The Best Possible Ending

by DweebicusMaximus

Summary:

Frisk remembers every reset. Every three-year loop. At the end of it, Sans dies.
Frisk isn’t okay with that. Frisk is determined to make it stop.
It’s impossible, as far as they know, but that’s never stopped them before.
They're determined to get the best possible ending.
Focuses on Alphys, Grillby and Frisk

Chapter 1: Triptych

Alphys was asleep and in that sleep she dreamt she was in agony. She tried to move, to call out for help; anything to save her from the pain, but there was no reprieve. 

After forever, or perhaps sooner, there was a voice above her; Why was Sans here, in this painful place? 

They had done something. They had gotten complacent. It had gone wrong. Above her, Sans’ voice came into focus.

“-And I’ve killed her!” 

She was sure she had missed the rest of the conversation. Who was Sans talking to? There was silence.

Then, there was light.

Alphys woke with a start to the chime of a new text on her phone. She wiped her snout with a hand and took stock of her dream as she resettled her glasses firmly on her face. 

It’s classic survivor’s guilt. Wishful thinking.

She shook her head to clear the thoughts that followed. Wishing wouldn’t change the fact that Sans was the one who got hurt that day. That his life had been changed instead of hers.

Her phone chimed again, and once more.

SS: hey alph

SS: i know you’re not home yet, but i figured i’d tell you now

SS: had to expend a lot of magic at grillby’s today to kick out some rowdy humans. figure you’d need to do some tests to make sure i’m not dying.

She sighed and took a note.

Another text came in and she glanced over it, smiling weakly.

SS: any faster than i already am, i mean

A: umm, probably. are you feeling any worse?

A: take some adrenaline if you need to. will you be okay?

SS: yeah, i’m okay. i was able to walk them back home but i’m lying down now.

A: i’m leaving the lab soon. kinda fell asleep doing some paperwork 

SS: k

SS: see you soon

A: is Undyne home? 

SS: yeah she’s passed out on the couch with the kid

Alphys grinned as she swiped all of her paperwork into a file, ignoring the sound of crumpling paper, and placed the whole mess into the bag.

A: omg that’s so cute 

A: send me a picture

A: pls

And she started the walk home.

-

Grillby smiled, watching his lover doze off in his armchair. He only took a moment before he went back to preparing a late meal for the doctor. 

After setting the pasta to drain, he stripped off the gloves and checked the time.

About eleven. Grillby sighed. He would need to rest soon. He would have to carry Sans up the stairs to their bedroom; if he left Sans where he was he would wake up with back pain.

Grillby put his gloves back on and went to work, trying to ignore the sudden gnawing guilt for Sans’ exhaustion.

If he had been more assertive, Sans wouldn’t have needed to use so much of his magic. 

Sans is sick and he had to waste his precious energy protecting me. I shouldn’t have let it get that bad. I-

He was startled by the sound of the front door opening. He stuck his head out of the kitchen and waved at Alphys. He removed his gloves again and signed.

“I was hoping to have this done by the time you got home. It’ll only be a few minutes.”

She nodded and grinned at her sleeping girlfriend. Grillby had turned the tv off when he and Sans had gotten home. He’d found a blanket to cover them with too.

He returned to the kitchen, adding the sauce to the pasta and stirring it for a minute. Alphys joined him.

“Where’s Papyrus?” She asked after a second. He gestured upwards.

“Oh, did Sans manage to get him to sleep?” Grillby nodded.

Papyrus has been awake for three days. Alphys had asked Sans to step in and while neither of them understood how, they knew Sans could handle it.

Grillby finished stirring the pasta and got her a plate. She ate in silence as he started cleaning up. After ten minutes, he turned the tap off and, seeing his hands were free, she asked a question.

“So, what happened today? Sans said you had some trouble with humans.”

“Oh. Yes. They were fine at first, but...once I started closing up, things went poorly. They refused to leave and...they began to call me a demon to insult me. They threw things, made quite a mess of the place.”

She chewed slowly as she weighed her next question.

“I-it’s not important, but...um...are you...?” She asked, stretching out the end of her sentence. He sighed, half-turning away from her.

“A demon? No.”

“Oh, cool, sorry. I-I was just...”

“I understand the confusion.”

She could see the rebuke in his movements and tried to return to the previous topic.

“That sounds awful...I’m so sorry you had to deal with that.”

“It’s okay. I...didn’t really deal with it. Sans did.”

“Well...but it’s still upsetting. Really upsetting. Were you hurt?”

“Only by a few points. Nothing too serious.”

She finished the pasta and waved him away from the sink with a ‘thanks’. He left the kitchen. The sound of running or dripping water always freaked him out; whether due to rational fear or trauma she had never felt comfortable asking. She knew he had, through some unspecified trauma, been rendered selectively mute. 

Once she was done her dishes, she went into the living room to check up on Sans. Grillby stood next to him, gently stroking his skull as if to soothe him. She frowned when she saw how bad Sans was shaking.

“Sans said he was able to walk you home. Did he seem okay...? Could he walk alright, was he dizzy, off-balance?”

Grillby turned toward her to sign.

“Is Sans ill? More than he usually is?  I-“

“No, it’s not a big deal, I think? Unless the answer to those questions was yes.”

“No, he seemed fine. A little tired, but he is always a little tired.”

She nodded.

“I guess he just needs heat and sleep, then. Don’t forget to get him in stasis; he needs rest before he can break down food again.” He nodded, already scooping the sleepy skeleton into his arms.

As he started up the stairs, Alphys called out.

“Wait!” He turned, an air of impatience around him.

“Thanks for making me dinner.” He smiled, and, unable to sign, settled for a sort of bow before continuing the trek.

Getting the clamp on Sans was a challenge; when Grillby managed to wake him, he didn’t stay lucid enough to summon his soul, or even to understand the request.

Finally, he sighed and undid Sans’ shirt. He stared at the exposed ribcage and muttered an apology to his lover. He didn’t like invading Sans’ privacy this way, but the clamp had to go on.

He got the clamp ready first, so he wouldn’t have to touch it for too long, and then dipped his hand into the chest cavity, affixing the device as fast as possible. Sans’ soul was enveloped by a white membrane and his breathing slowed. Stopped altogether. His right arm and jaw both became untethered and were set aside to be reattached when he’d built his reserves back up.

Grillby crawled under the covers and let his form disperse over Sans. He finally slept.

-

Frisk heard Alphys and Grillby talk about Sans’ illness and willed themself to seem unconscious while they eavesdropped.

Alphys and Grillby said goodnight and they tried to keep themself from groaning with impatience when Alphys didn’t immediately go up to bed. Frisk heard her claws heading towards the couch and kept their breathing even. Alphys kissed Undyne’s cheek and whispered a goodnight before following Grillby upstairs.

Frisk waited. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. Fifteen more. An hour. 

But nobody came. 

Frisk began to move from under Undyne’s arm slowly, moving first their legs, then their arms and finally, their body. 

Once extracted, they covered Undyne back up, hoping she wouldn’t get cold and wake up. That she wouldn’t come looking for them.

Their hand went to the pendant they had made. From it hung three things: a heart-shaped locket, a bronze key and a silver key. They pulled the whole thing off their neck and selected the silver key.

Around the back of the house, they found the door to Sans’ workshop and slid the key in. They’d been in and out a million times. Enough to form an order.

First, the desk. A quick glance around the desk turned up nothing new. They had become more familiar with the special mix of cipher and jargon Sans wrote in, but were no closer to decoding it. They copied a few more lines onto a sticky note.

Next, the drawers.

They found the album and took a second to flip through it. They had a sudden and uncomfortable realization once they saw the last photo and flipped around to confirm it. 

There was definitely something strange about the angle on some of them, and the new photo proved it. They flipped back to it and smiled, despite their realization.

Sans was down on one knee, holding a small box with a ring in it aloft. The ring wasn’t visible in the picture, but they saw it often enough. Grillby looked so happy, covering their mouth with one hand and reaching toward the ring, as if to confirm it was real.

Frisk knew that they were alone when it happened. Just the two of them.

They also knew it was possible Sans had somehow set a camera up to catch his expression, but it was pretty unlikely that he could have done it without Grillby noticing. 

It was the perfect candid shot. There were fourteen other pictures from impossible angles in this album alone, each catching an event just as unlikely as the proposal.

The drawing was one they had never seen before and they took a second to commit it to memory since they couldn’t take it with them.

Sans? A skeleton in black. It held a cigarette. Two smaller figures; a human holding their hands behind their back. They had a crude, wide smile on their face. The second was easily recognizable, despite how poorly drawn it was.

Asriel. Why Asriel? What did he have to do with Sans? 

The same words as always. “Don’t forget.”

Frustrated, they considered tearing the drawing up, but restrained themself. It must have been a clue. Besides, they had worked so hard to avoid leaving evidence up until now.

Next, the machine. Frisk lifted the cover and sighed. It was one of those weapons. At least, they were sure it was a weapon; they had only seen it summoned once, when Sans was very angry, and he’d been careful to hide them since.

It hadn’t changed. It never changed. They didn’t know why they even bothered checking.

They thought about it. The only time they’d seen one active was in here, as well. Did they only exist here? Were they supposed to protect the workshop?

Frisk ran their hand through their hair, trying to make sense of their findings.

Maybe there was nothing here. In two months, Sans would start to die and they’d wasted precious time in this completely useless little Easter egg. 

They shook their head. It was one of three places with strong ties to Sans. There had to be something in one of them. And if there wasn’t, they’d restart and they’d restart until they found the quest that would let them save him.

They let that knowledge fill them with DETERMINATION.

Chapter 2: The Inevitable

Cycle one.

Sans was sick. Everyone could tell. He’d gotten sick and he wouldn’t get better, no matter how hard Alphys tried. His injury had finally driven him to Hopelessness and there was nothing she could do for him. What do you do for a patient who doesn’t want to recover? Magic only works if you want it to. 

“It’s not your fault.” He said once, his head turned away from her. 

She was quiet and he stood, grabbing her hands and staring at her.

“It’s not. You did everything right.”

“I must have done something wrong. Everything else in your life is perfect. There’s no way anyone else is making you feel like this.” Sans sighed and sat back down, gesturing for her to sit beside him.

“You’re right. Everything is...as perfect as real life gets. That’s the problem. Alphys, I’ve done...some terrible things. The guilt eats away at me day and night and...if you knew what I’d done, things would be different. I don’t deserve to be happy with all of you as long as I’m keeping this secret, but... I don’t want to lose you. How selfish is that?”

“I’m sure I could forgive you, Sans. I’m sure everyone could. After all, they forgave me. And...well, I’m trying to do that too.”

“This is worse than what you did.”

“Worse than unethical experiments on dying people and trapping dozens of monsters in an underground lab?”

“Yes.”

Alphys wasn’t sure she believed him, and asked, half-laughing, “Who’d you kill, then?”

Sans didn’t laugh, just stared down at his clasped hands.

“You’ll find out what I did soon enough, Alphys. I just want you to know that this isn’t your fault. I don’t want any of you blaming yourselves for what happens.”

Those words brought up an unpleasant memory and she put an arm around his shoulders.

“Sans, um...I’m gonna walk you home, okay? I’ll-“

“I’m not going to kill myself. I don’t need to, and...besides, it’s almost Frisk’s birthday. I want them to have a good one.”

She sighed. 

“You promise? At least until then?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to miss it.”

-

Frisk had a good birthday. The best they’d ever had, despite the looming worry of Sans’ sickness. Toriel and Asgore had worked together to make their cake, and despite Toriel’s original apprehension, she seemed to calm down after a few days of planning.

Papyrus had taken it upon himself to make all of the decorations; Sans had taken it upon himself to surreptitiously fix all of them the night before.

Even Asriel- Frisk couldn’t bring themself to call him Flowey-had, briefly shown up.

Frisk got different things every reset, and it was still pretty exciting. 

The next day passed uneventfully. And the day after that. The day after that.

And then Sans vanished. He’d left a note that nobody had let them read.  Nobody had told them what it said, except that there was something in his lab, something that nobody else would talk about or let them experience.

Frisk poked around the lab after everyone else had gone through, but there was nothing. 

They looked for him, of course, but Frisk got the sense that they were angry. That maybe they-apart from Grillby and Papyrus, who were tireless-didn’t want to find him. After only a week, tensions ran high at dinner one night.

“We don’t have any leads. This city isn’t huge and you’d think one human would remember seeing the guy, but,” Undyne shrugged, “A lot of people go missing in cities.” She looked distracted, pushing her food around her plate.

Papyrus’ jaw tightened. He spoke with a quiet fury that unsettled Frisk.

“...have you even been looking for him?”

“Of course I’m looking for him! I want some fucking answers!”

“U-Undyne-“

“We don’t even know if he’s still alive and that’s all you care about?” 

Grillby looked conflicted, but didn’t sign anything.

“I-I know you’re mad, but-“

“AND YOU AREN’T? Why are all of you defending him?”

“He must have had a good reason!”

“If he had an excuse, he would have used it! He doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt! He doesn’t deserve any of us and he doesn’t deserve to be forgiven!”

Frisk knew they had to say something to break this up, but nothing came to mind. How could they respond if they didn’t know what he’d done wrong?

“Sans has been through a lot. He would not,” Grillby glanced at Frisk here, “Have done what he did for no reason. He would never have wanted to hurt us.”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“I know he did a lot of bad things, Undyne, but he has suffered enough for it.”

“It doesn’t matter! None of this matters! We can work these things out when we find him.”

“B-but we should...start thinking about the possibility that he died. I don’t know how much time he had left.”

Frisk started tearing up. They wiped their eyes, embarrassed that they’d broken down in front of everyone. They were somewhat mollified to see that Papyrus was crying too.

Grillby shook his head and reluctantly signed “Actually, we know he is still alive, as I am still alive.”

Undyne stood up from the table. For a second, it looked like she was going to punch something. She took three deep breaths, in and out, slowly, and started pacing.

“You’re soulmates?” She asked, voice filled with quiet rage.

“Yes. He didn’t want to tell you, and...considering the rest of what he kept secret, I didn’t think it was important.”

“And he just left you?”

“Of course he did. He left all of us, because he didn’t want to see how we would react.”

“B-But you’re going to die!”

“So is he. That’s how this works.”

“You need to break that bond.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Undyne. This is what I signed up for when I married him.”

Undyne’s mouth opened and shut as she tried to figure out what to say next. After a minute, she relaxed and let out another long breath.

“Okay.” She said, and left the room. She left her plate, mostly untouched, on the table.

-

Two days later, Frisk found Grillby’s dust when they went to wake him. He had laid a tarp over his bed to make his funeral easier. 

Later, they’d found a note to his daughter and a note asking them to mix his dust with Sans’. 

There was also a bright orange soul on the tarp, tied to someone else by a shimmering red thread. They followed it to Sans’ dust. To a hovering blue soul.

Things fell apart after that. Undyne and Papyrus stopped talking, except to fight. Her and Alphys moved out. Papyrus wasn’t the same. Frisk wasn’t the same.

Frisk left the home one morning. They climbed Mt. Ebbott. And at the  peak of the mountain, they found it, where they’d left it. A little dusty, but still usable. 

Their RESET option.

Chapter 3: Wait...Where Am I?

 During the liminal time between resets, Frisk considered the events leading up to Sans’ death. They had no clue why, but it took the world a week to reset. A week more of life without Sans, with their family fractured. A week they used to go over everything they knew.

That first death was the last time the player had come around. They’d been relieved. They had never gotten past the year mark when the player was doing the resets.

A year and a half passed.

Undyne had gotten an apartment. Alphys had moved in with her. Sans and Grillby had been married for three months.

Frisk never was sure what happened at Sans’ house that made Undyne and Alphys quietly move in with him a few months later, but a part of them now suspected it was the first sign of Sans getting sick. Had Grillby and Papyrus needed help caring for him that early on? 

“We just missed each other, is all,” Sans had answered. Lying through his teeth as always.

They had joined a few weeks after, Toriel coming to the conclusion that she was not ready to properly care for them. They understood. It wasn’t like they never saw her; Sans invited her over for dinner at least once a week.

Frisk couldn’t help but feel like it was their fault. They had saved everyone else and considered it a job well done. They assumed Sans was happier. They hadn’t really thought to check.

They thought he’d get better once the resets stopped. That brought with it another wave of guilt. They’d long suspected Sans remembered resets, even better than they did. Resets where they weren’t in control. Resets where they did terrible things. Sans had never confirmed it. 

But he hadn’t denied it either, and here they were, doing what they had solemnly promised not to.

I’m doing it to save his life. He’ll forgive me, they thought, unconvincingly.

They fell asleep with that thought on the seventh day.

Frisk woke up on the side of a winding dirt road that led into a small city at the base of Mt. Ebbott. They were lying half-in a bush. Only a few feet away, there was a drop-off into a wood.

A man in a car drove past, then another. Frisk saw a familiar black sports car in the distance and stood, dusting themself off.

The car rounded a bend and flew past the unassuming stretch of road where the driver was sure he’d seen the kid standing just moments before. He squinted into the brush as he passed, but there was nothing there.

-

Grillby felt a strange sense of déjà vu as he looked into the mirror, along with an even more disconcerting sense that he had just been somewhere else. He almost remembered feeling sunlight just a few seconds earlier.

Shaking his head, he continued his morning routine. 

He’d been feeling out of place since the end of the war. This was nothing new, he decided. 

And that strange weight to his soul...he paused.

It didn’t just feel heavy; something was weighing it down. He sighed, feeling along his parental bond with his son, but no, he was fine. Grillby felt his own familiar confusion at Heats’ origin seeping through the bond and quickly distracted himself by feeling his bond to his daughter. Heats didn’t need to know about that.

No, Fuku was fine too. 

He summoned his soul, puzzled by what felt like a new bond. He couldn’t stop the sound that escaped him when he saw it.

He heard his daughter get out of bed and hid his soul as she came into his room.

“Dad, are you okay? What was that-wow, you’re really bright. Are you alright?”

“I am...fine.” More than fine. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt this happy before.

“Okay, but you said that in the least convincing way possible so I’m gonna take your temperature anyway.”

He couldn’t help but smile. He could hardly even sit still. He tried to get his mouth or hands to work to tell her the good news. His daughter noticed how much he was fidgeting.

“...okay, seriously, what happened?”

He cocked his head curiously.

“You’re lit up like the sun, your core temperature is way too high, and instead of panicking like usual, you’re grinning and bouncing around like we just won the lottery,” her eyes narrowed, “Wait...we didn’t, did we?”

“No, but it feels like I did~”

She took a second to process that.

“Okay, in a second I’ll ask how you did that with your hands, but first, why don’t you tell me what you’re so excited about?”

“I have a soulmate!” He finally managed to say, for once not caring whether or not he spoke.

For a second, Grillby could have sworn she looked sad, but her smile was so bright he had to dismiss the notion.

“Tell me everything.”

-

Alphys blinked at the skeleton that sat in her lab, feeling unnerved when she drew a blank as to why he was there. Her first thought was isn’t he dead, but a second later, her memories righted themselves.

Not yet, she thought, and chastised herself for her morbid thoughts. 

Her lab seemed off too, but she couldn’t put a finger on why. She was standing over her desk, looking down at the long, long file with Sans’ name on it. Nothing was out of place.

Still, she couldn’t remember what he was doing here. He was sitting on an examination table, so something must have happened.

He saw her confusion and raised an eyeridge.

“You okay, doc? You’re lookin’ a bit shaky.”

“I-I’m fine! I just...forgot what I was doing. Um, what are you here for?” She asked, trying to stay professional.

“What, did you hit your head while I wasn’t looking? You wanted to check out my new soulmate bond.”

It was like flipping a switch. She did remember that, now that he’d said it out loud.

“Oh, right...sorry, I don’t think I slept well last night.” She offered lamely.

“Oh, okay. Ya don’t have to check it out right away, you know? It seems fine and it sounds like you could use a day off.” Sans’ tone was hopeful, but she shook her head.

“N-No, it’s best to get this out of the way now. I-I’m fine.” 

“If you’re sure...” Sans looked awkwardly at his feet.

“I understand you don’t like summoning your soul, but this has to happen sometime.”

Sans sighed and unzipped his hoodie, resting one hand on his sternum and focussing to make his soul visible.

Sans’ soulmate bond was automatically concerning to her. She took the soul and squinted at the bond. The other half was a little stronger than usual, but for lonely monsters that was an acceptable variation. Sans’ half was not. 

It was swollen beyond belief; almost obsessively loving.

“Oh. So that’s why you didn’t want me to see.”

Sans sighed.

“Don’t...it’s not a big deal.”

“You haven’t even met them yet, have you?”

Sans stared a hole in the floor.

“No, I haven’t.”

Notes:

Sorry for the late update; I was having a lot of trouble with Frisk’s third. In the end, I’m not very happy with it; it’s too prose-heavy with exactly 0 dialogue but I had a lot of exposition to get through. So, sorry about that, but it’s mostly over.

Chapter 4: Looper

Notes:

Forgot to mention, but last chapter was the last chapter for a while where all three characters will have a section of the chapter to themselves. Chapters will go between this format and the other one as needed.

1.

Frisk woke up where they had fallen asleep beside a road. They smacked their lips and stood, trying to ignore the dryness in their mouth and the dizziness that came from two days without water.

For a minute, they watched the cars pass. They saw a black sports car, not far away, and panicked. They looked around for people, but the only people for miles had just sped by in cars of their own. 

The woods? It was a long fall down. Even if they used one of the trees, even if they found a branch that supported their weight, who knew if they’d be able to get down in time? 

Their thoughts moved sluggishly, and the car rolled to a stop nearby as they were thinking. They turned to run, and made it a fair distance, but the man who had chased them got a hand on their arm and didn’t let go.

They gave up the fight and let him lead them, a hand on their back, to the car. He got in the front. They got in the back. Some small part of them was almost relieved that it was already over.

Maybe it won’t be so bad, they thought.

Soon, they didn’t think anything at all.

 

2.

Frisk bolted upright, on their feet before they could even fully process where they were.

A calm road greeted them, only ten or so cars making their way along it.

One was a black sports car, and it sent them running for the woods. 

There was no hesitation, no doubt about what they were doing. Their memories filled with a fate worse than death and they held that memory fast in their mind. 

The woods, they had decided without thinking, would be safe. The man in the car-the couldn’t let themself think of him any other way, couldn’t let their past fool them again-wouldn’t find them there. 

Their eyes blurred with tears, but they took their path down the tree as if they had been climbing all their life. 

Even as they ran, they thought of him. Of their childhood spent in a city far, far away from where they were now, with him. Of a fate worse than death.

And despite everything, they believed that people could be good. They let that belief steady their nerves as they ran headlong into a man, and then past him, signing an apology he couldn’t see.

A man who had been brought by the sound of their bare feet breaking branches. A man they had no idea would climb up to the road and find a man beside a black sports car with a flat tire.

 

32.

Frisk woke. Frisk stood, and took a second to dust themself off, counting in their head all the while. Frisk jogged to the little fence bordering the woods and put one foot, then the other on the thickest branch. Their head buzzed with their lack of water, but that would be taken care of in the woods. Their pockets never reset, and Frisk had, a little uncomfortably, shoved a bottle of water into the front. 

They took their practiced path, sliding down the last foot of the tree and starting the long, long walk to Ebbott city. They couldn’t help but glance up at the fence they had climbed as they left.

There was no sign that anyone had ever been there.

Chapter 5: An Angel

 Grillby sits at a desk in his new room, in his new home, and opens a notebook he’s never used. He picks up a pen and writes the date. Taps the pen against the paper. Sighs. 

“The therapist Fuku has me seeing asked me to start writing things down. I suppose that’s sensible; I can never remember what’s gone on in my life from week to week.

Not that it will matter. I can’t stand to talk about any of the things that bother me anyways. I can’t talk about Fuku’s mother yet, about the war, or anything else she wants to talk about. 

I can’t do anything she wants me to.

I can barely bring myself to leave the house.

If I don’t get a job soon, she’ll have to go back to living with my father, but I’m useless here. There’s no need for someone like me in this new world we’ve made. Even if there really was a need for the Royal Guard, I’m supposed to stay away from combat situations.

...Well, I suppose I can always find someplace that needs a cook. It was the only thing my wife didn’t hate, so I suppose it can’t be all bad. I’ve never cooked for anyone who wasn’t family, though. The very thought makes my flame crawl.”

He stands to pace around his room, anxiety making his thoughts hard to process. He sits again when he’s calm.

“It’s not like I have to fight. I just don’t know what to do with myself if I can’t.

I wish I could go home. I knew my place there. I knew how to act and I never questioned my purpose. 

I suppose they think I’m a deserter. I suppose I was a deserter but there’s no place I’d rather be now. I chose to stay in this land when we were above ground, but...

I wonder if the war we had here has spread to my home? It’s only been twenty years, but all it takes is one determined human.”

Grillby doesn’t want to think about that anymore, and he looks around his room for a distraction. It’s barren; he hasn’t even started unpacking yet. His mouth fills with the taste of dust, his nose with the smell of burning fur. He realizes that he’s too bright, too hot, and if he doesn’t calm down he’ll-

His soulmate bond pulses, sending a calmness that does not belong to him into his soul. He only tastes mint now, and the smell of burning fur is replaced with that of a lemony cleaning fluid.

He sincerely hopes his soulmate isn’t just breathing in Pinesol fumes to calm him down. 

He takes in deep, scented breaths until his flame has calmed. When the taste of mint lessens, he realizes his soulmate was probably brushing their teeth. 

Not the most elegant solution, but it worked.

And now I know they take care of their teeth, he thought with an embarrassed chuckle. 

He crosses the four tick marks on a separate sheet with a fifth. 

Five already? They’re getting worse, he can’t help thinking. 

“They’re getting worse,” he writes, knowing his therapist won’t approve, “Thank the gods for my soulmate, whoever they may be.”

He turns a page and pauses in the action, not realizing how much he’d already written. It turned out that when he could, he had a lot to say. He wonders if they know he can’t speak. He hopes that once he has someone to talk to, he won’t be like this.

-

Frisk sets up shop in a village just outside of Ebbott city, carefully selecting which abandoned house they would set up in. They had chosen the hunter’s home last time and had hated the way that the wind went through it at night. The sight of weapons that had been used to kill so many innocent monsters.

They assumed the insulation had burned up; when they finally did get into Ebbott city, Ruth would talk about the war, about a fiery angel who razed the surrounding villages. She spoke of human shadows immortalized in black ash, of entrapped spirits begging for mercy in the night.

The shadows were true enough, and the first time Frisk had seen them, they had been ill. Frisk had never heard anything supernatural in all their resets and had relaxed eventually.

Frisk climbs Mt. Ebbott the next morning, collecting small sticks, rocks and plants. A small fish from a clear mountain river joins them.

They set up a fire pit to cook the fish and, with a guilty glance around their new home, create a tiny flame with a spark of magic.

Frisk knows the way people on the surface treat humans who can do magic, even after monsters come to the surface.

Frisk is an expert on taking care of themself. An expert on being alone. But even they have to admit, they had gotten used to their huge family, to Toriel and Asgore’s diplomatically planned weekly dinners. 

Now, there was nobody with them. Nobody to talk to, and so they do what they always do.

They plan ahead, detaching themself from the events that would take place, had taken place so many times.

-

It has been a long week. Frisk walks into Ebbott city, muscles sore from re-acclimatizing to such intense physical labour. They only have enough money for bus fare, and a few days of begging ahead of them in the city. 

Another thing they have is an intense need for a new sweater. It had torn yesterday as they were fishing and they’d spent the night miserable and shivering in it.

This always happened, and they knew it was coming, but they can’t help wondering if the underground would react the same when they show up in their ratty, oversized green and yellow striped sweater.

Frisk wipes sweat from their eyes as they trudge into the city. Nights up in the mountains get cold, but under the light of the sun, Frisk feels like they’re baking.

They pass a few familiar shops. They usually have no need for the grocer’s; Nathan’s quest line goes nowhere interesting, and helping him doesn’t take long. Neither does the beekeeper’s, or that of her florist husband. What they really need is Ruth’s. 

But to get there, they first need to become known around the neighbourhood as helpful. Kind, empathetic. So they spend a minute standing outside Nathan’s little shop, making a show of reading a poster for a missing cat. They find a cat carrier in a dumpster.

Mitzy almost seems to remember them, and comes quietly. 

They make their first foray into Ruth’s home.

They knock on the door, hear the quiet “Just a minute!”.

And then she is there. Heavy brows, round ice-coloured eyes.  A kind voice with a tremor in it.

“Oh, hello dear! I haven’t seen you around before. What-oh!” Her hand goes to her mouth, only half-covering a poorly healed scar.

“Is that my darling Mitzy you have?” Frisk nods, biting back the familiar grimace at the phrase darling. Oh, she’d behaved this time, but that cat fought like the devil the first few times.

“Wherever did you find her? Her brother and I have been worried sick!” Ruth takes the carrier, thankfully freeing Frisk’s hands.

“She was sitting outside a butcher’s shop, meowing and scratching to get in.”

“Oh, you poor sweet thing.” She says, and Frisk smiles, realizing for the first time that Ruth isn’t looking at Mitzy when she says it. 

Ruth takes a moment to size Frisk up, then holds her door open.

“Would you like to come inside? It’s quite hot out there. I’ve just put some tea on.” 

Frisk tried not to seem to excited by the prospect as they went through the door.

Notes:

So, uh...been a while. I’ve been trying to focus on my novel and my sort of visual art? Wouldn’t exactly call it art, but I’ve been trying. Also, uh, fistfighting depression about my...everything. Hopefully stuff gets better

Chapter 6: The First Fallen Human

“I need a human SOUL.” Alphys says, her voice already trembling. She grimaces, shakes her head, and watches her mirrored reflection do the same.

“N-no, that won’t do.” She clears her throat and tries again.

“I need a human SOUL.” She nods, almost satisfied with the result, and waits a beat, as if waiting for a response to her request.

“I want to study what makes a human’s soul stay after death. I have a hypothesis...” she trails off, rethinks her words, “I have a theory that what keeps a human soul alive is the same thing that causes a human or monster to respawn. I-if I can isolate it...”

She’s sure of her theory, but pauses again, worried she won’t be able to explain it without breaking patient confidence. 

Sans’ abilities were the biggest scientific discovery she had ever made, but she had promised him she wouldn’t tell anyone. And yes, Sans had made sure she knew that meant the king too.

And he was the cornerstone of her theory. Why she had made it in the first place.

