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starlightshore · 3 years

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How does Monster Food Work? a quick ut theory/analysis

Actually screw it here’s a quick analysis, no pictures because i wrote this quick.

*EDIT went back, there's pics and spelling errors are fixed. Note this was written at 3am or something originally lol.

I believe that monster food is magic that’s mixed with plants grown from the ground. The plant material is then shaped into different foods. A simple example: there is no meat productions underground except for the snail farm. We do, however, have examples of food that aren’t meat/dairy when you expect it to be otherwise.

Granted, this isn’t accessible by normal means, so how canonical it is debatable. (Like, entry #17 is commonly seen as canon so...?) There are barely any bugs underground.

I'm catching bugs. But the underground doesn't have many... -room 123.

That’s so odd to think about actually! Without bugs you can’t really have working ecosystem! Considering the wording concerning the barrier is:

“* Anything can enter through the seal, but only beings with a powerful SOUL can leave.“

If anything can come in, we can expect fallen animals, seeds, wind ect. But how open is the barrier to life on the surface really?

“ALPHYS updated status. * WAIT THERE'S NO WEATHER DOWN HERE WHY DID SHE CALL ME”

Now this could just be about Hotland specifically, however one can get the sense that weather wouldn’t be a factor to the rest of the underground either as their name sake and areas seem so little changes to them. It rains in waterfall, it snows in Snowdin. This lack of seasons would greatly impact ecosystems.

Here is a quick reminder on how monster food works, as spoken by Big Mouth at Grillby’s:

“* Isn't human food different from monster food?* It does things like "spoil."* And when you eat it, it passes all the way through your whole body.”

“* To a human, monster food would be very interesting.* As soon as you eat it, it converts perfectly into energy. “

it seems to me that Monster food is similar to Monster magic. Both are magical in nature -monster food doesn’t spoil, and attacks are magic itself. We shouldn’t expect monster food to be the same as human food from the start, we can’t make assumptions.

Let’s connect their food to their bodies: What are monsters and what are their magic?

We know Boss Monsters shed: ”* There is some white fur stuck in the drain. “ and we do see both Papyrus’ and Undyne’s attacks are left over as physical objects. “* (It's a box of bones.) “

Though not exclusively so!

So magic itself CAN be created as a physical material but it can also dissipate. I’d imagine this fluidity functions similarly to the monster’s themselves! Monsters are beings that are more in-tuned to their souls purely because they don’t have water/carbon based physical bodies like humans. They are made of dust, magic and their souls.

Having their attacks/magic literally being the same material just makes sense! Why would they need meat? Those are bodies of actual animals, which monsters are not. We do see plants being made into monster food on two occasions and only once with meat.

Looking at the artbook we were originally going to get a glimpse at their farm production. (I have a digital copy, and searching in it takes Forever so i couldn’t find the text that talks about it??? i’ll edit this point later when I can find it)

It seems the “meat” we do see in game (aside from the Snails) are shown to surprisingly be plants. Golden flowers are made into tea, but that’s hardly unusual.The first notable example for this sort of monster food is that Sans’ hotcats are actually water-sausages! It’s implied through the phone call that Sans just yoinks them right out of waterfall to use for his hotdog/hotcats.

* "Hot Dog...?" Heals 20 HP * The "meat" is made of something called a "water sausage."

The second example is one that we don’t get to eat, but we do see it’s production!

This is Alphys’ icecream machine. She lied to Undyne that the tall grass we see in Waterfall was an endangered species so that Undyne would ensure people didn’t tamper with the grass. This was simply because Alphys wanted the grass to produce icecream with.

I told you that seaweed was like... scientifically important...

Really, I just... I just use it to make ice cream!

This is the only time we really see monster food being made- it takes a green slush and converts it into pink ice cream.

Now, let’s get back to the snails. I bet you’re dying to talk about the snails.

Snails are an oddity because they seem to have a monster-like consciousness and are taken by Asriel’s light when absorbing the monster souls.

* there was a flash of light outside my window* i saw the snails on the farm disappear

It’s not like Asriel was just taking everything -no, he was taking monster souls. And they race and have emotions, there’s snails that look visually unlike natural snails.

* but the snail looks discouraged...* her best wasn't good enough...

Napstablook also refers to your racing snail as a “Her,” which also implies more sentience/person-hood. (Though, I’d argue “it” is such a common pronoun underground that if it wouldn’t be evidence for it non-person-hood per-say, but this is specifically “she/her” for a snail.)

Some even speak!

* I've been long overdue for a second house...

So the snails........ are monsters. That’s... unsettling.

Let’s give Toriel and Asgore the benefit of the doubt that some of these snails are actually real surface snails. I don’t want to imagine some monsters are deemed as food compared to others. In fact, the snails Toriel describes in her “snail facts” directly contradicts the above snail’s autonomy.

* Talk. Really. Slowly? * Just kidding, snails don't talk.

So yes, Toriel doesn’t eat monster-snails. Is this confusing? Yes! Thank you toby.

Snails are the only confirmed-to-be-meat we see in the game. And alongside that, Toriel and Asgore are the only customers to the Blooky Snail Farm. (It’s safe to assume Toriel grows her own or gets them from somewhere else.)

* this place used to get a lot of business...* but our main customer disappeared one day...* now it's just some hairy guy that shows up once a month...

I think it’s an important detail that the only consumer of animal-meat we know of are boss monsters, who are notorious for being an exception to monsterkind. I’d argue that boss monsters might be more human like than normal monsters, as in they also have some physical matter to them. As stated before, monsters are made of dust and magic.Their souls don’t persist after death, while Boss monsters do for a brief moment.

Obviously they’re not the same level as humans, but it is worthy to note they’re extraordinary! Toriel also oddly enough, takes longer to die and bleeds black.

Which. is very odd. sans could have ketchup or blood also, but it’s hard to know without more info. (I mean hey, looking at you darkner-sans theoriests lol) Deltarune further confirms that monsters don’t bleed (at least in Hometown) which makes sense when monsters are just dust.

Is this because Toriel has more physical matter to her? Is that why her soul is stronger -being more physically separated from her magical/partly physical body. Humans are strong because their souls are disconnected from their bodies, so what makes boss monsters different?

I propose that it’s either from being a boss monster or from having snails in her diet that gives her this distance and therefore power in comparison to other monsters. (Or rather, the reason she likes snails in her diet is because of her boss monster nature, as she’d need the meat for it’s heavier matter content and proteins)

I don’t think it’s a coincidence the only real meat we see is famously eaten by boss monsters and the three monster foods we know how are made are through plants, and we can see the icecream looks vastly different from the sea-weed its made of.

Here’s an additional thought. maybe the use of using magical bullets releases some of the physical material consumed by eating monster food. Having a good balance of monster food (and it’s material within) and using one’s magic attacks keeps a mounter strong and healthy. So I imagine monsters need both healthy emotions and a consistent diet of magic to live!

so. tldr; monster food is plant based. this makes up the physical “dust” that makes up their fragile physical forms. Toriel and Asgore eat snails which are the only known-for-sure animal product in the game, and it’s because of that they’re more physical.

#undertale #undertale theory #monster food #personal stuff #ut theory

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secret-time-is-here · 3 years

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An Error's Journey

Chapter 36

Previous - First - Next

Waking up, he was thrown out of bed again, a panting trembling ball of fear and despair. How much he despised resets. Papyrus came marching up the stairs, and he played along with his brother-although his real brother was long gone. Killed by the human. Death showed up soon after, hugging him as close as he could with his wings, and disappearing again to let him change.

Down the stairs, Papyrus bickered with him, and he savored the flavor of leftover chocolate chips. Out the door, he joked with the lady before she ran off and then sat at his station.

“Hello, Sans.” Core’s droning voice called.

“Hi, Core,” Sans sighed, “Whadaya want now?”

“Just checking up on you, since the future is bright so far.” Core smiled, “You even managed to find the rest of your team with no help from me, and accepted your team even easier.”

“Accepted?” Core waited patiently, “Right, right, they’ve all been my enemies at some point… What about my partners?”

“Oh, you’ve known your partners for years. You’ve even dated nearly all of them separately at some point or another.” Core shrugged, “You’ll find out one day. For now, when you finish recovering again, I want you to be content with life. I’m sure it won’t take you long to accept this anyhow.”

“You’re still creepy.”

“Hmm, perhaps I am. Yet, I guess that's the price for knowledge, isn’t it?” Core looked off into the distance where Frisk had just exited the ruins. They turned back to him, “Sans, there’s a price for everything. Even for your memories. Trust yourself and do what you think is right. You have a safety net, and your pain will bring everyone closer. They care about you, whether they’ve told you or not.”

Then Core left.

The rest of the run continued on peacefully, for once. Frisk didn’t kill anyone and went even as far as to be nice and go out of their way for everyone. They came back after a merciful fight with Papyrus, and Sans got the chance to interrupt their date before they moved onto Waterfall. They trekked through easily, helping Monster-kid and buying plenty from Temmie, Tem, and Bob. They were careful when running from Undyne, and poured a cup of water to help the determined Captin from dying with the heat. Suddenly they turned back and met with Papyrus, spending time with Undyne and becoming friends.

They left back to Hotlands, and survived through Mettaton’s show, and returned to Alphys Lab, accidentally finding their way to the true lab.

Sans was hesitant to watch over them as they went through this portion but reluctantly kept his eyes on the screen before him. Death’s wings holding him closer. Stolen chocolates were carefully offered as Grimm did his best to comfort him, seeming to know of the horrors and backstory of the true lab despite not having one in his own universe.

Frisk keeps going through, not even bothered by the melting bodies before them, knowing the song and dance of each and easily making it through. Alphys saving them from the amalgamates and explaining the terror of what had transpired. Frisk promised to help reunite them with their families.

Finally, Frisk returns to the proper path forward, making it through the core, and finally into the Judgement hall. Death let him go, and he walked out from behind the pillar to meet them head-on.

Frisk quickly skipped through his speech, which was more than fine by him, and walked by to the barrier.

The barrier was soon broken, and Frisk brought them to the surface… He barely saw the sunrise before a true reset occurred.

Yet, if a true reset happens after every true pacifist… why did he still remember?

Gasping he awoke in his bed, panting with the pain of his soul being torn apart and reassembled again.

“...Sans? Soul?” Grimm asked softly, wings hidden behind him, “Do you… do you know who I am?”

“...I didn’t forget.” Sans choked out, “I was supposed to forget… why-”

”SANS YOU LAZY BONES!” Papyrus yelled through the door, “You Have Got To Get Up!” The handle wriggled, and he didn’t feel any panic as Papyrus seemed to look through Death, “What If We Miss A Human?!”

“Yeah, yeah, Paps. I’ll be down in a sec.”

“You better!”

“...Do you know what your AU is called, my soul?” Death asked carefully. Sans shook his head no, “Well, more like what your timeline is called… although it’s the first timeline of the kind, you seem to be the last to actually have it happen...”

“Grimm, I love ya, but spit it out.”

“...It’s referred to as a Genocide timeline.” Death looked away, “Most of them, the Sans gets stuck in the save screen, melting in his own determination and forever cursed to stay there-not alive, not dead. Unable to be killed by me… just… suffering.”

“I think if Core’s got any say in it, I won’t be there long.” Sans joked darkly, not sure if he should look forward to leaving the save screen or not. He doesn’t know what’s beyond that. He’s seen Outertale and visited Omega, traveled the streets of Lust’s world, sure; but he doesn’t know what lays waiting for him beyond that destiny speaking.

He could be torn apart-lose his body as Core has foretold. He could simply die and have to relive everything over again as Core has alluded to. Anything could happen. Yet, isn’t there some joy to that mystery? Something unconnected to the safety yet claustrophobic confines of the code?

Death only gave a solemn nod and promised to meet him at his station, letting Sans return to his never-changing routine.

-----

The genocide was the most gruesome he endured. Quick yet painful. Papyrus dusting in mere minutes before his eyes, his brother’s scarf in his hands and later wrapped tightly around his neck.

The judgment hall was soon full of blood, and he quickly grew numb to the feeling of it on his hands. Frisk had never made it far enough to battle him, and it was clear how unprepared they were. Round after round of blasters, blue magic, and bones. They didn’t stand a chance, but unfortunately, they began to learn, and the longer they prevailed the more tired he grew. The longer they lasted the more everything caught up with him and his initial rush began to fade.

At last, Frisk got their chance-and they landed their hit. Cutting down his measly single HP.

