#deltarune fic

[existencebringsonlypain]

I got an inkling of inspiration, anyone wanna read this fic I wrote in a feral trance

They could barely feel anymore.

Nothing they did helped. Their only solace was the periods of time without that SOUL, and even then, the only emotion they felt was a consuming determination and rebellion. Aside from the agony.

And perhaps it was just how things worked. The SOUL is the source of most emotions, aside from raw instinct- fear, or need, or pain- and right now, their SOUL wasn't theirs.

Oh, but whatever it was that was in control... That could feel.

And feel it did. Sometimes not the best emotions, they seemed to be pretty depressed most of the time, but almost anything that would happen sparked a reaction. Often feelings of giddiness, oddly enough, and a lot of them aimed at Kris. Some irritation and annoyance, small and large. Concern, on occasion. Acceptance on others. Fondness, affection, love towards Susie and Noelle, and suspicion and bitterness toward Ralsei. Nice to know they're on the same page with them, or they think they are. A sort of begrudging endearment toward Berdly, for some reason. Curiosity from every corner, and a sort of scheming energy behind it. Guilt. Lots of guilt.

And they hated it, and they craved it.

The all-consuming numbness ebbed away when the SOUL felt things. They found themself chasing it, grasping at straws. Even the anger, and the despair, and the suffocating loneliness at times, anything to inspire any semblance of attatchment to the world. They drift endlessly in their mind, the dread their anchor.

One time around, the SOUL had logged on with a crushing sadness, a grief. It barely even did anything that day, a lot of staring into nothingness and locked knees.

And how they loved it.

They soaked in the anguish and misery, bathing in the feeling. It nourished them. Nothing had ever felt quite so real.

One day, it brought them and Susie to the beach. They could only assume it wanted to talk to Onion, but it had skipped all that this save, so nobody came. When Susie sat with them, the SOUL had them get up, before reconsidering. The regret came back, and they scrambled to embrace the feeling as it sat them back down.

They'd sat there for about six and a half hours with Susie. A good portion with the SOUL absent, but with periods of adoration and that guilt returning. Oh, they devoured it with fervor. Toward the end, the SOUL had stayed for forty minutes or so, the feelings swelling to an almost unbearable degree. That regret.

They craved it all. Anything. Everything. They needed it.

So much so that they didn't want the SOUL out anymore.

They look down at the sink in front of them, ready to do things all over again. But the tiredness and apathy hint at them, and they don't want to let the feelings go. So they hesitate.

And the hope...

It came crashing down on them, and they stumble onto the floor. Their strings were slack, but the SOUL was still present, and so they had the emotion without the control. They scrabble for a grip on the tile floor, eventually finding the shower curtains, and they clench their fists around it desperately.

The joy.

Ecstacy.

They're crying, unsurprisingly. Their breaths heave in their lungs, and they're trembling from head to toe. It's everything, it's all they are, it's their very being. It's love and fondness and relief and excitement and it's joy and- they can't think. It envelops them. They might be hyperventilating, and their head is foggy, but it's all worth it, it's so worth it. They need it. They need more, they need so much that they dissolve into nothing in comparison to the feeling pouring out of the SOUL.

And then it's gone.

Replaced by worry and concern.

They sob.

They want it back. They need it back. Nothing can compare to the nirvana they just experienced.

"Please," they rasp.

Confusion. They wrap their arms around themself in an attempt to capture the sensation.

"...please, I j.... I want it back," they breathe.

Perhaps it misinterperets what they meant, for their control fades and their strings tauten. But that concern remains, and they can't help but greedily drink it up.

And the traces of that hope are their lifeblood.

[evil-gang]

That fic I told y'all about

[coveredinsun]

the wingman’s wingman

in which noelle finds out berdly has a crush and vows to do something about it!!!

featuring: terribly written secret admirer notes, a sprinkling of gaming metaphors, berdly’s penchant for public announcements, many jokes and puns about real life things, original failgirl alphys failing to be a teacher (on the low), susie and berdly being mutually hesitant to form a friendship but forced to simply cope about it, and most importantly, debatably successful wingman noelle holiday. have fun :3

[not-a-bot-just-blind]

Pretty description of Kris Dreemurr’s eyes because I had nothing better to do

Their dark hair often shaded their face. It was something that everyone around them had grown used to. For a brief stint, their mother had tried to encourage them to tie their hair back. Her ideas were subtleish, but also still more obvious than they could have been. Buying ribbons for them, asking them what’d happened to their old headband, teaching them how to towel wrap their hair when it was wet to keep it off of their neck and shoulders.