She realized she was spacing out again, and made herself refocus on the mirror.

“If I can isolate it, I might be able to synthesize it, and...this could be the solution to all those monsters falling from Hopelessness!” Another planned pause.

“Don’t worry, I know to be careful with it. I’ll only do tests I’d feel comfortable doing with my living patients. If there’s any sign that something I’m doing might damage it, I’ll skip that. And if you get six more souls, then I’ll give it back right away, of course.” Alphys sighed.

“I will not do anything to jeopardize our freedom.”   

-

Frisk hears footsteps on gravel and flinches.

Not fast enough, they chastised themself, and turned to face the human who had climbed halfway up Mt. Ebbott.

It’s a kid they’ve never seen before. 

She clutches a notebook and looks down on them through a pair of familiar eyeglasses. Frisk automatically dislikes her, but they try their best not to think ill of the dead.

“You’re a mage, aren’t you?” She asks, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Yes.”

“Is it true that monsters live under this mountain?”

Frisk nods, knowing there is no reason to lie. No matter what Frisk says, she will climb this mountain. That is how it always is.

She stares up the mountain, for a moment seeming wistful. Her expression hardens when she remembers Frisk is still there.

“Mage, do you know any,” her eyes cloud again, “Healing magic?” Frisk sighs.

“No. Not the kind you’re looking for. I could heal a cut. A fracture, maybe, if it was mild. But if you’re desperate enough to turn to magic, it’s beyond me. I’m sorry.” 

She sniffs primly and turns to hide her disappointment.

“Well then, what use are you?”

Frisk tries not to roll their eyes, and points to one of the paths.

“Take that one, if you’re going.”

They leave, ignoring the quest updating itself. They already know what comes next.

-

The meeting goes surprisingly well. Asgore makes tea. He listens to her speak, and drains his cup without interruption.

He looked so sad, so tired. Then again, he has since the day Ch*ra and Asriel died.

Her internal speech box seems off for a second, but he finally sighs and she forgets about that for now.

“You have some solid reasoning. I trust you to treat them with respect. Let’s get this done, then.”

She follows him into the basement, shivering at both the cold and the heaviness of the air down the stairs. It hit her halfway down and she could barely bring herself all the way to the bottom.

The king gestures to it; just a plain cylinder of glass, somehow all that was needed to contain a human’s SOUL. Alphys can’t help but feel like she’s seen it before.

“That’s it?” She asks, wincing as her voice echoes around the chamber. Asgore looks at her like she’s done something wrong, but nods, picking it up under one arm and carrying it up the stairs for her.

She insists she can get it back to her lab, she doesn’t need his help, thank you very much, your highness.

I ought to hide my fanfiction better, she thinks, wishing the thing wasn’t as tall as she is.

Once it’s finally in her lab, she she walks down the stairs to where the Riverperson is always waiting. She likes to visit the wishing room before starting any new scientific endeavour.

As she steps onto the boat, they speak.

“Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

She gets the feeling that, for the first time, they’re really talking to her.

Notes:

What is this? Two in a week? What am I, a functional person?

Chapter 7: Use

Notes:

HEY GUESS WHAT DUMBASS MIXED UP THE ORDER OF HIS CHAPTERS!!!!!!!!!!! So I guess you get two in two days

Alphys nervously presses the needle into the fleshy membrane of the soul. Its tangerine surface first depresses, then breaks to accommodate the needle. She takes a sample of the dark red fluid inside. 

She puts the sample down and runs a claw over the heart-shaped organ. When she’s done, the hole is gone. 

The fluid goes onto a slide, the slide under a microscope. Another sample sits nearby, from another source. She ignores the fact that this new fluid is much darker than her original sample, because if she’s wrong, if this soul’s fluid is too decomposed for research...of course, even then she has her ways.

Specializing in medical necromancy has its perks. Like her second sample.

See, nobody knows what keeps a monster going after its death, after its body rots away. It goes against everything known about monsters that one, much less hundreds of individual species, should get a fragile second wind.

But in each undead monster she’s examined there have been higher amounts of this unidentifiable red fluid than in regular monsters. Most monsters don’t have any, but certain boss monsters have it in trace amounts. Boss monsters, who often have multiple phases that activate after a death or a lot of damage. Some of whom have a powered-up respawn.

Sans has more than any other monster, but she was worried taking even this small sample. If this was what had kept him alive for so long, taking too much might kill him.

She switches the samples back and forth; Sans’, then the human’s, and is relatively satisfied that they are the same substance. 

She hopes for another human soon.

-

Frisk is tired of rats, but rats are what they keep getting in Nathan’s quests. 

“I don’t know what’s happened!” He says, gesturing heatedly at the chewed-up produce on his counter.

“I think it’s rats.” Frisk says, wrinkling their nose.

Usually the pests are more varied, but it’s been rats all the way down this time. The old warehouse that hadn’t been filling his orders? Rats. The noises in the ceiling he was sure were ghosts? Rats. The other sounds he was sure meant someone had started secretly living in his shop? You guessed it: rats.

“I haven’t seen any, though. That’s part of the problem...what if it’s something smarter? What if I have goblins or something in my shop at night?”

Frisk bites back a sigh by thinking about how close he and Grillby will eventually get.

“I don’t think its goblins.”

“It’s usually rats, I know, but I just don’t understand where they’re coming from!”

Frisk’s quest updates: Find the source of the vermin! It tells them.

They bite their lip. They’ve prepared for this, but they can never be sure they have enough healing items for their first encounter with Asnoch.

-

Grillby’s cousins are strange to him still.

I’ve been away for too long, he thinks, staring at Blasè on the other side of the door.

“Hey, cuz! How’s it going?”

He shrugs.

“Better than you were, huh? But still a little off?”

“I suppose so.” He says, opening the door for Blasè to come in.”

“Yeah, it can be confusing when your whole plan for life gets taken from you.”

“Yes. I have no clue what I am going to do now. I suppose I will have to hope I meet my soulmate and I can go back to what I expected to happen.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“I’ve never thought about it. It doesn’t matter, does it?”

Blasè sits at the coffee table and taps his claws on the surface, unsure how to respond.

“Well, uh, since that doesn’t seem to be happening soon... I remember that you were a damn good cook. My bar needs another cook. I can teach you to mix drinks, if you want to learn.”

“I...” He can’t help but think of how he’s physically incapable of interacting with attractive people. He can’t even talk most of time.

Blasè must see his anxiety, and he smiles kindly.

“Don’t worry, you can stay in the back. If this is what you want! It’s your choice.”

Grillby hasn’t had one of those for a very long time.

Chapter 8: Stubbornness

1.

Grillby stands outside his house, face turned towards the artificial light that falls from the cavern’s roof. He knows he should go inside; it’s freezing and he’s been standing there for a long time. He had a bad flare earlier, but his core temperature is right where he wants it. 

Someone runs into town, the shop rabbit whose name he hasn’t picked up yet, and he notices for the first time that there’s been quite a bit of activity over the past ten minutes. She talks to a few other monsters and he thinks about going over there, but he doesn’t really know these people. Hell, he knows the shop bunny can’t even understand sign language.

She seems to notice him looking, though, and runs over to him. 

“I just saw a human in the forest! Snowdrake saw it earlier, and I went out to check, and...”

His fire flares anxiously as she takes in a few deep breaths.

“Has anyone-“

He sighs, remembering too late. She seems embarrassed. 

“Sorry, I...guess I’m gonna have to learn how to talk to you, huh?”

He shrugs and looks toward the forest. He signs a ‘thank you, goodbye’ and turns back towards his house to signal that he is leaving.

He walks into the house and stands in the doorway, his mind racing. He can’t let anyone in town fight them, as he knows they will try to do. Even a human child could wipe out the rest of monsterkind, if they were filled with enough hatred and violence.

Fuku is filling out forms for the boarding school she wants to go to next semester. Heats is, thankfully, with a friend in Waterfall today. Grillby taps the table to get her attention.

“I’m going for a walk in the forest.”

She glances up just for a moment.

“Hopefully it cools you down. Something wrong?” She asks, finally realizing how bright he is.

“No. Everything is fine.”

2.

Grillby paces in front of his house.

Fuku is anxious. Their bond is thrumming with an energy he is not used to. Heats isn’t feeling it, so they didn’t fight. He can’t help but wonder if she’s worried about him.

He’s only been pacing outside for a few minutes when the door to his house opens, making him jump.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” Fuku leans against the wall, her flames low and jittery. Grillby’s certain it’s directed at him now.

“Are you alright?”

“I could ask you the same. Did you have another flare?”

“Is that what you’re so worried about?” 

She isn’t sure how to respond.

“They’re happening much less. The cold is helping.”

“I’ve noticed,” she smiles at him, “Glad you seem to be feeling better. Physically, at least.”

“Is that what this is about?” He signs, looking toward the rest of the town. He’s about to comment on the unusual amount of activity, but she speaks and he puts that aside.

“Sort of,” She says, knowing their bond already told him what she’s feeling, “I guess...I’m just wondering what’s going to happen when I leave for school next year.”

“I’ll be alright.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do now?”

Grillby laughs.

“And I thought I was your father!”

She smiles, but he knows she’s still waiting for an answer.

“Blasè’s got me working in his bar, but... I know it’s only temporary. It’s a bit far, and it’s too hot there, and...”

“You could open one here.” She says. Grillby can’t help but feel the suggestion is out of place.

“There is a big difference between working in a bar and running one.”

“I know, dad, but I think you could do it. Besides, Uncle Blasè tells me you have some pretty strong opinions on how bars should be run.”

His fire flushes purple as he recalls the argument they had last week.

“It makes no sense to have several species-specific menus! It’s confusing and far too...” He trails off when he sees the way Fuku’s smiling at him.

“Point taken. Still, I don’t know that I’d do much better.”

“Well, think of it this way; are the people of Snowdin more likely to travel all the way to Hotland for a drink or to take a five minute walk to the bar down the street, even if they think the one in Hotland’s better?”

Grillby shakes his head, trying to hide the steaks of proud pink in his flame.

“It’s almost a shame you’re set on becoming a doctor, my dear.”

She’s still anxious, he realizes, and follows her gaze toward the forest.

Almost as if she’d been waiting for a cue, the Lapine who runs the shop in town sprints into view. Fuku turns blue, almost as if to get his attention and alarm bells start going off in the back of his head.

“A-anyway, we’ve been standing out here long enough!” She says, opening their front door and gesturing for him to go inside.

So it wasn’t me she was worried about, then? He shakes his head and approaches a group of monsters who clustered around the shopkeeper. 

Fuku grabs his arm.

“Why don’t I talk to them? I-I know you get nervous around Sans.” She says, almost pleading. He dims, realizing that both of the skeletons are in the group, but brushes her off, convinced she’s done something she doesn’t want him knowing about. And, alright, she did get his back up with that comment about Sans. 

It isn’t that he doesn’t like Sans.

Maybe he likes Sans a little too much, even. He’s not sure why. There’s nothing special about him.

Fuku follows behind him, now just filled with anxious energy, and he stands close enough to the shopkeeper to hear what they’re talking about.

“Did the human look like it was headed this way?” Asks Scarlet Feather.

Fuku’s shoulders slump as she realizes the cat’s out of the bag.

“They were out near one of the kid’s puzzles.” She says, gesturing at the taller skeleton whose name Grillby has not been able to work out.

“COMPLETELY CONFOUNDED, I ASSUME! WE HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR!” 

Everyone in a five mile radius flinches at the sheer volume of his voice.

Sans’ eyelights shift to his brother for a second. His smile tugs downward like he’s trying to frown.

“Which puzzle were they on?”

“AND HOW DID THEY GET PAST MY GATE?”

“Humans are smart creatures. Where-“

“Near the hidden switches.”

Grillby steps back from the group and faces Fuku.

“Why did you try to hide this from me? How did you even know it was out there?”

“Snowdrake told me he saw it this morning. Dad, you can’t fight that thing!”

“I can and I will. I have fought more humans at once-“

“That was twenty years ago! You haven’t fought anything for as long as I’ve been alive!”

“You were born during the war.” Grillby signed with annoyance.

“You are not a soldier anymore!”

“I cannot let these people die because I refused to fight.”

Fuku’s fire dimmed.

“Fine,” Her voice cracked, “Fine. Just go.”

“I will be fine. I am not useless.” 

She shakes her head and leaves.

32

A woman runs into Snowdin.

Grillby goes into his house and smells something wonderful being baked with healing magic.

He goes into the kitchen and taps the counter for attention.

“Hey, dad...going for a walk, aren’t you?”

“How-“

“Snowy told me he’d found a human earlier. I know you’re stubborn as any old flame, so I know better than to try and convince you.”

Notes:

next chapter will involve a fight between a monster and a human and my chronic inability to write action scenes😓

Chapter 9: Bad Planning

Grillby synthesizes his old lance, marvelling at how right it feels in his grasp, and taps it against Sans’ training dummy as a warning to any ghosts who might be hiding inside.

Satisfied it’s empty, he starts with physical attacks, mixing it with his half remembered bullet patterns.

He reconsiders his weapon after a bit of practice. He changes the lance into a short sword, then an axe. 

After practicing for a bit with each, he switches back to his lance. He’s a bit rusty and he spends a bit too long tightening up his patterns, but he knows he’s miles ahead of anyone else in town. Half of them can’t even form weapons and he’s pretty sure evading attacks wouldn’t occur to them, even if they’re fast enough.

Grillby hears snow crunching and turns toward it, glad humans can’t read fire very well. He hopes they haven’t been watching long, if they had been watching at all.

Grillby can’t help the sound that escapes him when he sees her. He barely has time to think she’s a child! Before she attacks him. He barely has time to avoid it and curses himself for his stupidity as he summons a shield to absorb the hits he’s too slow for. He knows how humans are; even their children are filled with hate.

Still, he notes that something about her pattern seems off. She’s using a “weapon”, a book only able to do damage because it’s imbued with her hate, but it looks like she’s supposed to be filling out her attacks with a second weapon. Either that or she’s not usually this combative and something’s pushed her.

A couple more hits dissolve that notion. She’s slow, but Grillby can tell she’s used to reading patterns. Her attacks, though weak, are laced with the intent to kill.

Still, he can’t help but be saddened when he catches her with his lance after a few turns and she screams, eyes filling with tears.

He hates the sight of blood, even though he knows humans don’t do it to beg for MERCY the way monsters do. 

He isn’t even using his full attack now, against his better judgment; a part of him wonders if MERCY is even an option available to them.

He tries to sign to her, hoping she’s young enough that the pain would be a warning. 

“I don’t want to have to kill you.

She sneers at him. He’s not even sure she understood.

He blocks another flurry of blows and parries the last one, his lance changing unconsciously into a sword during the movement.

She staggers under the hit. There’s so much blood and Grillby draws back, away from what he’d done without thinking. 

She stares up at him through her hair, teeth gritted, and Grillby knows that look. The human must have a secret second weapon, and she’s wondering if he’s worth bringing it out for.

He checks her as a free action. Her stats don’t interest him much, she’s unremarkable in both attack an defense. 

6 atk, 6 def. STAT brn.

He only feels slightly guilty about her burn seeing the look on her face. He scrolls to the flavour text.

*won’t stop until she has your soul

He grimaces. Her eyes burn when they meet his. She lifts her head and she speaks for the first time.

“You know what? Fuck this.”

And the bullet board fills with rain. Her magic hits harder than her physical attacks and Grillby collapses with the realization that this mage is going to kill him. Already, his core’s too hot, his flame too low, his HP dropping by hundreds in only one attack. By the time he manages to scrabble out of range, his flame is burning like he’s swallowed acid, there’s too much damage done. He can hardly see now, stunned with his pain.

He gasps, trying to get oxygen to reignite his fire.

If another monster had come with me...

He gets to his feet. All he can hope now is he can do enough damage to make her an easy kill for the people in town.

She avoids most of his attacks easily, but one errant flame skids across her back, causing another scream.

“Oh, you are so going to die!” He signs again, panicked now that he knows what she can do.

“I didn’t want to fight you! You attacked me!”

Her pattern has been filled out now; to his surprise, she doesn’t automatically go back to rain, choosing instead to have a giant book shake out massive words onto him. 

She’s nothing if not inventive, he thinks, dodging the word MISERY.

He summons dozens of tiny lances so he can preserve his heat and still have a full pattern. He hears her curse, the vibrant violet of her soul visible for a second as she’s hurt by her burn. 

He’s surprised for a second-she must have been hit by something he didn’t see if she was that close to death- and then remembers the burn. She must be out of healing items, seeing as she’s just trying to kill him now.

Now that he’s prepared for it, the rain isn’t as bad as it was the first time, but it’s still agonizing and hard to avoid. Her turns are longer now that she’s shown her hand and for a second he’s confused. He runs back through the soul colours and grimaces when he remembers hers. Perseverance.

Not that she’ll need to keep lengthening her turns much longer. He’s already badly injured, and in his typical stubbornness, hadn’t bothered to bring healing items. Not that those could be so easily found in Snowdin, but he could have waited until Fuku was done baking.

The human is good at evasion, and he gets the feeling this is going to be his last turn. He shuts his fear and his sadness away somewhere deep in his mind. 

He will not give this human the satisfaction of begging, and he knows he can still kill them after he dies.

He spends his turn preparing his core for what he needs it to do; it’s just damaged enough to do the trick, he thinks.

He welcomes the next deluge, but as he falls to his knees at 1hp, he’s almost certain he hears it stop. His vision goes black, and for a single, delirious second, he thinks he hears Boss Monster music.

-

Frisk leaps over Asnoch’s scythe, accepting that at least one of the fireballs is going to hit them. They do much less damage, though, and Frisk can evade better with a burn than a fracture.

They dash back, away from the hulking, horned figure, and try again.

“I’m here to help you!”

“I’ve seen what a mage’s help gets me!”  He bellows, incensed at the very idea that a mage should try to help him, “It gets my family and friends trapped underground for decades! It gets my kind slaughtered in droves!”

Asnoch bears down on them again, his music doubling in speed as his scythe opens a fissure in the cave floor. From the fissure, he summons balls of fire that chase Frisk in a loop before smashing back into Asnoch. He seems too furious to notice the dip in HP, which Frisk is thankful for.

“AUGH! Humanity may have failed to kill you, but I will not make the same mistake!”

“I wasn’t even alive then!”

“And you won’t be soon!” He says, his scythe making full contact with their stomach, flinging then against the cave wall. 

8 damage. Ouch. The fireballs cross overhead, barely missing them, but also, crucially, missing him.

They shovel a cookie into their mouth, but only heal for 5 health.

Frisk jumps over his scythe again and runs a loop around him finally getting the maximum of 6 to hit him.

His health drops low enough, and an exclamation mark appears next to his head.

“The oldest trick in the book! Hitting me with my own attacks? Shameful.” He shakes his head and snaps his fingers, “Well, no more homing attacks for you.”

Damn it! They’ve got a stick. One stick. Sure, it’s a heavy walking stick, but that’s all it is.

Still, they have to make do, and so they do, springing at him and smacking him in the face with it.

Asnoch seems stunned by the hit and Frisk flushes, realizing the wood is surrounded by a nimbus of red light. Intention.

Asnoch straightens from his hunched, miserable position, raising his head far enough that Frisk can make out his familiar, bearded features.

“...mage...what is your purpose here?”

Frisk wipes the hair from their eyes.

“I’m just here to help.”

-

Grillby wakes up on his bed, a chair pulled up next to him. Fuku sits next to him, a hand on his own. He speaks softly.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

Someone else clears their throat and Grillby‘s mouth snaps shut when he realizes Sans is in the room.

“Sorry, uh...should I go?”

“Do you understand sign language?”

“Yeah. Is he gonna keep up his, uh, well I guess it’s not an act, but-“

“I don’t like to talk to people I don’t know...”

“Gotcha.”

“What are you doing here?” He signed shakily. Usually he couldn’t even sign around Sans, but Sans had just seen him nearly get murdered by a child. He couldn’t do anything more humiliating.

“Well, you ran off and fought a human and I had a vision of said human, um...being a mage. I barely got there in time.”

“I didn’t know you could see the future.”

“Barely.” Sans says with an embarrassed chuckle.

He did a quick check and was surprised he’d gotten the EXP for the kill.

“I killed her...?”

“Yeah she died from the burn. You were really hurt when I got there, though. The snow would’ve killed you.”

“...who came with you? I didn’t recognize their music.” Sans’ left eyesocket did something odd, and it took a moment for Grillby to realize it was like he’d raised his eyebrows.

“Just me, s-“ Sans gritted his teeth like he’d almost said something inappropriate, “Just me.”

Fuku squeezed his hand, and smiled, almost with pride.

“Undyne-uh, that’s the captain of the royal guard-is coming here to pick up the soul and thank you personally.”

“Where is it?”

“Just downstairs.”

“Well, uh, I just wanted to say...congrats and all that, but...next time a human comes around, maybe get some people to help? I don’t think anyone would want to see you get hurt. You have two kids, s...you have to be careful.”

Sans patted his shoulder and left, ignoring Fuku’s glare.

Grillby was still for a while.

“Dad, don’t let him get to you.”

He stares at his ceiling, avoiding her face because he knows what he wants to do will make her angry. He isn’t sure if he wants to be convinced not to go.

“I want to see your mother.”

Fuku pulls her hand away.

“Absolutely fucking not, are you kidding me?”

“I want to see her.”

“Why? What are you hoping to achieve?”

“I miss her. I feel so lost, Fuku...”

“All she’s going to do is make you feel bad!”

“But I...I killed a human.”

“She doesn’t love you, dad! She isn’t going to care; and hell, that’s if she even shows up!”

He knows this, but it hurts to hear it said so bluntly.

“...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. But she treated you badly and she doesn’t deserve you crawling back to her and begging for her approval.”

“Who else would have me?”

“Your soulmate!”

“That doesn’t mean he’ll like me.“

“Dad, you can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy for you. Doctor-“

“I don’t care what Giselle is going to say.”

“...how am I going to explain it to Heats when you come back a mess?”

“I won’t.”

“You always do and I’m tired of trying to hide it from him.”

“I know she doesn’t care about me.”

“Then why-“

“This will be the last time.” 

Her eyes narrow.

“...you promise?”

“I will make an oath if I must.” He says, leaning back against his pillows.

Notes:

Holy shit this is long hahaha
Anyways, I hope this isn’t garbage...
I've realized all the italics aren't coming through when i paste into this window so now i gotta go through and do it again

Chapter 10: Anniversary

Alphys is pretty sure this feral is exactly what she needs. It looks like a little rodent, its breathing harsh and its skin cracked from lack of moisture. 

It’s not dead yet, but it’s certainly past the help of current veterinary medicine.

Unless...

“I can’t do anything worse to you.” She says, picking the tiny thing up. She’ll need to identify it, but she figures she can give it the treatment first; no point identifying something that’s already dead. At least, not yet. She has to be sure it can even do what she thinks it can before she goes looking for the recently deceased to test it on.

Once it’s in her lab, she prepares a syringe full of the red fluid she’s taken to calling DETERMINATION, after Sans’ description of it.

“Liquified will-to-live” is how he put it, “And for once I’m not talking about scotch.”

She likes DETERMINATION better. She injects it into her new patient, then opens a cage she has off to one side.

She places it in the straw, next to her other three patients.

-

The fourth, a hamster, is still breathing, as are the others. Alphys has an appointment to keep, so she’s put a motion detector in the cage while she waits for Sans. 

She hasn’t taken patients for years, but any other doctor would have too many questions.

She’s known Sans for far too long to even try. Besides, he’s medically fascinating. Any doctor would kill for the privilege.

He’s carrying something when he comes in and her eyes widen, worried he needs so much food now he has to carry something around with him.

He sees her concern and laughs.

“Relax, Alph. Just thought I’d get something for our two month anniversary.”

He opens the box and she can’t help but laugh at the cake inside. It reads “Sorry, I’m not dead yet! Check back next month!”

“Oh man, has it been two months already?” She asks, glad to see him in such good spirits. Two months after the day Sans was supposed to die.

“Yeah. Sorry I’ve messed up your perfect estimations so much.”

She shakes her head.

“I’ve never been happier to be proven wrong,” she says, taking the offered paper plate, “And not just because you brought me cake.” Sans pauses as he goes to cut it.

“Now, I didn’t think about this...since there’s only two of us...”

“We could just cut it in half.”

“Hell yeah, we’re adults, we can choose to have half a cake for lunch if we want!”

She takes a bite, watching Sans sit across the table. With a self-conscious glance at her, he cracks his jaw open with a tiny spark of magic.

“Still uncomfortable eating around people, huh? You know I don’t mind.”

“I know, I know,” he says through a mouthful of cake. 

She knows the appointment has to happen, and soon, but for now she lets herself tease her best friend, and relax.

-

Now for the unpleasant part, she thinks, watching Sans put his plate in the trash. She’s on Sans’ blind side, so he can’t see that she’s watching him for any sign of stiffness, of pain. 

She’s gratified that he seems more or less fine. He uses his confusing kind of blue magic casually, not pausing to check his reserves before he catches a mug he accidentally knocks off her worktable.

“It looks like you’ve been taking care of yourself.”

“Trying to, at least.”

“How’s your new bond been?”

Sans shrugs.

“Still swollen. Hasn’t changed.”

“Any more information about him?”

“...yeah.”

“Figure out who it is?”

“No...uh, but there’s something else I should mention.”

“Okay...?”

“I think I’m enthralled to someone in town.”

“What make you think that? That’s a huge accusation.”

“I don’t think its on purpose. It’s just that... I haven’t even talked to him but I can’t stop thinking about him. He got hurt recently and I felt like I was going to die when I found him. And when I tried to pick him up it felt like I got hit by a fucking truck.”

Alphys bit back a laugh.

“It’s not funny, Alph, I’m really stressed about this!”

“Sans, I think that’s your soulmate, but let’s go down to my lab, okay? I need to check your soul.”

And a thrall would explain such a swollen bond...

Sans’ eyelights go out for a few seconds.

“Is your soul...”

“As ugly and damaged as it always has been.”

She sighs, leading him to the elevator. The ride down is quiet and once Sans is sitting, he summons his soul without any complaints.

She takes a pair of forceps and pulls one tiny thread of the bond up,  careful not to damage the sensitive organ or pull the bond loose.

It did look like there were two bonds growing into one another there. One was the bright red of a soulmate and the other was a much darker shade, pulsing. Still...

The actual bond is still way too thick, but the thrall has added at least an inch.

She grimaces at the stitched, scarred surface as she pulls back.

“Okay, yeah. It does look like you’ve got a thrall, but...”

“But...?”

“I mean, you bond’s still swollen, even under all that. I’m probably going to have to do surgery, if you even want it gone.”

Sans’ jaw made a cracking noise as he considered it.

“Didn’t you say it was stressing you out?” She asks gently. Thralls are addictive, she knows that much, and Sans has had a long history with addiction.

“I don’t know. I mean, is the thrall attached to my soulmate?”

“Yes, it definitely seems that way.”

“Then I’ll keep it.”

“And you haven’t...done anything about it?”

“You want me to ask him about my thrall?” Sans raised an eyeridge.

“I know better than to ask you that. No, I meant, have you acted on anything you’ve wanted to do because of the thrall?”

“No! Gods no. Honestly, he’s kinda been avoiding me, so it’s been pretty easy to stay calm.”

Sans’ hands ball into fists against his thighs.

“You know you have to tell him, right?”

“I don’t think that’d be good for him right now.”

Notes:

Hate this chapter but have it anyway

Chapter 11: Spending Quality Time With Family

Grillby hangs his coat up. He takes off his boots, sets his umbrella down to dry. Fuku watches apprehensively a few steps away.

He looks worn down and sad, but not like he just got done breaking down. An improvement, then.

She pulls him off to one side, into the kitchen with a glance at Heats.

“So...how did it go?” He holds up a finger and takes a moment longer to strip his gloves off. He places them distractedly on the counter. For all his silence, he seems to be in a relatively good mood.

“It went as well as one could expect, I suppose.”

He shrugs as he glances past her, into the living room. He smiles as he sees Heats, busy drawing something. He is laying on his stomach, completely focused on the paper.

“What did you talk about?”

“I asked her about Heats.”

Fuku’s eyes widen. That’d never happened before.

“What’d she say?”

“She accused me of having an affair, then implied I was a prostitute,” He even laughs a little, “What a difference from when I came in! She was so happy to see her lovely “wife”.” He sighs.

“Yikes. Still not getting that whole...” she decides not to bring that up, “Um, but she said Heats isn’t hers?”

“Yes. Sun above only knows where I found someone to have an affair with, she never let me leave the house.”

“And when would you have had the time for all that prostitution?”

He snorts, covering his mouth to stifle the noise.

“Goodness, she certainly is something!” His smile fades after a moment. “You know she was trying to get me help her appeal the court again today?”

“In between insults, or...?”

“Somewhat attached...She never hurt you, did she?” His eyes are distant for a second and Fuku can’t help the protective flare of her flame.

“No. She didn’t. Do you think you would have let her?” 

“Honestly...I can’t remember.”

She puts a comforting hand on his arm, but he shakes his head.

“I’m alright, my dear. I figured she was lying.” Fuku’s fire flickers white with fury.

“Did she say she hurt me?”

“She implied it, certainly, but she would not say so much while she is attempting to get out of prison. I suppose she just knew it would upset me.”

She puts an arm around him and rests her head against his shoulder.

“I was okay. I didn’t even know what she was doing to you, until...”

They lapse into silence for a moment, but Heats doesn’t let them stay quiet for too long.

He wanders into the kitchen, holding the paper he’d been drawing on, and hands it to his father.

-

Grillby stares at the drawing later that night, his eyes scanning it as if expecting it to reveal the secrets of the universe.

Four people. Heats, Fuku, and himself of course. 

Something drawn all in black with a white face stands next to him, smiling in an unsettling way. It has one eye half-closed. 

Just looking at it gives him a headache. 

It doesn’t look familiar at all, that creature. He can’t put a finger on what it could even be; he doesn’t know much about certain species, especially shadowy, dark creatures. He’s never even seen one.

He had, of course, asked Heats.

“Who’s this?” He’d asked, tapping the creature.

“He’s my dad, I think. I saw him in a dream.” He said, shrugging.

And that’s one more time than I have seen him. Does Heats know something I don’t?

He can’t help but wonder if this is his way of dealing with his lack of a second parent. Grillby had done everything he could for his children, but certainly Heats had noticed something was missing. He was observant as any child (though he seemed more mature than his five years), but he’d never asked about a second parent.

