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franstastic-ideas · 5 years

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Master List Oct Edition (2/2)

This half contains Yandere Month Special, Classic Undertale Headcanons, Multiple AU asks, other headcanons that didn’t quite fit the first half, and Franstastic-Ideas’ more personal posts

The first half contains AU-centric headcanons excluding UT

Yandere Month—————————————

Oct 3

Frisk is on an ambassador trip?

Mafia Yandare hcs on both our sweet frans ♡

yandare King Sans and his Lady Ambassador!

cryptozoologist frans but ... yandare~

more yandare for me please! have you heard of echofell?

what about Murder Frans (Murder Sans x Frisk)

Ink x Draw? (InkSans x InkFrisk) but yandare???

Yandare Error x Core?

Where do the Horrortale brothers fall in the least to most nuttiest yandere spectrum?

These are my questions about the yandere skeletons [1. reasonability, 2. saying No, etc]

Oct 4

yandere version of the convergence AU?

Any headcanons for yandere storyshift bros.?

yandare lamia??.

Oct 6 - How about a yandare frister?

Oct 9

Haven’t really seen much yandere!G!Sans. Could you do that?

Yandere Headcannons on Nightmare and Dream right?

But, what if a female touched his lady as a platonic gesture? (Yandere!G)

If G!Frisk would somehow found out how Yandere G can be if needed to

Oct 10 - yandere outertale?

Oct 22

yandare cuddles with the swap brothers

What would Yandere Dance be like

Oct 23

So what about a yandere Dusttale sotry

What would Yandere WraithTale Sans do with Rosalyn

Killing is extremely rare and saved for severe occasions in my yandere-verse

Oct 24 - If Chara escaped and Papyrus was unable to find her?

Oct 27 - "he wouldn’t sleep until she was found"

Classic Undertale————————————

Oct 1

imagine Sans never confessing

Frisk and Chara hear a lot of puns and knock-knock jokes from Toriel

why does UT Chara hate humanity?

Does Frisk or Chara have a backstory

thoughts on Asgore and Toriel coming back together

Oct 2 - canon fact or a fan theory, Frisk fell 100 years, after Chara

Oct 3

some papyrus x chara x asriel hcs

chasriel and frans double date?

Oct 4

Frisk and Sans reconcile after getting into an argument?

how about some gaster x frisk x sans hijinks?

Accidentally ripping your pants in front of your S/O

Oct 5

Other than losing Frisk, what does Sans fear?

Is Chara a tsundare?

Oct 6 - Why did UT Frisk climb the mountain?

Oct 8 - Sans’s Reaction to Papara In a Nutshell

Oct 9 - If Frisk did a genocide run and she had to kill Sans?

Oct 10

Frisk can flirt with Goat Mom and canonically flirts with Papyrus

why Sans was creeping around before introducing himself?

Oct 11 - What are frisk and sans’ favorite seasons

Oct 12

UT Frisk as someone who flirts with pretty much everyone

Is UT Sans was a bit more eccentric and wild about his work?

Would Pap ask Chara about letting him in the Royal Guard?

Oct 14

What does Papyrus think of Grillby himself?

Do you think that the Charas liked to play with their Asriel's ears?

Ariel will state that Chara "wasn't the greatest person’

How do you think Asriel and Papyrus feel about each other overall?

"prone to random bouts of stupidity when Chara is involved."

"And they have to share". Do you mean Chara or that one braincell?

When Asriel and Papyrus are competing, how does Chara react?

Chara's reaction to Sans’ secretly trolling Pap online would be?

Oct 21 - do the skeletons have peeves that their human lover does?

Oct 22

How would Gaster and Sans respond to a third rival

How Frisk/Chara felt about Alphys’ crush on Toriel and Asgore?

Undertale cuddles? o3o i want more of those!

How you think frans would spend a rainy day

How about surprise kisses? Chara initiating their first kiss?

Would Chara be the one to tell Papyrus about his cooking?

Has Sans or Papyrus seen natural disasters while on the surface?

Would Chara tell Pap Undyne’s feelings of him and the Royal Guard

Oct 23

can we some of that Frister cuddles?

What would Sans and Mettaton's relationship be?

in Undyne and Alphys' wedding. Frisk caught the bouquet!

Frisk/Chara receive x-rays. How do their boyfriends see it?

Papyrus with a human anatomy book of undeniable proof

Oct 26 - If frisk put herself on a near death state to save someone?

Oct 27 - Paps has told a skele-ton of puns in the game

Oct 28

"Papyrus thinks his jokes are better than Sans’s." Does Sans agree?

Do you think that Chara met Dr. Gaster?

Perhaps Sans and Flowey aren’t the only ones aware of the resets

How do you think Chara behaved at first towards the Dreemurrs?

Papyrus' reaction was when he found out that MK was a fan of his?

Oct 29

When you check the family photo, Chara's response would be "..."

Do you think that Chara cuddled with Asriel?

Oct 30 - "Papyrus feels the need to inspect them… just in case."

Multiple AU Headcanons—————————

Oct 1 - More gpapara headcanons please! child of the ruins hcs too?

Oct 2 - Frans aus reacts to Frisk suddenly dying and not resetting?

Oct 6 - Is Gaster Sans' older brother in these aus or something else

Oct 8

In order from least to most, who are the ten biggest tsundere

UT Frisk and US Chara when bfs are telling puns to other women?

Minus HT Sans, who are the most protective/possessive?

Oct 9

skelebros react to someone very openly checking out their ladies?

soft UT papara, soft househusband green, and soft UF papara

With each Papara and Frans couple, who kissed who first?

Oct 10

skelehusbands favorite places to kiss on their wives?

What would Older/Married Skelehusbands give to Younger selves?

how sanses react once frisk starts aging and eventually pass away?

what would their skeleton lovers react to "that time of the month"?

Oct 11

How the sanses feel if frisk had a previous love interest that broke off

UF, US, and SF Sans and Frisk are pregnant but the girls don't know

would Soul sensing be the same in reverse?

Aww, man. I was hoping for them to freak out or something

Where to their wives like to kiss their favorite skeleton?

Lol, I can only imagine how freaked out they'd get. :3

If “previous love interest” caused Frisk to have a negative reaction?

Oct 12

Do the Frisks squish their Sans' faces?

what if the first kisses where started by the cutiebones’ lovers?

Do any of the Frans/Papara couples get into arguments

Is there a human that likes the Gaster AUs?

How did each version of Sans and Papyrus go about soulmates

When did the Sanses realize that they were in love with their Frisk?

Chara had to deal with their ex-lover. How each Papyrus respond?

Oct 13 - Most Papyri refer themselves as "the great Papyrus”…

Oct 22 - Frisk/Chara with whom they refer to as a "boy friend"?

Oct 27 - Have the Sanses/Swap Papyruses always liked bad jokes?

Oct 29

Do UT Chara/US Frisk had doubts that the Royal Family loved them?

Frans/Papara confessions where Frisk/Chara confess?

Chara responds to receiving a bouquet of flowers/chocolate

Other Headcanons————————————

Oct 1

Monster Hunter Chara and Monster Papyrus?

can I ask for FellGFrans? or FellGPap?

Persephone/hades-esque headcanons for both frans and papara

Would HT Frisk ever fall in love despite him keeping her captive?

Oct 2

your pacifist horrortale...but swapped?

Reaper and Frisk as Hades and Persephone X3

Oct 3 - I was wondering if you’ve heard of an AU called Farmtale

Oct 4

a modern war AU where Sans is a spy and so is Frisk

any horrorfrans/papara hcs you could share with us?

About that Lamia AU... what would be the next step to courting

Horrorswap Papara please

Oct 6

Is Gaster Sans' older brother in these aus or something else

snippets from Feeling Bonely without you?

Your wild west au love triangle between Grillby, Chara and Papyrus.

skeleton bachelors in the HarvestTale/FarmTale soul events

Oct 12 - In outertale, sans shows frisk where shooting stars fly by

Oct 20 - What's your ideas about Core! Frisk and Error?

Oct 21

Headcanons for semisolidmind’s Aslyumswap

Narrator-Chara AU head cannons?

“The Villain I Appear To Be,” does Frisk feel remorse for hurting sans

Oct 22

Swapfell papara/frans cuddles?

If the Convergence AU was a Papara reverse harem?

Oct 23

more cuddles! outertale papara/frans?

In the AUs where Chara and Frisk are "joined at the soul” explanation

Oct 28 - "Chara and Frisk are attached via soul", an alternate view…

Personal Thoughts————————————

Oct 1

Written Horrortale, Gastertale, or Underlust Papara?

Punctuation

Is this Reapertale? Or maybe it’s Greektale…?

can we take one of your prompts and write a fic of it too?

how to be you???

written HCs on love confessions or marriage proposals?

A recount of my AUs:

Your thoughts of HCs for the Six-Bones AU?

Oct 2

Have you read “Sooner Or Later You’re Gonna Be Mine”

Reading through your posts about Crypto!Frisk, and I wanna say…

Oct 3 - Is Frister a ship exclusive to Cryptozoologist au?

Oct 4 - Opinion about the Papyton (Papyrus x Mettaton) ship?

Oct 5 - Just imagine Flowey having the voice of Lil Gideon.

Oct 8 - Good news! My application’s been accepted

Oct 10

Would you ever be willing to write a Papyrus x Frisk fic?

Would it be okay if you could write about yandere Flowerfell?

Oct 12

I heard Flowerfell was based off of the writer and his romantic parter

if you were to choose between Frans and Papara

Oct 21

welcome back friend! how was your break?

HEY! It's been a while how are you doing?

Welcome back! Hope things have been well! :3

Are all AUs accepted here?

Oct 22

How do you feel with Monster kid x Frisk?

why do you like the idea of chara being evil? (no hate)

Thoughts on Friskriel?

Rosalyn makes me think you dont like tsundere characters

Oct 23

When a thunder character becomes abusive

I actually have the same feelings about Tsundere

‘I hate all tsunderes and everyone that likes the trope’, is not true.

Opinion of the AU's where Chara and Frisk are joined at the soul?

I don’t have too many headcanons about the characters of Deltarune

Oct 24 - About the Author

Oct 26 - Status Update 10/26

Oct 27

Why you should share your ideas with the world

Do you know Ragnartale by @naomyart ?

Oct 28

I have a phobia of injections

Well, it’s over and done with, until next year at least.

All the stories I wrote in the past, I still have them

Oct 29 - I think one of the most insulting responses you can get

Oct 30

Hey there! Where can I read your stories?

Sometimes my mother will ask about how my writing’s going

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Holy... Cow! This took a while. But, November's list looks like it's going to be of a similar size to this, so expect the next one being split into 2 as well!

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odderancyart · 6 years

Text

Retribution

Chapter 5

First

Last

On AO3

Summary: A late night, after yet another unfruitful day with no work, Detective Edge Serif receives a phonecall from the countryside. There seems to have been a murder.

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Swearing, Past Abuse

The two of them share a gaze before rushing downstairs, Edge in the lead and Mr Ashton following close behind. Their footsteps echo through the narrow hallway as they hurry past the many doors. A thousand possible scenarios flash through his mind. Is the murderer there? Is someone hurt? Who screamed? His soul pounds in his chest as he prolongs his steps, putting a longer distance between him and Mr Ashton. Their breaths are loud.

As soon as they approach the kitchen, he slows down, and Mr Ashton follows suit as he catches up with him. Holding up a hand to signal for them to move slowly, Edge steps closer to the kitchen door. It’s ajar. From the inside, he can hear shuffling feet and something else crashes, followed by loud swears. Holding his breath, he approaches.

He reaches out for the doorknob. It’s cold in his hand. He looks at Mr Ashton, who nods. He squeezes the doorknob. Inhaling sharply, he jerks it open, and it squeaks. He freezes. A gasp comes from behind him.