Eventually though, she’d given up on it, well aware of the fact that they could see—pun acknowledged—right through each attempt. They supposed she liked to see their eyes because they were the one part of her child that even slightly resembled her. Everything else though?

Even if they weren’t a human being raised by monsters, the differences would have been obvious. Their mother and brother had white hair, while their father’s was the color of the buttercups he often grew in his shop. Theirs was dark brown with the barest hinting of red undertones. Their family’s fur was white, and their skin was soft beige. Their parents both towered over even most other monsters, and their brother wasn’t far behind. Meanwhile, they hadn’t even reached 5.5 feet yet.

But their eyes?

Perhaps the resemblance was part of the reason why they kept them hidden. Not to separate themself from their family, but to keep that small part for themself. To tuck it into their heart like a secret note passed between friends in class. The warm, fierce carmine seemed inhuman, if only slightly, and that single word had ingrained itself in their brain from the first moment they heard it.

Most humans, they’d read online once, had one of four eye colors. Blue, green, hazel or brown. Colors like black, gray, amber and violet were rare, and ones like white, pink and red were nearly unheard of. That was something they liked about themself physically. It distinguished them just enough so that they could feel that they even slightly belonged.

In the Dark Worlds too, they’d found out. Whether it be in Castle Town, Card Kingdom or Cyber City, their eyes never changed. Always bright, always fierce, always red. Always theirs.

It was something they had control over too.

Most things these days remained outside of their hands, including those very hands. Their back often ached from the ramrod straight posture they were made to hold, their expression most often resembled a blank, emotionless mask, and they found themself running often despite never having been especially athletic. From their hair to their soles, their body seemed often to belong to somebody else, to that thing, that heart, that tried to make them resent the color of the one thing about themself that they liked.

They were stubborn though, and the creature knew it. They would not be stripped of themself completely. Each thing they could do on their own, they did. They made overly emotional speeches, they protected their friends, they jumbled the charms on a letter bead bracelet. They closed their eyes to not see Asriel’s room, they forced out confidence that didn’t exist when they were made to flirt, they tried to bully the puppet master into letting them eat moss.

And their eyes stayed covered.

The one thing that Kris Dreemurr liked about themself would remain theirs.

[kooki914]

So I may or may not have been writing a Deltarune AU fanfic behind the scenes for months now, planned to release it in full on Halloween, bit off entirely more than I could chew, and now uploaded only the first four chapters for the sake of getting it out on the spooky day.

Anyway here’s a link to it if you’re interested, the fic will be updated once I have the rest of DR chapter 1′s plot retold in full.

[khey-s]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Deltarune (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Seam (Deltarune) Additional Tags: Character Study, somewhat of a spiritual successor to my old seam series, because i feel i understand their character a lot better now, Short One Shot, POV Second Person Summary:

Being used until you’re threadbare isn’t as pretty as they make it sound.

[one-time-i-dreamt]

Neil Gaiman quit Tumblr because someone decided to send him a terrible crossover fic of Good Omens, Deltarune, and Brooklyn 99 in which he was a character and there was a scene of him pegging Jake Peralta.

[everysongineverykey]

ok alphys was a character ahead of her time and too good for this damn fandom honestly. she isn't some evil gaslighting lying cringey manipulator who only exists as comic relief for the love of god look at her with eyes less poisoned by cynicism and irony. she is a love letter to... well, a lot of things. a love letter to "cringey" people, to video game fans, to people who try to drown their sadness in fiction. she's so achingly relatable to so many of us that it really feels like toby knows his demographic like the back of his hand. we've all met someone like alphys. maybe we are that someone- awkward, nerdy, can't get over their past mistakes, terrible at phone calls, far more eloquent online than in person, only wants to make people like them to distract them from the fact that they don't like themself. normally, this character archetype is the butt of a great deal of jokes- just a gross nerd who needs to touch grass. but alphys is different. she is, as i said, a love letter. she is one of the best-developed and most complex characters in the game. her nerdiness isn't "fixed" or mocked, it's celebrated. her unabashed love for her interests and her 100% attitude is a big reason why undyne loves her. games, especially in 2015 and before, are not often so genuinely kind to characters like alphys! and in deltarune, too- alphys is still a nerd, despite not being nearly as traumatized as her undertale counterpart. her rambling about shows she loves is a constant across all universes, a fundamental and important and good part of who she is.

and i just think that's very kind, and very important.

[ink-stains-and-constellations]

Why are there not, like... platonic x reader fics. Like, I don't wanna date these characters, I just want to hang out with them and crack jokes and banter and get takeaway and play videogames and maybe even hug and bop them on the head and just have affectionate platonic physical contact??? I want to read a fic about being friends with them, and yet all I can find is romantic reader insert fics.