Grillby feels like he is missing something big. That his son, who had simply appeared five years ago, was part of something much bigger.

-

Frisk watches Asnoch, marvelling at the similarities to his son. Looking at his his worn, tired expression, seeing the wariness in his eyes, Frisk could believe he was Asgore.

He stares out the cave entrance and turns back to them.

“Mage, are more of your kind coming?”

They shake their head.

“Still, you will need to return to your home soon, will you not?”

“I live alone.” They sign, pausing as they write “Intent on first attack” as a shortcut for Asnoch’s fight.

“...you have no family?”

They shake their head, thinking of their friends.

I will, but they don’t know me yet.

They miss tasting Papyrus’ recipe of the week, Undyne’s lessons on magic they already know how to do.   The look on Alphys’ face when she finds out Mew Mew Kissy Cutie has three more seasons. Sleeping in between Sans and Grillby as they watch some old sci-fi movie. All of them piling into a car to go see Mettaton’s latest performance. 

A tiny part of their mind wanders to their parents, but they shut it down quickly.

Asnoch sees this in their face and sits heavily beside the fire pit he’s scratched into the rock. He lights it with a careless gesture, filling the cave with a crackling noise that makes them nostalgic.

“Are you looking for your family?”

“I already know where they are.”

“You’re a runaway, then?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you want with an old monster like me?”

Frisk considers the dialogue tree. They could go through the lengthy discussion that unlocks Ruth’s next heart event, or they could fast track it with their self-awareness perk. Because the dialogue tree starts with the quest they got from Nathan, but Frisk knows that isn’t why they came to this cave.

They decide to go straight to the questioning. They already have a transcript of the whole thing written down; they resolve to look over it later to see if any of the less obviously useful lines mention something that could help Sans in the future.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hiding from humans. Though it doesn’t seem to have worked.”

“No, I mean, how did you avoid being trapped underground?”

“... I had already gone into exile by then. I failed my people during the war. My son...took my place as king. I’ve been hiding ever since, leaving everything behind once humans start sniffing around. I suppose I’ll have to leave here soon.”

“Why?”

“You’ve found this place. That means others will too. Humans who will not be as merciful as you.”

He shakes his head, confused by the concept.

“I have never known a mage to spare a monster before. You are quite unique.”

“How many mages have you fought? How did you know I’m a mage?”

He looks uncomfortable at the question.

“I have never fought a mage myself, but I have heard stories. And I know because I can smell it on you. Few monsters can...perhaps I’m the only one left.”

“...why do you hate mages so much?”

“It’s their fault the war started. At least, that’s how it seems to me. I don’t imagine humans just decided they were going to slaughter us out of nowhere. That we were suddenly a fearsome race.”

Frisk hears hope in his voice and bites their lip. They so badly want to tell him that everything will be okay.

“Do you think humans could be okay with monsters again now that mages are gone?”

He sighs, his eyes faraway.

“I used to have human friends. After my dear Goram died-a decade before the war, mind you- I might have even married a human woman. But when war came, she joined their cause. She was changed somehow, even before the fighting started. She was cold towards me. She said she’d kill me if she ever saw me again.”

“Did she die?”

“No. Not a single human died. And even if one had, it would not have been my dear Ruth.”

Notes:

Finally getting somewhere
Hey, if you guys catch any weird grammar or misplaced periods, please point them out to me! I write these entirely in the "notes" of my ipod so sometimes periods end up in places I don't want them, or a word is changed into a completely different word (even tho it's spelled perfectly thank you apple, I definitely wanted so to become do)

Chapter 12: Patience Is A Virtue

Alphys is in bed, reading A Thesis on Soul Colourization, when it happens.

One of Alphys’ patients stirs, rising from her bed of straw and sniffing around the cage. Her limbs are stiff and she’s limping, but she’s warm. She isn’t sure where she is, but the smell of the place tells her she’s not in Snowdin any more. She starts chewing on the bars of the cage.

Alphys stirs at the ping of the motion trackers, realizing she’s been rereading the same line over and over again.

She pulls her phone up and checks the cameras, setting her book aside. Her eyes widen. She bolts upright, sending a few other scientific journals flying off the bed, and scrambles to her elevator.

It’s an agonizing two minute ride down, punctuated by the repetitive pinging of the tracker.

She scrambles to the cage and stands stock still as a second set of teeth join her first patient’s. 

The two rats look healthy, and she lets out a little cheer.

She disables the motion trackers and digs through the piles of papers and wrappers on her desk for the microchips she prepared two weeks ago.

She unearths them and chips one, then the other, hardly able to keep her claws from shaking.

She makes sure they’ve eaten, gotten water, and moves them into separate carriers.

She lets one loose in Hotland and sends the other one to Snowdin in the Riverperson’s capable, skinless hands. 

-

Frisk watches the third human climb the mountain. Two should already have fallen, only one of which they could have seen. They’re keeping their distance; they recognize that tutu and know enough about this one to steer clear of her.

She passes through the ruined village, her eyes scrutinizing every shadow, and for a second Frisk wonders if she’ll see them this time.

But no, her eyes gloss over the ruined doorway Frisk is standing in and they hold back a sigh of relief.

Her footsteps are planned, measured, and predatory. Her shoes make a perfect, silent point. They can’t help but wonder if they are the prey. They shiver as she makes her way out of the village.

-

She considers the entrance to the cave. It’s a long, long way down, but her choice is already made. Humans have become dull. Tiring to kill. The soft blue of her soul pulses with excitement as she leaps down, her right foot extended down in a spear.

The earth around her rises on impact and she grins at the sheer power she contains.

She leaves the ruins in high spirits.

A woman, barely dressed, runs around the ruins.

She stops at the open door, at the disturbed dust leading into the snow outside. At the discarded toy knife, and the scratches she is certain a piece of plastic did not cause, no matter how hateful the creature was. She only wants to leave for a second before she closes the door. She tries to convince herself she's not hesitating out of fear.

A part of her isn't certain who she is more afraid for; the human or the monsters outside.

Notes:

Okay, I’ll need to write out a less interesting character to do this, but I’ve found a way to keep this villain I wrote that I love and most of this story intact. I’m putting this chapter back up and I’ll just change one gd word in an old chapter and write an extra bit at the end of this. Now it’s Bravery who died off screen.

Chapter 13: Other

*What do I know about my soulmate so far?

Short?

Charisma-centric build

A doctor? Unemployed? Has a doctorate and is a physicist (same thing? Maybe????? Not sure)

Has teeth but not an organic (unless there’s an organic that lives millions of years?)

A man

No clue what’s going on with his magic

Has been to Snowdin at least once (I like to think he was looking for me)

Is sick/injured, takes painkillers 

Has a sibling, really loves them

Has a LOT of kids but not around any of them-why?

Doesn’t like violence? Seems nice enough.

Calls me Sunshine : )

A doctor’ been feeling around our bond and I didn’t like it. Used to it now. 

Not a lot to go on.

Fuku has been very protective of me since bond formed. I can tell she is worried, especially when I told her I was looking for him. I think she thinks I am aiming to marry him immediately and let him take over my life, but I won’t. The time away from her has helped some, and though I would never admit it to Fuku, I feel my brief incarceration helped me somewhat. I was able to clear my head without the constant reassurance I did nothing wrong. 

The truth is I should not have let things get that bad to begin with. I allowed her to treat me that way from the very beginning. I could have reached out to my family at any time. 

I let her push me past my limits and while my father argues she shouldn’t have even tried, I was just as much to blame as her. More, even; she never tried to kill me, as far as I remember.

Though sometimes it felt that way. I am not delusional: I know what she did to me was awful.

I will hope I can convince Fuku I will be safe with him.

-

A Thesis On Soul Colorization

On Virtues and Vices

As previously noted, though the vast majority of modern monsters have white souls, there still exist monsters whose souls have colour.

HOPE is a virtue, as I have said, though it is not the only virtue. More importantly, a virtue is not the only thing that might colour a soul. There also exist vices, which are the opposite of their colour-paired virtue. Telling the difference between a virtue and a vice can be difficult, a problem compounded by the fact that those paired act very similar to one another. 

They will be listed below in no particular order.

The most widespread of the vices is a pair to HOPE, though it can be considered entirely separate as the vice-MISERY-is black instead of an off white and does not mimic HOPE in any way. Still, I list them here as a pair because it is undeniable that they are caused by a buildup of opposing magic.

An orange soul denotes BRAVERY or ARROGANCE.

An azure soul may denote INTEGRITY or DECIET.

Aqua denotes PATIENCE or IDLENESS.

Yellow denotes JUSTICE or VENGEANCE.

Purple denotes PERSEVERANCE or INFLEXIBILITY.

Green denotes KINDNESS or MANIPULATION.

There may be other virtue/vice pairs not covered here, as much of our research on many aspects of monster life was lost in the migration.

An important thing to note is that a virtuous soul does not automatically mean the owner of that soul is a good, kind person. The opposite is also true of vices. For instance, the way JUSTICE manifests itself depends on what the SOUL’s owner perceives as just and fair.

-

The snow under her feet crunches quietly as she feels around for her ribbon. After a moment, she gives up, furious that she is only going ahead with one piece of armour. Not that she really needs it, but it looked cute. She must have dropped it in the ruins when she was killing those weird vegetables.

More importantly, she’s got the sense that something is following her. She feels herself being watched and, judging by the fact she hasn’t caught a glimpse of this thing, it’s waiting for something. The third dog she attacked, she’d been scared away from finishing it by that thing appearing behind her and dragging her off.

She hears something hop toward her and perks up. So far, she’s killed two dog people, but from the way this thing moves she knows it isn’t another dog. It’s moving far too clumsily to be whatever’s hunting her, as well.

She walks towards the sound, brushing dust from her tutu. If she’d known monsters were so messy, she might’ve stuck to humans. Then again, it was pretty annoying to wash blood out of her clothes every time.

The monster hops into view a few feet away and sits, tucking its feet under its body.

A bird with black and white feathers, almost as tall as her sitting down. Not hard, as she isn’t very tall, but impressive for a bird. It has a short yellow beak and a lax, peaceful expression. 

She schools her expression for her approach and walks straight for the monster. She stops a step away from the bird and waits, willing herself to look vulnerable and scared. 

It takes the bird a while to crack an eye open, but when it does, she’s gratified to see the thing jump, spreading its wings like it’s going to take flight.

Instead, it stands and hops a few steps away.

“You’re a human!” She says, and Rose does her best not to roll her eyes. She reminds herself what she’s doing here and keeps any rude comments she may have to herself.

“I-I got lost.” Rose says, keeping her voice soft.

“I’d say so! What are you doing here?”

“I came to look for my brother.” She lies. The monster must have awfully bad insight, because she swallows it.

“Oh. You poor dear...your brother isn’t here anymore.”

Rose makes herself tear up. It isn’t hard with the wind making her eyes water.

“I’m so sorry, kid.” She’s quiet for a second and Rose can’t suppress a shiver as she waits for her to make a decision. To her relief, the bird notices.

“Here, why don’t you come to town with me and we can talk somewhere warmer?”

She nods, and the bird turns away from her. Rose checks her, subtly, an grins at the knowledge that her guard is down. The bird turns, surprised, and only has a second before Rose’s fingernails grow into claws and her throat is torn out.

Rose goes to cut her open and destroy her soul, but that thing distracts her again, something wrapping around her arm and jerking her back for a millisecond. 

When she looks back at the ground, the body is gone.

Chapter 14: Warriors Guilt

Something interesting happened recently. Who would have thought it in this town?

Seven dogfolk moved in last week, at the request of Undyne. Five cynocephaly of various races and a pair of tanuki. Poor Papyrus as not had a peaceful moment since those two tricksters moved in. They respect me too much to take a swing at me, but I have heard several complaints from others.

They came to my door first, as I am the only veteran in this town (so far as I know). It was an uncomfortable experience; I believe they were expecting me to be someone else. At least one of them obviously recognized me. Honestly, as my attempted murder charge has been the only big news story since we migrated down here, I have been expecting the rest of them to remember me as well.

Perhaps the rest of them did and were simply too polite to mention it. If that is true, I suppose this is the best case scenario, a kindness I have not earned.

They still come by. They ask if I want to spar. I do not. They ask what I think we should do to protect the town. I tell them I was not a strategist, I was more of a bomb. They ask me how I killed the human and it's embarrassing to admit it was my status effect that did the deed.

I must be such a disappointment.

...

(the rest of the page is burned)

-

Grillby opens his door to the dogs again, still tired from yesterday's...no, the day before's flare and the emergency core replacement he had gone through. His own damn fault, really, he had been putting his replacement off for far too long and should have known better.

He’s automatically on edge when he sees Sans is there too. Since coming home yesterday to find that Sans had also spent the day bedridden, he had begun to suspect Sans had a thrall and that missing the subject of his obsession, he had begun to go through withdrawl. 

He can’t help but assume the poor man had been caught stalking him. He’s staring, unsurprisingly.

He bows and signs, hoping Sans hasn’t been treated too poorly for it.

“Would you like to come in? I’ve just put on some fuel, but I can-“

“No time for that! There’s a-“ 

He sighs, then turns red when he realizes he cut Doggo off.

“My apologies. A human, you were saying?”

“She’s killed...or tried to kill...five people so far. She, um...god-“ He glances at Dogaressa, not sure how to continue.

“She tried to kill my mother, and Dogamy’s father. Both ended up falling. She left their bodies out there. Sans brought them back to the inn.” Her voice is cold and determined. She’s handling it much better than Dogamy, who hasn’t spoken since they arrived and doesn’t look like he plans to any time soon. 

Poor thing.

“Anyways, we’re all splitting into groups and doing patrols around the forest and the blizzard. This human’s a coward, she won’t try anything in town. Are you going to join us or not?”

“It’s okay if you can’t,” Doggo cuts in almost defensively, “We know you had surgery yesterday, and it’s fine if you’re still recovering.”

“No, I am fine. I can fight.”

“Good. We’ll be splitting up into three groups. Toby, Doggo and the Greater dig will patrol the area from the Ruins door to the town. Sans and Grillby will be patrolling through the blizzard and into waterfall,” She stares at him like a challenge and he’s somewhat surprised to see Sans is the only one who looks like he might object. Grillby nods, willing himself to stay polite. Were he younger, he might have decided to take her up on it after the human’s death. She seems almost pleased by his silence. He’s good at that, and he tries to keep himself from bowing like he feels he needs to.

“Dogamy and I will wait for either of your groups to chase her into town, and in the rare case she realizes she is being chased.” He looks away from her, uncomfortable because he has seen that look on the faces of so many monsters during the war.

Grillby realizes that Sans is still staring at him, and his anxiety flares.

It doesn’t mean that it’s a thrall, I’m just magnetic. And I can’t stop staring at him either; maybe he’s magnetic too, after all, he does have a charisma build.

Was he even listening? His permanent smile is as enigmatic as ever. One of the dogi clearly has the same question.

“Hey, Sans, are you even paying attention?”

"Yeah,” He says, finally looking away from Grillby, “Not that I think anyone will come out during the fight, but we should warn people to stay inside, just in case.”

“We’ll do that. You should get moving.” Grillby’s pretty sure Dogaressa probably just wants them gone, so he runs inside and hugs his daughter, takes a couple of healing items, and joins Sans. He holds his flame still to stop his hands shaking. 

-

Frisk politely knocks at Ruth’s door, hoping she’s here. Usually it rains the day after their conversation with Asnoch, keeping her inside for the heart event.

Today, it’s a beautiful sunny day, but the door opens for them to go through. They’re glad; their arm’s hurting from the weight of the tray they’re carrying.

“Oh, hello dear...” She has her sword down, the sword that has hung above her couch since the end of the war. 

Seven inches of steel that must have been magnificent in its prime, before the war filled it with zealous hatred. The nicks take nothing from the dragon-neck handle, the flames that race up the length of the thing. In fact, they think the nick in the ruby eye gives it more character.

It’s half in a huge storage bin with the lid off, covered in dust.

“What brings you here, my dear?”

They uncover the cookies they brought, smiling at her.

They aren’t sure where they got the cookies. They’re good though.

They sit. Ruth makes tea. They eat.

Finally, they ask about the sword.

“Oh...well. My father was a blacksmith. He made this for me during the war.”

She looks over it, wistful.

“Frisk, can I ask you a question?”

They nod.

“Do you know how the war started?”

Frisk shakes their head and Ruth’s mouth twists into an ugly grimace. Her eyes are cold.

“Neither do I, Frisk. I killed hundreds of monsters. I helped plan how we would drive them down into the earth. But I don’t know why.”

Notes:

Haha been a while, eh? Well, I got myself into a short story thing and drew 5 pieces of valentines art, started working on them 5 days before. Need to write about 1900 words before the end of the month :’)

Chapter 15: The Beginning Of...Something

Frisk sees the cover story of a newspaper as they dig around in a garbage can out back of a restaurant and they pause in their work.

A controversial exhibit on the monster-human war opens today at the Ebbott Memorial Museum. It features several weapons and peices of armour donated by veterans and two interactive memorials to murdered and missing mages and monsters from the years preceding the war, which some have called “an attack on veterans” and “an attempt to politicize history”.”

Frisk has never gone before, fearing it would make them too obvious, but they know it might be their best lead in years on a quest they never got to finish, an open tab they could never close.

Find out who your mother was.

-

Alphys is pretty sure Undyne is the most attractive monster in the underground. She’d opened the door wearing only a stained lab coat her fourth patient had chewed a hole in, expecting Asgore or some other unimportant royal guard member.

But no. There was Undyne, captain of the Royal Guard, a woman Alphys had only been able to admire from a distance up til now. She wasn’t in her armour, which was sensible given the heat, and Alphys quietly thanked whatever capricious god governed hot fish ladies showing up on your doorstep.

"Hey, doc. Got the new human soul for ya." She raises an eyebrow when she looks past Alphys. Alphys curses whatever capricious god governs hot fish ladies realizing you’re a nerd who watches anime.

"What are you watching?” She’s squinting like she’s not sure what she’s looking at, and Alphys isn’t sure why. It’s pretty obvious what she’s watching. She tries to make a joke out of it.

“I-it’s an animated documentary on humanity.”

And Undyne buys it.

“That’s so cool! Maybe I should find some of that! It might help me figure out how to fight them better.”

Alphys gapes at her, but in the back of her mind she realizes that of course, Undyne must’ve been too young during the war to know about anime.

“U-um, well,” She says, realizing she has a great opportunity here, “D-do you want to watch some with me?”

-

Sans uses blue magic to send the snow up before it gets to them, keeping it suspended as they walk under it and sending it back to the ground after they’ve passed. He’s never seen blue magic be used that way, but sees no reason it can’t be. 

Grillby gets the idea Sans spends a lot of time in this storm, though he’s not sure why anyone would want to. Sans also is conspicuously unarmed and wearing his regular clothing, which isn’t typical for a non-civilian.

Wait...was Sans even in the war? What is he even doing here?

They walk in step, Grillby on Sans’ blind left side and Sans prowling like some sort of feral, his right eye glowing gold.

Grillby starts feeling strange as he walks. He suddenly understands what organics mean when they say they feel like their heads are full of cotton. He has been working very hard to turn the first floor of his home into a functional bar, and it's been taking a lot of his time and energy. Has he worked himself sick already? 

He feels pain through his soulmate bond and takes a second to make sure he's okay.

I really should've taken my painkillers before I left my house...

Grillby stops in his tracks. He's read books on soulmates and he supposes he should have known this might happen, but...it’s a very different feeling reading about thought-sharing than experiencing it.

Sans half-turns turns to face him,

“What is it? D’you hear something?”

Wait...can you hear me, Sunshine? His soulmate thinks.

Yes, he thinks.

“No.” He says. Sans gives him a strange look and shrugs. 

“Okay. Keep me updated. And catch back up to me, I need you on my left side.”

Well...this is inconvenient. His soulmate thinks awkwardly.

“Sorry!” He hurries back into step with Sans.

Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you.

I’m already getting in his way and we haven’t even met...

Hey, don’t think like that! You’re not in my way. I’m glad I get to talk to you, I’m just...in the middle of something.

Grillby flushes at the gentle rebuke. He and his soulmate walk in amiable silence-or at least not directly talking- for a while before Grillby gets the sense his soulmate is keeping something hidden. His thoughts are too quiet.

Grillby’s eyes catch something to the left, a flash of movement.

He taps Sans’ arm, forgetting the thrall for a second and remembering when Sans pulls away from his hand. For all his obsession, he seems in control of himself, like he knows what is and is not healthy for him.

“My apologies.” He points to where he saw the movement and Sans nods, turning his head to look. His left eyelight doesn’t move like the right one, staying fixed on a random point in the distance.

He senses his soulmate’s sudden irritation and feels the cold wind on his...skin? He doesn’t have skin, he’s certain, and neither does his soulmate so what is he feeling it on?

You really shouldn’t be out here. Go home.

You’re in Snowdin right now? You need to go someplace safe, there’s a human out here!

Don’t worry about me, Sunshine. Just go home.

Sans’ eyesockets narrow at the surrounding woods.

“Don’t think she’s noticed us. Are you...planning on sticking around?”

“Of course!” He says, snapping out of his conversation with his soulmate.

Sans sighs.

“Alright, just...be careful when we engage her. In case she decides to fight instead of run.”

“I will. I’m fine, Sans, core replacements are not that big of a deal.”

“They are when your core explodes. I shouldn’t have let you come out here in this state...”

He can’t even really argue; after all Sans is a doctor and he must know how intense an emergency replacement can be.

And he pauses.

How the hell do I know that?

Oh.

Sans’ right eyeridge raises, and then his left.

Snow crunches nearby.

“Is it your core? Are you okay, S-“ And he cuts himself off. His thoughts are all hidden now, but Grillby knows already.

“Sunshine. That’s what you call me. How long have you known?” How did I miss this?

The brother he loves too much...the height, the weird magic I've never seen before, the charisma perks...

Sans looks away, his smile tugging into a grimace.

“I didn’t want to distract you while we did this.”

“And before that?”

He sighs.

"I, uh...thought it would've been a bad time for you, okay? Especially because-"

Grillby hears the snow crunch again and holds a finger up.

Sans nods.

“Right, we can argue later.”

Grillby exhales smoke.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

We’re not even dating yet and we’re acting like an old married couple.

Grillby chuckles, catches himself. The human steps closer. Sans communicates with vague gestures and some thought that he wants to use the cover of the blizzard to get behind her. He doesn’t think she can see them yet, and it’ll be easier to chase her forward that way.

Sans walks almost silently through the snow and Grillby can’t help but feel he’s too loud even with his armour removed and despawned. Once they’re standing between her and the rest of the underground, Sans taps his thigh and suddenly his footsteps are making noise. 

She stops walking like his footsteps are the only ones carrying through the storm.

He recreates his armour and his heavenly blade, but lets Sans walk ahead. 

She’s visible now, her tiny figure braced against the wind.

The snow around them clears, a sudden gust of wind blowing it toward her.

Was that Sans?

Her eyes narrow at him. 

“It’s you who’s been following me, isn’t it?” 

Sans just shrugs, staring at her. Grillby looks between the two of them, completely lost.

“Well then. No point in hiding it.”

“Suppose not.”

Her limbs lengthen and Grillby braces for her first attack.

But it’s interrupted. Something grabs her, lifting her off her feet and into the air.

Music starts up. Familiar, fast music Grillby was pretty sure he’d dreamed.

And then he's unconscious.

Notes:

Note; I subscribe to the theory that Megalovania is ch*ras boss theme, whereas Song That Might Play When You Fight Sans is Sans’. The song heard is STMPWYFS
Also how did nobody ask when Grillby learned Sans had a charisma build

Chapter 16: Clues

Frisk climbs to the top of Mt. Ebbott and stares down the opening, wishing that this time, the option will show up. 

No dice, but they stand there squinting, trying to see all the way down to the bed of golden flowers at the bottom of the tunnel. 

Maybe I can only fall when the flowers are there?

They lean over the hole, knowing there’s no danger. They see a distant spot of bright yellow below, and they sigh.

They know they have to finish these quests for the option to appear, and they know there’s a chance the secret to saving Sans is up here. Knowing that doesn’t help their loneliness, the tiny, selfish part of them that just wants to see their family, that just doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

They stare at the distant flowers until the sun is high, and then turn away.

This time last loop, they had already been in the underground; they’d speedrun the thing, hoping they had just gotten to him too late, but...well, here they were. 

They were taking it much slower this time, keeping an eye out for anything that could help Sans later on. So far, there had been nothing. They hadn’t found any sign he’d existed before the war, but it wasn’t easy when all they had to go on was a first name. Especially when a google search of that first name only brings up font names and Latin translations.

They wish they had asked what kind of monster he was before he died.

-

Frisk is glad that the bus is free for kids under 12 in Ebbott city. They used a computer at their closest library to look up where the exhibit was and how much money they’d need to scrape together to get in. Not much. Five dollars, but that’s five they could use on something more practical, like food they don’t have to catch themself. They sigh, thinking of giving up for a millisecond. 

No, this might be it! My mother is the only family member I never met. She had to be a mage.

At least they have the money right now. They hate having to beg. They hop on the 39 bus, transfer twice, and find themself across the street from the museum.

A class of college students crowds the entrance. They don’t know what kind of course would bring a class here, but they think they might be able to slip into the exhibit without any workers asking questions if they squeeze in between two students.

They wait until the workers are swamped and cut in front of a student looking for their money. They can’t help but feel a little guilty about that, but they think this is less likely to be suspicious.

It almost works, until the worker has already taken their money and gets a good look at whose hand the ticket is going into.

He stares over the counter, brows drawn low over dark eyes. He checks the ticket again, as if to confirm where they’re going, and they weigh the pros and cons of using a little bit of magic to confuse him.

No. You’re trying to be subtle.

“Kid, are you sure that’s the exhibit you wanna see?”

They nod, reaching for the ticket. He doesn’t hand it over.

“It ain’t exactly kid friendly, but I guess I don’t got any rules against it...”

Then let me in!

He can plainly see their annoyance and he sighs.

“Okay. Alright. Just don’t come cryin’ to me if it’s too much for ya.” He glances around, expecting to see a harried parent running after them. His scowl deepens when he sees none.

“Where’s your parents?”

“My parents are dead.” They sign, hoping that will end the conversation. It’s at least half a lie, but it always works.

“Ah geez...” he runs a hand through his hair, looking at the exhibit they want to get into and piecing together some sort of narrative. They grit their teeth, reminding themself to be extra careful on the way home tonight.

“Okay. Fine.” Finally, he hands it over. 

Frisk cannot get out of there fast enough.

The exhibit isn’t too big, which is a relief. They go through it fast, mostly ignoring the information about who was leading what during the lead-up to the war. They stop in front of a family portrait, mostly destroyed, recognizing Asnoch’s unmarred face and a hairy arm that might have belonged to Asgore. Someone sits to one side, but their face has been scratched out. Frisk can at least confirm it isn’t Toriel.

They ignore the text, hearing the little scribbling sound of their notebook writing it down for later, and finally enter the room with the databases. The main attraction, as far as they’re concerned.

The college class is mostly standing around awkwardly, not wanting to seem too uninterested, although it’s clear most of them are. The few who are interested look through the monster database. The mage database had probably been ignored entirely. Nobody would want to be seen as too interested. Nobody would want to be suspicious. The exhibit has a lot of visitors, which they had not been expecting. If they had known how packed it would be, they wouldn’t have come.

Frisk walks toward it, through a group of those students and past several serious-looking adults, all of whom do a double take. A couple of the students, ones with tired eyes and a barely perceptible thrum of magic in their veins, avoid looking at them altogether.

They figure they’ve already made themself obvious enough. No point in backing down now.

They go back to the year they were born, near the end of the Purge. Their mother must have been one of the last ones to go for her to have given them an autumn birthday. 

Frisk wonders if their father had even known by then. They wonder if he’s even pieced it together now, or if he thinks something else gave them this power.

Their father always told them they looked like her, so that’s a starting point. They scroll through the year, stopping at each face, but nobody stands out. They read through the linked news articles for dozens of mages, then start ignoring them entirely. All they need is the image.

They check the year after their birth. The year after that. Nothing.

They check before. If she’d gone missing...well, maybe their father does know where their powers come from.

Nothing, but they find themself going back farther and farther, frustrated as they realize they’ve wasted their time.

They scroll a few more, desperately looking, and they stop at a very unusual looking man. 

He had dark skin, long curly hair, and a deformed head. The whole thing seemed too short, too round, the eyes too small in the massive eyesockets. He was extremely short, if the photo of him standing next to his brother was any indication.

They check the date he died. A week before the war started.

They couldn’t help but look at the article.

“Local mage murdered, comes back from the dead to name his killer

Police ruled the death a suicide, despite fervent protests from the mage’s family, lacking evidence and released the body for burial in less than a week. 

The mage, who goes only by the name “Sans”, walked into his university dorm room two days later and borrowed his roommate’s cellphone to report his own murder.

Sans, who was born with multiple unique birth defects that have not been seen before or since, was studying Astrobiology at UoE when he was murdered. Despite his disability,” Frisk grimaces at that unfortunate phrase, “Sans was one of the best students in the university’s history, with averages only overshadowed by his roommate and best friend Alphys of the Molten River people.

Police are looking into his resurrection to ascertain whether any laws were broken in the process, and investigating his roommate’s potential involvement.”

-

Text from the exhibit “Past Misdeeds” at the Ebbott City Memorial Museum

During times of peace, monsters and humans were led by one person. From the Old World to the late 17th century monsters were ruled by the Dreemurr family and humans by a variety of human monarchs. It wasn’t until the Great Treaty that the Dreemurrs decided they were no longer needed and allowed the two races one democratically chosen leader.

It is said the Dreemurrs believed they would receive a sign when again they were necessary. 

For former monster king Asnoch (And later, his son Asgore), this sign came in the form of golden flowers blooming wherever they went.

Notes:

pretty sure nobody cares but I’ve decided to keep this going

Chapter 17: Developments

An excerpt from What Are Monsters? By Doctor Sans-Serif

 

Chapter Two: What’s the core for?

A lot of people-monsters and humans alike-don’t know what a core is, much less why some (but not all) monsters have them. A basic explanation is that a monster’s core is what a monster is.

 

“Isn’t that a SOUL?” I hear you ask.

 

Well, no. Your SOUL is who you are. Every SOUL is completely unique, shaped by the life you’ve lived from creation to now. Cores are interchangeable. They can be transplanted and synthesized and, more importantly, do not change over time.

