Confrontation for Bad Things Happen Bingo and All 4 Day 1 Prompts for Whumptober. Prompts: "But now this room is spinning while I'm just trying to fill in all the gaps." Safety Net, Swooning, "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Undertale Fanfic: You Thought You Killed Me?
"Sans! Sans!" Sans opened his eyes, his vision was blurry, "Alphys." Sans went to close his eyes again.
"Don't close your eyes! You're barely alive!"
"Fine." Sans didn't expect Alphys to put her fingers close to his skull, "Oh yeah, how many fingers am I holding up?"
Sans counted, "Five." Alphys shook her head, "No, Sans, two. Don't do that!" Sans figured out what Alphys was yelling about when as when he stood up, the room started spinning. "I don't understand." Sans informed Alphys when he was pushed back down.
"The human went back. They think-" Alphys gulped, "They think you are dead Sans." Sans wished so, maybe his wrapped up chest wouldn't feel like it's on fire. "I- I found you at Grillbys."
"I know when I'm as good as dead Alphys. Especially with the bleeding."
"Why do you bleed, anyways?"
"I was experimented on as a kid. Bleeding is a side effect." Sans laid down, "I don't remember ever not bleeding."
Alphys gulped, "Why did you do such a stupid thing? Fighting them?"
"Someone has to stop them. Figured I'd do my job for once." Sans stood up, "Speaking of the kid, I have to take care of them."
"Sans, no! You'll die. You're not 100 percent."
"Then come with me." Sans grabbed Alphys' arm, "You want this as much as I do. If things get bad, you can surprise them.
I accepted death once already." Alphys reluctantly nodded, "I guess I should."
Sans was back in the judgment hall, arriving in a wheelchair due to Alphys' assistance. Sans stood up, "Geez kid, getting sloppy aren't cha?"
Alphys hid when the kid came in. Step. Step. Step. Their knife dropped. "Bet you weren't expecting me. Let's just get to the point." Sans lifted his arm up, holding his painful wince back banging the weaponless human against the walls.
The human recovered quickly, before running towards Sans aiming to hit him with their weaponless fist.
Miss. "Did you think I'd be that easy?" Gaster blasters to the humans face, they rolled under the lasers. Another run, miss. Attack, miss, attack, miss. "Don't you ever get tired, kid?" The kid answered by going for another hit, only to miss.
Sans' eyes were dropping shut, "Kid, you gotta learn when to oof." Sans was hit in his injured stomach. "Welp, I guess you're a freak, huh? I just gotta warn you, you aren't enough of a freak for what happens next." Sans held his chest when Alphys jumped out, healing Sans' chest.
"W-What h-happens next is your end. Killing all my friends."
Sans smiled, "You've done it now, kid." Bone attacks with a yellow soul proved a tad difficult for the kid. You can't shoot bones away, and because of that fact, you had to do Sans' platforming while destroying Alphys bullets, and dodging some of them. The human died many times due to this new scenario.
But this human was determined. Determined to kill who got in their way. Alphys died first. Dusted.
Sans did eventually throw the human all over the room to no avail, after he did many attacks by himself. Sans was trying not to doze off, but when his eyes drooped for a second, the human got another hit in. Dusted near immediately.
The human got their way and moved on to the next world. Two monsters giving it their all could not match the human's determination.
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i think it's funny that tamsyn muir can concieve of and convincingly write so many different types of people. a downtrodden jock with self-esteem issues. a twitchy little nerd with layer upon layer of self-hatred and guilt. a slimy, power-hungry princess desperately trying to escape the shadow of her sister. a middle-aged biologist who accidentally became God. the soul of a murdered planet with amnesia. so many types of people, with so many neuroses and hangups and hopes and tragedies informing characterization so layered and complex it can take hours to unpick. to say nothing of the way she writes the relationships between those characters. and through all of that. through all of the flashbacks and hints and unreliable narrators and infinitely suggestive lines of dialogue. she has yet to create a single one of them who is not attracted to women.
think about it. some of them are bisexual. but that's as far as it goes in the other direction. some of them are unconfirmed. but there is not a single character whose sexuality or romantic history is explored in any detail, who is not attracted to women. i find that extremely funny.
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I can’t stop thinking about this one exchange between Joel & Ellie in the official trailer
Ellie: “If you don’t think there’s hope for the world, why bother going on?”
Joel: “You haven’t seen the world, so you don’t know. You keep going for family.”
Ellie: “I’m not family?”
Joel: “No. You’re cargo.”
THAT IS SO LAST OF US. It’s Joel neglecting to be recipient towards Ellie by belittling her inexperience and dehumanizing her. He’s denying her humanity and downright EXISTENCE by ascribing her to something as trivial as mere baggage, making her out to be entirely insignificant. Which is obviously all a front for Joel to shield himself from emotionally opening up at the risk of getting hurt again, but that barrier all the more stings knowing that Ellie requires love and validation. She craves her own purpose for existence, but Joel invalidated that by writing her off as a thing rather than a person.
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1/5+1
Words had never been Camilla's main wield. She started walking at just shy of 8 months old and talking some time after she had passed age 3, by which point her sweating dads had long memorized every developmental timeline that Genetics had to offer for toddlers. Her sense of balance was, they joked nervously, just that exceptional - one milestone in the first percentile and one in the 99th in dramatic symmetry.
(This joke was, maybe, also her first and most formative encounter with standard deviations and long-term data collection.)
Palamedes, it turned out, was almost the equal and exact opposite – talking just about immediately and toddling just about nowhere, though having a captive audience suited his mother well enough until he absorbed enough for his return volleys to start vexing her; his father, fortunately, had patience enough for all three – and thus they were in this regard, too, a matched set.
Which made her current state of imbalance all the more intractable and all the more intolerable – she, the photo negative of a god-killing star, fumbling in an endlessly empty gravity well too deep for light to escape.
Or sound, for that matter – so while she figured out (because she had to) how to cross the horizon of an event she still couldn't think about, everything else met silence.
It wasn't, as she later told her dads, that she couldn't speak. They were understandably concerned that her head tilts and restless feet might belie limitations in cognitive development, other metrics for the Sixth to mark down, other disambiguations in her life path before she reached the fork that led to someone who could tell that those, too, were communication.
It wasn't, as she vaguely registered a nameless Blood of Eden medic shining a penlight into her eyes, that she couldn't reply when asked "how many fingers am I holding up?" – it's that some stars were still too bright to look at directly, and beyond that, sight didn't matter yet. Nothing else mattered yet, words least of all.
It's that she needed a reason to want to be deeply and urgently understood –
Her first words came in a complete sentence, spoken in the newly-encountered presence of one Palamedes Sextus and to the eternal surprise of their collective fathers.
Her last words to him were –
She couldn't remember.
"I said, how many fingers – ugh, this is pointless."
She didn't have the reason, and neither did any of them.
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