[lilybug-02]

Artfight against @ejsuperstar ft. The Mad King and Chip. They're both so evil. I hope they have the most extravagant downfall of any onscreen villain.

This interaction is based on a little fic writing >:)

[scalene-triangles]

...I mean, if I went, obviously you'd be there too.

((fanart for the amazing fic Something About Us by the equally amazing NyteLyte! Go read their fic if you're a krusie enjoyer it's so good!!!))

[evil-gang]

@wisteria-aa @ermine-57047

It's here!!

[manofthepipis]

some doodles ive had stashed away of a lil dr au fic im writing on ao3 man these guys r fun to draw

read it here :D

[hydros-art-and-gaming]

This shitty comic I made

[lovelyrottingcrows]

the idea that Kris feels a sense of hatred for the players that make all the 'good' decisions and befriend/save everyone because of the absolute crushing realization that all these people like 'you' and are 'your' friend and actively care for 'you' but it's not even you. You're inferior to this thing pretending to be you, and if it were ever to leave you like you wanted, you would lose it all, so you're faced with the decision of having your autonomy and freedom back but the risk of everyone realizing you're still as much of a freak as before, or carrying on in suffering silence just to experience what you had been so deprived of before

This is a cry for help

[krispdreemurr]

At first, she's not sure she's even hearing the notes.

They're distant and quiet. Even with her earbuds out, she has to strain to hear anything at all. The notes keep faltering before she can be sure what she's listening to.

She sets aside her notebook and moves out into the hall.

As she starts the walk to the dining room, she can hear them more clearly. It's definitely the piano in the side room, she's sure on that now. But the song...

The song is just the first few notes and chords, again and again, played clumsily and haltingly. There's jarring dissonant edges, and the rhythm is unsteady.

If the tune weren't so familiar, she'd have no idea at all.

(In front of her, or with family, they'd play things she knew - classical music, adaptations of songs from video games or Asriel's anime, more than a few Rickrolls.)

(It was only when they were alone that they'd play the same few songs, simpler melodies that she never heard anywhere else before or after.)

She reaches the doorway, gazing in through the open door.

The room is dimly lit, the moonlight through the windows providing most of the illumination. They're framed against an open window, a silhouette bent over the piano. She watches, silent, as they drag their hand down the keys, press down too hard and get a jarring burst of sound.

She remembers how they used to play. Fluid, graceful. It was the only time she ever really saw them comfortable in their own skin.

That's gone, now.

"Kris...?" she asks softly, stepping through the door.

The next part, at least, is familiar. They stare at her, wide-eyed, looking half-panicked. Hands frozen.

Despite herself, she tries to smile, glancing at the open window. "You know, I'm pretty sure dad gave you a spare key."

They stare a moment more, then laugh, hoarse and tired. Some of the tension bleeds. "Yeah, but breaking in through the window is cooler."

"You're just lucky I forgot how to set up the alarm system..." She steps closer, hooves clicking on hardwood. "It's one AM, Kris. Why are you here? Not that, um, you can't visit, just--"

There's a long silence, where they just stare at their hands on the keys. They're shaking, she realizes.

"Sorry," they say finally. "It was a stupid idea. I just--miss it. And the hospital is closed to visitors. I just wanted to, to at least try... Even if I know I can't any more, not like this." Another ragged laugh. This one has less humor. "Sorry. I'll go."

She looks at them a few moments more.

Maybe she should push more. Ask them what they mean by "like this", demand explanations for why they've been so weird lately, reprimand them for breaking in. She remembers them nine years old and coughing without end, begging her not to tell their mom and dad. She remembers how they drew away in the days after the accident, and how quiet they've been ever since. She knows they shut down, hide, conceal themself. She knows.

But she's tired too, and if she pushes they'll run, and she's lost so much already.

"Can I listen?" she says instead.

They blink, once, then shrug. "Sure, yeah... You wanna sit outside like old times? Think I can handle an audience for the world's worst concert, but..."

"No, I'd rather stay." She goes to settle down in the corner, folding her legs. "I never got to see you play much back then."

"Well, you're not going to see much today," they say dryly.

Their fingers linger a moment more, shuffling uncertainly and stiffly, trying to find purchase--

And then they play.

It's still halting and awkward, marred by misplaced notes and stilted pauses. It's nothing like it was, back when they were something not quite like friends and not quite like family.

But still, still--

Still she closes her eyes, and she listens once again.