Cats. The kitchen is full of cats. There’s at least ten of them, on the counters and in a huge bowl, and three of them are licking up the enormous puddle of milk on the ground, next to porcelain pieces that seem to have once been a huge bowl. Papyrus stands in the middle of it all, a broom in hand, and stops dead as Edge and Mr Ashton steps inside. He lets go off the broom, which clatters as it hits the ground, making one of the cats jump.

“What the fuck,” Edge exclaims, regarding the chaos. Mr Ashton is gaping as he steps up to his side, eyes wide.

“I don’t know where they came from!” Papyrus says, desperation evident in his voice. He bows down to seize the broom again, shoving away a couple of cats that had come to sniff on it. One swatted at the straws. “I went up to my room to change clothes and when I came back, they were everywhere! It’s so unhygienic!”

“Oh my God.” Mr Ashton whistles, staring at the cats. There’s an odd mix of amusement and horror on his face. “Razz is going to go through the roof if he sees this. He can’t stand cats ever since Uncle Benjamin’s Bengal gave him tetanus as a child. A terrible creature, that one. Vicious.”

That reminds Edge. Oh fuck. He must’ve not closed the door to that room full of strays properly. His breath hitches, and he swallows. Oh holy Hell. Instinctually, he seizes up as ice cold fear washes over him, and it takes a few moments to remember that the worst thing that can happen is that he gets fired. Still bad, but not bad. Taking a deep breath, he nods to himself. “We better get them out then. Papyrus, you don’t happen to have any unused fish lying around?”

Papyrus nods, handing him the broom before hurrying up to one of the doors. The one on the northern side. Likely the cool pantry. He slips inside, immediately closing the door behind him, and moments later he comes back out with a plate full of a pink fish. The scent immediately fills the room, and the cats perk up. “It was for lunch tomorrow, but it seems it’s getting another use.”

Without thinking, Edge shoves the broom into Mr Ashton’s hands. The richer skeleton raises an eyebrow, staring at the broom in bewilderment, and for a moment Edge wonders if he’s ever held a broom before in his life. Shoving that thought out of his mind, he takes the plate from Papyrus, throwing a piece of the cold fish on the floor. The cats immediately flock around him.

“Open the outer door,” he says, and Papyrus hurries to obey. “Come here kitties,” he then murmurs, backing toward the door and throwing yet another piece of fish for them. He can’t help but smile faintly as the grey cat from earlier strokes itself against his legs. “Dinnertime.”

As soon as the last cat has exited the kitchen, Papyrus slams the door shut. The cats hisses, jumping at the sudden noise, and many of them rushes away. When nothing else happens, however, most of them dare to come back as he puts down the plate a distance away from the house. Kneeling down by them, he scratches the grey one’s ears and it purrs loudly as it digs in on the meal. Probably the best meal it has ever had.

Eventually though, he starts shivering in the cold air. He isn’t wearing an overcoat and the air is chilly. It mustn’t be far from freezing. Winter seems to be coming. The sky is grey as usual, and rain is drizzling down. Just enough to be noticeable. Rubbing his arms for warmth, he murmurs a goodbye to the cats, dumps the fish off the plate and returns inside.

He blinks in surprise as he steps in and sees that Mr Ashton is still there, and even helping Papyrus to move the enormous copper kettle that had been standing on top of the counter when he left. They put it down in the corner just as Edge enters, and Mr Ashton grins, saluting jokingly. “That’s that, chef Papyrus. Now, if you both excuse me, I must return to my brother. He’ll wonder where I’ve gone.”

“Thank you for your company, sir,” Edge replies politely on the same time as Papyrus thanks him for his assistance. In the back of his mind, he notes that Papyrus seems a lot more comfortable around Mr Ashton than Stretch and Blue seemed when he arrived.

With a nod, Mr Ashton leaves and soon his footsteps die out. They are alone. Looking over the chaos, Edge sighs. “I’ll help you clean.” At Papyrus’ surprised expression, he grins crookedly. “I think I was the one to let in the cats, and I am afraid my mother raised me to clean up my messes. So you will have to stand my company, I’m afraid.”

Papyrus smiles brightly. “Oh, I’m more than happy to get it, sir. I do get a bit lonely down here, I quite miss the days when we were full-staffed. It was much more fun to work in a full kitchen, even when I wasn’t in charge back in England, and Madame Bisset – the former head cook – kept yelling at me.”

“Sounds unpleasant.” Picking up one of the rags lying in the sink, Edge starts to wipe up the milk on the counter. Papyrus chuckled.

“Oh, that’s just how most cooks are. I think. Perhaps it’s the French who are like that, not cooks. I’ve only ever been a domestic servant in the Gaster-household. Mother got me a job in the kitchen when I was seventeen. Before that I was a cobbler’s apprentice. Which was a good choice, here I am with my own kitchen in America. Isn’t life strange? My mother almost fainted when I told her of my promotion and that I was moving here with Doctor Gaster.”

He chatters on while they clean, and Edge listens attentively. Normally he doesn’t have much energy over for people who won’t shut up but who is he to say no to free information. He learns that Papyrus and his mother were really poor when they escaped Bulgaria, though his mother had some money his father, who he’d never met apparently, sent occasionally. Once they fled that money stopped, though, since they didn’t dare tell anyone in case the government would decide to go after refugees. She’d quickly found a job as a housemaid, since Britain was in something of a domestic servant crisis since the war began. Any woman who wanted a job as a maid would get it.

She’d apparently befriended someone who worked in the Gasters’ household and used that to get Papyrus into their service. Male domestic servants were a luxury these days, he learns, and so it gave him good chances for the future now when he was in a household that could afford them.

Eventually, he must interrupt the other, though. “Mind if I ask a few questions?” he says as he brushes up cat hair from beneath one of the counters. “For my case?” He’d ask them anyway, of course, but politeness wouldn’t hurt.

“Oh!” Papyrus shakes his head, putting down the bowl he’d been washing. “Of course not. I’m happy to help!”

“Perfect.” Edge smiles at him, though it may look more like a smirk. He washes his hands before going to retrieve his notebook in the suit jacket he’d hung by the door. He quite prefers not to get it dirty. Flipping open the next empty page, he goes over to Papyrus and leans against the wall. “Did you have any relation with the dead whatsoever?”

Papyrus looks thoughtful. “Well, I suppose I did. He wasn’t the one to employ me, obviously – Madame Bisset did. But once he came back from the war – I was employed a year before – I did meet him a couple times running errands around the house, and of course as the head cook I now have had discussions about menus and such with him. Other than that, I can’t say we did interact a lot. Doctor Gaster is truly an Englishman and didn’t believe in having relationships with your staff. Perhaps you Americans do it different, but ho- in England, that’s just how it is.”

Edge nods. He has no idea how relationships between servants and masters worked here either, since he had grown up in the Industrial parts of the city. He can, however, describe the relationships between workers and foremen far too well. His pen scratches against the paper. “I have understood you do not think the Doctor was a good person. Can you elaborate?”

“Well.” Papyrus grins awkwardly, obviously uncomfortable. “When your first impression of someone is an adult yelling at a child – Doctor Gaster was twenty, and Stretch a mere fourteen – and telling them, in front of their entire family, how they can’t do anything right, you’re bound to not think too fondly of said person. I believe Stretch had been doing too much on the same time and dropped two of the doctor’s old books into a bucket of ash, so it wasn’t even anything that I would consider a serious offence. So no, I’ve never liked him. But it wasn’t anything personal, just… he wasn’t a nice man. But neither is most of the nobility when it comes to their staff, I have come to find. I am sure they could learn better, if they just were shown how!” He pauses, smile turning even more awkward. “Well, not the Doctor, but you get my point, sir.”

“Edge,” Edge says, and the other forms an O with his mouth. “Call me Edge. Anyhow, where were you at the time of the murder?”

“Gladly!” Papyrus beams at him as he starts washing a porcelain bowl. “I was in bed. It was late, and I go up early in the morning, you see. I have to be in the kitchen at five AM so I have time to bake bread for breakfast and, though I don’t have to anymore, prepare lunch for Doctor Gaster to bring to the university. Especially now when he and Sir Razz were saving money by not going out to restaurants more than once a month anymore. So I go to sleep at ten when I can.”

“Can anyone confirm?”

“Well, I didn’t have anyone in my bedroom, obviously, but both Stretch and Blue can tell you that’s when I usually go to bed, and that I wasn’t in the kitchen. Stretch can tell you that: the wine is down here and he had gone to get a bottle for the doctor before he found him.

Edge startles, staring at him. The pen falls out of his hand, clattering at it hits the floor. “Wait,” he says, voice full of disbelief, “Stretch was delivering wine for him?”

Blinking, Papyrus nods. “Oh, yes. No one has told you?”

“No,” he mutters, chewing on his pen. “They haven’t.” Taking a deep breath, he nods once. “Alright, I have one last question for you: what would you say the others’ motives would be, if they were guilty? For Sir Razz, Stretch, and Blue.”

Frowning, Papyrus thinks for a moment. His answers are nearly identical to everyone else’s.

…

Once the kitchen is cleaned up, Edge hurries upstairs. He absolutely needs to talk with Stretch right now. Well, as soon as he’s had the chance to change his clothing. But before he can get much farther than the first staircase, Inspector Fuente comes around the corner, He smirks when he sees Edge in his dishevelled state: there’s cat hair on his shirt, his sleeves are still damp, and he has his jacket thrown over his shoulder. Edge meets his gaze right on. He refuses to be shamed for being a decent monster being.

“Detective,” the inspector says, obviously amused. He looks him over. “I’d like to discuss the case now. I have already spoken with Sir Razz about having a light dinner while we do so, so we won’t be missed, nor miss dinner.”

Damn it. Edge had completely forgotten. Nodding stiffly, he jerks his head toward the next staircase. “Very well, sir. I just need to get changed first.”

“I can see that.” Inspector Fuente sniggers as he turns his back to Edge, throwing an eye over his shoulder. “I’m expecting you in the office in ten minutes, Detective.”

Holding in a growl at being ordered around, Edge nods again. “I’ll be there.”

“Good. I’m lookin’ forward to hearing yer theories.”

…

Once he’s changed into his other everyday suit, he makes his way toward the office. He needs to get the other suit washed, it’s never good to not have a backup in case things get messy. Especially here where everyone is perfectly dressed. On his way, he looks out the window and smiles fondly as he sees three cats rush through the garden. Perhaps he should try to see where they get in, it might help the case. But in the back of his mind he kind of doesn’t want to, because then they might have to stay outside now when the cold winter is coming.

Nonetheless, he has a job to do, and it ought to be more important than the cats. It is both a murder and what keeps him off the streets himself, after all. He has very little wish to join the crowds of people living in cardboard boxes in the park. He stops in his tracks for a moment before continuing. He has no idea what he’s getting paid for this job, he realizes. All he has been told is that they ‘pay well’, which really could mean anything. Especially since he’s getting free food and houseroom out of it. He will have to ask later.

Soon he reaches the office. He breathes in deeply before knocking. Hopefully the other would drop his superior attitude soon. The sound of his knocks echo through the otherwise empty hallway, and soon he hears the shuffling of footsteps inside. The doors open, but just slightly, and he’s met by Inspector Fuente’s grin in the gap. When the other realizes its him, he opens the door entirely and gestures for him to come inside.

“Sit down,” he says, gesturing toward one of the armchairs by the wall. Edge slides into it, and the cushion is hard. The inspector takes out a file, and Edge eyes widens as he realizes he hasn’t had time to read the one he was given. Dammit. He’ll have to do that tonight, for sure. Then the inspector sits down in the other. There’s a table between them as well as two whiskey glasses and an unmarked bottle, and Inspector Fuente gives him a meaning gaze before he pours the golden liquid into the glasses. Edge smirks as he takes the glass and tastes it. Bourbon. Perhaps Inspector Fuente isn’t quite as awful as he seemed, if he was willing to break the law over some good whiskey. “What have you found, Detective?”