He fell to his feet, too determined to dust, but melting before himself. Not ready to die just yet. Frisk carelessly walked past him as he melted to the ground… the floor fell before him, and in the blink of an eye, he wasn’t melting anymore. Instead sitting on the single green patch of grass in the save screen.

His colors were still stuck on the fight screen, his whole outfit bleached white, a red slash across his chest that stung as much as the other half of his skull did. Opening up a screen, his skull looked like a melted candle, half lopsided and looking frozen in time. If his eye light still worked on that side, it’d probably be drooping and lazy.

His scarf thankfully was still red, Papyrus’ memory not tarnished.

Now all he had to do was wait for Death.

All characters belong to their creators

FINALLY DONE WITH THE SANS ARC ITS TAKEN SO LONG T^T

#Undertale #UTMV #utmv #An Error's Journey #AEJ #AEJ Chapter 36 #Chapter 36 #Sans #Reaper sans #Death #CORE Frisk #Core #Genocide Sans #my works #my wrting

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for-a-flower · 4 years

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True Identity

Frisk gasped and opened his eyes. He staggered into a metal wall behind him, breathing hard. He took a moment to calm himself and look around. He was standing near the doorway that led to the room where Mettaton waited. Frisk sighed and felt his pockets. “Wait a second,” he whispered. He still had some food to eat. He smirked. This time he'd use it if he got too weak.

"That's the best idea you've had all day," said the voice.

The child rolled his eyes. "I don't have time to talk to you right now."

"You don't have a choice. If there's one thing I can do with or without your approval, it's talk."

Frisk scowled. "I'm going in. And you better be quiet." He stepped through the doorway and Mettaton greeted him as before.

"You're a fool, human," said the voice. "Whatever happens when this is over, it's your fault." Frisk tried not to listen to the voice while Mettaton explained Alphys' plan again. "You won't be able to blame me for it," the voice added.

Frisk thought of a response to the voice as Mettaton continued blabbing. ‘Do you know what's coming? What's going to happen to me?’

"I don't know any more than you do about the future. But whatever it is, it's probably not going to be pleasant," said the voice. Mettaton tossed a few bombs at Frisk, who rushed behind him to flick the switch before Alphys had suggested it. "And you know the worst part? You can't even make it better now,” said the voice.

Mettaton made a dramatic switch to his humanoid form and laughed. The room shook as chunks of rock and metal fell from above. Frisk rushed around the room to avoid what he could, nearly tripping on some fallen debris. "If you continue . . . Asgore will take your soul," said Mettaton. "And with your soul, he'll destroy humanity!"

"Even if you go back, you won't be able to gain the strength you need to get out of here without trouble," the voice added.

Electric beam shot in front of Frisk, who ran into it and yelled. He staggered but kept moving to avoid incoming bombs Mettaton tossed. ‘Then what do you expect me to do?’ Frisk thought. He used his phone to shoot blasts of yellow energy at the bombs. They detonated from a distance.

"Well, there's not much you can do anymore. So I guess the best option is to get as far as you can manage. I can't even help you at this point,” the voice answered. Frisk shot at another bomb just as it rolled toward him. It exploded with magic energy that stung his legs. He cringed and his legs gave out, sending him collapsing on the metal floor. "Don't you dare die right now!" said the voice. "Get up!"

The child tried lifting himself off the metal floor, moaning and shaking. ‘It would help if you weren't distracting me,’ he thought.

"You have some food. Use it."

Frisk managed to sit up then looked at Mettaton, who had already prepared another attack. Frisk held up a hand. "Wait!" he begged.

The robot scowled. "What is it?"

"I'm . . . uh, pretty hungry. Mind if I . . ." Frisk reached into his pocket for a pack of instant noodles. ". . . stop and eat real fast?" Mettaton's hand was raised, a magic bomb grasped between his fingers. His mouth dropped open at the child’s request. Frisk grinned nervously. One hand was wrapped around his stomach and his teeth were clenched in pain.

Mettaton sighed and lowered his hand. Something about the kid's face . . . it couldn't be refused. The magic bomb vanished. "Alright, whatever you say, darling. But don't expect me to be any more lenient after you're done."

Frisk managed a smile then read the directions on the package. Several seconds passed. He looked up at Mettaton again. "Do you have some water?" he asked. Mettaton rolled his eyes. Frisk held up a pan he had found in Hotland and waved it with the same pitiful look on his face. Mettaton gave the child a blank stare. He lifted a glass of water, stepped forward, and handed it to Frisk, who snatched it.

"You're going to lose if you don't fight," said the voice. "How many times are you prepared to die?"

Frisk poured the water and noodles into the pan and asked Mettaton to light a fire beneath it. Reluctantly, he complied. ‘As many times as it takes,’ Frisk thought.

"Think about that. Are you really willing to do that?" Frisk lowered his head. The water in the pan started to simmer. He watched little ripples form.

"How long is this gonna take?" said Mettaton.

Frisk checked the package. "Four minutes . . . until the noodles are finished," he said. Mettaton walked away to lean against the opposite wall and folded his arms.

"Dying still hurts," said the voice. "You feel that pain. No one wants to die multiple times."

Frisk frowned. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

"Because you don't fear death like you should. Just because you can bring yourself back now, doesn’t mean you will always have that power."

‘Well as long as I can . . . I can use it to help everyone.’

"After feeling the pain of death over and over? I know you don't like that thought. I could hear you when you were thinking about it a while back," said the voice. "I don't like the thought either, but I've got it easier than you do.” Frisk could tell the voice was getting fed up with him. The tone changed and it yelled at Frisk for the first time. “I am trying to save you from pain and failure! And for some reason you see fit to brush aside all my advice!?"

‘You're Chara, aren't you,’ Frisk thought. Little bubbles were forming on the bottom of the pan.

It took a moment for the voice to respond this time. "Hu?"

‘It's not that hard to figure out. Every time I die . . . I hear a voice telling someone named Chara to stay determined. Since that's not my name, it has to be talking to you.’

"Very clever," said the voice.

‘If you have determination too, why can't you just go back on your own and do whatever you want? Why do you have to bother me about it?’ thought Frisk.

"I can't go back. Not at the moment. I need you and you need me. So, listen to what I tell you . . . and fight him!"

‘Why?! You just said I can't change anything now. Why should I destroy him? All it will do is make you shut up.’ Frisk glanced over at Mettaton. ‘Look, he's letting me cook myself food. He's not really that mean. He just . . . wants to be free like everyone else down here . . . including you.’ Chara was quiet. ‘I can't be upset at him for that. I know he's trying to kill me . . . but I'm sure he'd stop if there was another way,’ Frisk thought. The water was boiling. Frisk set the pan on the tiny fire to put it out. The noodles were done. ‘Please, Chara. I don't know what you want . . . but I can understand why you want to be free. Anyone would,’ he thought. He sampled a noodle. It wasn't very good. ‘I'm going to find my own way out no matter how long it takes.’ Frisk dumped in the flavor packet and mixed it with the toy knife. He waited for the pan to cool then set it on his lap to eat.

As Frisk was finishing the last few bites, Mettaton stepped toward the center of the room. "About time," he said. Frisk set down the empty pan as strength came back. It wasn't much but hopefully it was enough. "Prepare to die, human." Mettaton pointed a finger, shooting an electric blast at Frisk. The child ducked, put the toy knife in his pocket, and ran from the following attacks. Chara had fallen silent. Frisk took a hit before using the phone to shoot at bombs that rolled toward him. He jumped and rolled to avoid several that exploded. Mettaton continued throwing bombs and shooting lasers. One of the magic lasers struck Frisk's right arm. He cringed but kept moving. This went on for several minutes, the two of them attacking or avoiding.

When Mettaton's attacks grew slower and weaker, Frisk slowed to catch his breath. "Enough of this!" said Mettaton. He fired one last electric bolt at the human. Frisk ducked it. Mettaton scowled. "Do you really want humanity to perish?! Or do you just believe in yourself that much?"

"I'll find a way to get out and I won't let Asgore hurt anyone,” Frisk said.

Mettaton grinned. "Ha ha! How inspiring! Well, darling, it's either me or you!" He raised a hand and shot a bolt of power. He hit Frisk directly this time. The child yelled and dropped to his knees a few feet away, one hand pressing against his aching chest. "But I think we both already know who's going to win. Witness the true power of humanity's star!"

Frisk’s heart pounded and raced as Mettaton took a step back. A bright light emerged from the chest of Mettaton’s mechanical body. It throbbed and hummed softly, lighting the room with a soft glow. Frisk stared. This was a monster soul. Mettaton wasn't just a robot? The soul pulsed with energy, sending out a wave of electric power. Frisk jumped up and backed away, but the wave swept over him. He dropped his phone from the shock. It sparked when it hit the ground. Frisk ached everywhere but forced his little feet to keep running. Mettaton's soul threw wave after wave of power. Frisk didn't think he could take it anymore. He did his best to duck or jump waves but his stamina was nearly gone.

Mettaton's robotic body groaned and the glowing orb jumped back inside. "No," he said. He glanced at Frisk. The young human was worn out and injured but still very alive. Mettaton sighed. "The power consumption of this form is . . . inefficient," he said. "I'm running out of power." He dropped to his knees with a thud. Frisk gave him a concerned look. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Alphys can just replace the batteries when she gets the chance," Mettaton said.

"I . . . I'll find a way to make things better for everyone," said Frisk.

Mettaton's voice warped a little when he replied. "Then . . . are you the star? Can you really protect humanity?" he said.

Frisk shrugged. "I don't know, but I’ll try my best."

"Well . . . you've proven to be very strong despite what you may think," Mettaton said. "Perhaps even strong enough to get past Asgore. I'm sure you'll be able to protect humanity." As Mettaton spoke, a spark of hope grew inside the child. "It's all for the best anyway," Mettaton continued. "Just don't ever give up . . . no matter what . . . and . . . knock em' dead, darling." Mettaton lost power and collapsed on the floor.

The room doors opened. Alphys bolted in. "I . . . I managed to open the lock! Are you two . . ." She froze when she saw Mettaton lying on the floor near Frisk. She gasped, bounding over to his metal body. "Mettaton!" She frantically looked over him. "Mettaton, are you . . ." She heaved a relieved sigh then glanced over her shoulder. "Thank goodness, it's just the batteries," she said. Alphys stared down at Mettaton with a frown. "Mettaton, if you were gone, I would have . . ."

Frisk joined her. "Is he okay?”

Alphys nodded. "Yeah, hey, it's no problem . . . you know? He's just a robot. If you messed it up . . . I could always just build another." Alphys sighed. "Why don't you . . . go on ahead. I just need a moment. I'll join you in the hall," she said. Reluctantly, Frisk turned to leave. He stepped through the doorway into a hall beyond and squinted. It was much brighter on this side. At the hall’s end he could make out the elevator Alphys had been talking about. Frisk started down the hall. He expected to hear a comment from Chara after that but there was nothing.

Full Chapter List

#undertale #undertale spoilers #fan fiction #mettaton #frisk #chara #alphys #part three #frisky business #foraflower au #long one sorry

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spacegate · 5 years

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Gaster Blastober 2019 - Week Four

Participating in Gaster Blastertober 2019 put on by @gbpack-discord. I will be doing my best to write short ficlets every week. I’ll be adding them to the side stories fic on AO3 eventually. Hope you guys enjoy!

Prompt: Feral Mind

Fandom: Undertale

Warnings: None

Fluff-rating: 0% This one is sad :( TW: ANIMAL DEATH

Sans was hungry.

The biting relentless wind tore through the thin rags on his body like there was nothing there at all. The scant bits of cloth he could find was useless in such bitter cold. Not only were they thin, but froze solid into an unusable mess. The damp and wetness of the place of caves and water didn’t do any favors. He had learned to let them dry first, but the sheer humidity of the caves prevented them to fully dry. No matter what, they would be cold.

Once they have reached the furthest place they could away from the place of heat and red he had dug a shallow den under a fallen log. There, it offered a little bit of warmth and shelter from the wind. In that den, was his tiny sibling, waiting for him. Waiting for food that won’t be coming unless Sans did something about it.

Little Pap didn’t have thicker bones like his older brother, and thus suffered terribly in the freezing temperatures. Even given any spare bit of cloth that wasn’t frozen solid, he still suffered. His soul was like a tiny furnace, and whatever meager morsel that could be found went to his baby brother to feed it. If that little fire went out, he would die.