 

Humans do not have cores. They instead have  “DNA”-deoxyribonucleic acid-which is contained in each and every one of their cells. Many monsters have something similar, though they don’t necessarily have cells. Cores and these magical “cells” give your SOUL rules to work around when your form is being created. They also allow non-physical creatures to interact with the world around them. Without these, all a monster is is a SOUL, and that monster will not survive the gestation process. 

 

A core is unlike a  SOUL in another way; a monster can live without a core for several days. Anything past that, and that monster will need a synthetic core.

-

Grillby wakes in darkness and gets his legs under him, pushing himself into a kneeling position. He takes a second to look around, but there is nothing he can see but himself. His legs push against some invisible barrier as he stands. A spotlight is coming down from...where? Is the only source of light. It focuses on him as he stands and begins to walk.

 

His flame vibrates intensely. He isn’t sure why.

 

He feels like he’s just dumped a bucket of gasoline on himself and for a moment wonders if he’s somehow been reunited with his real core. 

 

He checks to be sure. 

 

Nope. Still a synthetic one.

 

Still, he’s never had this much raw energy with any replacement. He reaches out to find something to channel it into and dims at the response.

 

His armor is gone. His weapons are unreachable. He considers taking his original form-the one he used in his homeland before he had even heard of gender-to burn off some of it, but decides not to. It frightens the people here, and he hopes to come across another monster soon.

 

His shoes echo across a vast, unseen space as he walks and for a moment he stills, listening for the echoes of others walking. It’s unbearably silent. He hasn’t heard silence like that since a time before he had a soul. He doesn’t know how far he has walked, but he isn’t tired by the time something appears in front of him.

A second spotlight illuminates a figure.

A woman with a face covered by dripping hair, her seaweed colored skin covered only by a torn, wet burlap dress. He recognizes the woman, of course. How could he not? He doesn’t move, wondering if he could just walk away. Had she noticed him? He was frozen, fear making him weak.

He looks down at himself and tries to take a step back. He knows what she’ll do to him if she sees the way he’s dressed, but he can’t move at all. What happened? He had been walking fine, had looked around just moments before. What was wrong with him?

There is a long pause, him crackling softly and her dripping.

He struggles to move his legs, then tries something smaller. Fingers, toes, a slight tilt of the head. Nothing.

Drip. Drip.

He wonders why she hasn’t made a move yet, and almost laughs at the answer.

She doesn’t recognize me, does she?

That was true. It wasn’t just how he dressed; he’d changed his whole body in the seven years since she last saw him. His flame wasn’t even the same colour, and he’d had their bond surgically removed. He changed back when he still went to see her, but now? He is himself. There is nothing to be afraid of. He lets his fear drain, cataloguing all of the changes he had made since he was freed.

He tries to take a step back. He can’t.

“Don’t be like that, darling.” Says the soft pattering of water droplets against the floor.

He tries to struggle, tries to scream, but no sound escapes him. And if it did, who would hear?

“Behave yourself. I’ve had a very long day and I don’t want to deal with another one if your fits.” She drips sternly.

He does not behave himself. He fights for control of his body and when that fails, he heats his core, letting his form mostly disperse. 

His soul pulses with spite at her slow advance, at every wet footfall, preparing himself for a spectacularly painful explosion.

Several bonds reach out to him, panicked; his father, his brothers and cousins, his daughter, his son and...Sans? He realizes that Sans has been reaching out to him this whole time.

Is that where that weird energy is coming from? 

The logical part of his mind kicks on. Wasn’t he just with Sans? How had he gotten here from Snowdin? Where was here?

The world begins to change in unfathomable ways and Grillby watches her now, growing in conviction when he sees how her head moves. It doesn’t loll to one side, completely dead, as hers had.

This isn’t real he realizes, watching the illusion collapse.

He wakes in the air, being held up with gravity-defying blue magic. Sans stands in front of him, a calming smile on his face, and the human ahead, tearful.

“Let’s calm down, eh? I’m sure we can all work something out,” Sans is saying, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders raised in a kind of shrug.

Is he really trying to spare her? She’s going to kill him!

Sans’ menu isn’t hidden from him and he does check it to be sure-Sans can’t be that stupid, can he?- and narrows his eyes. He’s not using mercy at all, even though the human looks like she’s about to spare him. He’s acting. 

He’s faking mercy.

Grillby had seen it before, but those merciless few who knew how to use this tactic... they had all forsaken mercy entirely, broken their options and given themselves over to cruelty.

Something appears behind her and then, there is light. She falls to the ground, and Grillby covers his mouth. He tries to stifle the horrified   pop, but Sans turns to him anyway. 

“Well shit...you weren’t supposed to see that, Sunshine.”

-

Alphys shakes as she pens her proposal for monster tests of DETERMINATION. Anxiety and excitement blend together into a dizzying chemical cocktail that keeps her from doing the very basics of normal functions. 

Everything seems fine. Her patients are doing very well. She released two more just last week, and though the third was eaten, he was fine up until then. 

Still, she feels like something terrible is about to happen. The proposal is mostly finished. It just needs one more signature and the royal seal and she’ll be good to go.

She sighs, not for the first time thinking she should just give up on this. It’ll take a big push to get her to submit this.

Notes:

I have returned
I come bearing words
Also, thank you to the people who commented saying they liked this! I was having a really bad day when I posted the last chapter, and you guys really made it better.

Chapter 18: Merciless

Batsy Hart’s Practical Guide To Soulmates 

Once you’ve met your soulmate, it’s best to spend time with them as soon as possible to figure out how your particular bond has worked itself out.

It’s important that you figure out what effect this is going have on your life as fast as you can. If you fall in love with your soulmate or vice versa quickly, it will be automatic upon a first. Your first date, your first kiss, etc, though not always so obvious. I fell in love with my husband the first time I saw him slip on ice when we visited Snowdin.

If you feel no draw to your soulmate, then there is no need to continue any contact with them. You might even find yourself hating your soulmate. That’s normal!

You might fall in love normally, but thats up to the two of you.

A pair of soulmates who are destined to fall in love can go from first meeting to married in months.

-

“It’s not what you think, Sunshine.”

Grillby stares at the plate of birch bark and wood chips Sans gave him, worried about him burning off his fuel too quickly. He wonders if Sans bought them for him.

They’re sitting at Sans’ living room table, his pet rock moved gently to one side. 

Grillby hasn’t touched his birch at all, still thinking about what had happened when they came into town. 

He’d been walking slow, not wanting to let Sans out of his sight. He was conflicted, because he wanted to be able to love his soulmate so badly, and his bond had told him things that conflicted so severely with what he’d seen, but... he was afraid.

The Dogi had run up to them the moment they crossed the threshold into town; spears raised at first, but then annoyed when they saw no human.

“What the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be-“ Sans held out the SOUL, quieting her protest.

“Human wasn’t much for running.” Sans lied. Grillby didn’t even lift his head, too consumed with his simultaneous thought processes: of course my soulmate had to be like this, and I was absolutely useless in that fight, I might as well have not been there.

The Dogi sniffed them both over, looking for injuries.

“Grillby, are you hurt or something? You look-“

“I think I am done fighting.” Sans reached up to pat his back, but caught himself. Grillby felt sorry for him. Grillby was happy Sans hadn’t touched him.

Dogaressa nodded. Dogamy whined.

“Good call.”

“Why?”

Grillby had walked past them, only barely hearing Sans’ vague excuse about how she’d been a psychomancer.

He’d steered Grillby into his house after that.

“I thought she’d keep you out for more than five turns.” Sans admits out of nowhere, his voice an apologetic mumble. Grillby starts, wonders how long they had been sitting in silence.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No. I’m sorry, I’m just stressed...you weren’t supposed to know about this, and I...really hope you know how to keep a secret.”

Grillby grazes his claws across his forearm, relieved at their sharpness, and says nothing.

Sans’ eyelights track the movement and Grillby feels a muffled ache down their bond. How must he really feel, if even he can’t suppress all of it?

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t. I told you, it ain’t like that. I’m not a bad guy, honest, I’ve just been through some things.”

He has to keep himself from trying to comfort Sans. He puts a hand over the plate of wood and begins burning it to avoid touching him.

“Do you have a MERCY option?”

Sans blows an unnecessary breath through his teeth.

“Gettin’ straight to it, huh? No.”

That’s the truth, Grillby can tell that much through the bond.

“Did you break it, or did someone else?” He’d heard of it happening before, though it was rare.

“I...was encouraged, let’s say, but I did it myself. I didn’t really understand what I was doing at the time. Doesn’t make it right, but...”

Truth.

“Where are the pieces?”

“Honest to god, I don’t know. I went back to, uh, where it happened when I was still alive, but I guess someone took it. If I had the pieces-“

“Why would anyone take that?”

Grillby’s pretty sure monsters can’t lie through bonds but that makes so little sense he can’t help but assume Sans is lying.

Sans shrugged.

“The guy that encouraged me probably had a pretty big interest in keeping it broken. He was brought back not long after I, um...after I killed him.” Sans laughs, even though he doesn’t look very happy.

“I’m not making a very good case for myself, am I?”

Grillby is quiet. It sounds like it’s not his fault...

“Why are you being so vague?”

“I don’t exactly feel like unpacking a traumatic event with a guy I’ve spoken to maybe three times? Even if it’s...you.” He says, gesturing vaguely in Grillby’s direction and tactfully ignoring the way he flinches.

That’s fair. 

“Are you intending to get it fixed?”

“If I ever find the pieces, yeah.”

“Why did you break it if you were just going to get it fixed?”

He asks, and regrets it immediately. Questions like that got him beaten more times than he could count, but Sans just sighs.

“Well, I was twelve. I got help between then and now, as you can imagine.” Grillby gapes at him.

What kind of childhood would drive someone that young from MERCY?

“But you still benefit from it...”

“If that’s what you’d call it, yeah, I guess I do. You’re asking about the fake MERCY option, right?” A nod, “I don’t like the way I got it, but if I’ve got a way to stop a human killing other monsters I’m morally obligated to use it no matter where it came from. Right?”

That makes a certain amount of sense.

“Besides, it’s not like this thing doesn’t have problems. Sure, I can kill faster sometimes, but the fact that I have to justify myself to you... I can tell you’ve got a lot of bad ideas about how this whole thing works. When I said I hoped you could keep a secret, I meant that people tend to act different once they know. This town was my last chance to live a normal life.”

Grillby can’t help himself. Sans looks so tired and their bond is sharing so much sadness he can’t be scared of the man.

“I won’t tell anyone, so don’t go using past tense just yet.”

Sans’ smile twitches a little. He’s not as expressive as other skeletons, not even close, but Grillby gets the feeling he’s relieved.

“Thank you. I appreciate that. I love this town and the people in it, and I’d hate to have to leave.”

“I would hate to drive you out.”

They both shift uncomfortably in the silence that follows, knowing there’s another thing they should get to talking about.

Grillby broaches it first.

“Why didn’t you tell me once you figured out we were soulmates? How long have you known?”

He’s sure he already knows the answer. If I wasn’t so boring, I’m sure he would have been interested.

“...a while. I didn’t tell you because I felt weird about just walking up to you and saying “I’m your soulmate and I’ve been madly in love with you since we first met so you have to fall in love with me sometime”. I wanted to see if you were interested without the pressure, you know?”

“You’ve known since we first met?” 

He loves me already? 

It’s a sweet sentiment but man, does Grillby kind of want to punch him. And love at first sight is so rare...

Sans’ eyelights go out as he realizes what he’s just said. He looks like he’s choosing his words very carefully.

“No, but I’ve known I loved you for that long.”

-

Sans sits on her examination table, his leg bobbing in an incessant nervous tic. He’d called her earlier, told her what the human had done, and said he needed treatment. Not urgent, he promised. 

She’d never done anything as fast as she had signed and sent off that proposal for monster testing when he gave her the body count. Seven in a day, dead if she did nothing.

“Alph, I gotta get this thrall gone.” Sans says as soon as she’s set up.

She looks him over. Not at all what she’d been expecting, but almost as troubling.

“What did you do?”

“Nothin’ illegal, it’s just making me act like a damn fool. My soulmate and me were going after that human and I let him stay out for the whole fight like I didn’t think he could handle it. I forgot to hide my menu too, so now he knows I can’t do mercy.” 

“Oh dear...no wonder you want it gone so bad. Did you explain it to him?”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if he bought it or if he thinks he doesn’t have a choice, because...I’m in love with him already.”

“Jeez, already?”

“Oh yeah, it was instant. He said he’d give me a chance and gods, I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Okay. I’m...going to be busy for the next little while, but I’ll see to your thrall first. Were you looking to get that done today?” He squeezes the leather of the table, his fingers sharpening with his anxiety.

“Careful, Sans.” She lifts his hands from it and rubs his knuckles to calm him down.

“Yeah. Okay. Do it today if you’ve got the stuff, just...I’m starting to rethink it, so gimme enough to put the boys out too, okay?”

She grimaces. That’s a lot of anesthesia and she’s still not sure how the “boys” connect to him.

“Summon them, and I’ll try to dose them to keep them down.” She still has to limit how much she gives him.

Sans snaps his fingers. One, two, three, four, five, six times, and six doglike skulls appear around him. One of them noses Alphys’ skull and starts to whine for treats.

Notes:

they’re good boys

Chapter 19: Those Darned Kids

Important things to remember about Sans!

He might be able to remember resets sometimes he says things about what you do or does different things but the next time he pretends he didn’t? 

Likes snow and ice and cold. Good at ice skating! 

I think he has weather effects?

Can’t stop smiling but I don’t know why other skeletons can? 

Friends with everyone except Doggo also friends with the Riverperson! 

Used to be a teacher? Taught at Fuku’s old school for a while.

Really smart! 

Has a degree in something to do with stars but idk what it is but I know I can ask Grillby about next time I see him or I can ask Sans if he wants to tell me

Always named Sans which is a dumb name 

Used to be human

Always looked like that

Check out UoE to see where sans used to live so you can snoop around 

(Below is a hand drawn image of Sans’ face saying “Why can’t you keep your nose out of my business, pumpkin?”) 

 

-

It happens on their way back home from the museum. Frisk hears the Man In The Car, now the Man Standing In Nathan’s Doorway Talking, and hides just around the corner. He was never very observant and he’s focused on Nathan. They almost peek around the corner to be sure it’s him-it is dark, after all-but decides against it.

They want to eavesdrop because what was He doing here, but they know their life is more important. And so is avoiding that fate worse than death. 

“Jack? What the heck are you doing here? If you’d called ahead-“ Frisk’s hands tremble as they conjure something they’d asked to be taught before Sans’ last death.

“Sorry, Nate, I just got something important to ask about. Couldn’t wait.”

Frisk sets a tiny red beetle on the ground and directs it toward the front door. They sneak farther around the back of the store and send their consciousness into the insect.

“Alright then. What’s going on?” It sits a few feet away, hoping it isn’t too obvious.

“Last year, my kid ran away. I heard some rumors they’ve been seen around here. Do you recognize this kid?” 

Frisk sees and hears Him pull an old photo out of His pocket and panics. They don’t make the conscious choice to fly the insect at His face, but they find themself changing the beetle into a large red bird and when their wings fold, they don’t stop it.

They claw at Him desperately and see the photo fall from his hand as he reaches up to wave them away. They feel their talons gouge into soft flesh and Frisk grimaces in their real body.

They dive and grab the photo, dodging His hands and ignoring Nathan’s shrieks.

They fly the bird off, leaving it to its own devices once it gets far enough away.

They can hear cursing from the front door and Nathan trying to get Him inside to get looked at.

“Where’s the fucking picture?” They can hear Him rustling around, looking for it.

“I think the bird took it.” Nathan says, sounding confused.

“That wasn’t a bird,” He says, standing quickly, “Where are you, freak? I know you’re watching!”

“Jack, calm down! Who are you talking to?”

“...they look like their mother. If you see them, give me a call. They’re dangerous, Nathan. This fucking kid-“ He stumbles off, passing within a few feet of them, wiping blood from His eyes. Nathan doesn’t ask Him to stay.

They hear Nathan’s response, though they aren’t sure if He does.

“I’ll be sure to do that.” 

-

Grillby walks in the forest, waiting for the first incision with bated breath. Is Sans removing their bond?

Of course he understands, but Sans had been talking about how much he loved him just yesterday.

He senses the cut and relaxes as he feels no pain. 

If it’s not that, what is he having surgery on?

Grillby is startled in crossing the bridge by a patter of tiny feet in the snow behind him.

“Hey Mr. Flamesman!” He turns and sees that tiny lizard monster, the one with no arms, running towards him.

He dips his head politely at the kid and stops to let him pass, trying to keep his anxiety down. The kid doesn’t pass. That doesn’t help his anxiety.

“I heard you weren’t fighting anymore.”

He sighs and nods.

“Man, are you sure? I saw you spar with Undyne the last time she was here and it was awesome!”

He smiles briefly and walks across the bridge, keeping an eye on the boy behind him. When he’d first seen the boy, he’d almost decided to  avoid meeting the family entirely, but the boy was fine. Just like any other child.

Nothing like the one he’d met in Waterfall.

“...yes, I am certain. I am a little too old for that now.” The kid jumps and Grillby puts a hand out to steady him.

“Careful now. I do not want you to hurt yourself.”

“You can talk?”

“Sometimes.” He says, smiling as the kid runs ahead to inspect a sapling.

He catches movement through the trees and narrows his eyes, wondering if the kid’s parents know he’s out here. He thinks he sees something blue moving in the distance, but turns his attention back to the child. His father at least is bright yellow, so Grillby is certain it isn’t him.

“Anyway, I am sorry to disappoint you.”

“Don’t worry, I still get to watch Undyne beat up bad dudes!” 

He rocks on his feet, tail slowly moving from left to right and back again.

“Uh, but if I’m honest...that’s not really why I’m talking to you.”

Grillby tilts his head in confusion.

“You’ve been on the surface, right?”

He nods, letting soft greens colour his face. The kid looks anxious.

“So you know stuff about humans?”

Ah. 

“I know as much as any other veteran, yes.”

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we’ve never had problems with humans before now?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been here for a long time, but the last couple months, there’s been four humans! Does nobody else think this is weird?”

Grillby blinks at the boy, surprised.

“...no, you’re right. Four humans, most of them children...” he narrows his eyes at the kid.

“Why did you come to me with this?”

“I brought it up to my dad, but he didn’t want to talk about it, and my older sister lives in Hotland, she’s already so busy, and I dunno, you just seem like you’d listen.”

“You were right. Something must be going on on the surface.” They’re quiet for a few seconds before the kid turns back to him.

“Anyway, I’m going back to Snowdin. Thanks for this, Mr. Flamesman!” He said, running off.

“Hold on, the town is that way!” Grillby says, pointing. The kid grins, not even pausing as he runs.

“I can find my own way back. This old forest is full of shortcuts.”

Notes:

I kiinda wanted to write out a surgical procedure for the thrall but oh well I wrote Frisk’s first third instead...which I hate
Added one 1 new sentence

Chapter 20: A Big Mistake

Notes:

The old chapter kinda read like Grillby was just being ableist so I added 1 sentence to make it clear why he was uncomfortable

Alphys is worried about Sans. It’s been a week since the surgery, and Sans is still having trouble coping with its loss and just as importantly, with the medication he had to take for the pain.

In the immediate aftermath of the procedure, Alphys had barely given him anything, but she’d quickly realized Sans was suffering.

Alphys was careful when she dosed him, but she was realistic about the chances of a relapse. He’d only been on a replacement drug for a few months and while it seemed to be working, she knew he’d go through withdrawal once the stuff was out of his system.

From Sans’ call, it’s already happening.

“Hey, doc, it’s fine for me to be getting cold sweats again, right? Like, it’s just a thing i’m gonna have to grin and bear?”

“Yeah, sorry... We don’t have anything else for treating pain after surgery that even works on skeletons, y-you know?" She chastises herself for stuttering in a phone call with Sans of all people.

“It’s cool,” He says, in a way that tells her it’s not, “It ain’t your fault I’m craving that stuff.”

She still feels guilty. Sans is her best friend and she should know how to help him, but she’s lost. She owes him her life, but how can she repay him when she’s so incompetent?

“You know, I kinda feel guilty now that it’s gone.”

“That’s normal.”

“Still feels bad.”

“I know. But I promise if you asked your soulmate he would have told you to get rid of it.”

“I know. And it’s not like i don’t still love him. It’s just...hard, you know?

“I understand.”

Sans seems to realize he showed a genuine emotion and automatically begins minimizing it.

“I gotta say though, I’m feeling a lot better. i can leave the town again, so that’s a plus.”

Alphys hears a knock on her door and runs off to answer it, shooting him a quick, “I think that’s my casualties so I gotta go do science stuff, call me if u have any problems , bye,” and hangs up.

-

Alphys lays out her new patients on the rows of beds that had appeared in the lab space, wondering for the eightieth time how it knew what she needed. 

Once that’s done, she weighs them all and calculates their dose...she hopes she does, at least.

She guiltily moves Mettaton’s half-finished new body off her table, then re-examines the SOULS she’s been given.

She’s stalling, she knows it but she still takes the time to ensure they can withstand being put in the extractor. If stalling helped her catch something important, it’d be worth it.

They’re all fine, as far as she can tell. Perfectly healthy, as though it had only been moments instead of weeks, or months since they were removed from their bodies.

She finally brought them to that machine, the one she’d blueprinted and built in only a day. She had no idea how she’d done it so quickly. Sure, it was based on Sans’ “boys”, but on a much larger scale and draining a different substance much faster.

They were placed inside and the machine powered up. It sounded like a long gasp played backward and made her shiver every time it happened. A pause.

Then...FUOOM.

She leaves them in there; they’ll be as safe there as anywhere else. She takes the full DT vials and corks them carefully. She walks into the room all her patients are in and sees a pale figure, barely taking form, standing over one of the beds. She watches it reach toward her patient and then glances around for the empty bed.

They’re all full. She approaches it on shaking feet, but picks up on the cold in the room. It wasn’t this cold before.

Is that a ghost?

Doesn’t really look like one.

The figure pets the canine on the bed, as if trying to comfort her. Alphys approaches them with her hands up, but their head whips around.

The figure’s face is featureless for a second before a mouth makes itself known, forming a sheepish smile.

And then it vanishes.

-

Grillby sighs as he feels pain bloom inside his stomach and leans against the counter. It’s his bar’s opening night, so he powers through the pain. He tries not to think too hard about the cause of the psychosomatic pain; he has to stay on his feet for another eight hours and can’t afford to put this off for any longer. 

He cannot use his health as an excuse. Still, he lifts his shirt to make sure he’s not carrying a second coming of Heats. 

No, just his usual potbelly. 

He flips the sign to ‘open’, takes the obscurant off the window and returns to the counter. 

There’s another pang, and Grillby is grateful to how inexpressive his flame is to organics.

After only ten minutes, he’s worried he’s made a mistake. He’s been watching when the people in the town leave to visit bars in Hotland and New Home. He’s seen them, two or three to the Riverperson’s boat, nearly every night. 

Certainly, the young people would probably prefer a rowdier scene; those canines especially, but he expects his bar will be just fine for most in town.

Sans goes out, too. Sometimes he doesn’t return until the morning. Last night, he hadn’t returned until noon. 

Grillby wonders who he was with. He is certain Sans is not spoken for already.

The thought of him in someone else’s bed is almost too much. He knows he has no right to be jealous; he said he would get to know Sans and start a relationship organically, if a relationship is what they want.

Until then, Sans is a free agent.

But he can’t help himself.

He decides that if he has time, he’s going to practice mixing, but as he looks up, he sees one of the Lapine-Annie, he thinks-considering the ‘open’ sign.

She comes in, much to his surprise. Though it’s occurring to him now that he’s not the best at judging the ages of organics, he could have sworn she was a very young woman.

“So this is what you’ve been up to this whole time!”

He smiles, his customer service face falling into place with practiced ease, as if he’d done this before.

Three hours pass, people filtering in slowly, congratulating him on finally opening his bar. The pain is fading, too.

Scarlet Feather came in at the two hour point, cheerily preceding the canine unit. Another big surprise.

Dogaressa was as aggressive as usual, and Grillby half-considers kicking her out. It’s only his first day open, so he has to accept it. Can’t make a fuss on his first day. He’d honestly hoped she’d relax after a few drinks, but no. 

Four hours and he gets the last surprise visitors of the day. His father and brother walk through the door, chatting idly. He grins, already getting a glass to start up an old-fashioned for his father.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you two today!”

Apollyon laughs.

“I wanted to prove to Asmodeus you’d actually done it!” His brother grumbles something to himself, and Grillby chuckles.

“Can I get you something?”

Grillby sees Sans at the door and watches him as his brother hums and haws over what he wants.

Sans smiles at the sign, his face pulling ever so slightly upward. Grillby is very proud of it; he’d painted the thing himself, painstakingly, over several days. 

Sans walks away, still smiling.

Notes:

I can’t believe cis people could see me today
Also, Sans Fucks

Chapter 21: Fear

3.

Frisk heads to Nathan’s store, hoping they can get something from him today. They’ve had no luck fishing, no luck foraging, and no luck begging for three days.

They’ve got some money left, just a couple of dollars, but saving it will do them no good if they die.

Frisk sees Him loitering outside and bolts as He sees them, tripping over their own feet and knowing that they won’t get far with their blurred vision and weak legs. 

They run through back streets for Ruth’s house, only a few blocks away.

They trip on the corner of her street, smacking their face against the ground, and they hear Him shout something unintelligible behind them. They try to drag themself forward before scrambling to their feet. He grabs them and they punch Him in the face, acting purely on instinct. They wipe blood from their face as they run, hoping she’s home and that she’ll take their side.

Ruth is out in her garden, digging to bury tulip bulbs, it looks like.

When she sees Him running after Frisk, she stands and pulls them behind her.

She wields her trowel like a weapon.

“Get the hell away from them!”

“That’s my kid!” He says through heaving breaths.

She looks back at Frisk for confirmation.

“I don’t know him.” They lie. She nods and adjusts her grip on the trowel, one hand going back to take Frisk’s. 

His lip curls with disgust, but he knows he’s beat.

“Back off.” She looks him over. “You leave this kid alone or I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

“I’ll be back for you, freak. And you’re gonna regret getting in my way, lady. This kid’s a fucking monster.”

She takes a step toward him, and he runs off.

-

Ruth knows something is off about me.

A mute kid rolls into a neighborhood at the fringe of a city and starts solving everyone’s problems in unusual ways with no parental oversight and expects to fly under the radar?

Get real.

Now she’s escorting them home. She’d refused to let them leave her house alone. Frisk wonders how much is suspicion and how much is concern.

Frisk considered going to a youth shelter, but gave that thought up. They are fairly certain they aren’t  being followed and they just want to get back to their house in the ruined village. 

They also aren’t sure if he’d be watching those, and they’d like to avoid a second run-in.

They did warn her about the walk before they left, but she didn’t back down.

It is dark by the time they get to the village. Ruth had brought a flashlight, though they itch to light their own way.

Ruth doesn’t seem very interested in the village, only briefly shining her light into each one she passes.

She speaks after a few seconds.

“So, you live alone out here?”

“Yes.”

“Where are your parents?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Did they die?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ve been alone for a long time.”

“Was that man actually your father?”

“Sadly.”

She chuckles.

“No wonder you live out here.”

Frisk smiles. At least she understands.

They approach their home, but balk at the giant, horned figure who squeezes out of the building. 

Asnoch and Ruth stare, dumbfounded, at one another.

-

40.

Frisk is careful going into Ebbott City, looking over their shoulder constantly.

They hadn’t seen their father over the last two weeks. They know better than to let their guard down. They had only been into the city once or twice, just long enough to finish a quest or pick a new one up before scurrying back to the mountain.

But they have work to do.

Taking the bus, they feel exposed, watched. The subway is an ambush waiting to be sprung. A photographer on the road a silent watcher, waiting to get a clear look at his prey.

They keep their hood up, hoping their hair covers most of their face. They really need a haircut, but they’ll take any advantage they can get.

Frisk gets off the subway and stares at the University of Ebbott across the street. The moon peeks around a cloud, bathing the campus with pale light, then decides against it.

Frisk has no clue where the records are kept, realistically. If they’re digital or physical. It could take them several nights just to figure that out. 

For the first time in many, many resets, Frisk wishes the player was here. The player always seems to know what to do.

Though, considering that time the player made them fight monsters to get gold for Temmie Armor and eat only Dog Salad for about two hours...maybe they're better doing this themself.

They sit across from UoE, doing their best to radiate some sort of intimidating aura. Frisk conjures another beetle to possess and sends it toward the building.

...

Hours pass, but they find nothing of use. The records must be kept digitally somewhere. They return to their body and make the long trip back home.

...

The next day, they dutifully trudge to Nathan’s storefront and wait to be noticed.

Notes:

This chapter was a fucking nightmare to write~
I forgot the one joke line i meant to put in so i had to fix that
i'm so sorry Frisk.....but i had to pay for her colleg.......

Chapter 22: A Father In Three Acts

 

The people in town look at him differently. They talk quietly when he passes, glancing at and away in a fraction of a second. Everyone in town-except Sans, who was as he always is-avoided his eyes.

He should have known they would react this way. His father and brother were obvious in what they were. They took no steps to hide themselves when they walked through the town.

Demons are hated by humans, distrusted by monsters, and a small town like this is an awfully bad place to be one.

Not that Grillby is one-at least by core-but his family are and either by association or assumption, he is being treated as one.

A week after his opening day, he hears a conversation as he approaches the shop in town and pauses as someone says his name inside.

“Nah, Grillby’s definitely a demon. His family wasn’t even hiding it. I mean, they had huge horns and they both had...y’know.” Grillby imagines that here, Scarlet Feather indicates the back of his wing to refer to their seals. He’s confused by his sudden ability to hear through walls, but realizes the shop has a window propped open when he catches a whiff of fresh-baked cinnamon buns.

“They looked like they were hosted in humans, too.” Scarlet Feather continues. Grillby knows he should walk away, but he can’t help himself.

“I thought Lanette was just drunk when she said it! D’you think they’re coming to live here too?” One of the fish people in town, Grillby thinks, taking a few tentative steps toward the window. One of his cousins had been thinking of moving in. Though, he blends in better than most...

“I always thought it was a weird choice for a guy made of fire to live here. I just thought it was to get away from that whole thing with his wife...now I wonder if someone found out he was a parasite.” He flares a furious white. What an accusation!