“I assume you’re going to share your thoughts as well, sir?” Edge asks, raising an eyebrow, and as he receives a nod he nods back, swirling the whiskey around in the glass. “Well. Doctor Gaster wasn’t exactly the most pleasant person, from what I’ve gathered. Some might say he deserved what he got. Some, not only meaning the murderer. Of course, Sir Razz hired me, which does make it seem like he wishes for the case to be solved quickly and properly. Had I been a murderer, I wouldn’t want more investigators than necessary on the case.” He gives Inspector Fuente his thoughts on what he’d been told, and what the others had assumed everyone else’s motives could be. The inspector watches him the whole time, even as he goes through two glasses of whiskey.

As he comes to the end of it, Edge hesitates. “And- I haven’t had time to talk with the youngest Mr Fontaine about it yet, but according to Mr Safont, he was delivering Doctor Gaster wine as he found the dead body.”

Inspector Fuente twitches, putting down his glass forcefully. The liquid spills over the edge, down on the table. “Oh?”

In that very moment, it knocks on the door. They exchange a gaze before Inspector Fuente stands up, walking up to the door. He opens it slowly, revealing Stretch standing there, a tray with food in his arms. “Your dinner, sirs…” He trails off, regarding them hesitantly. “Is… everything to your liking, Inspector? Detective Serif?”

“Come in,” Inspector Fuente says, stepping aside. He’s staring at the other, eyes narrow. “We have some questions we’d like to ask you, Mr Fontaine.”

#underfell #underswap #undertale #swapfell #sf sans #uf sans #uf papyrus #us sans #us papyrus #sf papyrus #ut papyrus #noir detective #murder #violence

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specialmindz · 6 years

Photo

“YIP! YIP!”

A small annoying dog bounced around the two little skeletons, hoping for one of them to drop one of their tasty frozen treats.

“YIP, YIP YIP YIP!”

“i think he wants your ice cream bro...” said Sans slyly.

“ALL HE’S GONNA GET IS MAH FOOT UP HIS ASS! DIS MY ICE CWEAM! GO WAY DOODY-DOG!”

“YIP YIP!” The dog continued to run about, completely oblivious to the infant’s anger.

“pap, it’s melting.”

“*GASP!*” Frantically, Papyrus lapped at his cone, not wanting his hand and sleeve to get sticky and gross. He usually waited until his ice cream was gone before intentionally getting messy like a good baby, but this dog was proving to be quite a distraction.

“YOU WANNA DIE DOGGY? IS DAT WHAT YOU WANT? I USE YO’ FUR AS A BLANKY!”

“why don’t you just give him a little lick pap? just a little one.”

“Nyeh?” Pap looked at him quizzically. “You want me to lick da’ pup?”

“no-”

“I lick em’ on da’ snout?”

“no bro, you’re not listening to me.”

And the baby continued not to listen, giving the dog a small lick on the nose. Maybe if the doggy thought Papyrus was a friend, he would stop trying to get at his ice cream.

Friends didn’t take friend’s ice cream.

“There you go doody-dog! We friends now, so you go home.”

The dog pawed at his nose and whimpered, not liking how the air was now suddenly too chilly in that particular area.

“you’re so gross pap, heh heh heh!”

“Nyeh? YOU GOSS! I gots to protect mah cweam cause’ SOMEBODY won’t look after me!”

“i have one hp bro! whaddya’ want me to do, kick em’? he’ll bite me and i’ll die papyrus.”

“Throw a snowball then lazybones! Im-po-vise!”

“now if i do that, i’ll have to hold my cone in one hand or it’ll get dirty, and eventually my arm will get tired and then i’ll have a problem.”

“YOU HAVE A PROBLEM NOW!”

“not with these i don’t,” said Sans pulling out an old CD player and ear buds. The batteries were long dead, but luckily for him, Papyrus didn’t know that. He could pretend not to hear him as long as the infant didn’t start wondering why he never heard anything despite his older brother turning the volume up whenever he yelled.

“Why you gotta ignore the baby Snas? I gots a per-dicament over here and you’s not helping me...”

“...”

“...I hope you drop your stupid stink phallic ice cweam.”

“my ice creams not phallic!”

“Yes it is. Why you so cweepy Snas? Don’t you want friends?”

“I’M creepy?! my ice cream’s just like this, i didn’t make it! besides, who pretends his spaghetti noodles are snakes?”

“I does! Da’ meatballs be eggies,” said the baby smiling. “The biggest noodle be the mama snake and I’s the bird that gobbles em’ all up! Nyeh heh heh!”

“...”

“Then I eats the eggs.”

Sans chuckled and slurped up some juice from his popsicle. “you eat the eggs huh? you know there are babies in those eggs...”

“...Nyeh?”

“yep. little baby snakes.

“Nuh uh! The eggs be for the snake’s breakfast! People don’t eat babies!”

“uh, yeah they do bro. where do you think baby snakes come from? you think the mom just poops them out?”

“Yes.”

“no. no pap, they come from eggs.”

Papyrus’s eyes filled with tears. “I’s eating babies...?”

“uh..”

Oh crap!

“Nyeh…nyeehhh…”

“no! no no no, don’t cry! you’re PRETENDING to eat babies! your meatballs are made of meat pappy.”

“Meat of baby?”

“no bro, they’re probably made of magic.”

“Magic babies?”

“NO.”

Note to self, don’t feed Pappy eggs.

“Is dis ice cweam made of baby?” The baby bones held up his melting ice cream.

“*sigh* no bro, it’s not. just eggs.”

“But there be a talking snowman over in Snowdin. Maybe dis ice cweam be his baby!”

“nope.”

“But maybe it is! Maybe da’ ice cweam man be evil big Buther! Maybe he steals the snowman babies and sells em’ on da’ market!”

“…i highly doubt that.”

“I bet he do. I bet he evil as hell! You just like him cause’ he give you food.”

“hey screw you pal, I like him cause’ he’s cheap-”

“YOU CHEEP! YOU SELL YOUR MORALITY FOR SWEETS! You’s bad big Buther, you’s bad and I’m telling Daddy!”

“you do that.”

“I’m gonna! Imma tell upon you and destroy da’ ice cweam man too!”

“the hell you will! you leave that monster alone papyrus!”

“NYEH HEE HEE! IMMA SAVE DA’ BABIES!”

“GET BACK HERE!”

The infant took off like a bullet, the dog and Sans right on his heels.

“YIP YIP!”

“GET LOST DOODY-DOG! I’S RUNNING OVER HERE!”

“TRIP HIM! TRIP HIM DOG!”

“DON’T TRIP DA’ BABY!”

“YIP, YIP YIP!”

“Huh?” The ice cream man tilted his head from behind the umbrella of his cart to try and spot where the commotion was coming from. “Aw-hawww, are you three having fun?”

“RUN DUDE! FUCKING RUN!!”

“DIE BABY-KILLER!!”

BLOOSH!

Two Gaster Blasters fired in succession, one incinerating the ice cream man’s hat.

“AHHH! WHAT THE HELL KID?!”

“NYEHHHHHHAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”

BLOOSH!

“WHY IS HE ATTACKING ME? SANS YOU SWORE HE WOULDN’T ATTACK ME!”

“YOU’S SELLING BABIES ON DA’ MARKET!”

BLOOSH!

“SANS GET YOUR CRAZY BROTHER!!” Screamed the cart-owner ducking down. It was a miracle he hadn’t been killed yet, but if this kept up…

“I’M TRYING! BRO STOP!”

“I GOTS TO SAVE THE BABIES SNAS!”

“THE ICE CREAM’S NOT MADE OF BABIES, IT’S MADE OF MILK!”

“Nyeh?” Papyrus stopped. “But is all frozen and-“ looking down at his ice cream, he saw that it was no longer frozen; the heat wafting in from Hotland had melted it, leaving only bits of magic strawberries behind.

“*SLUUURP!* EWWWW! Dis NASTY! It taste like medi-sin! You trying to get baby high? You work wit Jerry?”

“yeah pap. he’s the high cream man, heh heh heh!”

“…Go home Snas.”

“YIP YIP YIP!” The little dog joyfully lapped up the drippings of the cone, seemingly oblivious to the whole situation. The monster behind the cart was sadly however, NOT so ADHD.

“Why don’t you BOTH go home? Just-just all of you GO HOME.”

“wh-why me? What’d I do?”

“What’d you do? You made a joke instead of I dunno, maybe TELLING YOUR BROTHER NOT TO MURDER PEOPLE?”

“…it was just a joke. I was just trying to lighten the mood a lil’ bit, chill out.”

“It’s not the joke Sans, it’s the fact that you ignored what just happened. I’ve seen you two playing alone for a long time now and it’s because of THIS that you ARE alone. You can’t just ignore your brother’s dangerous behavior or it’s going to get worse-”

“whatever!” exclaimed Sans, highly offended. “who are you to tell me how to raise MY family? you don’t know me OR my bro! pap’s just a baby, i’m sorry he can’t control his emotions ALL the time! i’m not his dad anyway, he’s not MY responsibility-”

“You’re not much of a brother either. Why don’t you try a bit more discipline or something? If that doesn’t work, maybe you should consider putting him somewhere he can’t hurt people.”

“Nyeh…?”

“i’ll keep that in mind. in the meantime, maaaybe you should consider minding your own business?”

“You sending me away…?”

“of course not baby bro,” said Sans, kneeling down and placing a hand on the infant’s shoulder. “you mean the world to me! who’d want to get rid of such a cute baby anyway?”

“Dat’s too…but is also too dat you don’t gots many friends. Is dat really cause’ of me?”

“Of course not,” said a voice from around the corner. “These people are just idiots. Idiot cowards.”

“flowey!”

“Yes yes, it’s Flowey the flower. Here to save the day once again. What seems to be the problem here?”

“This baby-”

“That question was rhetorical. We OBVIOUSLY have another case of a full grown adult picking on a child. Shocker.”

“HE ATTACKED ME!”

“The baby attacked you? With what?”

“With his magic cannon things!”

“He attacked you with his magic?”

“Yes!”

“That thing that EVERYBODY has? That thing YOU have?”

“Y-Yeah…”

“…”

“Look, I know what you’re getting at talking…flower…but I can’t just fight a baby-”

“Why not? If Papyrus is being a turd-sandwich then Beat. His. Ass. Simple.”

“Um, Dirtbutt, you’s not helping me very good…”

“Who says I’m here to help you? Hit the road thumb-sucker.”

“GRR! NYEH!” With all the strength a little baby bones could muster, Papyrus angrily threw his empty cone at the big-mouthed traitor in front of him, hoping to at LEAST cover him in yucky pink goo. Instead it hit the wall with a *CUSH!* and merely splattered on the ground; Waterfall’s runoff quickly washing it away.

“Nice shot, you’re a regular Robin Hood-”

“STUPID STINK FLOWER!”

“bro, no! we don’t throw things!”

“Sometimes I do…”

“no we don’t!”

“But sometimes I do…”

“He’s trying to tell you that you SHOULDN’T throw things,” said the ice cream man preparing another cone. No doubt the baby would want another one and anyone’s G was good G in his opinion, especially in these hard times. The ice cream man was one of the more profitable jobs in the Underground because of the importance people placed on their children, but his image needed to be maintained. Calm, patient, and kind; that was the ice cream man, and he was good at it. Sans had even once called him the Nice cream man as a joke and more and more people were beginning to catch on to the name. Hopefully one day his son would take over the family business, but until then…

“Would you like another cone? This time be sure to stay away from Waterfall’s exit, it tends to get a bit hot there.” He held the cone out to the infant with a smile, hoping the brothers both would forgive and forget their little argument.

WHAP!

“NOBODY WANTS YOUR STUPID MEDICATED ICE CREAM!” shouted Flowey, slapping the cone out of the monster’s hand. Papyrus quickly caught it using his Wingdings and looked at it curiously.

“Dis health cweam? Dis good for the baby?”

“Yes it is,” replied the ice cream man glaring at the plant. “It’s a special blend that’s easy to eat and heals children too young for adult medicine and foods. That’s why it’s so popular…speaking of medication,” his glare softened. “Are you in need of first aid? You’re a plant, but you look like you just came from Hotland…”

“I came from the Lab actually. And do you know WHY I came from the Lab?”