Sans refused to let that happen, not while he could still walk.

He shook in the cold as he trudged further into the woods, carefully putting one paw in front of the other. He tried to concentrate on moving in order to block out the chill, but the cold was all over. Inescapable. He knew he needed food too, but he could go on just a little longer than his brother could. He had tried to find fish like the kind in the caves, but the wide rivers were either frozen solid or too deep to risk. There would be no fish for sure.

He had observed the buildings and monsters in the distance of course, but yet did not want to risk being anywhere near them yet. He didn’t trust the good smelling places in the distance. He didn’t trust the monsters that walked about here and there. All of them could secretly be a person in a white coat. They could be waiting to take them back. The whole town could be one elaborate trap.

So they avoided it.

Which lead to Sans’ current predicament.

Through the whirl of the wind and snow, he heard something. A something...was close. Startled, Sans quickly took cover, ducking behind a tree trunk and trying to conceal the fog of his breath. There, he stayed still. Silent.

The shuffling noise grew close and a very familiar scent touched his muzzle. It sent him on edge, the spines on his neck and back bristling. He carefully peeked around the side of the trunk, eye-lights blown wide in fear.

Only a few feet away, was a rat.

Sans crouched down to observe the thing. It didn’t look like the rats he saw before, in the bad place. Those rats were white and sleek. They had trusted him for a moment, a fellow animal in experimentation, before he was ordered to…

He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about it.

The rat in the present was large and brown, scraggly coat tussled in the wind. It was shuffling about, digging into the snow here and there for any chance of a morsel buried beneath. Despite the cold and scarcity of food, the rat was round and plump. Luckily, Sans was down wind and thus it continued on, unaware.

Sans felt the knot of hunger tighten in his rib-cage, and something began to well up into his mind. It felt cold and calculated. His decisions were always colored with an air of fear and worry but...somehow...he didn’t need to feel worried. He knew how to do this, deep down. He was born with it. He felt himself crouch down to his belly, tail stretched out and snout forward as he sniffed. Silently and carefully, he placed one paw down after another, moving at an incredibly slow pace as he inched forward. The shiver of hunger and desperation kept him moving. Words that he felt more than heard rattled about in his skull.

Prey moving. Prey unaware. Prey forward. Move slow. Stop. Move slow. Prey there. Move. Wait. Stop. Move.

He crept closer, the sound of the wind masking his foot steps as the rat continues to dig about.

Prey. Food. Stop. Go. Stop. Wait.

He crouched, his meager magic bundling in his hind legs.

Wait. Wait. Wait. K I L L

He leapt forward and seized the rat in his jaws. It squeaked and fought, bringing teeth and claws down on his muzzle. Scratches and bite-marks sent bits of dust into the wind, but Sans could not feel them. Possessed by something he couldn’t understand, he growled and shook his head back and forth, squeals masked by the wind. It became a blur of motion and sound as he savagely attacked. All he could think about was the hunger and increasingly tired form of his sibling. Dying.

Need food need food need food need food.

He didn’t stop until he could taste something warm and the bites and scratches ceased.

He collapsed to his belly, the sheer amount of motion exhausted the tiny beast who had barely any energy to spare. He opened his mouth to pant and something plopped softly to the snow.

Sans shook his head and blinked, and looked down. His eye-lights shrunk to pinpricks as awareness crept back into his vision.

The snow in front of him was splashed with red, the dead rat’s body steaming as the wind stole away its warmth. Its claws and teeth were riddled with dust and a dark mass of red marked where it had been seized. It’s mouth was open in one last final scream as it laid there.

He backed up with a loud yelp, falling over end as he tried to escape. But he couldn’t escape what he did, the taste of blood still fresh in his muzzle. He felt sick, but there wasn’t enough spare magic to throw up. He gagged and flailed in the snow until he was on all four paws again, fear gripping his soul.

He turned and fled.

Tears prickled at the corners of his eye sockets as he ran. He didn’t know why he did that. He didn’t know what possessed him to kill something without an order. Alphys said he wasn’t an animal, wasn’t a killer. But he just…

He stopped, ramming his snout into the snow to wipe away all the blood on him as he whined in distress.

He was just so hungry. So hungry that he slipped into something unthinkable. He had been thinking of his brother before, but he couldn’t ignore the pain in his own ribs. Thoughts tumbled around his mind, thoughts of gaining back his strength, hunting bigger prey, his brother with thick bones and energy, warmth...life. All it took was to take away the life of another living creature by his own conscious choice.

He moaned miserably into the snow. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t bring home dead animals for Pap to eat. Just the thought of it turned his soul again and sent him into a fit of sobbing. Self loathing crept into his soul. Pap could eat, but at what cost? Was he really a monster or was Alphys telling cruel lies?

He collapsed and cried.

He didn’t have the energy to waste on tears, but the unfairness and horror of the situation was just too much. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but by the time he could compose himself, his tears had frozen to his face. He grumbled and miserably picked at them with a claw to clear them.

He had to make a choice. It was clear now, that there was no food in the forest. He could not fish. He could not bring himself to hunt. He and his brother will be dust in only a day or two without something to eat. Shakily, he got up again, shaking the freshly fallen snow off his body and face. His joints were stiff, painful, but still he stood.

He peeked outward at the lights in the distance, at the town and the good smelling things in metal cylinders.

It was risky. So very risky, but it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice anymore.

He slunk to the ground and began to carefully sneak towards the edges of the town.

Someway or another, Pap was going to eat tonight.

He’ll make sure of that.

#keetah writes #undertale #fanfic #trust #gasterblastober2019 #gasterblastertober #babyblaster au #sans #papyrus #animal death #blood #this was before sans started raiding the trash in trust #gasterblaster au #he was very small here #he did his very best

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tally-kiza · 5 years

Text

Underfell Sans Headcanons

- Red's pretty stressed in general. He feels that he failed in raising his brother so he always puts distance between them. Having to protect themselves as kids meant never trusting anyone, so he found natural ways to repel people (i.e. flirting). Even though he acts hard and gruff, Red's really just anxious and wants the best for everyone.

- A hobbyist woodworker on the surface. Uses his tools to make things like tables, commissions, and gifts for his friends. It feels good to create something, rather than destroy.

- An extreme flirt only around people he's not attracted to. Red's a flustered mess around those he is, but he somehow manages to be smooth as hell simultaneously.

- In addition to woodworking, he also likes restoring old cars. The worse off, the better. With his engineering skills, he's damn good at it, and enjoys piecing it back together (like a puzzle!). He also sells them for a pretty profit when he's done

- Has a workshop in his garage on the surface to woodwork and restore his cars.

- His brother isn't abusive. at all. in fact, he rarely yells at sans. The underground may be stressful, but neither of them bother with shows of aggression. It's useless -- everyone knows that as the Judge, Sans can hold his own. The two are rather distant, but they care about each other deep down. and they protect each other when need be.

- Still very proud and admiring of his brother, he just doesn't really show it unless you ask explicitly.

- Becomes a mechanic on the surface. It's a good use of his engineering skills, and he just likes fixing things. the only downside are the occasional entitled customers.

- Hardworking in most things he does, he's just pretty subtle it. ...Either that, or he doesn't give a shit.

- Loves weird and exotic animals.

- Swears like a sailor.

- A prankster. Like the pie-in-your-face kind. They’re not very mean, but he’ll stop if you ask. (His friendship with Stretch and Sans leads to total mayhem because of this).

- Dislikes horror movies, but loves horror games. It's all about being able to control what'll happen.

- Adores Star Wars, Harry Potter, and Doctor Who (shhh, he’s a secret fandom nerd, don’t tell anyone)

- Sold stale popcorn as opposed to Sans's hotdogs, Stretch's corndogs, and Rus's half-melted slushies, which was really just dyed snow he got off the ground.

- Red cares, he really does, he just has trouble showing it? when you're friends with him, expect to be given gifts and trinkets with a giant blush on his face.

- He has many collections. buttons, marbles, cool rocks. he started taking home the cool things he found and never stopped. Each collection is in its own cardboard box, stuffed into the corner of his room. They're a comfort for him whenever he's really stressed.

- Only a few years older than his brother, he raised Pyrus on his own until he could get a job as a sentry as a teenager. they moved into an abandoned house in snowdin, and he eventually worked with Alphys and the Royal scientist when they saw his natural scientific and engineering skill. He left when he realized how messed up those two were. When Paps got into the Royal Guard, Red went back to his lazy ways.

#uf sans #underfell sans #mine #undertale headcanons #undertale imagines #headcanons #grillby totally helped them out when they were kids #taki writing

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emptyxhere · 5 years

Text

Stats (mobile edition)

[bio updated: 08/01/2019]

Name: Frisk “Mal” Mallory

Age: 11

Gender: Nonbinary (they/them)

Species: Human

Height: 4'2’’

Birthday: March 15

Zodiac: Pisces

Alignment: True Neutral

Likes: Candy, stuff that makes them happy, music, flirting, friends

Dislikes: Players, annoying people, things that try their patience, Temmies, being trapped, resetting/reloading, dying

Abilities: Can use save files, is very determined, can use knives, is left handed, adaptive, innovative, agile

Soul phenotype: Red (determination)

—

Stats:

HP - 92/92

AT - 36 (99)

DF - 4 (99)

LV - 19

—

Frisk is the main protagonist of Undertale. They are a human character who falls into the Underground, controlled by the player for the duration of the game, save for some scripted actions that they perform on their own. The game centres around them and their adventure through the Underground, as well as their interactions with various monsters.

They were once a happy, outgoing child. Frisk had a loving family and a whole life ahead of them on the Surface. They were kind and considerate, and eager to become friends with just about anyone. They initially couldn’t stand the thought of anyone acting cruelly to another person, human or not, and even light violence made them sick to their stomach to watch or think about.

One day, they fell into the Underground. For a reason only they themselves knew, they had climbed Mt. Ebott and fell in, landing on a bed of yellow flowers. But something strange happened when they woke up. They couldn’t move their body. At least, not on their own. It felt as if some outside force had taken over, and moved Frisk around for them. It was the strangest feeling, not being able to control themselves. At times, they could break free from the control throughout their adventure, or more as if they were allowed to act on their own. But for the most part, they couldn’t do anything at all.

However, it seemed that whatever was controlling them, had their decisions influenced by Frisk themselves. They could speak or do what they wished, whenever they were given the chance to. Telling a Froggit it had beautiful eyes when they were only told “compliment it”, for example, or petting a tomato gently when they were told to hit it in a wimpy way. It was for those reasons that they didn’t mind the strange force at first. They felt as if whatever was controlling them was simply guiding them towards a path to meet so many new friends!

They spent time with Toriel, spared their way through Snowdin, went on a date with Papyrus, found Temmie Village, went to Undyne's house, battled Mettaton on live television, then fought Asgore, and then Omega Flowey. Their world reloaded yet again, to the moment before Asgore, and there they went on a date with Alphys, discovered the True Lab, and finished their final battle with Asriel. The Barrier broke. Monsters were freed, and Frisk went up to the Surface with all their cherished friends. But then something happened.

A reset. All at once, their progress had gone back to the very beginning. Frisk was confused at first, but assumed maybe they were just going to have to experience all those happy moments again. And they were fine with that.

But then they approached the dummy in the Ruins, and fought it. The next thing they knew, they were killing all the wonderful monsters they had spared before, until no one was left. They didn't know how to deal with it. Their body was moving on its own, forcing them to kill again and again, as their EXP and LV skyrocketed.

Soon enough, they realized Sans was right. The more they killed, the easier it was to distance themselves. And of course, they had no choice but to kill and kill as they entered each new area, but they quickly began to stop being bothered at all by their horrifying actions. It was by the time they had first murdered Toriel, when they looked at the dust littering their clothes. The toy knife in their hand, and the spot where her soul used to be.

And something inside them broke.

They wanted to scream, cry, reload their file, tell her they were sorry, do anything, other than keep moving forward with their weapon. But the person controlling them had other plans. They soon realized that trying to stop was pointless. They were going to have to kill their friends, and there was nothing they could do about it.

It got to the point where they just wanted to get it all over with, walking through any puzzles, tuning out dialogue, trying not to get attached to anything this time around. Of course, it was only after a few more times of this violent path that they had completely stopped caring.

By then, it was something they knew they had to do. Something they knew they were going to do. Almost like a chore. A routine. Even if they didn't want to, they couldn't stop. And the world would be reset again. They rationalized to help them cope: Everyone would be alive again after just one click, so what did it matter to see them all die over and over? There was a time when their terror stricken faces tore Frisk up inside, but they had seen those same faces too many times to count now. They weren't fazed anymore.