“Will two cut it out?” The shopkeeper’s uncharacteristically sharp tone is punctuated by her chair squeaking as she stands.

“I’m just saying! A quiet guy like him has got to be hiding something!” The fish says, defensive.

“That man has been nothing but polite and respectful since he arrived in town, and it’s not right for you to go around slandering him like that. And if more demons in town means more fine citizens like him, then I’m all for ‘em!”

Grillby’s never heard her yell like that before. Scarlet and the fish mumble apologies and continue shopping.

Grillby decides not to get his groceries right now. He goes home, thinking about how he has no proof he isn’t a demon. About how he covered his face with flowers in every old picture, when he was too young to understand he had no need to. About that ill-advised period he wore a mask everywhere.

Fuku doesn’t even look up as he enters the back door.

“Yes, you can go outside.”

He scowls at her response. He hasn’t had that problem in a while.

“I didn’t ask.”

She raises her head and laughs at his response, but realizes he’s not amused.

“Dang, that was almost confident. You mad at me? I didn’t mean to bring that up, I know it’s been a few months...”

Grillby shakes his head at her, carefully undoing the buttons on his coat and idly thinking he should scale back his core mass; his coat is getting pretty tight around the middle.

“I am fine. Well....I am angry, but not at you. I just heard some people talking about demons and decided I would rather not deal with them right now.”

“Oh, gotcha,” She grins at the height and intensity of his flame before remembering he still has a temporary core, “Man, you’re mad! You should go and hang around Sans’ sentry station. He always makes you smile.”

She’s glad he’s letting himself feel these things now, but she worries about his health.

“I might just do that, but I will be fine either way. If my core broke down every time I felt something, I would be dust by now.”

She winces and he remembers how touchy she’s been lately on the concept of his mortality. Has she seen something? He often forgets her visions are of the near future, unlike his.

“I mean, I guess so.”

“I will go see him if it means you will not worry. But just remember, you forced me to, okay?” He says with a wink.

A comically exasperated smile opens her jagged slit of a mouth.

“I’m not-“

“I mean, if you insist , I suppose this decrepit old man can probably make it out to see his soulmate.” He says, dramatically leaning on her.

“You’re ageless!” She protests, pushing him off as both of them fight a smile.

“But I’m billions of years old! And it’s soooo far! ”

“You’re my least favourite dad. Of all of my dads, you’re the worst.” Fuku is smiling as she says it.

“I’m your only dad.”

“That you know of.”

He puts his hands on his hips.

“What did I tell you about bringing home stray dads?”

“This one didn’t have a collar or anything!”

“Unbelievable.”

“I promise I’ll take care of him!”

“You’d better!” He says, redoing the buttons on his coat and wagging a stern finger at her.

-

Grillby hums as he approaches Sans’ sentry station, passing his training dummy. Things have been going good between them for the past few weeks. Even with Sans’ nocturnal activities and his unexpected jealousy, Sans certainly knows how to charm the pants off him at every chance he gets...figuratively, of course.

He’s not perfect. He’s secretive, not particularly good-looking, and takes very little seriously, but those are little things, comparatively.

They haven’t gone on their first date yet, but Grillby is certain one of them will get the courage to ask the other out soon.

Grillby pauses as a thought hits him.

Maybe Sans is waiting for me to ask him out, since I’m not in love with him yet? He did say we would move at my pace...

Perhaps he should start planning something out? He starts walking again, his mind faraway. He hadn’t considered that he might have to be proactive in starting this relationship.

He half considers admitting he’s a meek to Sans-surely Sans would take over planning if he knew-but he doesn’t like the implications of that scenario. He doesn’t want Sans to think of him like that. And that’s assuming he doesn’t already know; after all, someone like him having their own business is a big deal in Hotland.

Sans doesn’t need to know. I just hope nobody back home has said anything.

That brings him back to the original topic. Date ideas.

What does Sans even like to do?

Other than read science fiction novels and watch bad science fiction movies, he isn’t sure.

He mulls it over until the sentry station becomes visible, draws near, and he catches a glimpse of Sans inside.

Sans lays completely still in his post, right eyelight out and form limp. He isn’t wearing a shirt again today, the sharp cage of his ribs visible even from a distance. He isn’t sure if it’s intended to be attractive or comfortable, but it has to be cold.

He must be sleeping...

He hesitates, even though he knows Sans wants to be woken when he’s around. Sans always seems tired, even when he’s telling jokes and flirting. Must be that illness he refuses to speak of...

Still, he approaches.

Something seems wrong as he does, and it only takes seconds to see the problem; something black and viscous is worming its way into Sans’ mouth. At first, he thinks it’s a tongue-some undead still have them-but he’s fairly certain that isn’t how they’re supposed to look, nor do they move like that .

His left eyelight’s still on says the only part of his mind not gibbering with panic, odd, isn’t it?

He watches it slip inside, too quick to be without agency, and sees Sans’ skull tilt. His other eye lights up white, but he seems dazed as he looks around. Grillby sucks air in to calm himself, letting it burn and trying not to jump to conclusions.

Maybe it’s not a parasite! Maybe it’s just a symbiote he never mentioned! Maybe it’s a new arrangement!

It takes Sans a good long moment to realize Grillby is there, but his smile is unnervingly normal.

“Hey you! Have you been waiting for me to wake up?”

No, he’s not quite calm. He seems anxious, just a slight shiftiness to his eyelights.

Two options pop up.

I just got here.

Ask about the black thing (warning-this could have immediate negative consequences!)

That option is an uncomfortable flashing red, though whether that’s anxiety or actual intuition, he isn’t sure.

“I just got here.” He signs, feeling dizzy. It sounds like him...

“Oh, good!” He notices Grillby’s nervousness and his sockets scrunch up in that way Grillby usually finds positively precious.

“Are we on Mars right now? Cuz you look pretty spaced out. Everything okay?”

He can’t help the laugh that escapes him.

That’s definitely my Sans!

“You almost never laugh at my jokes. Something must be really wrong. You’re the hardest audience I’ve ever had.”

Speech options pop up again. Three this time. He doesn’t like it when these appear.

Be honest. (This action could have immediate negative consequences!)

Tell him you think you’re hallucinating. (Pity factor adds +2 to bluff)

Mislead him (unlocked by demon prejudice event, pity factor adds +2 to bluff)

He’s tempted to be honest. It’s Sans, his soulmate! If he can’t trust Sans, who can he trust? There’s a long pause.

Something black drips onto one of Sans’ ribs from inside his skull and Grillby realizes he’s let some unseen timer run out.

“What is that?” He asks, against his own will.

Sans looks down at it and then at him. He sees Grillby’s expression and grinds his teeth together for a second.

“Oh. So you did see that.”

Grillby doesn’t speak.

“You’re good at seeing things you really shouldn’t, you know? You aren’t usually here at this time and the one day you are...”

He sighs, wiping the black slime from his ribs.

“I’m sorry...”

Sans shakes his head.

“I should’ve been more careful.”

“What-“

“I’m not going to talk about it.” He grimaces as another drop hits his ribs and reaches into his station to retrieve a napkin.

“But-“

“Don’t push it,” Grillby’s hands still, but he tries not to flinch, “Please.”

Sans says, softening his voice.

“I will not ask again.”

“I’m sorry, I know you hate me keeping secrets. Maybe I’ll tell you about it one of these days. Just have to find the right time.”

Grillby knows Sans is just placating him. Sans does intend to, but he likely won’t ever find “the right time”. He seems like one of those people.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I mean, from the colour of your flame, it matters a lot.”

He glances down at himself. Blue. He hasn’t gone blue in a while.

“I’ll tell you what that was when I’m ready, I promise, but keep this whole thing between us in the meantime, will ya?”

“I will not tell anyone. I just wonder what it is I am not telling.”

“It’s not important.”

If that was true, Sans wouldn’t be so quick to shut any questions down, but he doesn’t point that out. He doesn’t want to push his luck any farther.

“Alright. But I have two questions I need an answer to.

Sans is silent, so he continues.

“Is Sans your name?”

“Yes.”

“Will I have to interact with whoever is not Sans?”

“There’s just Sans.”

He runs a frustrated hand though his flame.

“Fine.” He says, and sighs.

There’s a long, awkward pause.

“What brought you out this way anyways?”

“Ironically, I came here to calm down.”

Sans lets out a short bark of laughter.

“Man, I’m real good at this, aren’t I?”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, why don’t we get you settled, then?”

Conversation started slowly, but with disturbing ease became their usual banter. It was an hour to opening when Grillby had the will to disentangle their mismatched fingers and make his way back to his bar.

When he passed the training dummy, he had to stop and stare.

Something had torn the dummy in half.

-

Grillby was adjusting the straps on Heats’ backpack when he spoke up, unprompted.

“I met my dad yesterday.”

“I thought you’d already met him in a dream?” He said, his hands not pausing in their work.

“Yeah, but he was here this time.”

“In the house?”

“No. Outside. He looks different now.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Yes. He told me not to tell you his name, though. He said something bad might happen if I did.”

That did make Grillby stop. He turned his son around to look at him. Heats looked nervous.

“What do you mean?”

“He just said if I told, something bad might happen to you. He said you’d forget anyways,” and then a quiet “I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that.”

“But I’m glad you did. Didn’t I tell you you’re supposed to tell me things like this?”

“I did!”

“I think he was probably just joking about something bad happening if you told me. Why don’t you give me his name so I can have a...talk with him about his jokes?”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

“Do you still see him around?”

“He left. Everything went black and then he was gone. He’s in town sometimes but people don’t see him like I do.”

Grillby ran a hand over his flame.

“I think I am going to walk you to school for the next little while, alright?”

“Okay!” He says brightly.

...

They talked. Heats wasn’t comfortable, but he’d gotten excited when Grillby mentioned that he would be happier knowing who Heats’ father was.

Happy to give whoever’s posing as him a piece of my mind, that is.

On the way to Heats’ school, he perks up and points.

“There’s my dad!”

Grillby looks. Something terrible happens. He wakes up two days later with the buzz of a hangover and a confused idea of the past three days. He was fairly certain he had gotten into fights with just about everyone he loved, though the reason why was now unclear to him.

There’s a knock at the door and he stands, groaning unhappily.

Sans is there, his eyelights distant and sockets narrowed.

“I, uh...got your text.”

“I am very sorry.” He starts, not even sure what he’d texted Sans.

“No, I get it. I didn’t realize it upset you so much.”

“I...do not recall what I said to you. I...am not sure why I did, either...”

“Yeah. I figured. Uh, your kids, by the way, are with Apollyon.”

“Perhaps they should stay there for now...”

He has no idea what he did to have them removed from his home, but if he was that bad over an event he’s forgotten, he isn’t sure he should have them back quite yet.

”You called him and asked him to come get them, by the way. You didn’t do nothin’.”

”That is a relief.”

“Anyway, I figure we kill two birds with one stone, and deal with all your texts on the same day. Today’s Friday. Your bar’s closed on Sundays, so...We’ll leave here around three. I promise I’ll take you somewhere nice. And I promise to tell you what I can about myself. I think I can trust you.”

Notes:

Man, I’ve been waiting for this chapter for a while.

Chapter 23: Children

Notes:

Im sorry about this chapter
The time spent the writing and everything else
My depression has been bad lately. Real bad, but I’m slowly getting back into the swing of things.
Some of this stuff was projecting
ESP Grillby’s second bit.
Sorry, on to the chapter now

Alphys digs her claws into the mud, ignoring the frenzied sloshing of the water as she scrabbles at the buried square form.

The top half of the case comes free with a wet sucking sound, the bottom following soon after. She douses the front of her lab coat for the third time as she hoists her prize out of the garbage water. Jackpot!

It’s a new series, some magical girl anime she’s never watched before. Who knows how it ended up down there. She removes the disk from its case, checking for damage. It’s in remarkably good condition, considering where she found it. A bit sodden, but she has ways of fixing that.

Alphys hears someone wading through the water toward her and shoves the disk in a pocket, scheduling it a date with her rice stone later. She grimaces as the water soaks through her pocket and into her pants, and casually tosses the case back into the water. If it was in better condition, she’d have kept it, but the cover art was so badly water damaged it looked like a failed watercolour.

The familiar clang of armor has her panicking. If it’s anyone else in the Royal Guard, they’ve seen her in worse shape. But if it’s Undyne...

Alphys presses herself against the wall, almost hoping she becomes invisible.

Something drops a long, long way from the other half of Waterfall, splashing loudly into the water the next room over. Whatever it is, it missed the flowers by a mile.

The person in the armor speeds up their movement, barreling past Alphys with little regard for her existence. Alphys sees a flash of red down the back of the hulking figure.

Alphys considers leaving. After all, Undyne can handle herself.

But she can’t help her curiosity.

She’s not a very combative person, but dealing with Sans has given her an appreciation of bullet patterns and different fighting styles.

It’s been so long since she saw someone fight with a weapon, too...

She follows Undyne to the end of the dump, where a patch of golden flowers had sprung up not that long ago.

There is a tiny human there, frail and hollow in her dust-covered tutu.  Her face is completely blank.

She looks nothing like any human Alphys had ever met, but she’d seen that look in some of Sans’ old patients.

She tilted her head. No emotion in her eyes but a vague recognition.

“You took my soul.”

Undyne is subtly unnerved, but her jovial persona is only a second late to the party.

“What? You’ve already been killed? What’s even the point, then?” She laughs, flipping her spear back and forth, “In that case, I’ll make it quick! How many RESETS you got in you, eh?”

She starts the fight, Alphys inserting herself as a spectator just before the colour drains from the world. Undyne doesn’t even notice her. That’s fine.

Undyne and that shell of a child become pale as ghosts as the background falls away. Alphys glances down at herself, as always unsure if she’s done it right. Her body is greyed out as if she’d been defeated. Perfect.

She turns her eyes back to the fight to come.

The human’s soul, naturally, does not appear as the bullet board snaps into place. Instead, she is simplified into a tiny, humanoid avatar of a ballerina for a millisecond before the board vanishes and is replaced with the combatant’s menus. Her dress is a light blue.

Undyne forms something round and small out of magic and tosses it to the shell. Alphys’ eyes narrow.

“I never fight someone who can’t defend themself.”

Kindness? Doesn’t seem like her deal, but hey. She’s got a soft side?

Undyne freezes the child in place with a flip of her spear and waits for her first attack.

The human throws the shield aside and shifts, thickening and widening her arms into something more mobile.

Another mage? This is going to be hard for Asgore to explain away.

Undyne just grins.

“Ah, kid, you shouldn’t have! I’ve never gotten to fight a mage before!”

The child says nothing, instead looking over Undyne’s shoulder. She tilts her head. Her menu is not hidden, as one would expect, only turned away. Alphys can see the little ballerina moving between invisible options, her dress now a soothing green. She regards Alphys silently before choosing something.

“My soul went with her. I’ll have to kill her too, then.”

Whoops!

Undyne almost turns her back on the kid, but only glances toward Alphys, emotionless behind her visor.

It’s enough time for the human to throw herself at Undyne, clawing at her face and working her fingers into Undyne’s helmet, tearing at the thing.

Loosening it?

Undyne fights them off, but Alphys sees her helmet is a little skewed, and there are scratches in the metal. They’re tiny, and Undyne’s protected now, but it’s not nothing; especially when a single direct hit could kill her.

Alphys has seen this before, of course. An older tactic, but just as effective now as it was hundreds of years ago; after all, Undyne can’t free her hands to fix it.

But Alphys can.

Is it unfair? Sure.

But she’s got a turn in this battle too, even as she inserted herself as a spectator first.

Alphys is shaky as she is compelled by the rules of combat to stand forward. As her body is washed in white and black.

She hasn’t had to participate in a fight since the war. She’s studied them at length, of course, but studying something and practicing it are very different.

“Alphys, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m-“

“Back off!”

Fine. If Undyne doesn’t want her help, Alphys won’t offer it. She goes grey again, compelled to step into the background.

Undyne looked back at the kid.

“Don’t even think about it! If you touch her, I’ll tear you apart!”

Alphys silently fumes.

She lived through The War. The only war any monster ever speaks of; in hushed tones when veterans walk by, bitterly, with beer in hand at a local bar...over tea in a cosy little home. And here she is being treated like she’s useless.

Sure, she’s a support character, but she’s just as important as a high-attack fighter.

Undyne nods at her, satisfied she’s safe, and selects the FIGHT option.

The bullet board, ballerina in the middle, becomes visible again.

Undyne sends a few practice jabs at her. Slow moving, as if she’s warming up.

It wouldn’t surprise Alphys if she hadn’t had time to do her pre-fight stretches. Had she known about the human...

The human is quick to block. Alphys isn’t sure how fast Undyne usually is, but she’s gotta be either fast or tricky if she’s going to get the better of the human.

At least from back here, Alphys can better analyze her fighting tactics.

“It’s almost a shame I have to kill you! You’re good!”

The human doesn’t dignify that with a response. She thinks on her menu for a while, selecting an invisible option with a joyless smile.

She holds out a hand, a music box appearing from her inventory. Pre-wound, it plays the moment it lands in her hand. A simple melody.

She drops the box in the water and does a few practice pirouettes.

Some kind of power-up? A stat booster?

At least Undyne’s picking up the pace a little, catching the human square in the chest after a particularly good turn.

The human, for her part, seems more interested in practicing ballet moves than actually fighting, spending her turn doing a series of rapid steps around the water. Somehow she manages to make it look graceful.

Alphys has a bad feeling about the way this fight is going.

Undyne starts feinting, and Alphys wonders if she’d get along with Sans. Back when he still used his swords, feinting was his favourite strategy. He’d probably love to be able to spar with her.

The human does a series of short hops in place, lifting one leg and then the other with each hop.

Alphys has a very bad feeling about this fight.

What colour was her SOUL again?

Blue. Aqua, as Sans insisted she refer to it.

Patience.

What was she waiting for? Is she powering up?

Bad news.

“U-Undyne, I know you don’t want my help, but-“

“Yeah. You’re right, I don’t.”

Alphys throws her hands up, exasperated already.

“Fine! What good is a support character when you could just stab her! It’s not like she’s obviously giving herself a bunch of buffs!”

“Wait...can you do something about that?”

“Yes! Obviously!”

“Oh. Well...go ahead, then.” Undyne says awkwardly.

Alphys almost wants to leave, but instead steps forward, letting her body go white again and automatically flicking her phone on and fiddling around with it.

The beginning of the Madoka Magica theme song blares out of her phone, causing the human to jump much less gracefully into the air.

She only ever made one music-based debuff in her time, so she isn’t even sure it worked.

The human closes her eyes, breathes in, and leaps forward. One leg points forward like a spear and Undyne’s so busy flexing-for whom, Alphys can’t help but wonder-she doesn’t even attempt to block the attack. Her helmet came clean off, the words “Grand Jetè” appearing in white cursive across the bullet board. The human landed on one leg, the other upraised at a ninety-degree angle.

She lowers her right leg and stomps, not out of anger but as if she recalled doing it before and was trying to remember why. After the splash of the water fades, Alphys thinks she hears something else sliding through the water.

“You took away my second action!”

Alphys lets out a long breath. So, it did work.

“Dang. Good work!”

A distant splash.

Undyne’s next turn is incredibly fast, incredibly complex, and Alphys is certain the human is slower now. Alphys chances darting forward and snatching Undyne’s helmet from the ground as she’s distracted. The human swings her foot down and makes contact with Alphys’ snout, but she manages to grab the helmet and run back. She takes very little damage and isn’t exactly sure why. She tries to get the helmet back on Undyne, but isn’t quite sure how it’s supposed to work.

The pixelated ballerina’s dress is back to the old blue on her turn but she doesn’t seem to care.

She’s bleeding badly but as she has no self-preservation instincts, it’s not surprising that she’s not even thinking of running away.

No self-preservation. No SOUL. No power.

The two of them might actually have a chance here.

The human’s distracted eyes swivelled toward Alphys.

Okay. Maybe not.

Instead of attacking Alphys, her eyes flash a light blue and Alphys feels something digging around in her mind.

A memory surfaces, an old one, and it drives Alphys to her knees.

She opens her eyes in a dark space, with a little boy standing in front of her.

Her son. Sans’ son. His skin is grey, his eyes are wide and white, but it’s him...isn’t it?

He speaks, and his voice is wrong but so, so familiar.

“You forgot me. Everyone forgot me.”

“Diego, cut it out.”

“That’s not my name!”

Alphys has never had to parent him before, and she thinks. After they had given him to her parents, she’d been his sister as long as he’d known her, so...what did they do?

And then she looks over him again. And she remembers what Sans told her.

Oh. Right. Illusions.

And she’s back on her feet in the dump, almost wishing she was still there. There’s something in the back of her mind telling her she’s forgotten something very important.

Undyne slams the human’s body into the water, and Alphys can clearly tell she’s dead. There’s blood running down Undyne’s face, much to Alphys’ surprise.

Undyne staggers and wheels around, eyes and feet wandering around the room.

Or...her eye.

-

Grillby steps off the Riverperson’s boat and thanks them for taking him to Hotland.

They hum.

“I foresee a coming Thursday. Thursdays are very good days.” They say, and for a second Grillby is sure he sees a smile in the depths of their hood.

“Thursdays are always coming.” He says, as if he doesn’t know better than to take it literally. The Riverperson laughs, a dry and jovial sound.

“You are more right than you know. I hope to see you again soon.”

They say, pushing their boat away from the shore.

“And I you. Take care.” He says softly, and looks forward. He passes the threshold to the next room and finds himself in the family village. Looking behind him, he sees the little river his father had routed into the place, just so his sons could visit without having to brave Waterfall. In front of him is the path that leads to his father’s house. It’s easily the largest in the area-only slightly smaller than the king’s house-but not as cozy-looking to most monsters.

He always wondered why his father had gone with such a stereotypical gothic house. He might as well hang signs saying “Ancient demon lord lives here!” on the thing.

The gargoyles on their pedestals flick their ears as he passes them by and turn to watch him ascend the stairs. The brass knockers gleam in his light, but he knows the door is open so he just pushes his way inside.

His father waits on the staircase, cane in hand.

“Have you been waiting long?” He signs.

“No, you’re just in time. Fuku is waiting to see you, but poor Heats is still distraught.”

“Still thinks it’s his fault?”

Apollyon nods gravely.

“And...what about you?”

“I’ve a theory as to what happened to you, but let’s not discuss it now.”

He says, and gestures for Grillby to climb the stairs.

Once they are face-to-face, Apollyon pulls him into a tight hug.

“It’s so good to see you back on your feet...metaphorically speaking. Do you feel alright?”

“I feel fine. A bit confused, if I’m honest, but otherwise...”

“Yes, well... I will explain my theory when I have you sat down with Dantalion and Fuku.” He says, striding purposefully through the open double doors.

“Dantalion? What do they have to do with it?”

“They have decided to move to Snowdin.”

“I do not need someone to look after me.” He says, pausing.

“They aren’t moving there to look after you. They’ve been planning this for a while, you know.”

He takes in a short breath, lets it out long and starts walking again.

“Yes. I know.”

“I think this village is getting too crowded for them. I’m not surprised, honestly. I imagine once we get back to the surface, half the village is going to move to Spain!”

Grillby chuckles.

“I have heard California is nice.” He says, as though he’d ever stray too far from his family.

“Not you too!” His father says, pushing open the door to the second floor balcony. Fuku was standing at the railing and staring out over the village.

“Hey dad.”

Apollyon shut the door behind Grillby and waved encouragingly from behind the glass.

Fuku laughed, looking back at her father.

“Despite what Papa might have said, I’m not angry.”

“He has said nothing about you.” He glances back at the door and is gratified that his father has gone to find Dantalion.

“Nobody else has told you what you said to them, right?”

He looks back to her, surprised she knows what he’s thinking.

“I mean, it’s an obvious thing. I mean, I’d be pretty curious if I lost a week of my life and people won’t tell me what I said or did. The reason nobody told you is probably because it doesn’t matter.”

He watched her face as she spoke and frowned. Dark blue streaks make their way up her face and snap out of existence in her luminous zone.

That isn’t quite the truth. Not quite a lie either, but she’s leaving something out.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“To be honest, it wasn’t as bad as everyone is acting like it is. You seemed convinced we knew things-like who Heats’ father was-and were keeping it from you.”

“Is that all?”

“You know, there were some insults, a lot of talk about how betrayed you felt. You know, the expected stuff, but honestly, you seemed too confused to make much of a point or explain your position.”

“Still, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to me.”

“Papa has a theory.” She sighs.

“Dad, what do you remember?”

He chuckles and wracks his brain for any memory from the past week.

“I don’t even have a full list of all the people I insulted. I...think I opened my bar one night, but I’m not sure about all the others.”

“No, I mean...your whole life.”

“Oh. I see. I suppose my father told you about my amnesia?”

She just waits for his answer.

“I remember my life before earth. Not that most of it was interesting. The war, falling...and some of my childhood. Things get fuzzy from fifteen until I met your mother. And I can’t remember the first few years after I left her.”

“Very little, then? Not surprising, you don’t even remember how many years it’s been since...that whole thing.”

“What do you mean? It’s been seven years! I remember that!”

“It’s been eight years.”

He opens his mouth and closes it again.

“I...haven’t been paying attention, I suppose. I mean, I’ve forgotten a lot of my life.”

“It’s fine. That’s not your fault.”

“Has my father told you his ‘theory’? About my memory?”

“Well...something you probably don’t remember from your childhood is that you apparently did something similar when you were around seven.”

Apollyon opened the door to the patio, ducking a little to get his head in. He looks anxious.

“Dantalion is in the parlour.” He says, too quickly.

Was he listening to us talk? How long has he been there?

“I did this before?”

Apollyon sighs, head and shoulders drooping.

“Fuku, I was going to tell him myself!”

“And when were you planning to?” She asks, crossing her arms.

“Literally right now?”

“Alright. Then why does it matter that I started you off?”

He awkwardly glances between them, then gives up.

“Let’s go meet Dante. I’ll tell you on the way.”

Grillby stood and walked after his father, worried he’d miss something if he didn’t move quick enough.

“So yes, when you were nine, a memory file got misplaced-I believe it was after you fell into that pond, you forgot the name of your favourite book-and every time someone asked about it, it was like two things were running at the same time that shouldn’t have been.”

“Did I ever get that file back?”

“We took you a specialist and got it sorted out, but...right now, you’re missing so many memory files and there’s no way to know where they are. We got lucky before; the file was at the bottom of the pond, we retrieved it, and once you had it back, you were fine.”

“Why did you not tell me before now? At least about memory files?”

“I have. Several times. But you’ve always failed to find the files. It just made you feel worse, and as long as nobody was able to remind you of things, you’d be fine. And well...nobody knows what you’ve forgotten.”

“Except Heats?”

More blue streaks on Fuku’s face. What does she know?

Apollyon is being truthful at least, no tightness to his expression. He just looks tired.

“Yes, it seems so. And about Heats...”

“Is something wrong?” Grillby asks, his flame a wild orange.

“Are you taking him back to your home?”

“If you think I can-“

“Dad, if you don’t want to-“

“I do! He already feels like this is his fault, I don’t want him thinking I don’t want him, I just...”

Apollyon nods decisively, moving around chairs in the dining room without any attention paid to them.

“I’m glad you said it. I was worried about the same thing myself. He’s been a delight to have, of course, but...”

“I’m his father. Being delighted by him is my job.” Even if I have to prove it to everyone in my own family.

Fuku chuckles.

“I hope you never talk about me that way!”

“Hate to break it to you, but he never shuts up about you. He’s so proud of this family’s only doctor...future doctor.”

“Daaad, that was supposed to be a surprise!”

“I was just too excited to keep it to myself!” He says, hugging her. She grins and pushes him away.

“Alright, alright, calm down.”

Apollyon opens the door to the parlour with a little smile. Grillby isn’t very familiar with this cousin, so he waits for their lead.

Dantalion stands and removes their mask, bowing slightly. Grillby responds the same way.

They straighten and Dantalion replaces their mask. Their arms disappear back into their bright orange poncho.

“You have a lovely smile, cousin! I so love to see people smile in our dreary world!”

-

Grillby hates his closet. Before he’d started looking through it for something date-appropriate, he’d had no feelings about it.

But when he opened the door and saw what was inside, he was reminded why he kept the door closed.

It’s a tidal wave of bad memories-his wedding dress, the skirt he was wearing when Fuku was conceived, the flats he’d nearly lost in the hospital, the clothes she’d bought that he never would have worn by choice-and a deep sadness.

He ran a finger over the hem of a shirt, sure it wasn’t tainted, and wished he’d be able to wear these things in public again. Then, for the hell of it, he’d tried something on.

He stands in front of a mirror now, regretting his choice.

A long skirt, high-waisted, flowing and white. A white blouse with a tiny embroidered flower over where a human’s heart would be and lacy trim. A sunhat with a black ribbon, not that he’d ever need such a thing down here.

The perfect picture of a modest meek, poised and graceful. Still, he knows he can’t keep it on. And he certainly couldn’t wear it out of the house.

“You look nice in that.”

Fuku says, catching a glimpse of him as she passes his room and pausing. They’ve only been back home an hour, but she’d come to check on him three times. At least it was less than his cousin’s five, but it was a little excessive.

“I am still fine, my dear.”

“I was just passing by! In an unsuspicious way!” She said, suspiciously.

“Anyways, um...you having trouble picking clothes for tomorrow? That outfit not doing it?”

He shakes his head, looking back at the mirror.

He is unsure how to voice his concerns. His problem isn’t that he doesn’t look good in it. It is the fact that he does.

“...do I look like a man in this?”

“Yeah. A really pretty man.”

“I...don’t want him to get the wrong idea, you know?” And Heats had never seen him this way.

“C’mon, dad. He obviously knows about your whole...situation-“

“My ‘situation?’ Grillby asks, grinning at her.

“Listen...he won’t be confused by your clothes. I assume he’s not an idiot and if you needed to, you would have already corrected him.”

“...are you sure?”

She sighs.

“Yeah, dad. But, if it’d make you feel more comfortable, we can go out somewhere and get you new clothes.”

“I...I like these clothes, I just...” He straightens his hat, “If you are certain he will be okay with-“

“Dad. He already loves you. Anything that leaves your mouth is gold to him.”

He looks himself over again and can’t help but smile.

Chapter 24: Another World

Frisk sits between Asnoch and Ruth for the third time. Of course, there would be no more violence between the pair of them. There hadn't even been any on the first night, unlike every other time they met up. Frisk assumed some form of deja vu had kept them calm.