“Oooh ooh! Pick me! Baby knows!”

“Yeah? I bet Smiley knows too, don’tcha buddy?”

“…is it because I left you there-”

“IT’S BECAUSE YOU LEFT ME THERE!!”

The ice cream man slowly began to move his cart away towards Snowdin, hoping no one would notice him leaving. He didn’t know who this flower was, but he’d served customers like this before. The extra G was NOT worth the headache he was currently getting…nor was a cave-in.

“how’d you get past the lava entrance?”

“I FREAKING RAN SMILEY!”

The tiny plant dipped his burning roots in one of Waterfall’s shallow puddles. For a moment there, he didn’t think he would make it. It took a massive amount of courage and Determination to even attempt the journey, but with the help of his cabin fever, he found the strength to take a chance at freedom. Now though he had another problem.

Where am I gonna find a new place to photosynthesize?

I had Alphys’s sun lamps in the Lab, but here…

“I need to find a place with good sun…”

“Da’ Ruins gots good sun…”

“Huh?”

“bro, you’ve seen the sun?!”

“Where? Where is it?”

I’m NOT going back to that stupid lab.

“Is where dat big-ass door be…and da’ doggy door.”

“YIP YIP!”

“Big door…?”

Flowey thought back a long time ago to when he and Chara used to explore the Underground. He remembered a bright field of flowers, but that was in the opposite direction in the throne room near their home…and it didn’t have a door.

A big door…a big door…

“Ugh, I can’t remember what you’re talking about!”

“Nyeh?”

“Uh, I mean, I HEARD about the door, from one of your dad’s phone calls, but I don’t remember what he said.”

“…”

“YIP YIP YIP!”

“SHUT UP FUR BAG! YOU’RE NOT GETTING ANY ICE CREAM!”

Was there ever a door Chara couldn’t get through? One with a doggy door?

“i wanna see the sun…” said Sans quietly.

“You wanna see da’ sun? Why big Buther? It hurt your eyes and make you hot.”

“the sun is the biggest star in the world though pap…”

“THE SUN’S A SPARKLY?!”

“yep, and it’s bigger than ANYTHING.”

“Bigger than Fluffy Buns?!”

“yep!”

“Bigger than yo’ head?!”

“…yeah.”

“If you’ve seen the sun Trashbag, then WHY are you asking how big it is?”

“…I only see it a widdle bit from a hole in da’ ceiling…and only sometimes. Is when da’ doody dog go home. There be a hole behind his com-poo-ter dat leads to the Ruins and udder paces too.”

“the dog...has a computer. right.”

“Where is this door?”

“just ignore him flowey, he’s obviously lying,” said Sans extremely disappointed.

“No he’s not.”

“how do you know?”

“Just trust me he’s not!”

We’ve had problems with this dog since we moved into the Underground.

The Annoying Dog was one of the smaller complaints the kingdom’s people had, but he was long lasting and weird. The little creature reminded Flowey of Papyrus in a way, causing problems wherever he went and getting away with it because he ‘didn’t know any better.’ He’d often heard of seemingly random items going missing from various places never to be found again. Some monsters claimed in horror, that they’d seen the dog absorbing some of the items into his body before scampering away, sometimes through the walls as if he were a ghost. The king warned everyone not to pet the Annoying Dog and to keep their distance whenever they could, but it seemed impossible to keep the hound out of any building. Many would cry out in terror upon turning around and suddenly seeing the legendary monster wagging his tail in their kitchen or living room, although the doors and windows were locked and they had been alone only moments before.

Chara had a strange fascination with the furry menace that Flowey always had a hard time understanding. Whenever the dog was spotted, they’d drop whatever they were doing and run after him, only to lose him in a wall somewhere. They’d then pound on the stone and search it for some sort of crease while Flowey let out a breath of relief from behind. The dog reminded him of Papyrus, true, but the absorbtion ability also brought back memories of a monster from an old VHS tape they had found at the Dump simply called the Thing.

He wanted nothing to do with this creature, no matter HOW much loot he had stored away.

I don’t have a choice anymore though. I need to go through this mutt’s tunnel if I want to find a place to gather energy.

“YIP YIP!”

“Da’ doggy door be in Snowdin. It gots the kingdom shapes on it and is reeeal tall! As big as a tree!”

“…Are you talking about that door in that cave with all the glowing mushrooms?”

“Yeah.”

“You idiot! That’s not a doggy door!”

“Is too! Is the door the doody dog uses! I sees it!”

“Stupid baby.”

“hey, c’mon now. the longer we fight the more pap’s ice cream melts. we need the dog to open the door, right? I mean, no one else has said anything about finding his house so…”

“Yep! Da’ doody dog gots to go inside first or it don’t open.”

“alright then, let’s go.”

“Right!” Flowey jumped up and wrapped himself around Sans. “ONWARDS DUMBO! TO SNOWDIN TUT TUT!”

“GET OFF ME!”

“NYEH HEE HEE HEE HEE!”

Leading the dog with the ice cream, the three reached the cave and went inside.

“SEE? No doggy door.”

“Nyeh? You blind Dirt-Butt? Is right there!”

“That’s NOT a doggy door. Doggy doors have flaps!”

“bro, watch where you’re swinging that thi-aww! You got it all over my hoodie!”

“Nyeh heh heh, cweeeeen it up.”

“you clean it up!”

The Annoying Dog watched as a glob of strawberry ice cream slid down the side of Sans’ sleeve, almost hitting the ground.

“You want dis cweam doggy?”

He said nothing and continued to eye the glob expectantly.

“Open the door and I give you all da’ yumminess you can dweam of.”

Again, the baby was ignored as the dog licked it’s chops and shuffled his paws impatiently, waiting for the glob to fall.

“He’s not listening to you. Smear some ice cream on the door or something.”

“Kay’.”

Waddling over to the door Papyrus stopped and dropped down on all fours, holding his ice cream in the air with his Wingdings.

“What the hell are you do-”

“YIP YIP! I’s a baby doggy and I wish to pee on da’ carpet, but I can’t get inside. Oh woe is me! *WHINE*”

“Arf…?” The dog lifted an ear and tilted his head in confusion.

“Of all the stupid…”

“heh heh heh heh! go pappy! show em’ what you want!”

SCRITCH SCRITCH SCRITCH SCRITCH!

Using both hands, Papyrus scratched at the door as best he could, whining pitifully and using his font to communicate. This time, the dog DID listen, turning away from the glob on Sans’ hoodie and morphing through the wall in his patent disturbing way.

“Ugh, I hate seeing that.”

“did…that dog just go through the wall…?”

Weird…

“hm…well whatever, good job bro!”

Smiling, Papyrus rolled over onto his back and pushed at the door with both feet, opining it. Inside the dog stood on a patchwork blanket panting and grinning as always.

“That tunnel better be here you milk-puking-”

“Is under the com-poo-ter I said! Why you no listen Dirt-Butt? Dat’s how you learn things ya’ know?”

“*WHINE WHINE!*”

“Oh yeah! Here you go doody dog!” said Papyrus handing over his Ice cream. “Be sure to eat the cone too, cause’ littering is bad, right Snas?”

“right.”

The happy hound ate the entire thing almost immediately, licking his nose and sniffing around for any bits he may have missed.

“Nyeh heh heh! He eat like you big Buther!”

“Yeah he does, the PIG!”

“…”

“Speaking of pigs, you might not fit in here Smiley,” said Flowey inspecting the tunnel with a frown. “Maybe you should go home and eat some popato chisps, I don’t need an entourage anyway.”

“whatever! both of you can get bent, I can fit in there no problem!” exclaimed Sans, though he did have his doubts.

We definitely need to widen this tunnel or something if we ever plan to come back here. Papyrus is good at digging and building stuff, maybe he can do something about it later.

“NO you can’t, you’ll get stuck you moron.”

“no i won’t...”

“Fine, learn the hard way. What do I care? Just let me go first.”

“No! BABY goes first. I knows da’ way, you’ll just get lost like the Ugly Duckling. Member’ dat book Snas?”

“Did you just call me ugly?”

“yeah I remember the book, but more importantly, you’re telling the truth right? If there’s a maze of tunnels in here and we get lost, we’ll die pap. no one knows we’re down here…”

“YOU’RE ugly.”

“I knows the way, but you gots to follow mah butt kay’? Follow the baby butt and don’t go nowhere else. Even if you see a Veggie monster, you gots to follow the butt Snas, or you get lost. Lossa tunnels down here.”

“You’re ugly and you’re stupid.”

“iiii won’t wander off baby bro.”

Why do you two think I’d risk my life for some food? Do I really eat that much?

…

Nah, it’s probably my hoodie. My hoodie’s padded and it’s making me look fat. I should probably take it off before I crawl through here…

“Also don’t touch da’ butt, or I calls the guard.”

“No one wants to touch your butt you pervert! Well…maybe Smiley does, his drawings are weird-”

“THEY’RE SPACESHIPS!”

“But I’M the one who’s going to be behind you, not him.”

“But then who gonna push Snas if he get stuck?”

“No one. If this fatass gets trapped it’s HIS problem not mine. I already told him he wouldn’t fit; now let’s go.”

Nodding, the baby bones crawled under the desk and into the tunnel, Flowey following close behind. There were a lot of things the plant hadn’t checked out in the dog’s room; things Chara would’ve KILLED to inspect and/or steal, but Flowey had little interest in anything but finding some sun.

He could always come back anyway.

SCRUFF SCRUFF!

“Would you hurry up? The wet dog and baby smell is making me want to throw up.”

“Slow your roll Dirt-Butt. I’s Papyrus the Baby, not Sonic the Hedgehog. You wait.”

SCRUFF SCRUFF!

The three took a left and continued on at an annoying slow pace, being careful not to scrape themselves on the hard rocky walls. Especially Sans, who had had seconds thoughts about all this half-way through the journey. Every so often Papyrus would stop and look over his little shoulder to see if his brother was still behind him; he would then be rewarded with a thumbs up, though the baby could see he was struggling with the encroaching claustrophobia that seemed to be threatening even Flowey’s sanity at this point.

“OH MY GOD, WOULD YOU JUST HURRY UP? HE’S FINE!!”

“Shut da’ fuk up Dirt-Butt, or I kicks you in da’ face.”

“YOU JUST TRY IT! I’LL BITE YOUR LITTLE TOES OFF!”

“play nice you two, heh heh.”

“Shut up Smiley, you’re not my mom.”

SCRUFF SCRUFF!

Finally, the tunnel started to become wider and then wider still, eventually opening up into what looked like a cliffside of sorts. The place was an empty dead end that overlooked the mining city people called “Home.”

“uhh…I don’t think we’re supposed to be here baby bro…”

“Dis be the Old City where we gets da’ crystals Snas-”

“Correction; this is where we USED to get the magic crystals,” said Flowey. “Then some idiot screwed everything up and released a bunch of poisonous gas in the city’s mine.”

“Lossa monsters used to live here, but then there were too many babies, so they moved, but there still be peoples...”

“Are…are you not listening to me? NO ONE’S WORKING THERE, THIS PLACE IS POISONOUS, WE NEED TO MOVE.”

Sans nodded. “he’s right pap. not all gases can be seen; this place could be toxic-”

“Nuh uh! I’s here yeserday!”

“Bullcrap.”

“I ate a worm and climbed a rock, and sniffed da’ flowers like dis *SNIIIIIIIFFF!*”

“UGH, DON’T DO THAT! I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT!”

“*SNIFF SNIFF SNIFF!*

“SMILEY GET YOUR BROTHER!”

“who built these ruins? did someone live here before we came? i don’t see people building half a home, if you can even call this a home, and then quitting in the middle of it to build another one.”

“HELLO?!”

“the architecture is completely different from the rest of the kingdom too…”

“SMILEY!!”

“you swear you were here yesterday bro? the gases haven’t reached this far yet?”