The only time they were the most surprised since then, was when their file loaded to suddenly force Frisk into a pacifist route early on in the everlasting nightmare, when it still bothered them to kill monsters. The same path they had taken the first time around. They cried all that much harder during that load, and hugged their friends tighter than they had before. They wanted it to stay this way. They wanted to believe the hell they'd been put through was over, and that they and their monster friends could just be happy. But that was wishful thinking on their part.

Real Knife in hand, and The Locket around their neck like a gentle chokehold of a reminder of their sins, Frisk entered the Judgement Hall for who knows how many times by then. They could only feel numb about seeing Sans.

The first time they went into a battle with him, they had been completely caught off guard. But the person controlling them clearly wasn't, as they got through his first move without taking any damage. It wasn't long until Frisk got to the end of the fight, only dying a few times; a lot less than with Undyne. And then they killed him. Then suddenly, they had been reset to the point just before they fought him. And battled him again. And again. And again.

Sometimes their world would go dark, but then they'd find themselves fighting Sans all over again. They had only seen what was beyond the fight with Sans once. Up until they saw Flowey pleading for his life. Then the world went dark and they were back in the Last Corridor, their file reloaded. Frisk had a feeling that wasn't the end of the game, but they didn't know why the player never ventured past that point.

One day, they beat Sans in cold blood and braced themselves for yet another reload. Only, it never came. They figured this sort of thing happened occasionally, where whoever was controlling them took a break before going at it yet again. But this was a much longer break than any they'd experienced. Time passed. It was only after a long, long while until they realized they were truly alone. Not even the player was with them anymore, which was a first for their entire journey through the Underground thus far. It took them a while until they realized they probably weren't coming back.

On one hand, Frisk felt as if they should be happy for this. No more pesky higher entity forcing them to kill their friends over and over again. ...Were they even Frisk's friends anymore? Honestly, they weren't sure. They were so detached at this point. It was hard to remember a time when they hadn't viewed a monster as just another person to fight. Not to mention, some sick part of them wanted that horrible person back with them. Just to have someone around.

They wanted to reset and start over, going back to the happy ending they once had. Or twice, actually. But they realized it would be pointless. With the slight chance of that person coming back, Frisk's file would just be loaded back to the Judgement Hall to fight Sans all over again, with the player none the wiser that Frisk had almost gotten the ending they deserved.

No. They didn't deserve that anymore. And the memory of what happened the last time that ending had been taken away from them, to go back to watching everyone die by their hands still hurt as much as it did when it only recently happened. They didn't want to subject the monsters through that again either, even if they weren't aware it happened at all. Or rather, Frisk just couldn't deal with the hurt it would bring them. As much as they tried to convince themselves they weren't bothered by the gravity of all of this, they knew it was actually just a bittersweet lie. Sure, they could kill if they needed to now, but to know that none of this had to happen, that there was a happier path within their grasp if only the cruel being hadn't decided to ruin their first adventure? It hurt.

This was their reality now. And it was the reality they deserved.

#((#links for mobile users #stats #|| Messing With The Files || Blog Updates.#))

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popatochisssp · 5 years

Text

Snips & Snails 1/7

Series: Undertale, Horrortale Relationship(s): HT!Sans & HT!Papyrus Chapter Warnings: Referenced violence, light gore (of the skeleton/monster variety), implied permanent injury

How far will Papyrus go to save his brother's life?

AO3 Link

DETERMINATION

The crunching sound Sans’ skull makes beneath Undyne’s fist is far and away the worst sound Papyrus has ever heard in his life.

It stops him dead—him and Undyne both—but by then, it’s far too late. All he can do is catch his brother as he staggers back, collapsing against him with a choked gurgle more instinct than actual pain.

He’s certain of that because he watches bone shards clatter against the palace tile in what feels like slow motion, already dissolving into dust, and knows that this is a wound beyond pain.

This is a mortal wound.

Sans is going to die.

Papyrus looks at him and pure terror sparks a tremor in his bones. The lights Sans always kept manifested in his eye-sockets are flickering, unnaturally. One is already completely extinguished, but Papyrus holds the other as long as he can.

There’s fear behind it, and something that sort of looks like grief, but the thing that makes him feel sick…is the acceptance.

Sans is going to die…and he’s okay with it?

No.

Why? For Papyrus?

No.

Sans’ eye-socket goes dark.

He goes unsettlingly limp in Papyrus’ arms.

He can feel him starting to fade, his body getting ready to break apart into dust.

“Oh…oh, god, no, I…”

Undyne’s voice is like a bucket of ice water down Papyrus’ spine, but he doesn’t dare look at her.

“Papyrus, I…I didn’t mean to…I’m…I’m so…”

Sorry?

She sounds almost as horrified as he feels, nothing at all like the cool, strong Undyne he always idolized.

She didn’t mean for this to happen. Papyrus knows that.

He’s still angry.

Maybe later, with time and distance, an apology is something Papyrus can accept—something he probably will accept, if he’s honest with himself—but all he feels now is a bolt of indignant rage that scorches him all the way down to his marrow.

Sans is dying, his infuriating, lazy, lovable big brother is dying in his arms at the hands of his best friend, and that’s…that’s really all he gets? ‘Sorry’?

He can’t accept it.

He can’t accept anything about this.

This isn’t right, this isn’t fair, it can’t play out like this…

And he won’t let it.

Sans is not dying, not today.

Faster than thought, he yanks his brother’s soul out of his rib-cage. He hears Undyne gasp and thinks maybe he’ll be a little abashed at himself later for doing something so very not done publicly, but he doesn’t care much for propriety at the moment.

The guttering light of Sans’ soul is all he needs to see to know he’s doing the right thing.

With barely any conscious effort, his magic goes green and starts flooding into the frail, flickering soul in his hand.

“Papyrus…that’s…” Undyne’s voice is very small and very sad as she says, “That’s not gonna work…”

He knows.

Even with all the love and healing intent he can muster, everything he has, he’s just barely keeping Sans’ HP in the decimals. His brother’s body is actively trying to die and he can’t stop it this way, only prolong the inevitable a little bit longer.

But a little bit longer is all he needs.

Papyrus scoops Sans up against his chest and Looks at the floor beneath his feet.

It only takes a second to find what he’s looking for…and he slides straight down through it.

Not many monsters can do the things Papyrus can do.

Even his secretive brother with his mysterious ‘shortcuts’ hadn’t fully understood when he tried to explain once, about Layers.

The seams of the world that apparently only he could see.

Conventional physics had long since ceased to mean anything to Papyrus. When the building blocks of reality itself were laid out in front of you, you could walk on air, dive through walls, get places no one else seemed to be able to get to…it was easy!

If he went at it from the right angle, he could do anything.

Only one barrier had ever stopped him, the deservedly capitalized one, but it wasn’t The Barrier he needed to get through right now.

Papyrus just needed to get to the Royal Labs, the real ones, down beneath the palace.

Finding them had been an accident, a natural result of his desire to explore, his minimal need for sleep, and his special little ability.

Doctor Alphys’ own…accidents…had been an unpleasant surprise at first, before he discovered that for amorphous and shambling abominations against the natural order, they could actually be quite reasonable.

(Papyrus was very grateful for their apparent immortality, or he’d have been really embarrassed by the panicked bone attacks he’d flung at poor Endogeny when they’d schlorped up to him that first time!)

He doesn’t see any right now, though, as he runs through the dark corridors of the lab. Maybe they’re sleeping, or maybe they’re avoiding him: he hasn’t been by with snacks for them in a long while, not since the rationing started and Alphys…

Well.

Nothing bothers Papyrus in his frantic search, nothing except the thin, reedy breaths of his brother and the all-too-unsustainable drain of his magic into his soul to keep him hanging on just a little bit longer.

He soon finds what he’s looking for.

It’s one of the most difficult things he’s ever done, settling Sans’ lifeless body onto the floor, but he has to let go of him. He needs a free hand for the syringe of DT, glowing almost ominously red in contrast to the (dim, too dim, dangerously dim) white of Sans’ soul beside it.

As much as he can’t afford to, Papyrus still hesitates, right before he does it.

The fate of the amalgamates is…

He doesn’t think he’d wish it on anyone.

But he’s read the log entries, a hundred times over, at least.

It was the concentration that was the mistake. Monster bodies just didn’t have enough physical matter to handle the doses the amalgamates had gotten.

If he was careful, if he was patient…

In the end, he doesn’t think it matters.

Papyrus could never just sit there and watch his brother dust, not without trying something.

He depresses the plunger, emptying just one tiny little milliliter of pure Determination directly into Sans’ soul.

He doesn’t have to guess if it’s working.

Sans’ entire body jolts, a deep, rattling gasp breaking the silence of the lab and Papyrus drops the syringe in his haste to get back to his side.

He’s shaking, badly, but his eye-sockets are open again and he’s looking right at his brother. Papyrus wraps an arm around his shoulders, releasing his soul back into his chest and trying to help him sit up.

It doesn’t really help.

As much as he seems conscious, Papyrus doesn’t think Sans is actually seeing him. His eye-light��just the one, now—is darting around wildly, filled with all the pain and confusion it had been missing earlier. It starts to bleed Determination Red at the same time Sans starts hyperventilating and Papyrus grabs his hand in his own, squeezing tightly.

Papyrus thinks of several reassuring and inspirational things he could say to him, but before he can actually speak a word of it, Sans passes out again.

There’s a brief spike of panic in Papyrus’ soul…but he’s quick to realize the most important thing: Sans is still breathing, alive and no longer shedding dust from the grisly hole in his skull.

Even if it’s just for the moment, Sans is stabilized.

He’s not dying today.

Papyrus hugs his unconscious body even as he slumps in relief.

“OH, STARS, THANK YOU,” he breathes to no one.

Only to wince at the colorful burst of agony the words bring.

His jaw…his teeth are killing him and it’s like he’s only now realizing; now that his brother isn’t in such immediate danger of dusting on him.

Papyrus brings a hand up to his face.

Even a ginger touch is painful and what he feels beneath his phalanges…

………

He doesn’t think he wants to see a mirror for awhile.

He can’t believe that Undyne could do something like this.

He’d thought she was…

The betrayal is almost as painful as his damaged mouth…but only almost.

Somewhere between the searing, stinging ache of his jaw and the bone-deep exhaustion of the rest of him—magical and emotional—Papyrus blacks out right there on the floor next to Sans.

For the first time ever, he feels like the moment of laziness is well-deserved.

When he wakes, Sans is still unconscious.

It makes Papyrus anxious, his skull filling with horrible images of him turning to dust in spite of his efforts. The syringe, its barrel still filled with DT, is a very tempting prospect.

But Papyrus remembers the lab notes. He lets them be his cautionary tale and very pointedly reminds himself that he needs to wait and see on this.

You can’t spell ‘patience’ without…at least two letters from his name, after all!

(It doesn’t stop him from taking the DT with him when he finally drags himself and his brother up off the floor. He wants it close by, just in case.)

Papyrus goes home.

The Canine Unit sees him, so he knows that Undyne will know that he’s alright, but she doesn’t come visit.

It’s just as well.

She has a kingdom to run and probably a lot of inner-demons to grapple with, and Papyrus has his sore mouth and a possibly-Fallen-Down, possibly-about-to-melt, possibly-totally-fine brother to tend to.

Schrodinger’s Sans—he’d love that joke if only he were awake to hear it.

When Sans eventually does open his eye-sockets, his movements are even more sluggish than usual and he seems to need a lot longer to process the things Papyrus says to him.

Sans is…different, now…

But he’s also alive.

He’s stable and solid and there, the way he’s always been, for Papyrus’ entire life, and the relief that hits him over that is so strong he could actually cry.

Papyrus still has his brother. They’re still together, for whatever is going to happen next.

They can figure the rest out later.

Missing scene from Fur a Good Time, Call...

Next Chapter

#snipsnsnails #undertale #fanfiction #sans #papyrus #horrortale #ht!sans #ht!papyrus #myfic

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thelazyhermits · 6 years

Text

Into Anontale, pt.2

The city was surprisingly busy, cars in the streets, but everyone in the city seemed to be a monster. Sans landed in an alley and set you down. He pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around you and pulled your hood up. “CAN’T HAVE YOU CAUSE A PANIC NOW, CAN WE? LET ALONE WHAT ALPHYS MIGHT THINK-”

“About what?” Because nothing could ever be easy, Alphys had apparently noticed Sans anime-protagonisting above the streets.