They’re steadfastly refusing to look at each other, taking in the walls, the floor, the furniture of Frisk’s humble little home. Frisk stands to make tea.

“The worst part,” Ruth is saying, “Is that I never even stopped to think about it. I just hated you, and I just hated your people. I heard rumours and stories and I just...believed everything I was told.” Frisk sets a scavenged kettle over a fire and measures out tea leaves. They’ve been brewing their own tea for years, using golden flowers to add flavour.

“I understand. I don’t blame humans. Not entirely. Humans, I know, are easily influenced.”

“Influenced by what?” Ruth asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

He looks at Frisk for a long moment.

“I...don’t know anymore.”

They smile as they pour three cups of tea. Perfect.

They take a sip and bite back a sigh. Their homemade tea is not as strong as the boxed stuff underground. They can’t wait until they can get their hands on it again.

“The truth is, this is how humans have always been. We don’t need any outside influence, even when we know the people we’re up against.”

Asnoch lays a massive hand on her knee. Frisk doles honey into Asnoch’s cup and their own, awkwardly balancing all three on the way back to the table.

“I know. But there is no going back on what has already happened. We now have to move forward.”

They set the cups down a little too hard while trying not to drop them and flinch, but nobody pays them any attention.

“There are only two ways this can end, Noch. There’s a fifty percent chance this will go wrong.”

Ruth says quietly.

Frisk taps the table for their attention.

“There is only one way forward. He can’t hide forever.”

“He can try.” Asnoch says hopefully.

Ruth shakes her head.

“Listen, kid, I know you’ve been through a lot but you have no idea what might happen if other humans find out about him. You have not seen the worst of us.”

They’d heard her say this so many times, but it always makes them angry.

“I know more than you think. I have seen more violence, more cruelty in my years than you could possibly know.”

Their hands shake as they sign, desperately tamping down the magic gathering with each movement of their hands.

She’s quiet for a moment.

“How can you be so sure that this is going to end well?”

They’ve never managed to convince her with just words, and so they choose them carelessly.

“Because I know how it ends already.”

“And...it ends well?” Asnoch asks, buying every word that leaves their hands.

“For most people.” They sign, thinking again of the smell of Sans’ dust.

Ruth shakes her head.

“I don’t know how you can say that so confidently.”

“I believe you.”

Ruth looks at him for a very long time before she runs a hand over her face.

“Okay. I’ll help.”

-

Batsy Hart’s Practical Guide To Soulmates

Why do soulmates happen? It’s a question as old as soulmates themselves, and for a long time, there was no way to know.

Many cultures came up with their own way to explain them; most were romantic, or based on how well the pair would breed.

Some more interesting ideas; sirens believed that a soulmate bond happened when two people were made to fight together. It was hypothesized by Head Merrowe of the White Pearl school that “A soulmate’s bond is the only way to get a coward into battle. Who would desert when their soulmate will confront them later?”

Demons once believed that bonds were one-way siphons, a way for one demon to steal another’s strength. Soulmate bonds were seen as the worst and were operated on for centuries until Apollyon Morningstar-the patriarch of one of the most influential demonic families-stood against the separation of pairs.

Celestials had the idea that people’s souls were created halved. Soulmates were your other half, and that pairs are only at their full potential when they are together. While not completely accurate, it’s actually close to the truth.

It wasn’t until fifty years ago, when Dr. Farha Abdul began working with a bond reader-Lilith Flarefoot-and a Time’s Eye by the name of 20/30 that we found out why these bonds are created.

Every species has a power threshold; a limit to how strong their  SOUL is allowed to be. This keeps our world in balance, ensuring that everything stays in its place and that the universe doesn’t contort itself to the whims of one rogue entity.

It also orders creatures into a hierarchy of power, which allows the natural world to function predictably. A common worm cannot overpower a rhinoceros, for example; it’s simply impossible. This is easy to keep up with mortal, nonmagical creatures.

Things get trickier when dealing with magical creatures, especially immortal or eldritch creatures-though it’s been known to happen with completely average monsters  too-because they are more likely to be capable of breeding with other powerful species and creating a hybrid of the best traits of each.

These hybrids, if their SOULS are left intact, could become gods. To avoid this, the SOUL is split in two and divided into two developing bodies somewhere in the universe. This is often why monsters in pairs are stronger than their unpaired peers.

Bonds usually make themselves known when the two halves are close, or if the bond gets impatient.

You see, unlike most bonds, this one acts like the connection between body and SOUL. If the two halves are separated too long, it will spur them forward. The thing you once were wants to be whole again.

-

A knock comes at three o'clock exactly. Then, Sans' voice.

"Knock knock."

Grillby smiles.

"The door is unlocked."

"C'mon! Play along for once!"

A smile flashes across his face. I'll be nice this time.

"Who is there?"

"Snow."

Naturally.

"Snow who?"

"Snow use askin' when you can just open the door."

He grins, then takes a second to let the greens in his flame fade, and fights down his smile. He opens the door.

"How long did it take you to come up with that one?"

Sans takes a second to respond, his eyelights trailing lazily down Grillby's ensemble. He'd changed his embroidered shirt to a light brown button-up, and gone for a  high-waisted skirt instead.

"All day. You look good."

"So do you." He said, switching to sign language.

Sans had changed his old coat and athletic shorts-an odd choice for a man who never does anything-for a dark blue cardigan with a wide collar and a pair of jeans.

He’d seen Sans in his usual shirtless attire only an hour before-he’d been eating a hot cat-and Grillby worried he’d show up dressed like that. Papyrus was talking his ear off, as the organics would say, so Grillby hadn’t had to decide if he was going to warn Sans about it.

Grillby picks up his umbrella-even though it isn't snowing-as he leaves his house. He's already dropped hydrophobia pills into his flats and hopes they can just go to the Riverperson's room right away. At least, he's sure Sans wouldn't make plans in Waterfall.

"Where are we going?"

Sans speaks as he walks, Grillby having to moderate his walk cycle to stop from automatically outpacing him.

"There's a new restaurant open in the capital-you know the last Winter street?"

He nods, though in the back of his mind he’s wondering if Sans just eats for fun. He can’t imagine Sans needs to eat again this soon. Had he forgotten about their date?

He shakes his head, physically and mentally refuting the idea.

"It's there; they still haven't changed the name. I've been a couple times, this week and last week. And after...a little surprise."

"Winter Street no longer snows, right?"

"Yeah, I guess whatever was causing the weather moved on half a year ago? It was in the news then, at least, that all the snow melted overnight.”

“That is good.”

Sans leads Grillby toward the blizzard, stopping him in his tracks.

Sans smiles back at him.

“I know a shortcut. You won’t have to worry about the snow.“

“Yes, but I will still need to-I don’t want you to have to-“

“It’s not a shortcut in the traditional sense. I promise, you won’t see a single snowflake on our way there.”

Grillby sighs.

“I will hold you to that promise.”

Sans grins at him and walks backward to the transition screen.

Everything goes black, and when he can see again, he doesn’t recognize where he is.

They’re standing on a cobblestone road, still the pale blue of Winter Street. Quaint little shops line the street, cute old-fashioned lanterns hanging from each building.

Sans scrutinizes his face as he fights to maintain a bored expression.

“So, not much of a shortcut, then.”

Sans grins.

“You’re impressed, I can tell.” He says, gesturing for Grillby to follow him to a little bistro called Apéritif.

“Perish the thought.”

“Heh. I think I already did, Sunshine.” He says, winking cheerily.

He stands on his toes to open the door for Grillby.

How cute.

“ Grazie . ” He says, holding back on taking the door from Sans, who is far too short for the job he’s given himself.

Grillby sits, Sans steering him toward a table with a padded chair he can actually sit on and see over the table.

Sans takes his order and walks to the cash.

The cashier nearly backs away from Sans when they get a good look, but force themself to smile and serve him. He seems unfazed, acting as if they aren’t the most conspicuous couple in the Underground.

Grillby squints at the other customers-an old Lapine, a couple of triangular red Drakin, a pink slime who blubs quietly into their cellphone.

Another celestial, one wearing an Aperatif uniform, notices him while cleaning one of the tables and automatically straightens.

They come over and take Grillby’s hands. The pair exchange no words, but he knows what is wanted from him. Grillby dips his head and presses his mouth against their hands, glancing awkwardly at Sans, who is heading back to their table.

He looks entirely uninterested in the process, as if he’s seen this a few thousand times.

The other celestial returns the favour, then walks off. Sans waits for them to leave before sitting across from him and sliding the bag over. He pulls a pad of paper out of his pocket and sets it down on the table.

“Do you know that guy?”

“My apologies, we were just-“

“Don’t worry, I know.” He says, waving his hand dismissively.

“Oh, right. I didn’t even think about it, but I suppose it’s obvious to you what I am?”

He nods.

“That’s a relief, if anything.” He admits with a chuckle.

The worker behind the register-an imp, he thinks-sees him signing and shoots a look at the other celestial. She lets herself out from behind the cash and sidles up to their table, keeping her voice low.

“I see that you’ve chosen to sit near the street. I should warn you, in a few minutes, Winter street will become rather busy and noisy.” She gestures widely but carefully, giving his flames a huge berth.

How rude! As if I would catch her on fire!

Sans’ sockets narrow and he rolls his hand around in a “keep going” sort of motion.

She looks at Grillby and bounces on her hooves.

“If your-“

“I’m not his.” He signed, ignoring the rest of the server’s words and anything Sans might have to say.

“I-I see.  If...you...are of a particularly delicate temperament-“

“He isn’t.” Sans interrupts.

“If you’re sure your...the meek will not become hysterical-“ she seems genuinely put off by Grillby responding to her in his own words.

The other celestial catches his eye and turns blue in solidarity.

Sans glares at the server and says “We’re fine.”

He stared at her until she left, glancing dubiously back at them. Sans crosses something off of the paper.

“What is that?” Grillby glances at it, sees a list of restaurant names, and frowns when he sees that “Aperitif” has been crossed off.

Places he’s taken dates?

“Oh, I just like to keep tabs on places where servers act like that. And, uh, never come back to them.”

“Oh.” He says, jealousy dripping from his movements.

How many meek lovers has he had before me?

“You okay? We can go somewhere else. There’s this great place down the street-“

“I am fine.” He says, and smiles fakely.

Sans is clearly unconvinced, but he drops the subject. He pulls a croissant out of the little paper bag and begins picking it apart.

“Didn’t you eat less than an our ago?”

“An hour and fifteen minutes ago. I gotta keep a high buffer on my HP if we’re going to have any sort of serious conversation.”

“Why? I certainly can’t reject you for who you are; I will love you eventually no matter what you say.”

“But you don’t have to be happy about it. And until I’m loved, you absolutely can reject me. I’m a bit surprised you haven’t already. Usually things don’t get this far.”

“But, consider the alternative; I might accidentally find things out about you and keep them to myself, never giving you a chance to explain, and spend the rest of our days terrified you’re some sort of parasite who’s stolen my real soulmate’s body. For example.”

“Just a random, oddly specific example, eh?”

"So...?"

"We can talk about that after we eat, okay? Not in public. There’s a lot of stuff I have to keep to myself for safety reasons.“

“That’s understandable.” He opens a hole in his face, slipping a thin sliver of coated pine wood into the opening.

Sans took in a deep breath, trying to subtly breathe in the woodsmoke he exhaled.

“Sorry.” He says, seeming to realize he’s been caught.

“No, don’t be. Woodsmoke is one of the best things to come from my new sense of smell.”

“This your first time having a core with a sense of smell?” He asks, eyeridges raising.

“No, but it’s still new to me. It might take a decade or more for me to be used to it; you know how it is for us immortals.”

“Oh, yeah, duh. How long have you had it?”

“Hmm...about a year?”

“Man, to think I’ve been taking it for granted for forty years...”

“You’re forty?”

“Thirty-nine. I know, I know, I don’t look a day over twenty.” He says with a wink.

“Hmm...you know, I don’t recall saying that...” He says, pretending to think on it.

“Harsh!” He said, his grin tugging incomprehensibly.

Did I actually offend him?

He winks again.

“Well, what did I expect? My back goes out more than I do.”

“You’re going to have to do much better than that, I’m afraid.” He says, feigning a yawn.

Sans’ eyes light up at the challenging note in his voice, his smile turning Cheshire-like.

“Don’t give me any ideas.”

...

“So, three weeks later, Papyrus storms downstairs, absolutely silently grabs the ladder-“

Grillby lets out a short bark of laughter, pulling his hand out of Sans’ to cover his mouth, leaning back against the bench.

“-And for the next five minutes, I hear things dropping on the floor and Papyrus is shouting things like “Fiddlesticks! He finally finishes setting all his action figures and pencils back where he wants them, and he comes back downstairs and says-heh-he says ‘Sans! Someone broke into our house last night and taped all my action figures to the ceiling!’”

Both of them break down laughing, the passerby on Winter Street briefly glancing at the couple and then away very quickly.

Grillby scoots a little closer, not entirely on purpose, still laughing quietly.

Sans’ eyelights flick up to his face. There’s a kind of tension, the two of them making eye contact for a few long seconds. They break it, but Grillby’s mind wanders to the thoughts they were both entertaining. It was a silly thing to want, for two beings without lips.

Though, now that he thinks of it, he had already formed them for something much less exciting today.

Then there came the question of sensation; would it even feel right? He’d never even thought to try kissing a skeleton before.

Would it even be right? Would it be leading him on, since he hasn’t fallen in love yet?

Sans stands and cracks his back.

“Do, you remember I told you I had a surprise for you? You ready to head there?”

Grillby nods and stands as well.

“Come with me.” He says, jerking his head for Grillby to follow. He sets his sights on a street corner that led to a dead end that Grillby nervously followed him down.

Things were about to get more dangerous, he realized. It was time for a bit of mild interrogation.

As the black screen raised, Grillby found himself standing in a wide open space-at least by the Underground’s standards- with a relatively high ceiling. And in front of them...a sunspot. An empty sunspot, the light climbing precariously down onto a patch of soft grass, dotted with odd little flowers he didn’t recognize.

“They haven’t added this to the list of sunspots yet, so I thought I’d take you here before it got crowded. We can talk about more private stuff here.”

Grillby stands under it; there are so few of them, even less since the Ruins were sealed. He hasn’t sunned himself in about a year.

“How did you find it?” He asks, getting the urge to change forms and stretch out under the sun.

“I was wandering between sunspots and ended up getting a bit...lost.”

“Why didn’t you just stay at one?” He asks, lying on his back, uncaring how dirty his clothes will get and examines the closest flower. They looked like miniature dahlias; Tiny and black, with short, pointy petals in round clusters.

“People tend to stare or leave places when I’m around. I usually avoid ‘em, but I just...really needed it that day. You can stretch out if you want.”

“No, I won’t. You need the sun too. What, do you smell or something? Why would people avoid you?”

Sans sits beside him, his eyesockets crinkling with affection before he realizes what Grillby asked.

“Skeletons-especially human ones-aren’t supposed to look like this. My birth defects should have killed me before I’d even left the incubator and anyone who’s seen more than one human skeleton generally knows that.”

“I didn’t know that.” He says defensively.

“Well, I’m sure nothing seems normal about Papyrus and me. Skeletons are supposed to look like him, anyway. The proportions, the skull shape, the, uh...amount of ribs and vertebrae...” He says, his voice growing more and more uncomfortable as he speaks.

"But you aren't human. I already know that."

"My body is."

"Did your host die?” He asks, and feels like a dick doing so. He knows how rough that can be from his father, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.

"Never had one."

Grillby lays still for a second, wanting to let it go, but sits up to look at him. He can't keep the black out of his flame.

"That makes no sense, Sans."

"That's what everyone says. But, I'm not like other symbiotes. Although, without a host...do I even count?" He's lost in thought for a few seconds before he shakes his head.

"It doesn't matter. I’ve always been alone in this body.”

“How?”

“This body was made for me. Grown in a lab and everything.”

“And what about you? I’ve barely even seen the real you. What...are you?” Gods, he’s being rude today.

“This is gonna be frustrating, but I don’t know what I am.”

“Well, what are your parents?”

“Never met my birth parents.”

“Did...no, you’re older than Papyrus, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” his mouth tugs into a grimace, “And I’m...adopted...? Anyway?” He says, his face screwed up as he does some mental gymnastics.

“Well, didn’t your adoptive parents try and figure out where you came from?”

Sans blows a breath through his teeth.

“It’s not...lemme explain, because nothing’s ever that simple with me. I know where I came from, physically. So did my dad, and the guy before him. I’m...jesus, this is going to sound nuts.” He trails off and thinks about it for a minute.

“Sans?”

“Sorry, it’s just...this never gets easier. Okay. There’s another world underneath this one. Not like...Hell, but something under that? I’m not really sure how best to explain it. I don’t know that much about it, honestly. Most of the discoveries my father made about it were destroyed during an...incident when I was twelve.”

What kind of conspiracy theory is Sans about to lay down?

“The incident that made you break your MERCY button?”

He sighs.

“Yeah, that’s the one. The way my dad explained it was that if you turned this world on its back, you would be able to see that world. Because of that, we ust called it the Underside. That other world is a world of darkness, for the most part, just like this is a world of light. I was born? Created? Honestly, I can’t say... I was...whatever in that world. I have no idea what I am.”

That’s true. Difficult to swallow, but undeniable fact.

“I must admit that I’m not sure about this whole ‘underside of our world’ thing. It’s...you have to understand, I’m a rather simple man and you are the only person in the world who has ever even suggested something like this to me.”

“I know. It’s kind of a high-concept thing; I recognize that. Honestly, I wish I had more answers for you.”

Sans looks upward, his skull turning ghostly in the light.

“Can I see you?”

“I don’t know, can you? That’s sort of an existential question isn’t it?”

Grillby sits up to glare at him.

“I meant the real you. Outside of your body.”

“Shoulda seen that coming, I guess.  I’ll warn you though, it’s kinda unpleasant to watch me leave it. If you wanna turn away or whatever, go ahead.”

“I’ll watch. If it frightens me, I’ll never have to see it again.”

“Okay. Here I go.”

Sans lays his body flat under the sun.

“Why are you doing that?”

“If my body falls and dusts, I will die. I have to be connected to something in this world to stay alive.”

If Grillby had eyes, he’d roll them.

“Yes, I know. I was raised by demons. I mean, why are you laying under the sun? If you came from the world of darkness, wouldn’t it hurt you?”

“...No? Does being in the dark hurt you?”

Fair.

He watches the light fade from Sans’ eyes and shivers a little.

His jaw lets out a little ‘pop’ and goes slack.

A black, viscous liquid pours out of his mouth, the sunlight filling it with the occasional white highlight. It (he?) slithers out of his skull and splats against the grass.

He takes a few seconds to collect all of himself, then stretches his body up into a long shape, roughly five feet long, with a small oval for a head. His body becomes more defined, growing horned ridges and light blue eyes. The oval splits, revealing pure white fangs in a blue mouth.

His body builds again, seemingly halfway through his first shape. The horned ridges become huge sockets, the eyes migrating to the front of the face, the mouth growing rounded and above a barely-defines chin. The long, sinuous body grows limbs with wicked talons and flat, clawed feet. A tail begins to form, but Sans thinks better of it. Finally, the whole thing compresses back to Sans’ regular height.

When Sans looks at Grilllby, he’s grinning ear to ear.

“Fascinating.”

Notes:

IT’S BEEN
EIGHTEEN YEARS
seriously though, I’m really sorry for my long absence! I’ve been kinda having financial trouble, so I’ve been focusing on taking extra hours and trying to make stuff to sell.
But now I’m back at it. Rejoice
(and donate to my ko-fi (jk))
Changed this back because this is not connected in any way to Deltarune

Chapter 25: Private Investigations

It's too goddamn cold in Snowdin, and Alphys' heavy parka isn’t doing much to keep her body warm. Her limbs are stiff as she approaches her parents' home. She knocks on the door.

"Ahh...That's our daughter's knock."

Her father opens the door and is already retreating back into the house before she even begins to move.

"Come on, don't let too much of the cold air in."

Diego climbs off his enclosed chair, tail swaying as he attempts to stay standing.

"What are you doing here, sis? Don't you have nerd stuff to be doing?"

She sticks her tongue out at him and hugs her open-armed mother.

"I wish you'd called ahead! If I'd known you were coming, I would have made something a little more interesting for dinner..."

Smells like dragonfly stew. She takes in a deep whiff-was there a hint of mouse underneath?- and decided not to mention that it’s better than anything she’s eaten in months. Or that she had an appointment looking after Undyne’s eye earlier and hadn’t been able to eat after-She’s going to have to remove what little there was left of it-and so anything would be fine.

Or that most mornings, she wakes up from terrible nightmares of a grey girl who looks so much like her brother, a girl that calls her “Mom” and asks why she forgot her.

She doesn’t say it, but she hadn’t called ahead for exactly that reason. After what’s been going on recently, she needs something simple.

"It's fine, mom. Besides, you know I love dragonflies!”

“Yes, I know, dear. We used to fear that you’d sprout wings one day!”

“Oh please, I haven’t gone feral in at least a month.”

Another good thing about being back home was that she could pull out jokes like that and have people laugh. Drakin humour doesn’t really reach other monsters.

They all snort as her mother begins ladling the stew into Diego’s bowl. She watches him eat out of the corner of her eye, taking the bowl up with his feet.

He’s much more flexible than either her or his father; or at least than Sans’ skeletal body. He must have gotten his flexibility from Sans’ real body, because Alphys couldn’t do that kind of thing.

He’s why she’s here, but now isn’t the time to ask him questions.

The meal is so normal it’s surreal.

“How is your work going?”

“Not well. Honestly, nothing’s happening with my patients. I’ve treated them and I’m just...waiting.”

Her father fiddled with his glasses uncomfortably.

“I may not be a scientist, but I know you’ve done everything you can, dear. If you can’t do it, then bringing monsters back from falling simply isn’t possible.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“You’re the smartest person I know, sis. I know those people are gonna wake up soon.”

She’s quiet.

“I’ll ask you a less awkward question, then!” Her mother says with a little giggle, “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Ew.” Diego says, sticking his tongue out at her.

“No, mom. Still single.”

“Oh, but someone’s got your attention, I can tell.” Her parents exchange winks.

“Is it Sans again?”

She groans, running a hand down her face.

“We’ve always just been friends, mom.”

She glances at Diego and then back at Alphys, as if to say “Are you sure?”

“So you say.”

She’s never been convinced of that, Alphys knows, but it’s the truth. Sans had come to the conclusion he was gay pretty early into their time together. They’d agreed to have Diego together to keep Sans aging, but he made his lack of attraction to her very clear.

“Well, if it isn’t Sans...”

“It’s Undyne.” She says, and her mother shakes her head.

“You’re no fun, Al! You didn’t even let me guess!”

“You should’ve raised me better.” Alphys said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“We tried our best. Where did we go wrong?” Her father joked.

The conversation went quiet until they’d finished eating-not awkward, just quiet-and once they were done cleaning up, Alphys asked her parents to vacate the room.

“Oh, sure, honey. Is this...about his father?”

Of course, they knew Sans was dying. It would have made sense to ask, if Diego knew Sans was his father. But he doesn’t.

“No. He doesn’t know about Sans, and I’m not going to tell him.”

“If you think that’s what’s best...”

“I do. No, Sans is still fine, I just wanted to ask him about something I saw recently.”

Her parents seemed unsure, but she ushered them out as subtly as possible.

Diego was sitting in front of the TV. Some silly action movie was playing. A drakin and an Aaron are caught up in a fight, a dozen bullets flying around them in an impressive show of sparks.

As she approaches, she realizes Diego isn’t really paying attention to it. He holds a pencil in one foot, stabilizes himself with the other one. There’s blank paper on the table, an eraser nearby. Potential in its purest form.

He sketches out the drakin’s head, stopping to look at the TV occasionally.

“I didn’t know you drew.”

Diego jerks, surprised, and drops his pencil.

“You scared the crap out of me!” He glances down at it the pencil and grabs at it, sighing.

“Yeah. I’ve started drawing recently. It’s not very good yet, but...yeah.”

“That’s cool.” She watches him sketch. He’s actually pretty good, not that she’d ever admit it.

She huffs as the drakin on-screen goes feral, and Diego smiles up at her.

“I’ve only seen that happen once, but it’s in every action movie.” She says, by way of apology.

“Really? You’ve seen it?”

“Yeah. Back when we lived with the rest of the Molten River, we got into a bit of...conflict with another reclusive people. Don’t remember where they lived, but the head went feral once a couple thousand of these little...dogs? Cats? Invaded the village. Never fought, just annoyed us.”

“Wow! I didn’t know he did that.”

“Yeah. I kinda wish I still lived there. He was a cool guy.”

“I mean, I’m not a drakin anyway.”

He says it casually, which is a little surprising, but it’s not like he wouldn’t have noticed he wasn’t like the rest of the family.

“Did you think I didn’t know?” She stares at him, waiting for the rest of his sentence, but he doesn’t.

“I don’t know. You’re half drakin, at least, so I thought maybe you’d just think... you know.”

“Yeah. I know.” They sit in silence for a long time.

“Have you ever seen a monster like you anywhere else?” She asks, thinking of that little grey child she had seen in her visions.

He makes another few, quick strokes with the pencil and she thinks he isn’t going to answer her.

He taps the pencil against the paper and takes in a conspicuous breath.

“No.”

Just like his father.

-

Grillby has...interests. Fascinations, that he long learned would make others’ eyes glaze over. Would make folks glance at wristwatches and hurry off to urgent appointments they never made. He got used to ignoring those interests, but seeing Sans’ dark, sinuous body shift and reformulate Grillby had felt those passions stir in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He’d never seen anything like him before.

Grillby had read at least two cryptozoological tomes cover to cover after coming home, taking notes until late into the night. Looking for even the slightest lead on what Sans might be.

He hadn’t read anything in several months. It was nice.

Fuku had come home an hour later than he had and asked him what he was doing, but she got bored halfway through his explanation.

He hadn’t found much that would hold water, but he wasn’t even halfway through his own books, and there were several he had donated to a library in the capital, with his ex-wife’s help. They’re reference-only because of their rarity, but that’s fine. He is taking extensive notes anyway.

...

The clerk at New Home’s nonfiction reference library gives him a strange look as he passes over the list of books he needs. He’d gotten her help with the online catalog and found several books he’s never heard of on the subject to add to his already ridiculous bibliography.

Still, he’s excited. He’d been looking for James P. Blatt’s A Grimoire For The Identification And Classification Of Cryptozoological Creatures, 201ii, but some kind monster had donated the 201IX version, bless their SOUL.

There had been only that one published since 201iii one, since there had been less and less diversity in species’ children every year. He wasn’t sure, but he was suspecting so few people bothered to go elsewhere in the Underground that most towns were unintentionally segregated.

As he researched, he called Sans over and over, probably to an annoying degree.

He takes his calls out outside and asks dozens of questions each time.

“Can you change your colouring?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have to live around the SOUL?”

“I tend to stay in the skull, I’m less visible there.”

“Has a doctor ever catalogued your organs?”

“What an ominous question, uh, no?”

“Can you change your physical makeup?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you always goo?”

“No, it just takes a bit of effort to be a solid.” He scratched out “slime” and tapped his pencil against the paper.

“Can you be a gas?”

“Uh...lemme check...uhh...”

The phone dropped to the floor, and was then picked up again. He tried not to laugh.

“Yes, I can be a gas. How have I never tried that before?”

“No clue. Do you only have two forms, or can you do whatever you want?”

“I can do whatever. If I want my physical form to be bigger, I’d have to be healthier. But right now, I can only be a little bigger than my skeleton.” Definitely not some sort of changeling, they had a limit to their mass.

“What’s the biggest you’ve gotten?”

“Fifteen feet. I never tried any bigger, because fifteen feet seemed to freak people out enough.” Sans seems uncomfortable with being grilled, so he decides to end the call after one more question.

“Are you free on Monday? I’m going to be taking the day off.”

Sans laughed.

“I’m always ‘free’ when it comes to you, sunshine.”

-

Monster Cultures Around the World by Sigmet of the Thunder Wing People

Demon culture is difficult for most people, monster and human alike, to understand. What most people have trouble grasping is how deeply  power is entrenched in demon culture.

As a matter of fact, whereas most species have male/female/neutral pronouns with several other possible pronouns, demon pronouns are perfectly binary and based entirely on your lifestyle.

Demons will rarely refer to themselves as “male” “female” or as any sort of nonbinary, unless they are hiding themselves from those around them. The only gendered words that are commonly used in demon families are used to refer to the head of the family, “patriarch”, “matriarch” and “overarch”.

Demons will instead refer to themselves as “meek” or “driven”, which is an easy to understand binary, but I will explain it anyways.

Driven run every aspect of demon life. They are allowed to have any job they want, marry whoever they want, and are expected to be ambitious, brave, everything you would associate stereotypically with  demonkind.

Meek were, until about three decades ago, much more legally regulated than driven. Now they are only held to societal standards; they have all the legal rights as driven, though most are pressured family into restrictive roles.

Meek are expected by society to be quiet, timid and above all obedient to driven. They rarely expect to be allowed to choose their partners or hold jobs, and are typically considered weak. Most meek are selectively mute or generally told not to speak without a guardian’s permission.

Until the legal battles the Morningstar family fought three decades ago, meek were property and driven used them as status symbols. Three decades ago, things began to change for them.

This change was championed by Apollyon-the patriarch of the Morningstar family-a driven who took in abused and abandoned meek by the dozens, on behalf of his meek children.

Notes:

So. Hi! Been a bit, eh?
This month has been super busy for me, partially because I spent a week and a half doing nothing but cross stitching a bookmark for my dads birthday, partially because of artfight, and partially because of a prompt for a group on da....and in the middle of all this, my rsi and other medical issues have been flaring up. Hopefully I’ll be able to be more consistent this month, but I’m saving up for a bunch of braces or elastic bandages for my medical stuff, so I might be working more often....
That all aside, I’m very sorry about the wait
I hope you like this chapter anyway

Chapter 26: Things We Know

Alphys asked around the Underground, trying to figure out where her brother likes to play, who he spends time with, what he likes to do in his spare time.

She’s nervous about her plan, but she needs to know what he knows. And it really wouldn’t hurt to have an early warning system for the next humans to come.

At least, that was how she was justifying the cameras.

She started in Snowdin, only placing two around the town. He didn’t spend much time around there of his own volition, and neither did the humans.