“*SNIIIFFF!* Yep. The sun place be dis way, but you gots to watch out for the traps, so follow the baby kay’?”

“I hate you, I hate you BOTH and once I find a new place to get some sun, I’m gonna live there for-EVER! I’M NEVER COMING BACK TO THAT NURSERY, DO YOU HERE ME? NEVER!!”

Ignoring Flowey, the brothers began their trek further into the Ruins. There were a lot more traps than Sans was expecting, but it only served to increase his excitement. More traps meant a higher chance of his younger sibling telling the truth, and these WERE traps. There were pits that led to small empty rooms that had no ladders to speak of, switches designed to confuse them hidden behind pillars in the dark, and there was even a room that couldn’t be crossed from one side unless you had something of considerable weight on three buttons in the ground…unless of course you were tall. That was what disturbed Sans the most; the fact that the traps seemed to be for small creatures who couldn’t step over the barricades. The further the three went, the more his excitement turned to fear as he realized the traps were NOT built by the monsters currently living in the Underground and they were clearly meant to cause suffering and eventual starvation.

This couldn’t have been Asgore’s work. I know he said he would gather souls from anyone who fell into the mountain, but these look like they were meant SPECIFICALLY for children…and I know he’s a good person. Besides, so far I’ve only seen one door that leads to the Ruins and he can’t fit through that tunnel, no way.

Who would BUILD things like this?

“these are horrible…”

“Hm? What are you complaining about?”

“the traps…you’ve been looking at the traps right flowey? they’re different…”

“So? Who cares about these stupid traps, they’re ruined anyway. SHE messed everything up. You’re getting scared over nothing; whoever lived here before is long gone…probably.”

Sans took a deep breath. Flowey was right, the traps had obviously been altered a long time ago and no one had come to fix them. The prison pits had been stripped of their doors and their floors laced with heaps of fallen leaves to break the fall of anyone who fell into them, having obviously been put there by someone seeing as the area lacked any trees. The switches built to confuse had been painted bright colors that could easily be seen, and even the room with the floor switches had been filled with rocks, one of which claimed had been placed there by someone they couldn’t see due to their lack of eyes.

“UGH, are you KIDDING me? She put instructions on the freaking WALLS? That’s so lame!”

“who’s this ‘she’ you’re talking about?”

Before the plant could answer, Papyrus lifted them all up with his wingdings and glided everyone, including himself, over the giant pit trap before suddenly speeding off into a room.

“HEY BRO, WAIT!”

“DID HE FIND IT? IS THIS THE ROOM?”

“*CRUNCH CRUNCH!*”

“…”

“hey uh, pap? you probably shouldn’t eat that…”

“LOOK SNAS! Candy. *CRUNCH CRUNCH!*”

“…”

“…you okay flowey?”

“…Never coming back.”

“Want some of dis candy Dirt-Bu-”

“NO!!”

They continued on, Papyrus’s onesie crinkling with the rest of the monster candy having been stuffed inside.

“FINALLY! DO YOU SEE IT SMILEY? DO YOU SEE THE PROMISE LAND?” The plant pointed excitedly towards a sunlit patch of flowers. “IT’S THERE! IT’S RIGHT THERE! WE’RE SO CLOSE!”

“yep, iii see it. don’t think we’ll be able to actually see the sun though from all the way down here…”

“*Yawn* I’s sweepy…I gets the shiny tomorrow, kay’ Snas? Is nap time for the baby…c’mon Dirt-Butt, we go home now.”

“NO! NO NO NO! DON’T TOUCH ME! DON’T FREAKING TOUCH ME! I SWEAR I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, PUT THOSE AWAY! PUT ME DOWN! PUT ME DOOOOOWN!!”

“put him down bro, he can get back on his own, right flowey?”

“YES!!”

As soon as Papyrus desummoned his wingdings, Flowey took off with all the speed of a cheetah; racing for the sunlit patch that would be his new, and hopefully quiet, home, his leaves outstretched.

I’M GONNA MAKE IT!

With one giant leap the tiny plant dived into the flower patch and dug his roots into the warm soil triumphantly. “LOOK SMILEY! I MADE IT!”

CLACK CLACK CLACK CLACK!

“Don’t patronize me you fat piece of-”

Sans stopped clapping. “what do you want from me?”

Ignoring the child, Flowey turned around and basked in the sun’s warm glow, spreading his leaves wide in order to collect as much energy as possible. This place was perfect. Bright, quiet, and tidy; it had a great view of the opening to Mt. Ebott that only someone who could stretch out as long as Flowey could see. A wonderful little lookout where he could not only spy approaching humans, but maybe even lure them in…after all, it’s not like sound couldn’t pass through the barrier. All he had to do was find someone stupid.

Just one. Good. Idiot.

Heh heh heh heh…

“uhh…dude, are you alright?”

“Dirt-Butt got dat scary face big Buther…”

“HA HA HA HA HA HA ALL THE SOULS WILL BE MINE! I’LL LURE THEM ALL IN! HA HA HA HA HA!”

“o-kay…we’re going on ahead. you catch up later alright?”

“NEVER COMING BACK! HA HA HA HA HA! UNSTOPPABLE! UNTOUCHABLE! UNDEFEATABLE! HA HA HA HA HA!”

“Nyeh…?”

“I’LL BE ALL POWERFUL! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!”

“we’re going now-”

“I’LL BE THE ULTIMATE RULER!”

“Bye Dirt-Butt!”

I’ll be a GOD.

#Fonttale #Fonttale au #Undertale #Undertale au #Flowey #Sans #Papyrus #kid sans #Baby Papyrus #Annoying Dog #funny #undertale fanfiction

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kirango-rouge · 7 years

Text

Beyond the ashes of your sons, you will live.

Hi dear people~ A long time ago, i have written a fanfiction in french; “par delà les cendres de tes fils, tu vivras.”, and i have achieved now to translate it in English!

Feel free to tell me if you see any errors in my syntaxe, i tried my best to realise a composition with quality.

Contain: mourning, distress, family, tragedy, love.

[link for the french fic]

[link for the picture]

My fanfiction.net page [here]

Summary: Grief overwhelmed him, remorse gnawed at him, and the infinite silence of the Underground continued to remind him that he was alone. Alone and culprit and slave of his penitence. Sans and Papyrus had left in a place where he could not follow them. For eternity he should survive, beyond the ashes of his sons. Always howling, never heard. Forgotten and distraught.

Enjoy!