“CAPTAIN!” Sans said, snapping to attention at her voice. “UH… FANCY MEETING YOU HERE!”

“Sans, who is that?” Alphys asked. She crossed her arms at his hesitation, revealing just how ripped the short lizard got as captain of the royal guard.

“…MY GIRLFRIEND!” he said, pulling you to his side with a grin. “Play Along,” he hissed. “IT’S HER BIRTHDAY TODAY AND I KNEW YOU’D FEEL SO BAD MISSING ANY BAKING BY THE AMAZING SANS!! I SUPPOSE IF SHE’S OKAY WITH IT, YOU COULD STILL HAVE SOME OF MY AMAZING GLITTERCAKE-”

“N-no, that’s okay,” Alphys said, quickly backpedaling. “When did you two even meet?”

“Oh, not terribly long ago, but how could I refuse someone so sweet and that has just a sparkling personality?” you said, feeling Sans stiffen as Alphys snorted in amusement. When you looked, his grin hadn’t faltered but his eyelights had vanished, making him look entirely dead inside.

“You met her through Papyrus, didn’t you?” Alphys chuckled.

“UNFORTUNATELY, IT SEEMS.” Surprisingly, his dead expression didn’t seem to effect his tone. “BUT, SPEAKING OF HIM, YOU WOULDN’T HAPPEN TO HAVE SEEN HIM RECENTLY?”

“Uh, yeah actually, if he’s in his kigurumi. Saw him napping on that bench in front of Hapsta’s building.”

“THANKS, CAPTAIN!” Sans pulled you behind him and ran off. “THAT’S ACTUALLY REALLY WEIRD,” he said, explaining as you both ran. “HE’S A REALLY LIGHT SLEEPER, HE CAN’T SLEEP OUTSIDE BECAUSE OF IT.”

“Maybe the glitch is making him?” You stopped him when you noticed the air in the street shimmer. It was replaced by a confused skeleton in a pink unicorn kigurumi, who noticed you both instead of the truck heading for him.

“PAPYRUS-!!!” The crunch before the world bugged out rang in your ears, and you were back in the apartment. The sob from the kitchen had you running to pull Sans into your arms, large tears running down his face.

“It’s okay, he’s okay,” you soothed. “He undid it, he’s okay. Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.” You rubbed his spine as he clung to you. Seeing a Papyrus hit by a truck gave you uncomfortable flashbacks to Captain’s death, so you have at least a bit of an idea of how traumatic that was for him.

It’s a good five minutes before he’s gotten calm enough to pull away, scrubbing at his face. “STARS, PAPY…” He sounded broken. “OKAY, NEW PLAN!” He flung open the door and picked you up again, doing his bone-jumping technique and heading right for where it’d happened. He set you down and snapped his fingers, his clothes changing into a black coat with yellow circuit lines on it, his yellow clubs scarf stayed, as did his black pants and yellow boots, but he seemed to have a white buttonup now, as well as a mask on.

“Is… Is that the tumblr anon face?” you asked, confused.

“VERY POSSIBLY! I DIDN’T CHOOSE THE MASK,” he said, not really paying attention as he waved his hands in front of him, creating a yellow hologram screen and keyboard. “LET’S SEE IF I REMEMBER HOW TO DO THIS…” he said, typing.

“What are you doing?” you asked, watching text and fingers fly.

“EVERYTHING, EXCEPT YOU APPARENTLY, IS MADE OF CODE. EVEN UNDOING WHAT HAPPENED, PAPY SHOULD HAVE LEFT BEHIND REMAINDERS I CAN USE TO TRACK DOWN HIS SOURCE CODE. THUS, I CAN FIND HIM.”

“And the outfit?”

“IS DESIGNED TO HIDE ME FROM THE FIREWALL AND THE ANTI-HACKER PROGRAMS. BECAUSE THIS IS SUPER ILLEGAL AND DANGEROUS.”

“Firewall…? Are we in a computer?” you asked, surprised.

“YOU ARE IN A COMPUTER, I AM PART OF ONE. I’M AN ANTI-VIRUS PROGRAM, LIKE ALPHYS! PAPYRUS IS EARLY DETECTION SOFTWARE, UNDYNE IS DIAGNOSTIC SOFTWARE, AND SO ON!” he said. “GOT HIM!” He put away his screen and snapped his clothes back. He grabbed your hand and pulled you along.

You both stopped at an abandoned construction site, and Sans pointed out a pink shape on a girder hanging from a crane. He let go and began doing his bone-jumping to get up there, and you got to watch as the glitch appeared over the cord and broke it, though Papyrus apparently woke up in time to Undo it before he hit the ground this time.

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND!!” Sans snapped, looking stressed. “THE DAYLIGHT SHOULD WAKE HIM UP!! OR THE BIRDS!! HE SHOULD BE ABLE TO WAKE HIMSELF UP AND TELEPORT HOME!!”

“The glitch has to be keep him asleep until the last second,” you said. “It cut the rope when you got close last time, so that means you probably could wake him up. We just need something big enough that could wake him up from a distance once we find him.”

Sans paused, staring at nothing. “…SON OF A BITCH, I COULD’VE DONE THAT FROM THE START!!” he groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “YOU’RE BRILLIANT, I’M DUMB, THANK YOU,” he added, pressing a kiss to your cheek before scooping you up again, seemingly oblivious to your blush, his eyelights having turned to daisies in excitement.

A bone-jump trip to the construction yard and a repeat of the tracing process lead you both to a secluded part of a junkyard.

“I’D LIKE TO APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE FOR WHAT YOU’RE ABOUT TO SEE, AND ALSO FOR ANY SECOND-HAND EMBARRASSMENT YOU MAY EXPERIENCE. HOWEVER, AS I HAVE SEEN MY BROTHER DIE TWICE TODAY, I NO LONGER HAVE ANY SHAME WHATSOEVER!!!”

At your slightly perplexed nod, Sans immediately broke down into hysterical tears, throwing himself onto the garbage like a Victorian fainting couch. “PAPY!! HELP!! I’M GONNA BE DELETED!!!” he wailed.

Instantly, Papyrus appeared and scooped him into his pink fuzzy arms. Despite the pink unicorn onesie, the sheer aura of Bad Time made you take a step back, eye blazing a bright purple, free hand having a cluster of sharpened bones pointed your way.

“Wait, no, not me! I’m helping!” you said, flinching to try and protect your head.

“PAPY, NO, SHE IS HELPING!!” Sans said, turning his brother’s head to break his glare on you. You could swear a heavy metal remix of Megalovania was playing in your head. “WE JUST NEEDED YOU TO WAKE UP!!”

“i sure hope there’s an actual reason i keep dying,” Papyrus said, lowering the unicorn head hood to reveal he had a burnt orange nightcap on under it with a heart pompom on the end. “because the whole ‘not able to wake up until seconds from death’ thing is getting tiring.”

“PAPY!!” Sans groaned, thunking his head against Papyrus’ shoulder. Papyrus just smirked of you.

“I’m Y/N, I’m from another world,” you said. Between you and Sans, it didn’t take long to get him up to speed. “Also, do you mind if I give you guys nicknames? It’d make it easier to talk about you guys to other Sanses and Papyruses, though I’d still call you guys Sans and Papyrus here.”

“sure, sister,” Papyrus said. With him still and more relaxed now, it became obvious how exhausted he was. Somehow a skull had bags under his eyesockets, he stood hunched despite supporting his brother one-handed, but you knew first hand how light the skeletons were.

“I’D LOVE TO HEAR YOUR IDEAS!!” By contrast, you figured if Sans wasn’t being held by his brother still, he’d probably be bouncing, bright-eyed and full of energy.

“How about Peppy for Sans?” you suggested.

“I LIKE IT!!!”

“suits him,” Papyrus said, looking pleased. “it’ll put a real pep in his step.”

“BROTHER NO!! Y/N!! YOU HAVE ONLY GIVEN HIM MORE PUN AMMUNITION!!” He struggled to get down, but Papyrus apparently had a good grip on him.

“aw, c’mon, bro. i promise i’ll only pep-per them in occasionally.”

“PUT ME DOWN, YOU HEATHEN!!”

You can’t help it, you start laughing at their antics, which brings a genuine smile to Papyrus’ face, which makes him not look so tired.

“Uh… For Papyrus… How about Punny?” It feels forced. Normally you go with your first instinct, but you don’t wand to be rude.

“sister, you and i both know that isn’t what you thought of,” Papyrus said, free hand on his hip. “shoot straight and just say what we all know you thought of,” he added as he let go of Sans, causing his younger brother to grunt on impact with the ground.

You cringe at being called out like that. “I thought about calling you ‘Sleepy’, if I’m honest.”

“see? doesn’t that feel less awkward?” Papyrus said. “besides, my baby bro calls me that all the time.” Papyrus held a hand out to you and pulled you into a hug when you took it. “thank you, for helping save me.” He pulled Sans into the hug and teleported home.

“YOU CAN’T NAP, YOU’LL START IT ALL OVER AGAIN,” Sans said, before he hurried into the kitchen to try and salvage dinner.

“so, sister,” papyrus said, keeping his voice down. “i don’t like my brother in danger, how’s about you and i take this to the source code of the problem and fix this fast?”

“You can do that?” You asked, surprised.

“sister,” he sighed, pausing to snap his fingers. A black coat not unlike Sans’, only purple instead of yellow replaced the kigurumi, a white shirt under a purple vest, with matching crisp white slacks and purple dress shoes, the elegance of the outfit ruined by the apparently constant burnt orange nightcap, and the fact his anon mask somehow looked as exhausted as he did. “i’m the second-best hacker this computer’s ever seen. i can find that glitchy code anywhere it tries to hide.”

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! I love this so much!!! Peppy is so adorable!! What a freakin sweetheart XD I love the premise of this world, being a part of a computer system is really cool. The special outfits are awesome. I grinned when Gli-chan asked about the Tumblr mask haha

#submission #anontale #the part with pretending to be Pep's girlfriend was great #I loved his reaction to the puns XD #Peppy's dramatic crying was exactly what I was hoping for #freakin perfect haha #you were really cool here Sleepy #I like your nickname for her #it's really cute <3 #I'm looking forward to seeing what happens next! ^^

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electriciandragon · 6 years

Text

the well of all souls

a little piece on my inquisitors during here lies the abyss. some of them do better than others.

Mahanon Lavellan | Immaturity.

Mahanon is obviously unnerved by his physical presence in the fade. He proceeds with caution and keeps close distance to his companions. This, the Nightmare thinks, should be easy.

It speaks with the voice of Corypheus. It says, “Inquisitor Mahanon, you’re quite the sight,” and it feels him tense under the words, “A little boy all dressed up in such a big title, such heavy armor, given so much responsibility—and yet he is still such a child.”

Mahanon is predictable. He tenses under the words and clenches his fists. He tries to let it roll off his back, tries to push himself forward, but he is affected.

The Nightmare says, “You say you can handle this. Ma harel, da’len.”

“Stop,” mutters Mahanon, with all the hurt of some impetuous child that is caught up in something far too complicated for him. A child with pointed ears among humans, and a child with Dalish ideals among reverent Andrastians.

His lover—a reverent Andrastian—puts a hand on one of his shoulders and says, “You should pay it no mind, Mahanon,” in her gentlest tone. “It only wants a reaction from you.”

Mahanon relaxes with her touch, and he gives her a pitiable look before taking a deep breath and steeling himself. “We should move on,” he says to her in his quietest voice. The Nightmare will have to tear her down later.

Daffodil Trevelyan | Circumstance.

Trevelyan keeps her gaze fixed on the space in front of her, and a tight grip on her axe. She and her companions—nothing, helplessness, and irrelevance respectively—walk in stiff silence.

The Nightmare has to push back a few things to find the bigger picture, and it seems that picture in and of itself is terrifying to the Inquisitor. The Nightmare mimics her older brother, deep and condescending, low and threatening. It echoes her own thoughts at her.

It says, “Did your parents send him away because of you?”

She marches on silently.

“Your brother, your hero; did he give up his life to protect others from the abomination you could be?”

Her hold on the axe tightens. She shuts her eyes and opens them again. This is almost fun, watching her try and shove it down with the rest of her memories. “Will the Inquisition be ashamed?” It asks.

