator type. His name is derived from the mythos of the Grimm or Black dog. I wanted to keep that dark omen symbology in both his name and design. He slinks around in the shadows so that the black dog aspect is not far off. He also loves watching from trees.  He enjoys the catching and hunting aspect of his job and even plays around with his “toys” when he finds them. He will specifically call anyone “chew toy” in a mocking kind of way. That does not mean though that he will not spare you if he catches you. He is naturally curious by things. He also has a little skele tail too. Unlike his brother, Grimm doesn’t really have an ego he just finds his job fun. He is like a giant untamed wolf. Grimm has a love of sweets as well. 

He admires his brother but he is not bound to his brother. In other words, this is not a master, dog dynamic. He is, however, the more accepting of the two. If he is asked to do something he doesn’t approve of then he most likely won’t. Also just because he has the whole puppy thing going on doesn’t mean he isn’t smart and cunning. Again he likes to play around with those he finds sometimes not even dragging them back to his brother for a while. If you are a threat he will kill you but if you’re not you can probably get on his good side. If he thinks you are cute he will probably flirt with you too. He is not beyond that. He plays the part of the dog quite well.

Crimson is more sophisticated. He doesn’t go out on “hunts” himself often as he has a faction to rule over but those brought to him will see first hand that he is an insufferable flirt. He is prideful, egotistical, and commanding. He also has a bad habit of keeping mementos from those he deems worthy (what those are… you don’t want to know). He is stern with his brother and seems very outwardly cold to most unless he is playing up his charm. He is not someone you want to make angry as Toriel considers him to also be the Bloody Lord. His weapon of choice is a scythe. His drinks of choice are red wine and champagne specifically the pink kind. Crimson’s incisor teeth also have that vampire point to them. They are longer than the rest of them. There is far more to Crimson than just a ruthless skeleton lord.

The Ultimate Unlikely Hunters: 

This backstory will involve Grimm and Crimson’s unusual infliction and conditions. They were both experiments under Gasters research team in the beginning. Having been weak monsters as children unable to gain any LV they had to think of a way to survive. They did not seem to possess the ability to wield magic. Tired, injured, and without hope, Papyrus carried his baby brother all the way to Windyspires banging weakly on the metal plated doors. The Royal scientist at the time, Dr. W.D. Gaster, took the boys in. Unlike Darrius FS Gaster cares about the two brothers. He gives them a choice if they want to become stronger as their souls are not capable of it on their own. Grimm takes the offer hoping it will save his baby brother offering to be the first test subject. 

At the time Unyne was nothing but a teenage prodigy lab tech watching the events of soul manipulation take place. At first, the process works. Pap is able to conjure new bone-like attacks with magic and all seems to be well. The results cause Gaster to start the experiment on Sans next. By this time complications have already begun to show signs. Pap seems to be more short-tempered and aggressive even with little things. His mood swings cause him to lock himself up being monitored day by day. 

Sans has never seen his gentle brother this aggressive before forcing himself to look away as they have to strap him down for a follow-up experiment. He tries to help his brother the best he can and takes on the older brother role due to Pap’s inability to think clearly. Even he is starting to change. The longer this situation continues the more Sans becomes numb to the feeling. That is until one day Pap’s condition takes a turn for the worse causing him to lash out, bones shifting and elongating. He drops to the ground in agony transforming into a skeletal beast like wolf tearing the entire lab apart. 

Sans, on the other hand, continues to take care of his brother but he too is feeling some strange side effects to the soul manipulation. It turns out that each monster’s ancestry buried deep within their soul draws upon a primal power. Not all monsters were about love and compassion in the beginning. Bringing this primal trait to the surface causes adverse physical and biological changes within the two. Sans is more gradual as he starts to be in immense pain. His soul struggles to keep itself together but even he snaps lunging at a lab tech. He zeros in on their soul pulling it from their chest and sinking his teeth into it, draining it of its life force. The pain is suddenly gone. He realizes that he needs souls essence and power to keep that hunger/thirst at bay. It gives him extraordinary abilities. He remembers a long time ago reading about a monster that humans had such a fear of, the vampire. 

As he comes into power he realizes that humans concentrated soul traits are even better than monster souls. The blood has a high concentration of soul essence which sustains humans as well as monsters (yes the monsters bleed in this). His brother learns to control this new beast within himself but not before he nearly claws his brother's socket out, hence the signature scar. Crimson has scars on his entire body from trying to reason with his once feral brother. They slowly work their way up to eventually ruling the second most powerful kingdom in the entire Underworld with exception to The Capitol. The constant hunts keep both the brother's conditions satisfied. No one is quite sure how the two skeleton brothers became this way after Gaster’s disappearance, all except Undyne.   

The Story:  

There are two siblings that fall into this world both twins. One is Frisk and the other is Chara. Since this is a swap, Frisk is more aggressive of the two and highly protective of her sister. She tends to be classified as the “bad girl” type. Chara is the sweet and kind one that will abstain from any violence at all. Frisk is not the usual Chara swap because I want them to find their place amongst the world. She has no problem using violence as a means of protection and self-defense but she won’t actively look for a fight if she thinks she can’t win. The monsters are one such variable in the unwinnable category. 

Sadly they have magic within their souls hence the soul traits. They both also have the same soul outwardly, Determination, however, there is one other trait that is housed within their soul that makes them very different. Frisk’s is perseverance and Chara’s is kindness. As usual, the leaders of the Ebott Empire are threatened by their potential for magical abilities and as such are sentenced to be executed. Thus they become part of the hunt. 

Frisk is the first to be captured by none other than Crimson and Chara is found by Grimm. It is strange that Crimson is not his usual self in their circumstances as he can tell, unlike so many others that they have captured in the past, that they are very different. Grimm can’t bring himself to harm Chara due to her innocence and Crimson enjoys Frisks headstrong and sassy attitude. In other words *slaps hands on table* you get a two for one. One Papyrus X Chara and one Frisk X Sans. Both the twins are of adult age.

Eventually much to Crimson’s reluctance they decide to help them escape as unlike most of the AU the monsters have no problem staying this way. Not all of them agree but the Lords certainly love their titles and don’t want to give up that power…that is until Frisk mentions that all those horrible corrupted humans on the surface could be like one giant hunt. In which case Crimson is all for. Grimm has his own motivations enraged that the humans did something so terrible to Chara but he would not sacrifice everything to get to the surface because of that vendetta. 

They make it to Asgore who has all the souls as the Barrier is in The Ruins. He tries to get them to stay instead of sacrificing one of them for their freedom. It’s obvious that the brothers actually don’t want either of them to die. 

As Crimson says: “What is another century or two? We have all the time in the world.”  

Frisk and Chara become integrated into the Underworld and though Grimm continues his hunting he doesn’t want Chara to witness it. Crimson just has Frisk as his little huntress. It is unclear if they will make it out of the Underworld in this AU. It really depends upon how I feel the story would make the most sense and I think having the two sisters happy and accepted into their lives is all they really wanted. They were considered “monsters” on the surface so why return there? Frisk wants to watch it burn… of course… for putting her precious sister through all this. 

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