Furtively, the ghost in black coat skirted the walls. Like a robber, he moved forward. In heart in sorrow, he sought. Despaired, he called. He called, but his unmatched voice did not resound even in its own head. He was alone. Alone in the silence despairing of a hopelessly empty corridor. His search was not to carry out nowhere, undoubtedly. He slipped on the ground bathed with a twilight glow. He called… silence again returned to him. What he searched with so much eagerness could not be so far! He, the Shadow, the one who listens, the man who speaks in hands, man who comes from the other world, W. D GASTER, did not wanted give up. . . . He had to find them! He had closed the eyes only the single second. He felt now searching since eternity. . . He had not been able to save the first one. What would he have been able to do anyway? He was not more than wind. He was not more than smoke. He was nothing more. He had cried, had tried to catch their ashes flying away in the fog. Without success. He had cursed his impotence, then collapsed on what there remained the body of what was formerly his son: a red scarf, dyed with the colour of a blood he never had. His son! His little! His dear little! His sweetie! His beloved son! He had died. Innocent life mown too early by a Monster avid of ashes. And him, infamous creature! Heart without pity! Father murderer of his sons! … been able to do nothing. It was too late. In vain he called him, but he never came back. Then, second had arrived. His elder, Sans, the second thing he loved the most in the world! His small angel indolant, his precious treasure, his smiling boy, his poor son, shattered in front of the scattered body of his brother. The following scene had been of a horror without name. Sans had fallen at knees in the snow, grabbing the scarf with delicacy, as though it's was a fragile relic. And then bursted roughly in loud sobs. Gaster did not remember if his son had one day be so unhappy. Or rather, yes, he had been, once, a long time ago... When he had been at the first lodges, at the death of his father. This awful day had been engraved in his memory for eternity. A day when the son had not been able to save the father of the death, and when the father had not been able to spare to the son the horrific vision of the death. Sans should never have to live this again. Gaster had made to himself the promise to protect the last child who was left to him. Sans should had to go with others, to honour the memory of his brother by abandoning the idea of fight. But he was left, taking his memory with him, and Gatser had lost both of them. He wandered now, searching for his small missings. He called Sans, begged him to came back. But he did not came back. He did not came back, this boy, this orphan without anybody anymore, who had chosen to leave the path of revenge knowing perfectly that he would not survive it. The Monster never lets leave completely. Gaster known it to have lived it. It had inflicted to him a fate worse than death. It had made him pay the price of his impudence to have played the sorcerer''s aprentice. And now Without was about to return the counts of wich he had escaped from all this time. The father had, this day there, succeeded to protect the son from the fatal pact. He had taken the entirety of the punishement on his shoulders. It was him who had wanted to explore the depths of the space and of time. It was hom who had wanted to control the powerful alchemy of souls. He who had made madness to steal the sacred fire, the invaluable treasure, the incomensurable power of a God all-powerful and not very disposed to share it with a simple mortal. Everything was his fault and he was out of question that Sans has to suffer of the consequences of his own errors. He WANTED that Sans live! Gaster panicked; he was cold. Not cold of his usual loneliness, no. He was cold because he was afraid of this silence which he didn't knew. A silence where it was not sure to again hear the voices of his sons. He was afraid to stop seeking, he was afraid not to succeed to find Sans. He denied what seemed to him more and more inevitable. He could not be solved to accept the fact that his last child had could, he too, disappear. He was afraid to give up searching, he was afraid not to succeed to find Sans. He still called. Still, he called. But nobody heard him. There was nobody. He was alone… … And there, he saw them. The gold, the blue, the red, the gold, the blue, the red, the gold, the blue, the red, the gold, the blue, the red, over, over, over and over, and then; the grey. The horrible grey he feared so much, he didn't wanted to have to see again. Dread grabbed him. He shouted, he called, the grief disfiguring even more his molten face, but there was nobody... He was alone... Sans's body, or rather the relic of what was in the past his body, was spread on the checked floor of the corridor. Slowly, Gaster knelt in earth, his hand feeling the floor as if it could evade under his feet at any time. He curled up on himself, slowly balancing his body from back to ahead. Reality was catching up with it, and it hurts. Oh how much badly, in front of this picture, this vanity, which again plunged him in the torment. . Ashes escaped from a blue jacket, dirty, blotted and smelting frightfully bad. Gaster did not remember if his son had, a day, weared something else. It was so long ago , and the childhood was so far... The father, more plunged that ever into mourning, tightened his misty hand towards her. Towards this only relic, only print in this empty world that sans left behind him. It still gripped in its arms the Papyrus's scarf, only survivor of his tragic end. Sans had wanted to keep it until the end with him, to remind his hate, his despair, his complete impotence but also the fact he would continue love him, wherever he was. Both clothes were closely blended, one with other one, as if, in a last surge of distress, Sans had wanted to give to his brother the ultimate proof of his love. Unless it was Papyrus, poor lost soul, who was came to pick him up during his last instants, to accompany him on the other side, abandonning everything behind them, in the middle of a corridor flooded with a divine light, their sincere affection forever linked by an eternal embrace and which could never again be broken... ... Or perhaps they had left them here, precisely for that the father find them... Gaster knew it very well this love: The great Love, the fruit of the heart, the wire of the life, the source of all the joys, the most beautiful feeling which he had felt by seeing for the first time the face of his children. Gaster had loved his sons, with all his heart. Alone, it had raised them, nourished, rocked, washed, educated. More than all things in the world he had cherished them and yet… and yet… and yet that… In front of him, the result of his love was exposed, the product of his faults, the failure of all his life. The old man caught his face in his hands. He cursed himself, again and again. No! If he had really loved his sons one day, they would not be there, wrongfully private of their life. What had he offered to them at the end? Nothing. Not large things, just the right to live, solitary evenings, an empty childhood. His relation with his children was summarized finally only with that; an absolute void, a bottomless gulf, a life without a father, and a father without love. He, odious monster, obnubilated by its researches, had more and more neglected his family, believing thats was enough, simply, to love them… … Had this been for that Sans had followed his steps? Had his goal was to find the lost love of this father who missed him so much? Ah! , assassin! , poor wretch! , coward! , foolish insensitive! , hateful tyrant! He; Father, murderer of his children! Gaster had killed them, it was him the true culprit! He should have been there! It should have protect his sons! But he had given up them. Until the end, he had given up them. His very whole existence had been wiped; on ground until in the memories. W.D Gaster was not anymore, and could not anything anymore, except looking at the people he loved try to rebuild their life. A life without him. Gaster shivered, disgusted. He had corrupted its heart, had been punished beyond the unimaginable limits, but one does not dare to be caught for God without receiving a sanction worthy of this crime. It was not enough that Gaster loses at the same time his integrity and his social life, no! The agony was still too soft! He was to also be condemned to admire the terrible demise which would decimate all his race. To assist to the death of his sons, one after the other, completely impotent and disabled. Then there, only, the Monster would be satisfied. Gaster looked down, more drier than the ashes colouring the floor, upon the rests of his babies. The empty sleeves of sans's jacket seemed still driven by the life. They gripped tight the red strings of Papyrus's scarf, the passionate red of the ''Desire'' but also of the ''deathsire". Yes more than ketchup or sweat, it stank out the death. The Old ghost suppressed a shiver of reluctance. He kept quiet. He did not shout. He did not call. He knew that nobody would come. Now, he was truly alone... Sans's ashes remained there stretched out; on an icy stone floor for only tomb, the silence surrounding for every confessor, all this lost in the meanders of an empty palace for final resting place, and watched by a only being, forgotten by all. Was it possible to know a more atrocious end? That one where you die, alone, after having buried all your close relations without even to have time to cry them. That one where you go obstinately towards it, in a travel without return, because nothing anymore retains you in this world. An world emptied of all the beings which have one day counted for you. Terrified at the idea that his dear child could have cross a such terrible ordeal; Gaster, in a spontaneous fit of love and distress, found the courage to grab the clothes lyed on the floor. These rests of death he feared so much. He pulled them to him and gripped them with all his force against his chest. The memory of his sons haunted him. Papyrus and Sans had died as he had lived; the first loving and hoping, the second hating and fatalist, but enlaced forever in an unique and eternal embrace. The Monster had been patient, knowing that sooner or later It would end up getting its tribute. Papyrus had died only to lure his brother better into the lion's mouth. Sans, defeated by the Monster, had thinked see his brother and had called him, as his father did it some moments ago. The shadow cried now. Large sincere tears of distress flooded off his broken face. Now that he no longer had any hope, he could be let himself go to the sobs, give up, and deplore his fate as would do it a lost child. The memory of his children obsessed it. Gaster murmured the name of his adored sons. These sons whom it had had time to see dying. What a horror! Gaster had hardly had the impression to have seen them growing and, in parallel, that to have passed an eternity to look at them dying. He had continued all its life the search of the truth by neglecting all the rest. He had believed that to reach the truth would… could only make him happier. Stupid man! Gaster had ended up forgetting that it was already happy: how the happiness of his life was just there, under his eyes! That it above all was made up by the simple or exceptional moments, small or enormous, merry or sad that he shared with his family. Because he had, it believed he got. Because happiness lived in silence in his house, he thought that it was acquired. Gaster had wanted to go always further, to obtain always more happiness, ending up fatally to burn his wings close to a misleading sun. Irony of fate, he had not gone comtpe that it had been happy only after having lost everything. He sobbed. He missed Sans and Papyrus, terribly. He wanted to found them, embrace them, hold them tight in his arms, to admire their smiles once again, to hear their laughters. He wanted to be able to start everything again. To carry out a better life, where he would be occupied, this time, as it should be of his sons. He ardently wished to have the opportunity of repurchasing his faults. More than all, he wished to be able to tell them whats, when they were alive, he had not been able to tell them: How much he loved them, both! Gaster felt an acid nausea to go up to him in the throat. He had enough to suffer. Enough to see the others suffer. Enough to always mess things His condition made it sick more than of reason, so much that he wondered one moment if he had not become insane. No! He don't wanted to lose his mind! His life and his children had already been torn off to him! His conscience was all that remained to him! If only he could retrogress… Gaster aspired to be father again; to raise his children, to nourish them, bathe them, pamper them, read them stories, to spend time with them, to see them grow, become adult, fly of their wings, to age with them, and finally, after having passed a delightful and sincerely happy existence, to be able to die before them, having blessed them for the last time and waiting until they naturally come to melt their ashes with his. But all of that from now was refused to him… impossible. Condemned, it was nothing anymore but an empty shell, a formless creature neither dead or alive! Gaster squeezed the jacket and the scarf against his chest. He gripped them with all his force, as if he tried to make them vanish between the layers of his body, appearing to want to fusion with them. Grief overwhelmed him, remorse gnawed at him, and the infinite silence of the Underground continued to remind him that he was alone. Alone and culprit and slave of his penitence. Sans and Papyrus had left in a place where he could not follow them. For eternity he should survive, beyond the ashes of his sons. Always howling, never heard. Forgotten and distraught. Gaster murmured their names one last time, like a plea, a lullaby, a drop of light in this twisted world, of which the end was so close. From the moment when Sans had given up the gost, the appetite of the Monster had started to be filled, and the Darkness to extend themselves. Just a little dessert, and It would be completely satisfied… until It get hungry again. Undoubtedly, a lot of time should not have passed by since the return of Gaster, but it's seemed to him that thousand years had just passed onto him heavily. Thousand years of mourning, sufferings and regrets, where he was not still done with the loss of his sons. The ancient scientist continued thinking, noticing barely that the environment was transforming little by little. ... Could he try to find them? Was there a means he could escape from this prison of wind and of smoke? His punishment had it an end? The Drakness approached more and more quickly, invaded the corridor, extinguished any light, and ended suddenly to absorb him. The torpor seized him. Misfortune overpowered his broken face. Gaster closed his eyes and gripped against him what there remained of these children that he had so much loved, and let the void snatch him, waiting for the next. The noise of the silence ceased. And everything disappeared. There was nothing here anymore from now on.

#my fanfiction #gaster #papyrus #sans #dadster #judgement hall #translation #par delà les cendres de tes fils tu vivras #beyond the ashes of your sons you will live

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lesbeansoup · 7 years

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Tale of Thrones (Long live the King) [#1]

Tale of Thrones is set in a world where war between humans and monsters is about to break up. Asgore and Toriel are King and queen of a realm in which both races coexist, although some tension can be felt in the air.

The story follows a different Gaster from the shady, quiet character we all know. He’s talkative, outgoing and nice to every single one of the people he meets. He has a talent to be loved, a perk when it comes to talking people into what you want. He’s happily married to a human lady named Lucy and has a son named Brandon, who is nineteen years old and serves the royal army, as every kid of his age.

He’s trusted, he’s loyal and would do anything to stop the war that threatens both races. He may find the way to do so.

(This is chapter one, I’ll write more if I feel like it. Hope you enjoy!)

***

Asgore looked at him severely. Another council, another disappointment. He wouldn’t keep stability in his kingdom if things kept on being like that. Riots, thievery and murder were a common thing in the streets, despites the efforts of the queen to keep in touch with the people and their needs while her husband took care of the royal matters.

Even when Toriel got out of the castle and spoke to the people, offering company and understanding. No matter the race, people was never happy. Like if monsters weren’t as human as those “men”. Some were even more human.

—The council is over. You may go now if you wish.— Gaster stood up from his chair. His robes didn’t annoy him at all: he was used to dressing them and he wasn’t planning on getting rid of them either. He loved those clothes too much.

—Thanks for everything, G. Good job as always.—Gaster shrugged the compliment off and grabbed the folder he always held under his arm, giving him a profesional look, in contrast with his white scarred face.

—Oh, please, As. Don’t even mention it. It’s my job. Now, if you excuse me, I’d like to go home!—He smiled gladly at Asgore. Even when things seemed desperate, they had to stand tall and don’t let go off their hope. A smile could work wonders if you knew when to use it. And Gaster knew when to use it.

G loved his job. As the royal treasurer, he had lots and lots of contacts. Like a huge spider web that covered the whole realm, he had eyes and ears in every corner, and knew every little secret, every little gossip, every little joke that was told even in the smallest of places.

And he loved jokes. He loved knowing everything. Having everything under control, and knowing which area was most problematic, so he would focus investing money in that hospital, in that village, in that mansion, in that square.

He left the room in company of Alphys and Muffet. The royal council. A Trinity of monsters that had always been by the king’s side, and were worthy of his trust, even in times when even that was a hard thing to find.

—E-Er…I-I hope the king’s not too mad about all this, y’know…b-because of the whole “I am responsable for this”, a-and ssstuffff…—Alphys spoke in a trembling, shy voice, that was barely understandable for foreigners, but not for those who knew her well. It was a good thing that her only job was being locked in her lab, brewing all kinds of who-knows-what liquids, and supervising any kind of construction or work in progress that had to do with numbers.

—Aw, Alphy, don’t worry. He’s our King, isn’t he? He will stay determined! I’m sure of it!—Gaster tried to cheer her up. Although he knew it was going to be almost useless: the shy monster was not only nervous and talkative, but stubborn as a mule too.

—Yeah! And also, he’s got Tori by his side, right? Tee-hee!—Cheerful and optimistic, Muffet came to the rescue. Gaster smirked at her with complicity, and her responded by blinking two of his five eyes. Some people assured that she was able to make inventory of everything in the realm with all of them at once.

The three monsters walked together, chatting until they arrived to the main hall of the castle. There, they didn’t wave goodbye at each other. They knew where to find each other if needed. And they were gonna see each other more sooner than later.

G’s thoughts scratched the walls of his mind, trying to get out somehow. He walked down the street, straight as a stick, scanning with his eyes every single thing he saw. He liked to see the little details in everything.

That little spider on the Wall, happily building his trap next to a doorstep. That house was going to be well protected against mosquitos that summer, he though. The small river of water from a human’s house doorstep that was flowing with ease through the dirt, darkening its color.

Some kid was going to be in trouble for breaking that pipe.

It wasn’t until he had been walking for almost half an hour that he heard a voice calling his name. It was low, but hight pitched at the same time, like a two year old dog.

But Gaster knew exactly who did that voice belong to.

He turned around and saw his son walking to him in Company of two skeleton-like monsters, dressed in a beautiful, shiny armor. They were all sweaty: certainly summer was going to be cruel with soldiers this year.

—Dadster! Dadster!—His son happily chanted with his manly voice as he walked to him along with the two skeletons. Gaster laughed and covered his face of laughter.

—Tell your cousins to take those off! They’re going to boil alive!—One of the two skeletons laughed and snapped his fingers, making both his and his brother’s armor dissapear, making Brandon the only one wearing armor.

—SANS! I WAS ABOUT TO LOOK COOL IN FRONT OF THE ROYALTY SO THEY WOULD LET ME IN THE ROYAL GUARD!

—Don’t worry, pal. I’m sure they’ll let you in. Someday. I feel it in my bones.—Said the shortests of the skeletons with a grin in his face.

Papyrus grunted.

—Come on, bro. Don’t be like that. I’m so humerus.

Papyrus started thigtening his mandibles, making his teeth let out an annoying noise.

—Don’t worry, G. We were just showing your kid some shortcuts, and took him to the Philosofer’s rock.

—Oh really? What’s Philosofer’s rock? I’ve never heard of it.—Answered Gaster confused.

—Oh, well. Yeah. You know. I’ve just baptized it. It’s a rock where I created the most meaningful of meaningful puns…—He got his hands of his pockets, like getting ready to run away from something.