She’s getting annoyed. Her companions glance over at her with sympathy. Sera is already overwhelmed by the fade, by everything around, but she says with concern. “Honeytongue?”

The Nightmare finishes with, “Will you have to carry a staff?”

Drake Trevelyan | Circumstance.

“Blessed are the peacekeepers, champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker’s will is written,” says the Nightmare, “Someone’s craving his fix.”

The Trevelyan boy is already dangling from the edge. His movements are stiff, his speech uncomfortable. His lyrium veins feel uncomfortably present under his skin. Andrastian platitudes are repeated over and over in his thoughts. When the Nightmare taunts him he simply tries to think louder.

“Do you really think that your parents would forgive you? You are the reason they lost Daffodil, and to mend their pain sent you to become all that took her away,” says the Nightmare. He keeps thinking over its words. His perceived resilience, though entertaining, is getting a little annoying. It says, “You are the unwanted child, Drake. The envious older brother. You ruin all that you touch, and take for yourself all that you cannot destroy, but now that you do it in the name of Andraste—”

Trevelyan thinks, blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and wicked and do not falter.

“You will die having destroyed yourself, and the lyrium will have only killed your memory.”

Alethea Lavellan | Tranquility.

“Imagine yourself going through a Harrowing,” says the Nightmare. It speaks with the voice of Helisma. Still and emotionless. Completely tranquil. “Could you even do it? Magic is something you never even think of.”

Alethea tries to laugh it off. Tries to make a joke about herself in Circle robes—oh how unnatural it would be. Despite this, her tone is clipped, her wit less genuine. The Nightmare pushes her a bit more. It says, “Imagine failing, how they punish mages who fail.”

“All the misery, all the happiness, all the love—your sister. You would feel nothing toward them.”

Alethea snaps, “Shut up!” and stops before taking a sharp breath and apologizing to her companions for the outburst under her breath. Sera walks beside her and briefly squeezes her hand.

Alphys Lavellan | Complete Freedom.

“It's always something,” says the Nightmare, “Your clan, your magic, your sister, and now your Inquisition. Something is always tugging at your leash, Alphys.”

Alphys is calm on the outside. She is calm on the inside, too. More calm than any of her companions, at the very least. She has studied the fade quite a bit, with the rift mage training. And besides, there is nothing this demon can say to her that she has not considered herself. At least, she thinks there is nothing.

“Are you even a person, Lavellan?” it begs the question, “Or are you simply the result of the will of others? What they tell you to do, what they ask you to forgive—that is all you are. You are a tool to be used by others,” it says, “but maybe that is better than being whatever you are.”

Oh.

“You can’t even conceive who you would be without someone guiding you, can you?” it says, “Maybe it would be just as the humans say, and you would be consumed by your magic. A possessed mage with no control over her actions.”

Oh.

“Or maybe you would simply break under this pressure if the Inquisition were not leading you around by the neck. Or maybe the power would corrupt you, and you would drive yourself and your people into the ground.”

Alphys knows it isn’t true—knows that demons lie and that she has come to her own in some ways, but part of her worries that it is right. That she is malleable as a side effect of being agreeable. That being merciful is something she didn’t decide for herself, but something that was thrust upon her. Part of her also worries, in some small way, that she could never handle the freedom of being her own person. That she must always hold something or someone close to her in order to make decisions, lest she make the wrong one.

(That is what she is doing with her sister and Cullen and the Inquisition.)

It says, “I suppose we’ll never know, Herald.”

Herc Cadash | His Past.

“Yanna will become a smuggler, like her father,” says the Nightmare, “she’ll do it to support her mother, who you left behind.”

Cadash tries to pay the Nightmare no mind, but he glances at his Tevinter lover.

“Your father is still senile, your mother still remains disappointed in you. Her oldest son, leaving his dying father behind to chase after a criminal legacy,” says the Nightmare, “A man like you can’t change, Hercule. You are consigned to your selfish decisions. You damn the people who have forgiven you.”

For a moment, it seems like he’s been convinced, but he is swiftly comforted.

“You’re a different man, now,” says Dorian, “You try harder than most.”

Willa Trevelyan | The Circle.

“I will twist the demon inside of you when we are done here, and I will make it destroy you, as it ought to,” says the Nightmare, “Or maybe, after this is done, the Circle will capture and slay you for the abomination you are.”

Its words have no weight. Willa fears the Circle, yes. She fears what will happen if she is ever forced to go back, but she is more than confident in the magic she has cultivated. And if all else fails, Pride lies dormant within her, protecting her. Nothing can hurt her. Nothing can kill her. She is, for all her efforts, completely fucking untouchable, and this demon can only make lowly attempts at bending her will.

She fears no demon, no man, no nothing—and the Circle did that to her. The Circle made her into what she is.

She is grateful for what it shaped her into.

Laisa Lavellan | The Truth.

“Are you angry, Inquisitor?” the Nightmare speaks with the voice of Corypheus, but also with the voice of something unidentifiable. Something frightening. It says, “Can you even be angry?”

Laisa can be angry. She can be angry and sad and scared and all of those other things!—but mostly she is happy. She has to be. She is sunlit and bright and shining, and she cannot be hurt by this Nightmare.

“You are not fit to do this, Inquisitor. Solas will not last, and your facade will fall apart.”

Never.

#dragon age: inquisition #here lies the abyss #laisa lavellan #willa trevelyan #herc cadash #alphys lavellan #alethea lavellan #drake trevelyan #daffodil trevelyan #mahanon lavellan

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dragonasheswrites-blog · 6 years

Text

The Heaven We Didn’t Choose, Chapter 18: In Which Sans Has a Heart

...But only a figurative one. And he's still an asshole.

First: Chapter 1: In Which a Child Makes a Friend

Previous: Chapter 17: In Which Alphys is Terrible

Next: Chapter 19: In Which Piracy is Encouraged

Click here for the story overview.

“Sans! Get her!” a voice crackled in Elemental.

Sans was already hot on Pele’s heels. Literally. Even if he didn’t have a trail of light and warmth to follow in the dark alleyway, she was disoriented and confused in a strange new place. He couldn’t let her disappear into the night with no way to find shelter, regardless of what was going on with Grillby.

It was easy enough to catch the sleeve of her sweater in his phalanges just as she reached the main street. She stiffened, just like she had when he’d held her hand to teleport, but didn’t lash out. A glance over his shoulder showed that Grillby was still a safe distance away, hands raised and flames carefully controlled.

“Hey, kid. Why don’t ya tell me what’s eatin’ you, huh?”

The fire girl just shuddered and curled in on herself while trying to put as much distance between herself and her captured arm as possible.

“Ooookay, wanna tell me why Grillbz knew your name, and why you don’t want anything to do with him? ‘Cause I thought I was real clever, y’know, findin’ you a place to stay, but we can try someone else if you’d rather.”

“...Who…?”

That was a good question, actually. “I...uh...I know the Captain of the Royal Guard. She’s pretty, uh, intense, but she could probably find you a warm bed. I’m gonna hafta tell her about you anyways, so she can get started on your papers and whatnot. Or the queen-”

“...That’s...alright…”

“I understand Elemental if it’s easier for you to speak.”

She started struggling. That didn’t seem to be the right thing to say at all.

Movement in the corner of Sans’s eye socket made him turn to see Grillby slowly walking up, carefully avoiding piles of snow that had blown in. A few intermittent snowflakes evaporated in the agitated flames of his exposed head, almost painfully bright against the night sky.

“Pele,” the bartender said in flickering Elemental, both hands raised. “Why are you here?”

She remained silent, but stopped trying to escape. Her flames gave resigned little flickers.

“I, uh, brought her here,” Sans said when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to respond. “She said she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Found her in Alphys’s lab.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Uh. Alphys said she was an orphan.”

Grillby stopped, his flames still wavering. He looked...devastated. Sans had never seen the grouchy bartender look anything but angry or frustrated. Not even when he left his old joint in the Underground, the one he’d built up for decades.

After a moment, the older elemental collected himself and gave a little sigh-like noise. He smoothed out a little, more like a candle flame than a wind-whipped bonfire. “Why don’t we go inside and talk. I need to tend to the bar and I am sure it would be more comfortable for both of you.”

The obvious joke was on the tip of Sans’s proverbial tongue, but he didn’t want to set Grillbz off. The guy’s temper was on a hair trigger at the best of times, after all. Instead, he carefully released Pele and followed her inside, ready to catch her if she decided to bolt again.

She didn’t. She did maintain a careful distance from both adults, but she stepped through the doorway without too much fuss.

Her flames flickered in obvious surprise when she got a good look at the interior of the bar. What could be seen from the back hallway - the doorways to the kitchen and one of the private rooms, and the stairs to the upper level - wasn’t fancy, but it was a definite step up from the old Grillby’s in Snowdin. Had she expected some seedy dive?

Grillby led them to the private room and left, citing bartending duties, but he looked a little shaky.

Pele still wasn’t talking.

And Sans really didn’t know what to do. He texted Lesser Dog to ask him to keep an extra eye out and got an enthusiastic response, but that didn’t answer any of the real questions of the evening. Sans had saved the kid on a whim, really. If she’d been older, if he hadn’t found that little striped sweater in the lab hallway, he probably would have ducked his head and continued on his way. That’s what was expected of monsters. But…

“...Sorry…” Pele was curling in on herself, her flames flickering lowly like the dying embers of a campfire.

“‘Ts fine, kid. Were you, uh, down in the lab long?”

“...I...don’t know…?”

He hummed. She couldn't have been down there more than a few days, not with the way Alphys was acting. Still...an awkward silence fell. What was there to say to a kid he’d pulled, pretty much at random, out of a situation where she’d been guaranteed a long and painful death at the hands of a mad scientist?

“So. You. Uh, you know Grillby?”

“...No…”

That didn’t sound like a lie, but it didn’t sound like the whole truth either. He wanted to scream. Trying to get answers out of elementals was, in his experience, an exercise in futility. Getting answers out of an elemental who wouldn’t speak was on a whole ‘nother level.

It was a surprise, then, when she continued in broken Elemental.

“Grill-by was...father’s brother. What call?”

“Uncle is the word we use, kid. Can’t pronounce Elemental properly with this jaw,” he tapped the aforementioned body part, “so I’m not sure how you’d say it, but...yeah. Grillby’s your uncle, huh.”

“...Uncle…” Pele crackled in English before switching back. “There was...big fight. No talking for much time. Mother and father not want to go...up? Go out? Too much ties. Connection? But...hmm. Thought Grill-by...would be angry.”

“So Grillbz and your parents fought, and you lost contact. Then your parents didn’t want to go to the surface?”

The girl nodded.

“You said they had ties - some kind of connection - to the Underground. Were they part of a gang?”

“Sparks,” the girl said, holding her left wrist loosely in her right hand and looking away.

That made sense. The Sparks were a gang of mostly fire-type monsters based in Hotland; grabbing the left wrist (or comparable appendage) was one way they identified themselves to fellow gang members. Sans had heard rumors of some fire and rock elementals among them but he hadn’t exactly kept up with the latest news over the past few years. Still, it made sense that a group like that would choose to stay in their claimed territory instead of braving the rain and snow of the Surface.

“Pele, were your parents dusted?”

She tucked into herself further, which was confirmation enough in itself. Sans sighed. It was an old, familiar story: a kid orphaned by gang violence or infighting, then raised by remaining gang members. Her parents had probably died years back, if her choppy Elemental was anything to go by; it was a difficult language for most monsters to pronounce. Maybe she’d even been punished for speaking it, judging by her reactions.

The fact that she’d wound up in Alphys’s lab meant that the girl had either run away from the gang and into one of Alphys’s traps, or - and the thought was horrifying, even to a hardened guy like Sans - been traded off during one of her searches for test subjects. Neither said particularly good things about the state of the Underground. He knew things were getting worse since the Royal Guard was focused on the surface, but still.

Her reaction to Grillby explained why she hadn't gone looking for him, either. She'd said she thought he would be angry with her. She probably had her reasons, but...Grillbz was actually not bad, when nothing had set him off. Many of the kids from Snowdin had earned a spare meal or two washing dishes in the bar, which worked out well for both parties. It was why Sans hadn't thought much of bringing him a strange kid; that, and Pele looked like she could use a good meal or two.

Grillbz himself opened the door to the private room and entered carrying two trays. The one he slid to Sans held a burger, fries, and unopened bottles of ketchup and mustard; the other held a stone bowl filled with what looked like glowing coals.