A few people just watched, two in particular standing out to her. One looked to be a celestial-Sans would probably be able to identify their exact place in the night sky-and the other covered their entire body head to toe with a heavy orange poncho, tight black clothes and a smiling mask with cross shaped eyes. Their horns were the only visible thing she was sure belonged to them.

They watched her, disapproving, though they spoke to one another in low voices and the one in the mask occasionally said something that made the celestial blush. Were they lovers?

Other citizens were not as distant, and she cursed herself for not thinking of that beforehand.

“Alphys! Do you have any news on my mother?”

“Why haven’t I heard anything about my son? Has he woken up?”

“Is the treatment almost done? I just want to see my wife again.”

“It’s my best friend’s birthday next week and...can you just give them this bone? Even if they haven’t woken up...”

Alphys fought off all of the grieving families and friends, wishing she hadn’t taken this on. Necromancy was never the easiest profession, but she usually only took one or two  jobs at a time... and this was sixteen families, fourteen fallen.

She wasn’t ready for this. What had she been thinking?

She couldn’t handle this responsibility.

...

Alphys narrowed her eyes at each entrance to the room, listening and looking for any sign of someone approaching over the rushing water and boulders flowing into the water below.

She needs to do some flying-not completely feral-but she knows that even minor form changes are the sort of thing that make other monsters gasp and point.

Most monsters don’t do it maliciously, but it’s still unpleasant.

She can’t hear or see anything coming, so she removes her lab coat and folds it up beside the bridge. She’d put on a tank top that showed off her protruding scapulae and she felt...bare. Exposed. It wasn’t like she could hide that she was drakin, but actively engaging with it in such a visible way wasn’t what she was used to doing.

Her scapulae lengthen, the skin stretching as if the bone is pulling it along for the ride. It forms two joints, a hard ridge with soft membrane between them. The skin begins to harden into little bumps, then raise into blue spikes at her joints.

Her eyes fill with black, but she holds the electricity back; if it touched the water it might fry most of Waterfall.

She spreads her wings and flies to the top of the waterfall, giving the constantly falling boulders a wide berth. At the top, she creates a magical dam, reinforcing it every time a boulder smashes into it until it can withstand multiple hits and she is sure there will be no water in the center of the waterfall while she sets the camera up.

Once she’s done, she removes the dam and flies to the bridge to watch the water and make sure none of it gets to the camera.

She shifts her wings away, hearing voices on the distance, then the words repeated in the same voice; someone was probabilities talking an echo flower.

Alphys runs a hand over her snout. It’s been a stressful day and she wonders if she could use an echo flower conversation or two. She certainly couldn’t use the public ones, but she knows of a room where Sans keeps an echo flower alone, with a bench he’d built himself in better times.

-

Grillby and Dantalion had watched the cameras being installed and they were not pleased with the addition to their town.

“Well, that is unfortunate!” Dantalion says, far too cheerily.

“Yes. I have no clue what those could be for...”

“I suppose I will be awfully well-acquainted with the inside of my mask by the time we leave here.”

“I can’t imagine how this could be considered proper.”

“Oh, I doubt it’s for me. I am simply not important enough for all this effort. It is an unpleasant side effect. Although...”  They tap their mouth with one hand, exposing their other, frankly unnecessary arms.

“Yes?”

“What point is there in pretending I am not a demon? If you are seen as a demon and I live with you, will I not be seen as a demon? Perhaps I already am.”

“There is a difference between being known as a demon and having people you do not trust seeing your true face.”

“I guess that’s why you don’t walk around with your wings out.”

“Mostly because I can’t fly anyway and an eight foot wingspan isn’t exactly ideal on the kitchen.”

“No? What a shame! I’ve heard you’re quite beautiful in your true form.”

Grillby flushes green.

“...You have?”

“Of course! Not to imply that you are inferior in your current state-“

Grillby laughs.

“Please, there is no need to flatter me.”

Dantalion chuckled.

“I can’t help myself. You’re so stunning! Do you know that I can’t be bothered to flirt with people at your bar because of you? I thought these folks would be less discerning but you have spoiled them!”

“It’s a tragedy, truly. How could I do this to you, my only cousin. The only cousin I have.”

They both giggle like children, and watch half a dozen people surround the Royal Scientist with questions about their loved ones. They decide to go back to the bar, the scene becoming a bit too somber for them.

As they reach the door, Dantalion smiles devilishly.

“So, when is Apollyon going to meet your soulmate?”

-

The people are fearful. A monster has been seen around the town and nobody knows how to respond.

Asnoch has been keeping his distance, and things aren’t going like they usually do. Humans are avoiding him, not confronting him.

Frisk sits at Ruth’s coffee table, sipping tea and bouncing their leg nervously. Ruth looks out the window every once in a while.

There’s so much tension in the air that finally Frisk has to break the silence...or something near enough to it.

“How did you meet him?”

“Asnoch?”

Who else?

“Before that whole...flowers showing up wherever he is thing, Asnoch was a blacksmith. So am I. I was lucky enough to meet him through work. I had no idea when I met him that I was talking to the future king of monsters, I just knew that he was a stick in the mud and I told him so.”

Frisk laughed. Yeah. That sounds like her. They don’t know what to say next and lapse back into silence.

They look out the window again, nervous about the silence, nervous about the possibility of hearing a scream in the distance.

“What changed your mind during the war?”

Ruth glanced at the window too, then let out a long breath.

“That village you live in right now wasn’t burned out before the war. I was here when it happened and I was the first up that mountain.

...

Ruth heard the water cannons surrounding the town pop on and spray something at around midnight.

She jumped to her feet and snatched up Dragontamer, unsure if there was an attack coming. Halfway out the door, she saw a horrible sight.

A creature made of light and fire flew across the sky, shrieking as it was hit flying over Mount Ebbott.

It crashed into the mountainside in a plume of flame. Ruth gasped and ran. She didn’t even think about it, she just committed to the mountain path, to that village on the top.

And if she should happen to find that monster still alive, well. Her and Dragontamer could take care of that.

...

There was nothing left of the village by the time she got there. Only one building was still burning, the rest in cinders. The air felt like soup going through her lungs and there was a smell of burning flesh, despite nobody being visible outside their homes.

Ruth stood, panting and weeping a few feet down the path, not knowing what to do. There was nothing left to save.

Something moved in the fire, unnatural in form and action. It pulled forward, then separated from the rest of the flame.

It was humanoid in form and dragged itself across the ground, flames turning a ruddy red before extinguishing. After a second of thought, she knew it couldn’t be human and she approached it, holding Dragontamer aloft as a pair of weak-looking wings sprouted from its back.

The monster watched her with a sort of hopelessness that gave her pause. It didn’t even move, its fan-shaped head tilted toward her and its white eyes unblinking.

She shook her head, raised the blade again, then jumped back when a ring of fire burst from the charred black earth.

She narrowed her eyes at the weakened figure, then squatted to meet one of the white eyes.

“You know other humans are coming, don’t you?”

The creature nodded, drawing its knees up and curling its wings around itself.

“Why did you come here?”

“It doesn’t matter. I will die no matter what I say.”

The flame faded for a second, then came back stronger.

She lay Dragontamer across her lap.

“Listen, there are things worse than death that...I’ve heard of happening, even at my own base. If you’re some sort of scout, we need to know, but if you tell me the truth now, I can kill you quickly. It’ll be a kind of mercy.”

It laughed, hollowly.

“A very human way to see mercy. You’ve already done worse than kill me. There is nothing you can do to get me to talk; I am already dead.”

What the hell was she meant to say to that?

“I can help you. Just tell me what you’re doing-“

“Did you not hear me? I’m a dead man already. What you do to me does not matter. Even if I get away from you, my wife is going to kill me anyway.”

A man, then. A stab of pity ran through her as she realized he’d just admitted to being abused; not in specific terms, but she knew enough.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” She asked, forgetting for a millisecond what had happened in the past few months.

His eyes began to glow as he struggled to his feet.

“Do not pretend to be kind to me!”

She put a hand on the hilt of Dragontamer.

“Why not?”

“You took my child!” The creature shrieked, the flames roaring higher around him as he stumbled forward, sending sloppy jets of flame toward her before he collapsed to his knees. He lay there trembling for a long time before speaking.

“If you truly want to be merciful, please, tell me why you’re doing this to us.”

“We have no reason to take your kid. Is this why you’re here?”

“I’m going to die anyway. What is the harm in giving me some small comfort before it happens?” He didn’t respond to her question, but she knew that was it.

“No, I’m serious. No reason we would take a child, unless we found them alone. How old w...how old are they?”

“I had her three days ago.”

“She’s been missing three days?”

He shook his head.

“I gave birth three days ago.”

“She’s a newborn?”

He nodded, his eyes closed and he curled himself up more. The fire died out around his body. He trembled, but didn’t open his eyes.

Without the crackling fire, she could hear footsteps and voices on the way up, very close by.

“I know she’s probably dead. So you might as well so me a favour. You’d kill me gentler than her.”

“Your wife?”

“Yes.”

She watches his pulsing light for a minute before turning away.

She points to a path leading away, far from the city she came from.

“Go find your daughter. I won’t talk about you. Just, move quickly and hide if they get close. They will look for you. And take care of yourself.”

...

“I never saw him again. I...don’t know if he ever found her. I don’t know if he went back to his wife. I...hope he’s still out there. I hope he’s happy, wherever he is, with his daughter.”

Notes:

Shit’s been hard you get the gist
I’m working a lot through my pain, so I can only type for a certain amount of time a day and spend most of my time sleeping or wishing I was asleep, but I finally finished this.

If you like this and have money you want to throw at me, I have a ko-fi:
ko-fi.com/dweebicusmaximus

Chapter 27: Things She Used To Know

Alphys has visited the echo flower a lot over the past week. She needed something to talk to, and with Sans’ increasing agitation, the loss of her first test subject (seriously, how does a whole flower disappear?), and everything to do with Mettaton, the less talkative her conversation partner was, the better.

Not wanting to hear whatever dark secrets Sans had told the flower, she muttered “Clear,” upon entering the room and sat, pulling up an old video lesson her and Sans had done before the accident.

She knew it only made her feel worse, but on the moment there was something about seeing Sans healthy, about hearing all the plans they had, the banter, that brought her comfort.

She watched three videos before finding...that one. The one right before the accident, before he’d nearly died saving her life.

Something is strange about it, something close to static around the fringes of the video.

She squints at it, her eyes starting to burn. Asgore stands off to one side, his face grim. Sans’ face was serious too, for the first time in a long time. Alphys remembered that only a few days earlier Ch*ra-that name seemed odd but she couldn’t think of why- had slipped into a coma.

Sans and her talk behind the mic for a few seconds before Asgore stepped up to the podium, the static growing louder and nearly blocking out his voice. He didn’t seem to notice, so she assumed it was on the side of recording and not the equipment at the conference.

“The Royal Scientist’s assistants would like to take this opportunity to say a few words.”

Sans got up first, his voice confidant and calm, but she didn’t seem to be able to understand the words. The crowd buzzed with discomfort at the sight of him-

Had the king said “assistants”? She rewound a little and she listened to that section over and over again, sometimes hearing an “s” sometimes not.

She clutched her lab coat tighter around herself, suddenly feeling the chill of Waterfall sneaking in past her scales.

She considered just closing the video there, but her curiosity got the better of her and she kept listening.

He told some jokes, but mostly talked about how incredible it was to be a part of...this, whatever it was. She actually didn’t remember what it was for.

She spoke after, without an introduction which was odd. Alphys cringed so hard hearing her own voice and fast forwarded through it.

She got to the end of her speech and waited to see if the reporters she was sure were in the audience would ask them questions.

Instead, the king walked over to the mic a second time and said,

“The Royal Scientist has-“ and the rest was static.

And then something appeared on stage. A long staticky shape whose form she could only guess at was suddenly and without warning visible on stage. It flickered in and out of view from one frame to the other.

She leaned back on the bench, narrowing her eyes at the thing.

And then there was a voice, low and warbling, speaking in a tongue she had never heard before.

She didn’t understand the words, but she knew what the voice said.

“Hello! It’s so great to see all of you here today! I wasn’t expecting this kind of a turnout, to be honest, but it’s a fitting crowd for the importance of today and tomorrow’s work.”

The crowd is a buzzing myriad of flies, their cheering and forms obscured by millions of tiny particles. Has the static gotten worse?

“I have a confession to make. I will probably not be Royal Scientist for much longer.”

There’s an increase in noise. A gasp?

“The job of the Royal Scientist is to solve the most pressing problems that plague our kingdom. And with this,” here, there was a dramatic pause, “I will have solved our power crisis. I will have done what I can with the considerable power in this position.

My only hope for the next Royal Scientist, whichever of these two varieties is chosen, that they recall how this marvel of engineering came about.

This would not have happened without the three of us working together. Royal Scientists of the past have laboured alone in their labs, taking this burden entirely by themselves and keeping everyone else out. This is what science can achieve when we reach out to others for help.”

Alphys grimaces. Did some sort of weird static monster from her past just call her out?

The rest of the video is white and black, repeating over and over for a few seconds before her phone crashes.

Why couldn’t she remember this person? Had she not been the Royal Scientist before that accident?

What were they doing that day?

The flower, not caring that she had cleared it upon entering the room, spoke into her silence.

“Even though I know it’d make them hate me, there are so many things I wish I could tell them.”

A lapse into silence. Then,

“I wish you were here, dad. You’d know what to do.”

-

Grillby takes the elevator down from the third floor of the library, just barely glancing over the notes he took on the few species left unchecked from most of the building’s cryptozoological tomes. They were all long-shots, but they were all he had left. He’d even checked some of the out-of-date ones just to be sure he left no stone unturned, but he was starting to think there wasn’t even a classification to put Sans’ species under, never mind a genus. The closest he’d gotten was “maybe some kind of mimic” or “only god knows and he isn’t telling”.

On the ground floor, he saw a sign they must of ignored on his way in. A book sale from the special collection, proceeds probably going to the collection itself. He’s gone to this place for about a month and a half and he’s heard the workers talking about their lack of funding a few times now.

As much as he wants to rush home, he knows he owes something to the collection and so he stops in.

Some of it is fiction, probably donated to them by people who had no clue what the collection was. He picks up a few novels from the surface for Sans, then puts them down, picks new ones up, and repeats the process anxiously. He doesn’t read a lot of fiction, especially not genre fiction.

What if the ones he’s picked are bad? What if Sans only likes novels about robots and not space travel? What if he just hates these authors? What if he already has all these books? A quick look at the copyright page tells him that much is unlikely, as these are relatively new (for monsters, anyway).

On his fourth try, he refuses to put them back, even though he’s convinced Sans won’t like them.

He knows what Fuku likes, so he picks the trashiest romance novels he can find, and what looks to be historical fiction. He knows he’s going to regret it once she starts pestering him with questions about its accuracy, but if that’s what it takes for her to call him while she’s away at college, so be it.

He doesn’t see much that interests him besides a couple pretty covers until he sees a gorgeous little book lying precariously on a table near the bored looking staff. He couldn’t see the details, but it looked to be a cream coloured book with gold trim and an intricate gold-leaf pattern on the cover.

He was sure it hadn’t been there moments earlier, so someone must have just put it down. They’d surely be back for it. At the very least, someone should fix it so it wouldn’t fall off the edge.

But nobody was. And not a single other person, he eventually noticed, was giving that book the time of day. People saw it. That much was obvious to him. Their eyes would fix on it for a second and then they’d move on. But there were no gasps, no hands reaching to admire the intricacies of the trim and not a single comment shared about it.

He walks to it, pushes it away from the edge, and stares.

He touches it again, and stands there with a finger on it, dumbstruck by something in it that he doesn’t know. This book, he is convinced has something he needs to know.

He buys it, noting the way the cashier completely glosses over it.

“I don’t even know if that’s one of ours, to be honest. Tell you what, just give me ten gold for it, I don’t think it’d be worth more than that.”

He pays, not daring to correct the man, and half sprints out of the library. He walks down an alley and opens it, unable to shake the sense that he shouldn’t be doing this.

It’s written in a language he doesn’t know.

-

Alphys’ eyes flutter as she dreams. This dream is unlike her usual and a part of her wondering if it is even a dream. If it is, it’s a strange kind of lucid dream.

She stands at a console, but the numbers are meaningless. She looks up. Fire and rock, great spires of metal. The CORE, though the extractor is dormant. Sans stands, his eyesockets shut tight, SOUL reaching out-to what she doesn’t know-dozens of white beams of light weaving together into a bond.

No, not a bond. The light dives into the lake. of lava, then fills with the orange power of the CORE. A siphon then, but for what purpose?

There is static, moving anxiously near him as he works. The static

Her hands move without her instruction, flying over keys as she tries tp find the correct dataset. Something is wrong, and she shouts that, but it’s already too late.

Red energy begins crackling along the siphon, though not from either party. It begins in the middle and shoots both ways, hitting Sans’ soul and maybe the CORE too, judging from the sudden jump in power.

Sans collapses and for a single horrible second, she thinks he’s gone. The static lets out a wail that hurts just to hear.

But no, he drags himself onto his hands and knees after that second. The red energy surrounds Sans, and try as she might she can’t see who is using it. It forms into arms, hands, blood red with wicked black claws, which create a grotesque barrier between them and him. Despite how strong they seem, the arms are so small, so fragile. Almost like the arms of a child.

The static shouts Sans’ name and runs to him, but Alphys is rooted to the ground as the barrier begins pushing down, as if it’s trying to crush him.

It isn’t, she sees this as clear as she sees the hands phasing through the ground. As clear as she sees the static wrench hands off of him and as clear as she sees those hands dragging him through the ground.

This isn’t a murder, it’s a banishment, and Sans is fighting it with everything he has. His blasters are out, biting and shooting lasers everywhere, but they’re outmatched and she sees one of them get crushed by about a dozen little arms.

Uh oh.

Sans’ eyes fill with light, blue and gold as he’s hit with several LVS and now she’s running toward him.

He’s shaking from the amount of power coursing through his tiny body, and he shouts “Stay away!”

She doesn’t listen.

And then the world explodes.

And then she’s in agony, in the hospital.

“Where’s Sans?” She asks the first nearby nurse.

“He’s...alive.”

“And what about-“ nothing.

“And what about who?” She shouts, sitting bolt upright in her bed.

-

Notes:

Obi wan voice: That’s no dream
Anyways hello! How have you all been? This chapter was genuinely hell so I hope u like it.
Please comment if you like this fic! It's kind of all that keeps me writing

Chapter 28: Collisions

Frisk sat next to Asnoch, ignoring his anxiety as they dragged him into town in the early hours of the morning.

He wanted this. He’d said that. He insisted.

And Frisk was tired of this tension building, of absolutely nobody approaching Asnoch. If nobody would approach, Frisk would make them approach.

“Are you sure this is going to be safe?”

“Mmhm.” Frisk said, pressing their lips together and marching faster. They could see their goal; the most conspicuous bench on the street.

Nobody was on the street when they arrived, and they felt around or people watching. No eyes were on them.

That would change. They would make it change.

Frisk was already way behind schedule, and they needed that extra time to find new things.

Not that they had been wasting their time-they had finally found out where Sans had lived when he was alive, and they were getting closer to prying the start of the war from Ruth-but they needed to start making progress with the town if monsters were ever going to be safe on the surface.

They sat. Asnoch sat beside them. The bench made a displeased noise at his weight. Frisk ignored it, and so did Asnoch.

“It’s a beautiful day,” He said, tilting his face to the sun, “I’m lucky I still get to experience this sort of thing.”

Frisk nodded. Considering the fact that there were only three places in the underground where a monster could see the sun, Asnoch had a privilege no other monster they knew did.

People started leaving their homes. Just a few, most of which didn’t even glance at the bench.

The hotel disgorged a couple of early tourists, but they were heading deeper into the city.

One human, a round, soft looking person with a similar skin tone to Frisk’s, saw the two of them.

Frisk recognized the human automatically. They’d only seen this person’s SOUL before, but the apron they wore was something Frisk would own within a year.

The human was surprised to see them, and almost didn’t seem to notice Asnoch.

They walked over and stood nearby.

“This isn’t how I expected to meet you.” And they looked at Asnoch.

“What are you doing here?”

“Trying to get people to talk to him.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?”

“If it isn’t, then nothing is. And if nothing is,” Asnoch shrugged, “Then why should I not spend time here, in my hometown?”

The human looked at Frisk.

“Yeah. I feel the same way. If you’re going to die, at least have some comfort when you do.”

Frisk wondered if the human meant something else by that. Did they remember what was going to happen to them?

The human smiled at him.

“Well, do you mind if I stick around for a little bit? After all, the more humans on your side, the safer you’ll be.”

-

He’s making dinner when it happens. At seven minutes on the timer, the world falls away.

Grillby gazes upward, his eyes met only with darkness. He has been summoned before, and like the last time he summons his heavenly weapon in its original form.

He takes his original form as well, his wings taking up seven feet from each shoulder. He keeps his blade sheathed and waits for his summoner, mentally going through the commanders who knew his true name.

A pair of glowing eyes open above him, dozens of feet taller than him, and five seconds later, another pair open.

He narrows his eyes. He doesn’t know these towering creatures-or is it just one?-and that’s bad news.

One of them opens their glowing mouth, casting golden rays of light over a shape so huge that he’s convinced it’s one of the Titans from human mythology. It makes a sound a little like a sob when it sees him.

The other one sighs, and the chamber is filled with light.

The pair are humanoid in form, both easily the height of a skyscraper.

One is slender, its body obscured by  a pale blue dress, finely embroidered with black flowers and laden with white lace. There is a fine sheet of silk attached to the back, almost like a brides veil. It wears a twisted crown of black metal that he only sees for a second before it pulls the veil over its head and begins to weep.

The other is still for a few seconds before putting an arm around the weeping creature.

It’s dressed rather garishly in greens and yellows, though it too wears a black metal crown. Its face is gentle and almost bemused, with soft eyes set over a nose wide enough to park a car on and a mouth hard to distinguish through the glow. He thinks he sees a beard on the being-an unkempt thing made of bristling blackness-but it’s hard to distinguish from the rest of its face.

Its expression moves just as slow as the rest of it, the eyes slowly becoming lidded.

“You’re not our little Prince.” It said with all the hurry of a particularly touristy comet. It was as if it was still thinking about its words as they left its mouth, which gave him time to realize he’d never heard the language before.

“No, I am Alpha Canis Majoris. I’m a celestial.” He replied, forming the foreign words with ease.

He didn’t give them his true name, since he was beginning to suspect they had summoned the wrong person, but it wasn’t a lie. The humans did call his CORE that, at least. Sometimes.

“Alpha...no, that’s all wrong.”

“He failed again. We’ll never find it...” the weeping one choked out.

“Do not cry my dear. This may not be our prince, but look!” It turned the weeping one’s head toward him.

“It is a creature of light! We are getting closer! I can almost feel it in this room with us.”

The weeping one was quiet for a second.

“I...feel him too. He must be close to this creature!”

It reached for him, much faster than its partner moved, and swept him helplessly off his feet.

He hadn’t had time to properly retract his wings, so he forced them to dissipate before the thing crushed them in its hand.

The other said “Careful, darling, we don’t want to hurt it! The poor thing must be frightened enough.”

It paid its partner no mind, bringing him close to its eye to inspect it.

“Do you know where it is?”

The dark space began to fade around them.

“Where what is?”

“Our Prince! The Prince Of Empty Spaces! I-it’s always been rather sickly, but we know it was alive at least five of your years ago! You must know.”

He did not know, and he thought about all the royalty he had met in his life, trying to recall a Prince of Empty Spaces.

Clearly a demon, that was a demon’s title if ever he’d heard one, but he couldn’t recall meeting one by that title.

Prince of Wayward Breezes, Prince of Stubborn Stones...

The space became almost abstract, turning the slow one into a collection of colours and the weeping one into a series of long tubes, one of which he was held by. Someone on the other end must have been ending the ritual.

“Please, before this ends, tell me if you know it!”

“I’m sorry, I...” it’s sobbing again, and he’s half convinced it’s going to drop him.

“Please, Alpha Canis Majoris. It is in the world under ours, we know. Please look for it. It does not belong in your world.”

Something clicked.

“Are you talking about Sans?”

The two vanished before they could reply and he found himself back in his home, with three minutes left on the timer.

-

Alphys weeps over her meticulously calculated doses, every note she made on her theories and the process, and she wonders how it could all have gone so wrong.

It was her, she knew it was all her, but where had it gone wrong?

She’d panicked when it didn’t work like she expected it and began dosing her patients more often. Once a week, it had gone up to. It was supposed to be a one time treatment, but it wasn’t working.

How was she supposed to know this would happen?

Would it have worked if she’d just waited?

Well. In a way, it had worked.

She checked the time and stood. Alphys pulled all the food out of her fridge. It was all prepackaged meals and leftovers, but it’d do for tonight.

No matter who they were now, they were still people.

Notes:

Welp, at least I’m getting one out a month, right??
(Yikes)
I opened up an online store aaand I’m doing Inktober this year. End me

 

 

(Or donate to my ko-fi)(jkjk)(unless 👀👀)

Chapter 29: Tense

Fuku stares at a stack of papers, her eyelike constructs narrowed at them. Her flame is low, her constructs pulling flame into bags under them. Grillby watches her, crossing his arms in the doorway.

“Is everything alright?” He knows she’s been working hard, studying her textbooks to get an early start on the year and filling in the last few forms, but school hasn’t even started yet.

She jumps and looks up at him.

“I’m...everything’s fine.”

“Mmhm. Is that why you look like you haven’t slept in a week?”

She chuckles a little.

“Don’t worry about me, dad. I’m just...” And she looks at him for a long time. She sighs.

“I can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. Not right now. Not for a while. And I...I’m worried about you. Because if something bad does happen...” she looks like she’s picking her words carefully for a minute, “I don’t want to have spent so much time away from you. In case...I lose you.”

In case she lost him?

“What makes you think that? I’m not dying, my dear.”

She looks absolutely haunted, he realizes. It isn’t tiredness in her face; it’s fear, it’s sorrow and there’s something desperate in her expression.

“Are you sure? Are you sure that I don’t have to stay and take care of you?”

“Of course I’m sure. How long have you been worrying about this?”

She averts her eyes.

“Since I put in the paperwork to live on campus.”

Over a month ago. How had he not noticed if it affected her this strongly? She wasn’t like that the last time they’d had a conversation.

Over a month ago.

Had he been that busy with Sans?

“I am still sick. I will probably always have a problem with my temporary cores. I may never be able to fly properly again. But I’m not dying. Where on earth would you get that idea?”

He sat next to her.

“I know it’s hard to understand, if you don’t have my core. I am disabled, and I probably always will be, but I’m not...”

“I know. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what are you worried about?”

She rests her face on a fist, her eyes turned toward him.

“I wish I could tell you.”

“Do you know what you’re so worried about?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because if I do, something bad will happen.”

-

“I know what happened.”

“I...what do you mean?”

“I came here yesterday to see you about something. You weren’t here, and I thought you were downstairs, and I-“

They were quiet.

“What are you going to do?”

...

........

“Nothing. You know enough about me that if I told someone, you could ruin me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“This is my fault anyways.”

“How?”

“I’m the whole reason we’re here.”

“...not the whole reason. You know they would find another reason if it hadn’t been you.”

“Yeah. But I’m the reason they found. If I had just been honest...”

“I don’t blame you. After what happened...if I could’ve done the same, I would have.”

-

Sans’ old home is abandoned. Good news for a nosy nine-were they still nine?-year old. From their reading, nobody would touch the place; everyone thought it was cursed, though nobody would write why.

The house is two stories, pretty nice despite nobody being there for years. A little dirtied, the garden overgrown, and...well, there was a broken window. The window near the living room, which had a big clay plant pot under it, was broken. The home was surrounded by a fence that must have been white at some point, and there was a gate to let people in.

They push on the decrepit old gate and see the mechanism to get in. After some fiddling around with it, they manage to get it open. They close it behind themself. Frisk went in the broken window, wrapping their bandage around their hands. This meant they couldn’t move their hands all that well, but they didn’t need to. They got a leg up on the pot, then pulled themself into it. Frisk grabbed the inside sill of the window and climbed up.

The house was untouched. There was a thick layer of dust on just about everything: the floor, the couches, the picture frames. They wiped the dust off the frames, revealing some bizarre pictures. Sans, alive and well. Papyrus, alive and well. And a strange pale distortion off to one side. They could almost see a face in it.

They would have figured it was just a problem with the camera, except it was in multiple pictures. At varying ages.

And then there was a picture of Papyrus, they assumed from the fact that he looked like the average human. He was in the arms of someone in a lab coat, but their body and face-which should have been in the picture-was cut out.

Frisk found very little else in the living room, just a few documents they didn’t understand and a newspaper.

The headline read

“Monster Hides In Human Body For 22 Years: Does It Deserve Anonymity?”

They tucked all that into their bag and wandered around the house. The kitchen was pretty sparse at that point and they found nothing but spiderwebs.

Their bedrooms were a mess, with every item still inside thrown around. Clothes hung out of drawers, books were strewn all over the floor, and there was so much paperwork that Frisk didn’t quite understand that they could only pick up so much of it. In the room they thought was Papyrus’, there was a stuffed rabbit on the floor.

They left the rooms, head buzzing with terms like “parasite” and “exclusion zone”.

In the back of the house, near the screen that led to their backyard, Frisk found a staircase leading down to a locked steel door.

Notes:

Me: *posts two chapters less than 30 days apart*
Also me: “wait. that’s illegal”

I’ve been wanting to do a ‘just dialogue’ section for a while, don’t mind me

Chapter 30: Dropout

On that day, he woke her up around noon. He brought her breakfast in bed, with Heats tailing behind, and sat with her talking as she ate.

“After you’re done, we’re going out.”

“Where?”

He winked at her.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Papa said we’re going to the capital city.” Heats said, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Hey!”

She laughed, then realized.

“Wait, are we going to the-“

“I’m not going to spoil the surprise. At least I didn’t tell the little turncoat.” He teased, poking Heats’ belly.

Heats stuck his tongue out at Grillby.

Once she was done, the three of them got on their coats and boots and went to the Riverperson’s room.

Their boat extended to fit all three of them.

“Is this a Wednesday I see? My, my, I was wondering if this day would ever come! Congratulations!”

“It’s...Saturday?” Fuku said.

Grillby chuckled.

“They aren’t being literal. Thank you, friend.”

“Oh, well then yes. T-thank you?”

The Riverperson chuckled.