—Sans, don’t even…

—TIBIA OR NOT TIBIA, THAT IS THE QUESTION!—Even after he could finish saying that phrase, Paps started running after him with an angry look on his face. Gaster and his son laughed as they saw them get lost in the distance. After they were done laughing, G talked to his son.

—It’s getting late you little monster, wanna go have dinner?

—Don’t call me little monster! I’m not a kid anymore!—He answered, prideful.

—So is that a yes?—He asked with a smile.

—Sorry Dad. I’m afraid I can’t. Captain Undyne called us not long ago for a nightwatch.

Gaster wrinkled his nose, and then let him go. He was a man now, he thought, he had to take care of his duties. He still remembered when he was little, his Little cheeks, and his fighting games with that wooden stick in company of his cousins…

That nostalgia was washed off as son as he entered home. The wooden door opened with a noisy “SCREEEEEK”, and as soon as he layed a foot inside his house, someone hugged him from behind. Someone entered the house at the same time as him. And someone kissed his cheek as he closed the door behind his back.

—Good evening, honey.

Lucy was astonishingly pretty that day. Her wild red hair fell over her shoulders like a waterfall of fire and flames, framing an innocent, cheerful face. An uncommon contrast that gave life to her face in an indescriptible manner.

—Good evening, dear. May I cook today?

—Isn’t Bran coming home?—Suddently asked Lucy, slightly worried. Gaster calmed her with an unworried gesture of his hand.

—Not today. He’s a little man with lots of big duties.—Lucy wrinkled her nose like G had done moments ago. Then, she shrugged and headed to the kitchen.

—I said I was cooking toda - - -

—YOU SAID. I didn’t allow you to. — She said with crossed arms and a grin in her face, as she grabbed a cooking pot and a spoon.

—Alright, the I guess we’ll - - - —Lucy spanked her husband in the butt with the wooden spoon, making him smile and allowing himself to express surprise. After some time to regain composture, he and his wife cooked dinner. Even more: they had fun while doing so.

It was not uncommon for Gaster to have fun doing things. But doing them with his family was a different kind of fun. A fun that fueled his soul and his heart to a limit he couldn’t describe by using just words. It gave him strength, determination to stay by Asgore and Toriel’s side in thos hard times. They had happy lives: people in the streets didn’t. But that didn’t matter when him, her and Bran were smiling. Happy. Blooming flowers in a world about to tear itself apart.

He forced those thoughts out of his head before he started becoming pessimistic and enjoyed dinner, note ver letting go of the expression of happyness that had formed in his face. He had a happy life.

As they were doing the dishes, there was a knock on the door.

“Strange.” Thought Gaster. He knew his son always carried with him a full set of keys. He dryed his hands with a towel and walked up to the door. He opened it, expecting anything.

What he found at the other side was a monster. A familiar monster. One tall, White as snow, female goat was at the porch with a face of sadness.

—Tori? What’s wrong?—He then noticed her hands, stretched and crossed in a way that made him feel weird.

—Gaster…I tried to save him… I’m so sorry…

End is importat in all things.

—May I come in?—She asked with a trembling voice. Something was horribly wrong with the queen. It wasn’t uncommon for her to visit random houses, but it seemed like she had something to say.

And like the Jester said to the King…

—It was an accident, G.

There is bad news that I bring.

—Your son is dead.—With a muffled voice, more a silence than a phrase, she let go the deadliest bullet a person possibly could shoot to a father’s heart.

—T̷hi̴s͠.͝.͠.t̵his ͟ḿưst be͘ ́a ̵m͝istake, ̶he͞ ̀ca̧n̡'̶t̶ ̀b̡e͜..̧.—Out of his throat came, in Company of his words, a white noise, comparable to a radio’s static.

—I’m so, so sorry, Gaster. I tried to save him. We all tried. But the injures were too…—Toriel decided to stop speaking as he saw Gaster’s face become shadier and shadier, like he was drowning.

He was drowning. Because a child who loses a parent is an orphan, and a wife who loses her husband is a widow.

But a father who loses his child is a disgrace.

Tears streamed down his face as his wife ran from the kitchen and tried to confort him. They took the conversation to the living room, where Toriel explained what had happened as softly as she could, trying to minimize graphic details, conforting his friend and servant, one of his most loyal companions.

Killed. A trident went through his heart. Asgore’s trident. Rookie’s armor looked a lot like the troublemaker’s and in the middle of a riot, Asgore had confused him with an enemy.

—H̗e̶̠̦̱͙.̭.̶.̯͍̥h̲̝͇ḛ'̪͓s͚͇̖ ̙ḏ̳̣̰̱̦̮ḙ̫̭̤͔̩a̪̖͉d̘ ͓̞͔̰͚L̳̙̪u͉̫̭͔̕cy̸̹͖̭̻͍̥͖.͙̼̘̠̦̱͙͞.̮̣̹.T̨͙͙̦̤̦͎o̩̠̪̪̣͖r̠̞i̡͇̪̭̞̠ę̠̬͖͓͖l͎̲̯̹̀,̙͔̣̤͉ͅ ̭̩w̖̰̗̠̲̯̥e̹̜ ͚͉͕̪̹c̨͓͖̺̜̙̙a̟ṇ̞̪̜͙̜̕ ̵̙̖̯̹f̬̖͍̰̘̮̯i͍̦͉̪̪̟̰͞x͈̹͠ ͕̺͚i̹̫̟͎̲t̳͈̘.̷̫̤͙̹̩̱̘.͖͇͕͍̹̰̗.̗̯̘̮̠͎r̢i̫̻̤̳̼̮͔g̼͍̭͚̩̱̣h̡͔̫͔͈ṯ̴̤͇͇̲͈?͏͚̰̣͍͎—Deep down he knew it couldn’t be fixed. But hope pulled him away from all logic thinking.

Dead. He would never feel his soft, warm cheeks against his skull, hear his laughs or play with his cousins hide and seek. And lose every time in purpose to make Papyrus laugh.

The war took him away. It was an accident.

Gaster and his wife cryed their son’s death for one whole moon cycle. In that time, friends came to visit and give condolences.

War didn’t take him away. The humans did. With their grabby hands, stealing armors and putting them on, they made the King confused and made him stab his kid. The whole war was a slaughter, and no one was doing anything to fix it. Even when they tried their best at their job, nobody could be always happy. Too many people, too many lives to spare.

Asgore had killed his child. That was the only truth. It may had been an accident, but that was it. Violence, and more violence. That was the solution of our beloved King. He thought he was his friend. His beloved friend. He could have called him a brother if someone had asked him to.

Incompetent, naive King. Your battles and your crusades took away his happyness. There had to be a way to stop this madness. A way to make everything end…

There was.

There was a way.

If he sat in the throne next to his wife, wouldn’t monsters and humans be more sympathetic ones with the others, seeing a monster and a human sitting in the throne? Wouldn’t that make things easier for everyone?

So he took his decision. He knew the rules of the game he was about to get into. A game played between four walls, with a throne in the middle. There’s no trust, there’s nobody that would help him. There’s nothing written, and the only winner is whoever is the last one standing.

***

After a month, Gaster finally got up from his bed and opened the curtain. He kissed his wife in the cheek, softly, and left her sleeping. She looked like an angel, he thought. So sweet.

He walked up to the door, grabbed his robes and put them on. They didn’t annoy him at all: he was used to dressing them and he wasn’t planning on getting rid of them either. He loved those clothes too much.

He put his folder under his arm, opened the door and headed to the castle for another day of hard work.

He smiled.

Long live the King.

#undertale #au #taleofthrones #gaster #wd gaster

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spinach-productions · 7 years

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Baby Spinach, chapter 9

Summary: Why are secret lairs always in the last place you expect?

Wordcount: 3349

They swing by the facility for Gaster's research, which was too extensive to be packed with the rest of his things. “You're out awful late,” says the dog on guard duty. Most of the Royal Guard seems to be made of dogs.

“I'm having a hard time sleeping,” Gaster replies shakily.

“That's right, you're usually at home by this time.” The guard hands back Gaster's badge with a sympathetic look. “We'll find them, doctor. There's nothing the Royal Guard hates more than lost puppies.”

Gaster heroically does not point out that he's in the middle of finding Sans and Papyrus on his own. “Wait,” he says as the guard begins to turn around, “Could you tell me about the case? Has there been any progress?”

The guard cocks his head to one side. “Didn't you see Lieutenant Donahue just this evening?”

“I-I did, but I was hoping there had been a development since then...?”

He gives what Gaster suspects is meant to be a supportive smile, but falls slightly short due to the tongue still sticking out the corner of his mouth. “If there are any changes, we'll let you know,” the Guard says, laying a gentle paw on Gaster's shoulder.

Gaster pats the paw a few times, thanks the guard, and stiffly crosses the bridge into the main entrance hall.

Several steps past the main reception desk (manned only by a stack of information pamphlets due to the late hour), Imposter Donahue falls into step next to him. He's now wearing the official Royal Guard uniform, though Gaster would be hard pressed to guess where he got one. “Nice job distracting the dog.”

“I don't care for subterfuge,” Gaster says sharply. He makes a point of telling the truth and staying out of trouble because he is not good at it.

“Then don't think of it that way,” Not-Donahue says with a grin, “Think of it as the first step towards out collaboration, and believe me, doctor, you'll find what comes next to be worth the difficulties.”

The take the side corridors to Gaster's office. He painfully notes that these are the same routes he used to take with the children. While the lab is open all hours to accommodate its employee's variety of schedules, few people work this late; the halls are quiet aside from the florescent lights and humming climate control system.

His office is at one end of the supervisor's wing. They collect Gaster's research, then head back into the hallway. “Where are we going,” Gaster asks as he relocks the door.

“Patience,” the imposter says, “We'll get there soon.”

“It would help if I had some idea of our destination.”

“I don't see how that's relevent to anyth—”

“Well, hello there Lieutenant,” says someone Gaster's metaphorical circulatory system begins to run cold. He turns; the well-meaning intern is standing at the other end of the hall, where he has no idea what kind of complications he's just .

“Donahue,” he corrects faintly.

“And Doctor Gaster, good evening! I thought you'd already gone home for the evening.”

Not-Donahue cocks an eyebrow in Gaster's direction. The expression reads take care of this, or I will.

“I, ah. Forgot some things,” he says, gesturing to the notebooks and binders in his arms.

The intern eyes the stack. “Planning to work from home for a while?” He asks with a sympathetic tone.

Despite the situation, Gaster notes that he can now recognize sympathy in many different forms. Later, he'll pat himself on the back for the sharpening of his social observational skills; now, he scrambles for some kind of explanation as to why he's leaving the facility with classified information that will also give Not-Donahue a reason to keep from speaking. “It's a more comfortable environment,” he says desperately. The weight of his papers keeps his hands from shaking too badly, but they're still rattling quietly against the binders.

“Do you want help carrying those?” The intern asks.

“No,” Gaster blurts out, “Ah, no thank you. I think the Lieutenant and I have it covered.”

Not-Donahue seems amused by the Gaster's fumbling. He takes half the stack, balancing it on one hand like a serving tray, and gives a thumbs-up with his free hand.

“Apparently you do,” the intern says with a smile, “Well, I'll let you get on with your work.”

Gaster heaves a sigh of relief.

“Oh wait, one more thing. Lieutenant, your niece was looking for—”

“Donnie?”

Gaster slowly turns to look down the other end of the hall. Silohouetted dramatically in the light from the perpendicular hallway is a young, aquatic girl with blue skin and red hair. She's wearing a dirty t-shirt and overalls, and bears enough resemblance with Donahue to suggest a familial tie.

The girl grins widely, revealing extremely familiar teeth.

“H-hello,” Gaster says in a shaky voice, “What's your—”

The girl launches herself down the hallway. It's faster than he can react, but Gaster still see the actions in slow motion: the girl darting past him towards the imposter, those enormous sharp teeth unhinging. Not-Donahue takes as step back as he realizes what's about to happen, but is still too late to stop Donahue's niece from leaping into the air and clamping down on his arm.