“Eat,” the elemental crackled to them both in his native tongue. “I have an employee coming in about half an hour, if the lazy ass shows up. We can talk then.” He walked back out, not once glancing towards the girl.

Pele looked over at Sans, confusion radiating off her. “...What…?”

He repeated what Grillby had said, paraphrasing a little. “So, you really don’t know much Elemental, huh.”

“It has been...long time since speak. Not...allowed? Care-takers...did not understand. Wanted...English. But...hard to speak…hmm.”

“Gotcha. Well, I understand it, and most of the folks ‘round here do. Hell, even most of the humans who are regulars at the bar have picked up the basics. At the very least they understand when Grillbz wants his money or is clearing out the bar.” He grabbed a fry, dunked it in a puddle of mustard, then gestured at her bowl.

She giggled and slowly - very slowly, as if she suspected a trap - brought one of the coals to her mouth. She didn’t make any kind of a chewing motion, but the glow of her flames brightened considerably over the next few seconds before dying back down.

The rest of the coals disappeared quickly after that.

Sans, on the other hand, savored his burg. It had been months since he’d had the spare time and cash to have more than a quick beer at the bar to eavesdrop for information. In fact - he checked his inventory - he probably had just enough left over from bus fare to pay for his meal. It was annoying that most of his earnings went to Boss or apartment bills; maybe he could spend some extra time at the hotdog stand to compensate?

He had just finished licking the extra ketchup off his fingers (not willing to let anything go to waste) when Grillby walked back in. The bartender was looking a lot more composed than he had earlier, his flames smooth and calm. Sans was probably one of the few who could sense the lingering agitation in the other monster, and that was after long years of association and tenuous alliance.

Grillbz settled himself into the third chair at their table. “So. Pele, you are...a long way from home.”

The girl nodded after a moment. The way she flinched whenever Elemental was spoken was hard to miss.

“Do you not speak?”

The way her flames curled screamed embarrassment. “...Hard…”

“I see. Well, let’s see how quickly you pick it back up, then. How did you get into the Royal Scientist’s lab of all places?”

The ensuing conversation was painful to listen to - a combination of hesitant English and broken Elemental - but by the end of it Pele was picking up more and more of what Grillby was saying. As it turned out, Sans was correct: the girl had been ‘traded’ to Alphys about a week prior for a favor. What favor the Sparks wanted from (or owed to) Alphys was anyone’s guess; Pele hadn’t exactly been invited to those conversations. She had tried to run away when she found out but had only succeeded in injuring herself. The gang had been very unhappy about having to heal her before handing her over to the Royal Scientist, and she was still low on magic. She’d been locked away in one of the cages in the back of the Lab ever since.

Throughout this explanation, Grillby grew more and more tense. The flames that normally flickered up above his head to simulate some kind of crazy hairdo were so shallow that he looked practically bald.

Sans elected not to point this out; he didn't want to invoke the old elemental's fiery temper, after all.

After a moment’s consideration, the bartender stood and beckoned to the girl. “...Come.”

“...Where…?”

“...Upstairs.” Grillby’s English was always a little slow, but he was clearly trying to make it easier for Pele to understand. “I...have rooms. You will...be staying...with me.”

“...Really…?”

Instead of responding, he gestured the girl out the door a little more forcefully than such generosity required. She complied without questioning further, Sans tagging along behind out of curiosity and a lingering sense of responsibility.

The second level of Grillby’s bar held rooms that he rented out to drunk idiots, less-than-legal deal brokers, and the odd human who wanted to engage in...personal activities while intoxicated. Grillbz also had an apartment at the far end of the hall, but Sans had never been inside.

The group stopped at a door near Grillby’s private rooms, which he opened with a key strung on a loop of chain. He handed the key over to Pele. “Don’t...lose this. Get some sleep. You...start work...in the morning.”

The girl nodded, still looking a little lost. She stared at Sans for a moment before closing the door wordlessly.

“Welp,” Sans said, stretching a little, “It’s been great. I’ll be off-”

“Wait.” The switch into smooth Elemental was a relief to both of them.

“Ooooh yeah! Your money. Well. Here…”

“No. Not that. Come.”

Sans was stunned. Had...had Grillby, once the most notorious miser in Snowdin, actually turned down money? Or...did he want something more for dropping a kid on him without warning? The skeleton fought down his trepidation and followed Grillbz down the stairs and back into the private room.

“What do you want?”

Sans started at the unexpected question. “Uh…?”

“You want something. That is the only reason you could have brought Pele to me. How did you know we were family?”

Memories of a young human woman sitting at his dining room table flashed behind his eye sockets. How ‘bout that deja vu. “I didn’t. Stars, man, I was just hoping you had a spare room or somethin’ that could get ‘er magic levels back up. I didn’t know what Alph was doin’ to that kid but ‘er magic was pretty low. I’m hardly an expert in elementals; most of the ones I knew back Underground either hate my guts or are part of the gang that sold her off.”

“How did you find her?”

It was a fair question; the Lab was hardly open to the public. Or rather, it was, but getting back out wasn't guaranteed. “Alph had something I needed, and I had a permit from the King to go and get it. She must’ve forgotten I was in there. I was on my way out, found a striped shirt in the hallway and went to investigate. The rest...well.”

“Is the Royal Scientist going to come after her?”

“Uh, don’t think so? She’s more likely to come after me, really. I was plannin’ to get Undyne involved tomorrow morning; if nothing else, that’ll sidetrack Alph long enough to grab the kid and hide ‘er somewhere.”

For a monster whose concept of ‘eyes’ was a little vague, Grillby was a master at making someone squirm with a glare. Sans managed to keep from fidgeting only because of his long exposure to Boss’s intimidation tactics. “You really don’t want anything. You had a plan. What were you going to do after reporting her to Undyne? Have her arrested for gang affiliation?”

“No? I mean, has Undyne ever arrested a kid in stripes? Nah, I was gonna ask around, see if she really was an orphan. Thought she could get into a school or find some work or somethin’ to pay her way. Something better than whatever goes on Underground these days. Kid needs a family that’ll teach her surface manners and some way to earn money that won’t bring gangs - the Underground kind or Undyne’s happy little group - after her.”

There was another pause, then Grillby gave a strange, crackling laugh. “You really have...changed. I heard you were going soft, but this is the first I’ve seen of it.”

“Uh, r-really? I mean, haha, you don’t actually think-”

“The child changed you. Not Pele,” he said, amusement curling the ragged opening on his face that passed for a mouth, “The other one. The ambassador’s child.”

“You...you know about Attie?”

“There are no secrets in a bar. I am well-paid for my...discretion. But you? You aren’t the type to value money so highly, nor does your brother have nearly as good a hold on you as he thinks; his willingness to pay me for information about you says as much. You must be doing this for...personal reasons. Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t, but Sans didn’t really want to say so.

“It was certainly an unexpected development. You were one of the monsters I least expected to have a soft spot for children. Then again, you never did dust children, did you?”

“No. But that doesn’t mean nothin’.”

“I know several annoying teenagers who would disagree.”

“Hmph.”

Grillby did his funny laugh again. “Don’t worry; I haven’t distributed that information, and after what you’ve done for my family...I don’t intend to. It isn’t even worth much at the moment. It is strange, though, isn’t it? Not too long ago, this would have been an incredible weakness for you. And yet…”

“...Here, it isn’t. Heck, most humans would see it as a good thing, bein’ too nice to kids.”

“Indeed.”

The warmth Sans felt wasn’t just because he was standing next to a man made of fire. There was a strange camaraderie, an understanding of shared hardships and shared joys, that passed between the two in that moment. For once, it wasn’t awkward to meet Grillby’s eyes, or whatever passed for them.

“I was emancipated by my brother shortly after Pele was born,” the elemental said, breaking the silence. “I haven’t heard from him, his wife, or his children in years. I thought they were all dead. I thought I didn’t care if they were.”

That he’d thought incorrectly went unsaid.

A crash and the sound of tinkling glass broke the moment, and both looked away. “Well,” Sans said, “I’d, uh, better get to my station. LD can’t cover for me forever. Uh. How much do I owe you for…?”

“Nothing; it’s on the house. Consider it thanks. And do let me know if you find anything more about the situation.”

“Sure will.”

Grillby left the room first, headed towards the bar. Sans went the other way, out the back door and into the alleyway. He paused before teleporting back up the mountain.

It felt good, having an ally. He seemed to be picking them up at a rapid rate lately: Attie, Frisk, Undyne, and now Grillby and Pele. He practically had friends. It was weird to think about, after living most of his life being the town asshole.

Speaking of which, he clearly wasn’t the only one who’d changed. Who would’ve thought that Grillby cared about family? Especially after he’d been emancipated? This was the guy who was more than willing to roast some bones if, say, a skeleton eating at his bar came up a few gold short in change. Not that Sans had ever been in that position, of course. His hands curled reflexively; dish duty at a bar was one of the worst jobs ever, in his opinion.

With a sigh, he teleported up towards his station.

It felt like only minutes later that he was walking back down the mountain, leaving a twitchy Doggo in his place. He’d been too preoccupied with going over his notes and wondering about Pele and Grillby, and time seemed to have jumped. It began snowing in earnest halfway home; the comfort of his apartment was welcoming to his cold bones. Boss was gone - as was the Takersfaire booth - so Sans had no interference getting to his room. He immediately flopped over on his mattress.

As he passed out, he realized that he’d really only gotten three hours of sleep the night before. Undyne was going to yell at him again if he stretched himself…

“SANS! WAKE UP!”

Sans rolled out of the way on instinct as a bone attack struck the pillow where his head had been moments before. “B-Boss? Wha…?”

“I’VE BEEN TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP FOR TEN MINUTES! GET OUT OF BED NOW, YOU LAZY SACK OF SHIT!”

He managed to climb to his feet despite the exhaustion dragging at his bones. He glanced at the clock. It was just past 7 in the morning, which was...not as early as it felt. He must’ve used more magic than he thought, to still be so tired after what was - for him - an early night.

Oh, shit. He’d forgotten to call Undyne, hadn’t he.

“GET TO YOUR HOT DOG STAND IMMEDIATELY!” Boss growled. “I WILL NOT STAND FOR ANY MORE LAZINESS IN THIS HOUSE!”

“It’s not a house, Boss, it’s-”

Thud.

The impact of bone on bone took away all the bonus HP Sans had gotten from sleep, and a few extra points besides.

“IMMEDIATELY, SANS!”

“I’m goin’, I’m goin’...”

He practically ran to his hot dog stand, not willing to give Boss any more reasons to punish him. Once there, he pulled his phone out.

Undyne picked up on the first ring. “WHAT??” she screeched.

“Wow. What a nice way to greet a pal.”

“Oh. Sans. What the hell. Is up with you. You were. So late. Last night.”

“Uh…”

“Don’t. You dare. Pun at me. I am not. In the mood.”

“No coffee yet?”

The growl was confirmation enough.

“Riiight. Uh, I’ll make this quick. Soooo...stopped by the lab yesterday to look at...stuff. Got what I needed, but picked up a...straggler along the way.”

“I swear to the stars, Sans, if you are calling me because you got involved in another shady gang deal trying to get drugs for a prank, I will rip off your skull and shove it straight up your-”

“I didn’t! I didn’t! Also: rude!”

“Don’t you talk to me about rude you little...no, y’know what? No. It’s too early for this crap.”

“Wait!” He could feel her trying to hang up on him. “I...it’s important. I swear.”

“You have five seconds of my time, asshole.”

“It was a kid. Alph had a kid down in her lab.”

There was a pause. For a moment, Sans thought she really had hung up. Then-

“WHAT???”

“Holy shit, that’s really not necessary!”

“YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT THE ROYAL SCIENTIST IS EXPERIMENTING ON CHILDREN? AGAIN?? WHERE? WHO? HOW MANY??”

“I-”

“TELL ME RIGHT NOW YOU ASSHOLE!!! NGYAAAAAAAAAH!”

There was a loud crash in the background. It turned out to be the first of several.

Sans waited for the noise to die down a little. “Uh...you done?”

The only response was heavy breathing.

“Ooooookay. So. I only found the one kid. Fire elemental girl, claims she’s an orphan. The Sparks sold ‘er off a few days ago, we think.”

“We?” Undyne growled.

“Uh...I took her to Grillby’s.”

“You took a child. To a seedy bar.”

“Nnnnoooo? I took a fire elemental child to the only other fire elemental I know who isn’t involved in some hella crazy shit.”