He yells in pain and surprise, and starts flailing in an attempt to dislodge the girl's teeth from his skin. The force makes he let go, and she tumbles backwards across the floor as the imposter tosses Gaster's research to the side and slaps a hand over the wound.

The binders he was holding crash to the ground. The intern looks confused. Donahue's niece blinks up at him from the floor. Her eyes narrow.

“You don't sound like Donnie,” she says.

The imposter grabs Gaster's wrist and sprints down the hallway, sending Gaster's own stack of papers clattering behind them. He leaps over the girl and careens around the corner, taking Gaster with him as they veer sharply across the tiles. “Idiot,” he yells as they barrel down the hallway.

“What?” Gaster shouts back.

“Why didn't you do something?

“What could I have possibly done?!”

“Something! Anything! Do you realize what's happened?” They take two right turns, then run past a series of meeting rooms. “That brat is going to tell her aunt that someone who looked exactly like her was walking around with you.” They dash past an intersection, then do a swerving u-turn and run back to it. The man is still holding Gaster's arm tightly; Donahue's niece managed to bite down on the outside of his forearm, puncturing the cloth the holds the armor pieces together. Blood is already seeping through the resulting holes in the fabric. “She's going to put that together with whatever you told her about our meeting two days ago, Gaster. The jig is up.”

“We have a head start,” Gaster says, trailing after the imposter as he navigates the facility, “We can still work together—”

“Of course we can,” the imposter snarls, “But this wasn't the plan.”

Gaster has no idea what the plan could be, but it apparently involved skidding to a stop in front of the dangerous materials laboratory. To his astonishment, the man produces a key card with a high enough security clearance to get them inside; he locks the door after them and, still firmly gripping Gaster's arm, marches them past the determination experiments to some disused equipment in the back corner of the room.

“She really got me,” he hisses, pressing down on the wound with the other hand. “Help me move this.”

They wrestle the old equipment out of the way, leaving a clear space on the floor. The imposter begins counting tiles in some kind of pattern, stopping in front of one that looks no different from the others. He knocks on it. Apparently satisfied with whatever he hears, he brings his foot down on one side of the tile.

With a sound like heavy stone grinding against heavier stone, the other side of the tile flips up, revealing a long, dark tunnel leading under the floor of the lab. A ladder is mounted against one wall. The imposter looks up at Gaster and grins.

“Please,” he says, gesturing into the hole, “After you.”

Gaster has seen the blueprints for the Royal Science Laboratories, and he's certain this tunnel leading down into the earth should not be here. Yet here he is, descending a ladder into the depths of the facility with a man who murdered a human child and then proceeded to chip off two piece of his own soul to make more children. Gaster firmly shoves these ideas to the side and continues downward.

The bottom of the ladder connects with a dark green floor. The room is narrow but long, and the opposite wall is occupied by several large standing closets. A door with an ominous looking lock is carved into the far size.

The imposter skips the last rung of the ladder and lands on the tile. “Sorry for the delay, I had to cover our tracks.”

Gaster doesn't know how he did this from inside the tunnel, but nods as though he understands.

Not-Donahue sheds the Royal Guard armor and places it in one of the cabinets. On closer inspection, each one is is filled to the brim with outfits: Gaster spots the Royal Laboratories' official labcoat, several sets of training gear, a suit, and a number of other clothes he can't identify because they're crammed together into a mess of fabric. The imposter pulls a plain labcoat and a large shirt from the fray. At the same time, he appears to be decreasing in mass; Donahue's vibrant read hair disappears, replaced with two reptilian crests that run along his head. The aquatic coloring fades into pale green scales, and a set of hair-thin spines appear down the sides of his neck. The final form seems to be some kind of lizard, only an inch shorter than Gaster himself.

The imposter pulls on the shirt, which sits on his frame like a tunic. “I debated about whether or not to let you see my form,” he says, shrugging on the labcoat, “But then I remembered that you wouldn't dare compromise my boys by revealing the information.”

The threat hangs heavily between them. The imposter grins. He has many small, triangular teeth.

Gaster clears his throat awkwardly. He learned to produce the noise for situations exactly like this. “Well.”

The man continues to grin as he extracts several keys from his pockets.

He flicks on a light switch. Ceiling lights flicker a few times before they buzz to life, filling the space with dim light.

The room they reveal is, undoubtable, a laboratory.

There are several movable lab benches arranged into a row, each with its own lamp to make up for the inadequate overhead lights. Papers and tools are scattered messily across the tables, in some cases spilling over the edge to form piles on the floor. Several hallways connect this room to what must be the rest of the base; some have doors, some of those doors have locks. Bookcases crammed with materials are placed wherever there’s space, creating a furniture maze through the room. At the center of the maze, which is off to one side of the room, is an open space dominated by a large ominous cylinder. It’s surrounded with monitoring equipment that looks like a large electrocardiograph, but the cylinder itself is covered with a thick drop cloth. Gaster can see a faint blue glow leaking under the edges.

He feels faintly ill.

“Welcome to my workspace,” the man says, gesturing to the setup. “I would have neatened things if there was more time.”

“It’s lovely,” Gaster lies.

“Thank you! It’s the result of ten years of forced isolation.”

“How did you even find this place? Let alone gain access to it?”

The imposter looks affronted. Gaster is fairly certain this is an exaggerated expression. “Why doctor, I’m surprised! Don’t you remember the young professor who had an office across the hall from your ten years ago?”

Gaster comes up with a vague memory. “The one who stole containment equipment before the added security measures were put into place?”

The man grins widely a second time.

“You needed the containment units for this,” Gaster says as the pieces come together, “You already had the soul.”

“This day has been a long time coming,” he replies, clasping his hands together. “A few more short years and we’ll see to it that the barrier is destroyed for good.”

Something makes a noise. Gaster tears his eyes from what’s probably a human soul to see two small eyes peering at him around a shelf. He sprints around the bookcase to find a second, smaller area between the furniture. A familiar playpen sits in the center, and next to two small pillows is Papyrus. He’s wearing the same red onesie as the day he disappeared, but otherwise seems no worse for wear. “I was so worried,” Gaster murmurs, scooping him into his arms.

Papyrus looks up at him, then over his shoulder to his father, then back to Gaster. He looks increasingly confused and upset, and begins to pat his own face in reassurance.

“Shh, it’s alright,” Gaster soothes, gently bouncing the baby in his arms, “I’ve got you.”

The imposter clears his throat. “I apologize for borrowing your child containment space, but I’m sure you understand that I need it more than you do right now.”

“Of course,” Gaster says without commitment. “May I ask where Sans is?”

“He’s grounded,” the man says, waving a hand as if this is of no consequence, “Until he learns to handle his responisibilities in ways other than running away with his brother.”

“Of course,” Gaster says with even less commitment.

Another moment passes before he speaks again. “Well, as I was saying, welcome to my home. This is the main laboratory, where you and I will conduct research the human soul specimen.”

“It’s… very functional,” Gaster says, holding Papyrus close as he continues to pat his own face.

“Thank you kindly, doctor. Ah, where are my manners? May I offer you something to drink before we get started?”

“Yes, thank you,” Gaster replies, jumping on the opportunity to see more of the base. He follows the man down one corridor and into a room that serves as a fantastic example of how not to clean a kitchen: the counters are covered in food stains and leftovers, the sink is stacked high with dishes, and there are garbage bags piled up in the corner. If he had a nose, Gaster is sure it would be unhappy.

“Please excuse the mess,” the man says absently, setting the water on the table and holding his arms out for Papyrus.

“Why don’t I put Papyrus down for a nap, so we can discuss the details of your work,” Gaster says, holding Papyrus tight to his chest. “We don’t need a toddler getting underfoot for that. I assume he has a designated sleeping area?”

After a moment of thought, the imposter agrees. The nursery turns out to be one of the closed doors branching off from the main room; the man unlocks it and Gaster steps into what seems like an empty room. There’s an off-white carpet, a crib, and one shelf with a few books; otherwise, the room is completely barren.

“This is certainly one type of nursery,” Gaster says to himself.

Luckily, the crib has a mattress and blankets. He reluctantly tucks Papyrus in with a whispered promise to come back for him later.

Papyrus refuses to let go of Gaster’s coat.

“I know, I know,” Gaster says, tugging at Papyrus’ tiny hands, “But I have to find your brother before I can get you out of here.”

Papyrus whines as Gaster pries his fingers open.

“Shh,” he comforts. He arranges the blankets into a circle and tucks Papyrus in at the center. “I’ll be back soon.”

Gaster left home to pursue a career in science, leaving his family and familial obligations behind. He’s participated in strategic war planning that involved dozens of human deaths, and he’s watched corporeal friends and colleagues wither from old age. But none of these are as difficult as walking away from Papyrus as he whimpers to himself in an empty room.

Several hours listening to the man’s explanations later, Gaster manages to convince him that, as the guest, Gaster should be the one to make dinner this evening, and that even though he may be barred from leaving his room (apparently for any reason, including food up until this point), a merciful father would be willing to grant Sans his supper.

As such, Gaster manages to cobble together some sandwiches from stale bread and old condiments. Sans’ room turns out to be another branching off the main room. Unsurprisingly, the door is locked and requires several keys to open. After some more cajoling, he manages to get the keys from the imposter and eases the door open with his elbow.

The room shows only slightly more forethought than Papyrus’ nursery in that it has a desk in addition to shelves and a bed. The shelves are filled with books, varying in subject from children’s literature to high-level scientific explanations. There don’t seem to be any intermediary texts. Sans is sitting on the bed, reading a book. He looks up when the door opens and freezes when he sees Gaster standing there.

He’s also wearing the same clothes he disappeared in, but where Papyrus seems to have suffered no further injuries, Sans has a medical pad taped over one eye socket.

“Hi,” he says cautiously.

Gaster takes a breath to calm the emotions ricocheting in his chest. “Hello, Sans,” Gaster replies, “Are you alright?”

Sans froms with what looks like distrust. “How are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Changing your voice. You sound like the other guy.”

The man in the next room can change his shape at will, of course Sans wouldn’t trust him at first. “First, though I don’t expect you believe me at this time, I am not your father. Second, I object to you calling me ‘the other guy’, but I see your point. What happened to your eye?”

Sans shrugs and doesn’t answer. He’s clearly taken up Gaster’s invitation to not believe him.

They watch each other.

“I brought sandwiches,” Gaster says, holding up the tray. “I made sandwiches.”

Sans’ one visible eye narrows.

“This one is for you. It’s mostly ketchup.”

“You could just ask me to get up,” Sans grumbles, marking the page in his book and setting it aside.

“What?” Sans refusing to eat dinner until he was certain the food wasn’t drugged— “Oh! No, that isn’t what I meant at all,” Gaster says quickly, setting the tray on the bed, “What was it what was it— ah! Point to any part of the sandwich, that’s right!”

Sans stares at him. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he extends an arm and touches the exact middle of the bread.

Gaster has to tear the sandwich in half to get at the middle, but manages to eat the indicated section. The real struggle is getting past the knowledge he’s eating ketchup, but for Sans, he’ll do it.

“Dings?” Sans asks faintly.

Gaster wipes a smear of hellish tomato from the corner of his mouth and gives a thumbs up.

Sans reaches out to touch Gaster’s arm. When it doesn’t disappear under his hand, his visible eye wells up with tears.

Gaster opens his arms in invitation. “May I offer— oof.”

Sans collides with Gaster’s torso and grabs on with both hands. “Dad didn’t catch you, did he?”

“No,” Gaster replies, holding Sans tight to his chest, “I came with him to find you. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“There’s no way out,” Sans says from where he’s pressed his face to Gaster’s sweater.

“There is, and I will find it. I will get us out,” Gaster promises.

#Spinach Productions #Baby Spinach #undertale #fanfiction #fanfic #undertale fanfic #undertale Gaster #undertale sans #undertale papyrus #baby bones

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