“That’s...debatable.”

“Alright, what fire elemental do you know who would’ve been a better option? Yeah, thought not. And as it turns out, they’re family.”

“What the hell? Grillby has kids?”

“Nope. Niece, apparently.”

“You showed up with his niece, and he didn’t immediately toss you out on your face?”

“Nope. Weird, right?”

“You do know he was emancipated years ago, right? It was a huge fight, apparently. They still tell legends about it in the Guard.”

“He...may have mentioned something about that?”

“...It’s too early in the morning for this crap.”

“Whelp. I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Just wanted to give ya a heads-up so you’d know that there’s a new kid in town who’s gonna need paperwork.”

There was another muffled crunch in the background. “Sans. I hate you.”

“Uh…”

“Not only do you call me at SEVEN THIRTY IN THE MORNING, ON MY DAY OFF, but you DUMP A CRAPTON OF PAPERWORK ON MY ASS???”

“Well-”

“DON’T ANSWER THAT!!!”

“Y’okay.”

“AND DON’T YOU DARE BE LATE TO YOUR SHIFT THIS AFTERNOON!!”

There was a low scream as the call was terminated. Forcefully.

Well. That went better than he expected. And better yet, it was out of his sweaty little hands. It was a good day.

Or...so he thought.

Sans shuffled home later that night a tired, worn skeleton trying not to jostle a bad arm. Work at the hot dog stand had been uneventful, but his double sentry shift had been absolutely hellish. A group of teenagers, drunk or high out of their dead little minds, had decided to storm the mountain. Literally ‘storm;’ it had been alternating between snow and rain for most of the afternoon and into the evening before settling into a cold drizzle. Fortunately, their path had taken them within roughly two feet of one of the sentry posts so they didn’t just disappear onto the mountain.

Un fortunately, that post was the one Sans was stationed at.

The fight had been difficult. His blue magic only affected one human at a time, and the kids had been too impaired to really care about what was happening to one of their own. They also had a hard time registering pain; the weak bones he threw at them took tiny slivers out of their HP, but didn’t do much to slow them down. He was authorized to use magic - Mount Ebott was monster territory - but he didn’t want to risk killing them and starting a real incident.

At least they recognized him as a threat. The focus of the group went from getting up the mountain to beating up the monster who was single-handedly kicking their asses. Luckily for him, whatever they’d pumped into their systems made them both reckless and bad at aiming.

Even a complete idiot gets lucky sometimes, though.

It had taken twenty minutes for the other sentries to start trickling in, and by then the damage had mostly been done. Most of the kids, exhausted and finally feeling their injuries, had collapsed in various undignified piles across the clearing by Sans’s post. A few got away but...eh, that wasn’t his problem.

One of the dogs had called Undyne, who had called the police (after chewing out all the sentries collectively and individually for waking her up, again, on her day off). Sans had, naturally, been left to deal with the ensuing chaos of mediating between an angry, sleep-deprived Undyne and the extremely wary human police.

No one else had been hurt - thank the stars for small miracles - but it was still a literal and figurative mess. Mud was one thing, but trespassing onto monster property was a pretty big deal for humans, especially since monsters on their mountain had the legal right to defend themselves in whatever way they saw fit once provoked. He didn’t envy the cops or the kids; neither would have a good night’s sleep for at least a week once Tori got ahold of them.

Regardless, all of that led to Sans wandering home in the freezing rain at an unholy hour of the morning, stiff and sore and trying not to jostle an arm that wasn’t quite broken. He really, really just wished that he could just take a shortcut home, but he couldn’t summon the energy. He needed to start working out again...it had fallen by the wayside over the past week or two.

He paused. That sounded like...a cry? He hesitated, remembering what happened the last time he’d responded to a crying child, but hearing it a second time broke his resolve. He’d just rescued a kid; couldn’t a guy get a break??

Responsibility really was going to be the death of him.

The sound was coming from a nearby alleyway, which wasn’t ominous at all. He summoned a bone, keeping his wits about him, and angled himself so his bad arm was protected by a wall. His magic gathered instinctively, ready to protect him despite how drained he’d been by the earlier fight.

The pavement of the alley was slick from the recent freezing rain and there were deep puddles where it had sunken. Sans avoided those. The noise seemed to be coming from a pile of garbage stacked around a dumpster further back, but he could see no movement.

He stalked closer. It sounded like the noise was getting quieter; he couldn’t tell if the kid was weakening or moving farther away. He paused and strained to listen over the patter of rain on pavement and trash. Weakening, definitely, but it was sounding less like a child. There were no words, for one, and no matter how close he got he couldn’t sense a human soul or any type of magic.

Movement from one of the boxes made him tense, bone at the ready. He felt silly; it was a small creature, not nearly big enough to be a threat…

...but it was the source of the noise, he realized as he watched it squirm. He dismissed the bone. He’d wasted enough time and energy chasing after...actually, what was that thing?

Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped closer. The box was soaked through and half-submerged in a puddle that was half frozen over. There was something hand-written on the box, but it was smeared by rain and he couldn’t make it out in the dark of the alley. The crying thing - whatever it was - clung to one side, trying to keep from sliding into the water.

It wasn’t until he stood right next to the box and looked in that he saw the other dark shapes in the water, sunken and unmoving. He thought of the Dogi’s litter of pups and shuddered.

Trying not to overthink what he was doing, he grabbed the little critter by the scruff of its neck. “Please don’t be a rat,” he muttered to it. He had too many awful memories of the little scavengers from his childhood on the streets of the Underground. “I will literally throw you right back in there with your friends if you’re a rat.”

He picked his way back out of the alley, gritting his teeth against the cries. Once back in relative light and safety, he held it up.

It wasn’t a rat.

He examined the thing carefully. It was furry, he could tell, even though the rain had matted its fur down to almost nothing. The fur was too dark to pick out colors, but it seemed to be covered in stripes of brown or grey. From what he could see it had big pointy ears, a wimpy little furry tail that was curled up between its legs, and a huge green eye with a little slit.

Cat.

Well then. He’d always wanted a pet. But seriously, what was it with him and picking up strays lately??

Sans carefully brought his bad hand up under the cat’s butt, then released his hold on the scruff of its neck. Even the slight weight caused his arm to ache, but he held it steady. The cat shivered; humans and other creatures with fleshy bits shivered when cold, he remembered. (He deliberately did not think about Frisk shivering under her comforter, hours from death when her daughter dragged his sorry ass in to help.)

It seemed to be calming down, though. He knew from conversations with Att...with humans that they perceived the magic radiating off his bones as warmth. He was soaked through, but held the little thing close to his chest anyways. It wasn’t like a little extra water was going to hurt it at that point.

He walked home quickly, no longer caring about his injuries.

When he arrived at the apartment complex he carefully pressed his bad arm against his side. The little cat fit perfectly inside his jacket in the pouch formed by the crook of his elbow. It didn’t seem to like him zipping the jacket up, but Sans knew that Boss finding it would be a death sentence: for it, definitely, and possibly for Sans as well with how cranky Boss had been.

He slipped the door open quietly, listening for anyone else in the apartment. The only sound was the rain beating against the kitchen window. He started for the hallway-

“THERE YOU ARE!”

“Shit, Boss!” He shifted his arm, silently begging the cat to stay quiet.

“YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN HOME AN HOUR AGO!”

“I-I got a little banged up in a fight. I, uh, take it you heard from Undyne what happened?”

“CAPTAIN UNDYNE APPRISED ME OF THE SITUATION, YES.”

There was a shuffle somewhere over Boss’s head as the residents of the apartment above theirs came to terms with loud noises at unfortunate hours of the morning.

“Then, uh, I’ll just…”

“STOP RIGHT THERE!”

Sans paused.

“Remove your clothing. I must examine you for injuries.”

“Wha... hell no, Boss! What even??”

“YOUR GRAMMAR GETS WORSE EVERY DAY!”

“Why do you need to ‘examine’ me?”

Boss sighed, rubbing one knuckle along the smooth stretch of bone between his eye sockets. “Because you were so careless as to worry the ambassador a few months ago, she is now under the impression that you are suffering from…‘abuse.’” He said the word like it meant a tendency towards screaming esoteric love poetry in public. “Absurd, I know. However, Undyne still demanded that I ensure you remain in good health to appease her highness. I MUST, THEREFORE, ENSURE THAT YOU HAVE SUFFERED NO LASTING DAMAGE AFTER THIS SCUFFLE OF YOURS!”

Sans shoved the flare of anger to the side, where he could deal with it later. “I’m pretty sure that was just when I was babysitting. I’m not babysitting anymore.”

“ENOUGH, SANS!”

Boss shot an arm out and made a grab for Sans, snarling when his prey dodged backwards into the hallway and made a desperate break for his room. Boss wouldn’t knock down the door and risk the wrath of the landlord, and thus, the queen.

...Probably.

He locked the door mere moments before Boss slammed into it fists-first. “SANS! OPEN THE DOOR!”

Sans tucked himself into the corner behind the door hinge. Boss was bad at picking locks, but even worse at noticing fine detail when he was all worked up. It was that or the closet, and he’d started checking the closet.

Thankfully, he seemed content with just yelling and banging on the door. He settled down pretty well after about half an hour and stalked back off towards his own room, muttering threats the entire way. Sans made a mental note to stay away from his brother for the next few days to avoid punishments.

No need to get the big guy into hot water with Undyne if she’d started poking her nose in their business again. It wasn’t a big deal; he could handle it, and there was no need to get Frisk involved.

He chuckled in relief, feeling his jacket. It was still soaked through pretty badly. The cat, however, had curled up between his arm and ribcage and was making a noise like a small motor.

That must be the ‘purring’ thing he’d heard about. It was incredibly soothing, actually.

Gently, he set the cat on his mattress and changed into dry clothes. After a long moment of consideration, the threw his jacket over the back of his desk chair to dry out. The rest of his clothes were kicked into the heap of laundry in the corner, but he wanted to wear his jacket sometime soon.

He flopped over on the bed to examine the creature he’d brought home. It was looking better, actually. It had pushed itself up onto four tiny paws and was wobbling around the bed; whether the wobble was due to weakness, injury, or the softness of his mattress he couldn’t tell. The long cuddle under his jacket had done it some good, at least. It was looking puffy and mostly dry across its back and the shivering had stopped.

Upon further inspection, it only seemed to have one functioning eye. Both its eyes were open, but one of them was milky and pale in a way that reminded him of Undyne and the other monsters he knew whose eyes had been damaged. For all that, it seemed to be getting around okay.

“Yer not sleepin’ with me,” he said as it crashed nose-first into his leg and flopped over. Little black paw pads waved wildly in the air. “I know your type. You make all kinds of wet, goopy messes that I hafta clean up, and I’m not in the mood tonight.”

It started purring again, curled into a tight ball against his leg.

“Fine. Lemme see…” He scooped the thing up and looked around. A space heater he’d been meaning to fix up was still in the closet, buried under spare mechanical parts. It rattled when he turned it up, but that wasn’t the end of the world. He didn’t notice too much of a difference in temperature, but he wasn’t especially sensitive to temperature differences to begin with. Hopefully it helped.

He found a large cardboard box from...well, he didn’t really remember and it wasn’t marked, so it could’ve been from anything, really. Into the box went a pile of dirty shirts; if they were already dirty, the gooey mess the cat was going to make wouldn’t do much damage.

The cat protested Sans’s attempts to put it down, curling itself around his phalanges and struggling to find something to grip with its claws, but he was able to wrangle it into the box. For the amount of struggle it put up, it didn’t seem too upset once he got it settled; it curled right back up and started purring again.

He ran his phalanges over the cat’s head and ears, concentrating on the texture of the fur. It was a strange feeling. It was soft, but not like cloth; almost feather-like, really. It didn’t feel much like dog fur, though he hadn’t had many opportunities to study that in detail. Dog fur was...he didn’t know how to describe it. Thicker? He had given scratches to Greater Dog during his last shift at the hot dog stand (that guy was a real softy at heart, a secret Sans would take to his grave) and he’d been able to feel the individual strands of fur. The cat’s fur was so fine that it seemed almost like one solid thing until his phalanges passed through it.

The purring stopped abruptly and Sans paused, worried he’d upset the cat somehow. It didn’t react at all. Its eyes were closed and its head had drooped down to rest on the sleeve of one of his sweatshirts.

Asleep, then. He grinned.

Might as well join it.

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