“To the Capitol, then?”

“How did you know that?” Heats asked, wide eyed.

“Oh, I know most things about most people,” they said, a smile appearing in the depths of their hood, “Do you think I should ask, old friend? I don’t want to seem presumptuous.”

“It wouldn’t hurt. I don’t mind, though.” He said gently.  He’d always liked the Riverperson; they were his oldest living friend, as ageless as himself.

They stepped into the boat and took off.

...

 

When they got onto the street, she knew.

“I knew it! I’ve always wanted to come here.”

“You never stop talking about it. It was so difficult trying to figure out where to take you!”

They stopped on the steps of the Underground’s Science Centre. Some sarcastic monsters had built it right under the one in Toronto; or as close as they could get.

The three of them wandered around the exhibits, mostly aimless.

Heats had been completely enamoured with the planetarium, spending about twenty minutes with one of the telescope VR helmets. He and Fuku waited nearby, her looking through the exhibits on the app and him answering all of Heats’ questions about stars.

“What star are you, dad?”

“Sirius. The brightest star in the night sky.” Earth’s night sky, at least.

“Oh! I see you! You’re so pretty! Where’s uncle Jet?”

Grillby flushed green.

“Thank you. He’s, um...probably not in there. If this was made a hundred years ago, you could probably still see his core...”

“They finally finished that mimic model.” Fuku interrupted.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Two whole years.”

“I know they’re awfully shy beings-the sapient ones at least-but I don’t know why it would have taken this long.”

“Is there a difference between the sapient ones and the feral ones?”

“I don’t think so. If there is, we haven’t found it yet.”

Finally, they took the elevator up to the second floor and into the anatomy room.

The mimics were centre stage, the other monsters from the order Polymorphus rearranged to surround them. Changelings, animalus-werewolves so conspicuously missing they had to have a sign explaining the classification under the order Lupus Magica-mask-changers, and of course, the titular Polymorph. A species so rare and new that the model and signage were being constantly updated.

A screen nearby showed what it looked like when a Polymorph changed shape.

He read the signs. He stared at the model.

And he felt drawn to it. He watched the video over and over again, his flame shifting expressions like a bad actor.

He’d already compared Sans’ DNA to a mimic. He’d checked changelings-though it had been a pain to hunt down a DNA sample-and briefly considered if he was meant to be some sort of animal shifter.

The video ended and began anew.

 

The Polymorph’s human form began to tremble and drip, dark skin turning white and viscous. Its face was the most grotesque part to liquefy, eyes and lips appearing to dissolve in a deeply troubling display. It pooled into a a huge puddle of pale goo, shot through with streaks of other colours. The pink streaks began to seep into the rest of the Polymorph’s body as it started to stretch itself into a shape.

 

It became a long cylinder of unpleasantness, with an oval shape on one end. Its body began hardening, skin forming into scales before the oval split in half. Pits began to form in the oval, preparing for eyes, and the open mouth became more defined. Fangs sprouted from gums, eyes grew into sockets, and a tongue flicked out of a serpentine mouth.

 

It was an incredibly familiar scene.

 

Where the hell was Grillby ping to get Polymorph DNA?

-

Grillby can’t see his date’s face. He sips wine. He can feel it, can taste it.

He’s never been one for wine anyway, but his date ordered it and it’d be rude to refuse.

He and his date order food. His date’s voice is a thousand buzzing flies, but it fills him with a joy he has never felt before. His date glances at his phone briefly, then smiles. He hears the words formed by the flies easily enough.

“She’s been texting me nonstop about the kids. I’ll tell her to be quiet.”

“That’ll just make her text you more.” He says, like he knows what he’s talking about. Does he even know this woman? Did he even know this man had kids?

“Maybe, but at least this way I can say I warned her.” He sends off a quick text and puts his phone on silent.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s alright,” he hasn’t stopped smiling, but Grillby isn’t sure if that’s unusual yet, “It’s funny, last time I was on a date those hadn’t been invented yet.”

He chuckled, a soft rumble nearly swallowed by buzzing but so, so familiar.

“A better time, I’m sure.” His thin fingers mesh with Grillby’s on the tabletop. His skin is soft under Grillby’s flame and just touching him like this is a rush for Grillby.

“Not really. Everyone had dysentery. Or cholera.” He says, utterly unromantically. His date laughs, sending another rush of pink heat up to his face.

“I gotta ask, what made you pick Earth? I mean, you landed in the grossest of times for humans.”

“Not having a sense of smell helped,” another chuckle, “But to be honest, I didn’t intend to land here. I was aiming for the sun. And I missed.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “By a lot. By the time I realized, I was too weak to fight the gravitational pull of your planet.”

“What do you mean, you were too weak?” His date’s voice grows worried about something that happened centuries before his birth. Precious.

“I’d been injured in the war. I was going to your sun to recover or die.” His date recoils a little, but his fingers don’t move.

“What war? Who’s declaring war on stars?”

“Actually we declared war. They probably had no idea we were sentient until then. Most people don’t.”

“I didn’t know stars were so...”

“Aggressive? We are soldiers. We only fight if we have to, but we don’t hesitate if we know someone is violating the rules that keep our solar system in one piece.”

“Huh. What made you stay? After you got better, I mean.”

“Well...I never did get better, actually. My core is still in the sky and these temporary ones are terrible! I can only fly for about an hour before I do irreparable damage to them.”

“And I’m guessing it takes more than an hour for you to get to your core?”

“It is eight point six-one-one light years away. If I consumed less physical material, like most other celestials, perhaps I could still get there, but...” he shrugged.

He flushed, realizing he’d kind of gone off on a tangent.

“My apologies, I tend to ramble.”

“I like listening to you ramble. Besides, it’s pretty cool knowing my...uh...whatever we are...is an alien.”

He giggles at that.

“You’re so cute.”

Their food comes and they disentangle their hands with immense reluctance.

“Have you decided which University you’re going to attend?” He asks before taking a bite of his steak sandwich. His teeth somehow look sharper now than they had seconds before.

“Not yet.”

“Who have you gotten acceptance letters from?”

“McGill, UofT, the University of Alberta, Harvard, Dartmouth-“

“I know you’re not intending to flex, but christ,” And he pauses in the middle of raising the sandwich.

“You applied to Harvard?”

“And Dartmouth.” He says mildly, knowing what his date is thinking.

“In America.”

“Yes.”

“So, you’re going to move to America?”

“If I take either of those offers.”

“They’re Ivy League schools. Why would you take anything else?”

“I like Canada. It’s a nice place to live, if a little cold. I don’t doubt that I’ll get a good job no matter where I go. If I don’t, it won’t ruin me. And, I didn’t exactly count on meeting you.”

-

Grillby wakes with a feeling of heaviness and wrongness in his SOUL.

Why was he remembering that now? He rolled over and stuck his hand in his end table’s open drawer.

That man must have been very important to him at the time, if he’d made Grillby rethink going to Harvard for the first time.

Or was it just some happy dream? Wishful thinking?

He pulled out the photo, a little crumpled, and flicks his lamp on.

He knows why he didn’t go in the end, and it wasn’t some mystery man.

He looks at his wife’s face for a long, long time. At himself, at their wedding. Arranged at first, but by the actual reception he’d been absolutely smitten and already pregnant.

He knows he should’ve thrown this away ages ago. But Fuku wasn’t here to tell him that anymore.

He wondered if anyone in his family had ever asked themselves why he looked so uneasy when they joined hands to take that photo.

She hadn’t hit him yet. But she had made him fear her touch.

He dug out a second photo, setting that one aside with force when he realized where his mind was headed.

It felt wrong to keep these two together. Like they had something in common.

Before they’d said goodbye on the day Fuku left for college, Grillby asked a passing monster to take a photo of them.

They stood on the steps of the Science Centre. He held Heats, and threw his other arm around her. He kissed her cheek.

He told her how proud he was, how much he loved her. He only cried a little.

It just seemed right, that she should get what he’d lost. He smiled down at that image of the three of them.

They looked so happy.

-

A woman lies on a bed in a room, separated from all the rest of the patients. Alphys stands by her as she rests. Her eyes are on the woman-one Marylin Aqaria-but her mind is elsewhere.

Her breath rattles in her half-melted chest as she snores.

At least this one is still herself, Alphys thinks sadly, but of all my patients...

She refuses to finish the thought. This woman was still her patient. Even though she knows what she did to her husband. She was still Alphys’ patient and it wasn’t Alphys’ job to pass judgement on who deserved to stay in one piece.

But of all her patients...

She still had to stay here. She still couldn’t be returned to the prison she’d been in. Her sisters couldn’t be allowed to see her.

Her husband had stopped coming to see her before she’d even been sent to Alphys. He’d never asked after her. She didn’t even know if he knew Marylin was here.

One less grieving monster to lie to, she supposed.

Notes:

My god, was this a struggle
Anyways it’s weird that both Gaster and Sans are always smiling (at least, everyone always draws Gaster smiling)
Grillby: “I’m a simple man”
Also Grillby: literally almost went to Harvard

Chapter 31: Repeat

Frisk returned to Sans’ old house. Through the closed gate, into the pot, over the windowsill.

They stood in the living room for a minute, hands trembling from the reading they’d done over the past two week. About the things Ruth had told them when they dumped the pile of paper on her kitchen table.

Frisk picks the lock. They don’t have the patience to look around for the key, and so they take out some bent wire they’d made into pretty simplistic tools that week.

They’d done a lot of internet research. Watched a lot of videos, and practiced for hours a day. They hope they’re good enough for the lock.

They insert the tools and listen for the clicking of the pins.

It’s open in ten minutes.

I wonder if Sans would be proud or disappointed if he knew I could do this?

Probably both. The old Sans, before the resets mellowed him out, seemed like the kind of guy who would’ve taught them. They almost wished they’d asked.

They leave the open lock on the door and stare down into the darkness.

They snap their fingers, calling fire out of their hands. They hadn’t asked about light on its own yet, but Grillby had been only too happy to teach them fire when they finally told him they were a mage.

They wondered how much Grillby really knew. He seemed like the kind of person who collected secrets, who knew everything about everyone. He probably knew anything and everything about Sans. They would grill him-they hadn’t meant that as a pun-next time they saw each other.

They walked down the steps, testing every one before putting all their weight on it. Every step creaked, but somehow they had stayed strong over the years.

They saw symbols carved into the wall all the way down the steps; sigils maybe, though they held no power. Not surprising, there had been nobody to give them any in at least twenty years. They traced the swirls and drops and rises as each sigil attached to the next.

The lock must’ve been weak, with this many sigils on the way down.

At the bottom, they strengthened their flame and narrowed their eyes at what they saw.

Piles of medical equipment they couldn’t even guess at the use of, and a medical bed with some bizarre equipment attached to it. They stumbled over a wheeled cart in the middle of the room, sending dozens of sharp metal objects they didn’t see flying.

They checked over the counters against the wall, looked through the the drawers.

They let out a long, drawn out groan.

What on earth was all of this? Tubes filled with...gross stuff they had no way to identify and almost didn’t want to look at. They didn’t know anything about science and they wouldn’t meet Alphys for a long time. What were they supposed to do with this?

Nothing, they guessed. This probably wasn’t intended as part of their game at all. Who was it for, then? Or was this all meaningless?

They started at that thought. They didn’t usually get pulled into thinking that way. Maybe they’d spent so much time thinking about Sans they were starting to think like him too.

They followed the walls to the next room and opened the door. They squinted and sighed, digging their fingers into the ball of fire they’d made to split it into about a dozen pieces. They spread the flames out and narrowed their eyes at the room’s contents.

Two cylinders, each tall and wide enough for Asnoch to stand in, dominated the room. Frisk had seen their like in cartoons, so they automatically knew someone or something bad had been made in there. Nothing good grew in cylinders like these.

They sat in a nest of wires that plugged into the walls. To Frisk, they seemed like hearts that had stopped beating. There was no movement of fluid in or out-why would there be when there was no life to support-and the screens on their front were illuminated only by Frisk’s flames.

There was a desk pushed to one side, stacked with paper and little glass sandwiches that had something smeared on the inside. The desk was one of those two storey ones, the kind that had little nooks between the bottom half and the top. There were two binders -filled to bursting with paper-jammed into the two nooks on either end, which Frisk was sure had only been made to fit through sheer willpower. They had names written messily on the front. Sans on the left, Papyrus on the right.

The nook in the middle held plastic containers full of a variety of odd things; smooth, hard lumps of a black substance, smooth hard lumps of a white substance, assorted hairs, some multicoloured liquids Frisk recognized as Determination and Kindness, and dried blood.

Maybe that’s how the binders had been made to fit. Determination sure was powerful.

They picked up one of the lumps, a white one, and noticed that it wasn’t all white; there were veins of other colours in them, so pronounced they seemed painted on. The same was true for the black lumps, which were much heavier and colder. Frisk touched the white one again, and realized it was kind of warm. Was it just because they’d been holding it? Both made their hands tingle with undirected magic-not as uncomfortable as the Player’s control magic but still not great-and they put both down. Were they charged? Had they been used to power spells? How had they kept their magic this long?

They took some of the lumps, only one of each, and eyed the binders. They couldn’t fit both in their bag, so they grabbed Sans’. They’d be back for Papyrus another day.

-

All Polymorphs are made of a pale, milky substance shot through with streaks of different colours. They are capable of changing colour, seemingly through these streaks, in a process referred to as dyeing.

During dyeing, the pigments spread throughout the Polymorph’s form, which takes on colour easily because of its paleness. There appears to be no genetic variation to their undyed colour, however there has been so little research done on them that nothing can be said for certain.

Through this and many other fascinating processes, a Polymorph may perfectly replicate the appearance of any species. It is to be noted that Polymorphs do not shift their physiology, even when they shift to resemble an organic creature.

To this day, nobody is quite sure what causes a Polymorph to form.

-

Grillby sat next next to Sans on his couch, pulling his clipboard out to start his next interview.

“Have you ever attempted to change your colour?”

Sans sighed

“Yes, I did. Last time you asked, I checked. Even though I was pretty sure.”

“Could you-“

“Can you stop? Just, for a second, stop interrogating me. I know you’re curious, but give it a rest, okay?”

He flushed.

“My apologies, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just burning with curiosity.”

Sans didn’t even chuckle.

“That was a bad one, I’ll admit it.” Sans’ eyes were dim as he stared at his hands.

“Is this all you talk to me for?” He asked, gesturing vaguely at the clipboard, “I know you don’t love me, but this is...” Cruel. Callous.

Ouch.

Sans would never say those things, but Grillby knew he felt them.

“I...I am sorry. I didn’t think of...how this might make you feel. I didn’t...”

“Do you even like me?”

“Of course I do, you’re my soulmate!”

“Yeah, I’m your soulmate and not a normal monster. And that’s all you think about, isn’t it?”

“That’s not true! You’re...you’re a good man, and funny too. I trust you-despite all the...bizarre information you’ve given me-and I...wish I loved you.”

Sans was quiet. He stared out the window.

“You know that’s true, don’t you? How I feel about you?”

“It’s hard to keep that in mind when all you do is ask me about my species. We can barely have a conversation without you bringing it up. And what are you going to do if you figure it out, huh?”

“I...you’re right. Of course you’re right. I can’t help but be fascinated by it, but there are so many other things about you to be fascinated by.”

“Like my horrible face?” Sans teased. Grillby popped with confusion. He’d never said that about Sans, had he?

“I was thinking about the fact that you left six whoopee cushions in my restaurant yesterday. Your cute little nose is secondary.”

He snorted.

“It is cute! It’s shaped like a little heart!”

“That’s just what they look like.” He protested, his hand going to the hole reflexively.

“Yes, but yours is especially pronounced.”

Sans flushed, his cheekbones glowing pink.

“Yeah, alright. Funny how I had to ask for you to say that.”

Grillby fidgeted a little.

“I’m sorry, that was unnecessary. I get it, really, it’s completely reasonable. I just...”

“I’m sorry,” Grillby says again, completely aware of how excessive his apologies are, “I wish I knew what would make me love you. It would make everything so much simpler.”

“I wish you knew too.”

That’s an odd statement, no doubt, but Sans doesn’t give him time to think about it.

“But is this what you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“You seemed perfectly happy before I came along. I just...wonder if you wouldn’t be happier without me around.” Grillby got the sense that Sans wasn’t just talking about leaving. He turned his skull away from Grillby, that huge grin still plastered across his face; though, it looked less like a smile and more like a grimace now.

“Of course I wouldn’t be!” He was surprised by the emotion in his own voice. He’d seldom become this entangled with a mortal before, but he hadn’t realized just how important Sans was becoming to him until then.

Important as a person, or important as a scientific discovery, he was ashamed he couldn’t say. He mattered as both, but had he been ignoring one to the favour of the other?

He saw that Sans was watching him closely, his eyesockets tight and smile unfaltering. He reached for Sans’ hand, smothering it with his own. For a second, he felt skin under his palm, bringing with it a sense of shame.

Who was he thinking of, instead of his poor besotted soulmate? He wish he knew. He tightened his grip, focusing on the bone to ground himself.

“Why do you want to love me?”

Grillby didn’t quite have an answer to that. It wasn’t that he didn’t know, but rather that he wasn’t sure how to communicate his feelings.

After a long, unpleasant pause, he spoke.

“I just feel like this is...where I’m supposed to be. This feels right. I’m supposed to be here, with you, keeping your secrets. Seeing you like nobody else does. Does that make sense?”

Sans seemed taken aback at his response. He laughed a little, though most of the sound caught in his chest.

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

Notes:

I LIVE

Chapter 32: What Does He Know?

Diego was in Waterfall again. He went there every week, multiple times. And something about the whole situation seemed wrong. When Diego visited other places, he would typically take the routes everyone else did.

He found certain shortcuts around areas of Hotland, specifically to bypass the elevator system; though unlike Sans he’d travel to the nearest elevator to his destination and not directly to his destination. Maybe his was less accurate?

Despite his usual way of travelling, he jumped wildly around Waterfall making it almost impossible to follow him.

Almost.

She’d put up a few more cameras since she’d noticed; not to see what he was doing-she’d never admit to that-but if they caught him, she wouldn’t argue with the results. And if she’d taken more care to hide these ones, who could prove why she’d done it?

It seemed to have worked out, though.

Today, she’d followed him to one of the bridges. She watched him run into the room and trip over his own feet, like he often did. She grimaced sympathetically as he bounced back up.

He looked around the room and seemed annoyed that someone else was there. A little fish sat off in one corner, singing quietly to herself, if the music notes floating above her head were any indication. Unfortunately, Alphys had hidden that camera underwater, so all she could hear was the current.

Diego being his typical boisterous self ran right up to her and started talking, his annoyance seemingly forgotten.

He was loud enough that she could hear him through the camera’s microphone, and he startled  the poor fish so badly she leapt into the water. He watched her get swept away in the current, seeming pretty embarrassed by the whole scenario.

Once she was out of the room, Diego ran out too. Alphys cursed to herself, ready to start another camera chase.

But Diego entered the room again only a second later.

Suddenly there was someone else in the room. Someone who looked too much like Diego.

And something happened to Alphys.

-

Grillby examines the book again, squinting down at the text. The language is pictorial in nature, though some of the images are incomprehensible to him. He copies down some of the ones he can understand-a trio of eyes forming a triangle, some sort of monstrous deerlike creature, a dark shape wearing a twisted crown-though he isn’t sure why.

Something about this language feels familiar, though he can’t quite place it. He cursed himself for choosing the Gift of Tongues all those millennia ago. Certainly, he couldn’t have known the trajectory his life would have taken, but there was something particularly ironic about his situation.

A selectively mute man who could speak any language gets a book he can’t read or show anyone. It was a situation almost designed to infuriate him.

He lets out a plume of irritated flame from his mouth, then clamps it shut.

He should’ve thought better of breathing fire; he could have lit the book up. But if he’d just been given the Gift of Hands instead, he’d be able to read the thing.

Time for a walk, he thinks. He needs to calm down if he’s going to be able to do anything productive today. He’d nearly incinerated Audrey’s dinner the night before because he was so focused on that damn book.

Grillby texts a couple of cousins as he walks.

GF: Hello! For no particular reason, do you know anyone with the Gift of Hands? I’ve only got the Gift of Tounges, you see.

He wanders the woods until he hears voices up ahead. One is Fuku, but the other one is so much quieter than her. Was she here to visit him? He had been expecting a text telling him where her lab placement was.

He considers just leaving her alone, but if she’s with her girlfriend he can’t miss an opportunity to tease her.

He sneaks closer to her voice, listening intently for the other person. He’s walked these woods so many times that he’s fairly sure of where she is-there’s a sett of feral pygmy yeti in that area-and he reins his flame in to keep the crackling to a minimum.

“Where were you? Was he bothering you again?”

“I had a weird dream and I needed some time to figure out if it was just a regular weird dream or...”

“If it meant something?”

“Exactly.” He stopped in his tracks. Sans? Why would she be talking to him?

Grillby reined in his confusion and tried to think as quietly as possible. He’d just...wait here for a bit.

It was a good thing Sans was distracted. He usually picked up on Grillby’s presence in an instant, like he was constantly thinking about him.

“You probably don’t want to talk about ‘em.” A statement. She must’ve known him for a while, then.

“It’s not...about that. I honestly have no clue what they’re about. I...okay, so, I’ll be doing something and then I’m just somewhere else. And there are these... people I guess, is the best word for them. They’re like ten feet tall and they talk to me-one of ‘m just cries pretty much-and I don’t know the language. But I get the feeling I should, you know?”

So they had found him. Grillby knew what that search was like, knew the relief of finding your child safe, and smiled at the thought. A shame they couldn’t speak yet, but he could help solve that problem. Maybe the Gift of Tongues wasn’t so bad after all.

“Huh. Sounds like a summoning. Dad’s mentioned them. You should talk to him.” She said it pointedly.

Yep, she definitely knew Sans. He shouldn’t have been so surprised-he’d told her Sans was his soulmate the day he found out-but she’d made no mention of talking to him since.

“We should get back to the lab.” Sans said, too hurriedly.

“I have to go tell Dad. I’ll be back soon.”

Grillby started at that and began to move away from the two of them, carefully navigating the terrain to avoid any stray branches. He moved slightly deeper into the woods, past the clearing.

Sans, despite his previous hurry to return to his work, stayed where he was.

Grillby stood when he was far enough away not to be noticed and circled back around to the town.

Fuku was knocking on his door and jumped when he came out of the woods, snowflakes sizzling out on his flames.

“Holy-“

“Language.” He said automatically, with a smile that slipped onto his face far too easily.

-

“I never met him.” Asnoch said.

They sat together, Frisk, Carlos and Asnoch, in town. Carlos was on his lunch break-apparently he worked at a nearby restaurant-and every day he came to sit and talk to the two of them.

“You have to know something, though.”

“I only heard rumours. When they declared war, we pushed him away too. I’d be amazed if anyone knows who he is now. I’d be amazed if he was still alive.”

“Why’d you push him away? Was he really that bad?” Carlos’ voice was unsteady.

“We hoped-foolishly-that humanity would see that we do not tolerate parasitism and leave us be. I don’t even know if he was a parasite, honestly. His family denied it, but he vanished the moment people found out what he was. He never got to defend himself. Maybe he chose not to.”

“What was his name?” Frisk was already sure they knew.

“His name was never publicized. Probably because his family was human.”

“What was he?” Frisk asked.

“Well...I mean, he was...er...not human?” Asnoch said.

“You don’t know his species?”

“I’m not even certain he is a monster. He might have been a demon, but it isn’t like humans would know the difference. They declared war on all of us indiscriminately.”

“Aren’t demons monsters?” Carlos ran a hand through his hair the way he did when he was thinking about something.

“We were unsure of that. Demons are a little different than the rest of us.”

“Because they don’t have SOULS?”

“How do you know that?” Asnoch’s fluffy eyebrows overcast his eyes.

One of Grillby’s brothers had told them that. Now that they thought about it, he’d probably been a demon himself.

How could they explain it? I know another monster? No, that would be extremely suspicious. And what would they say if Asnoch asked to meet them?

Carlos watched them, his expression impossible to read. They were certain he knew exactly how they knew.

Frisk lowered their eyes and shrugged under the scrutiny.

“You are a human, aren’t you Frisk?”

They nodded vigorously and said exactly nothing.

“Well...alright. Yes, demons are soulless at creation. This is why demons are known for making deals for access to a SOUL; though they usually ask to share their host’s SOUL rather than stealing it.” Asnoch didn’t take his eyes off them while he spoke.

They’d known that, too. They’d met Azazel’s host, and he’d explained how they shared their life. Taking a day each to control their body, switching off activities they didn’t like. How the host had given up his name just to be Azazel.

It had sounded nice to them. They’d asked Azazel if he thought they’d make a good host.

He’d laughed, and said, “When you’re older.” So they’d wait.

They were startled out of their thoughts by Asnoch speaking again.

“It’s strange, though. Nobody said he was a demon, at the time. But he was living in a human, so he must have been...He was living as a human his whole life, I just wonder if he knew he was doing something wrong?”

“Do you think he knew he wasn’t a human?”

“He must have.” Asnoch didn’t sound convinced even a little bit.

Notes:

My god, it’s been some time!
My work is closed for a bit, so hopefully I’ll have time to write more!
If I don’t get swallowed up by New Horizons in four days

Chapter 33: Dissonance

Grillby sat across from Fuku at the coffee table, bringing her some of the coal cookies he’d baked the day before.

“Dad, you know those are bad for you!”

“Oh, please. What’s the point of good health if you’re not allowed to enjoy it?” He laughed, and he took one of them. He didn’t form a mouth, and neither did Fuku as she took one to burn. It wasn’t strictly polite, but the two of them weren’t in public.

“So, what do you and Sans do at that lab of his?” Grillby asked, his attention flicking between his daughter and that book, sitting closed on that coffee table. He wondered if he should’ve hid it.

Fuku had told him she was working with Sans, and they way she spoke made it seem like she hasn’t noticed being followed. He hoped neither of them had.

“Oh, um...I guess I never did tell you.”

He waited.

“Right now, Sans is specializing in corrupted files, missing files...specifically memories.”

“...oh. Well.”

Grillby felt his flame dim at the mention of missing memory files. He wasn’t that surprised to hear it, though.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to, you know...”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. I thought you told me you wanted to specialize in something else, though.”

She’d said she wanted to study celestial medicine.

“Well, yes. So, as it turns out, there’s not a lot of people who do celestial medicine, and I couldn’t find a placement.”

“Oh, yes. I suppose that is true. It’s so hard for me to find a proper doctor.”

“I got lucky though; Sans is a doctor of celestial medicine too! He just, you know. Rarely gets to practice, since there are about four of you down here.”

“There’s at least twenty.”

She snorted.

“You know what I mean.”

“You took that placement just to be near me, didn’t you?”

“We can call it a compromise, if you want.” Fuku shrugged it off.

“You don’t need to worry about me this much. Honestly, you probably don’t need to worry at all. I’m anxious enough for both of us.”

“If anxiety’s good enough for my Papa, it’s good enough for me.”

The joke caught him by surprise.

“I guess you did get it from me.”

-

Alphys had woken up like this once before. In a hospital bed, with a doctor beside her and a deep sense of wrongness, of forgetting.

Though Sans was the doctor this time around, and not laying half dead on a hospital bed beside her.

He somehow seemed more exhausted than she’d ever seen him. His smile was drawn downward, the closest he could get to a frown, and the shadows under his eyes were upsettingly pronounced.

“Hey Alph. Wasn’t expecting you to recover so quickly.”

“What happened?”

At least this time, she didn’t feel like her body was on fire.

Sans held what looked like a thermos, and the smell from inside it made her stomach growl.

“One of your files got corrupted.”

“Was it a memory file?” She asked, leaning back on the hospital bed. Sans had given her quite a few pillows, supporting her head and back. She was quite short, not much taller than Sans, and so he’d brought some of the pillows he used.

“Yes.”

She looked around her lab-at least she could remember where she was-and her eyes lit on what looked like a briefcase. There was a hum of stasis about the case.

“Did you take the file?”

“Yes. You wouldn’t have recovered otherwise.“

He sighed.

“Do you know what was on the file?”

“It’s too corrupted for me to see. With some time, I...might be able to fix them, and reformat them. If that’s what you want.”

-

Sans was lying on the couch when Grillby came into his house. He’d seen Papyrus leave in a huff a few minutes earlier, and so he assumed Sans was alone.

And Sans was alone, but Grillby got the idea he wasn’t in a great state of mind. He’d intended some kind of conversation about Sans’ friendship with Fuku, but...

Sans lay on the couch, his eyes undercut with shadows and scrunched up at a menu above his head.

“Back already?”

Nico tapped at the door so Sans would look over at him.

“Oh. Hey.” He stared blankly at Grillby, like he didn’t quite recognize him.

Grillby glanced at the open menu curiously. His basic needs were displayed;

his need for sleep-at the exhaustion level-

his social needs-full-

his hunger meter-dropping too rapidly-

his health-frighteningly low, but no exact numbers

He averted his eyes. That was a menu, and it was personal information he had no right to look at. Even if it terrified him.

He’d never seen that menu before. Most people got hungry and thirsty and tired without ever seeing it tick down in real time. Sans must have gone digging for it.

Grillby could hear Sans’ chest rattling with each breath he took.

“Should I come back later?” Sans shrugged.

“No. It’s okay.”

He turned to stare back at his menu and was quiet.

“Is...everything alright?” Grillby pushed himself to speak as Sans had looked away.

“Yeah. Sure.” He looked away from the menu, seemingly realizing that he’d made Grillby speak.

“That’s not very convincing.”

“I’m just...” He let out a breathy laugh and glanced up at it again.

“It’s just really messed up when you think about it, you know? I mean look at that!” He pointed as his hunger ticked down another notch.

“Is it okay if I look?”

“If I cared I would’ve hid it. Look. That there? That’s me dying. But it doesn’t feel that way now. It won’t feel like I’m dying for a while. It’s so fucked up.”

“Oh god...did you just become self-aware?”

That was so rare, but it happened; people staying unaware that their lives were fiction until their twenties, thirties. Even forties, if they weren’t paying attention. Most people didn’t  talk about it, and menus only appeared if summoned.

Sans registered his question a few seconds later.

“No. I’ve known my whole life. But you know what it’s like when you sit down and really start thinking about  stuff, you know.”

“Oh thank the sun. You really had me worried.”

Sans’ hunger was in the red and Grillby saw his health tick down a notch.

“Why don’t you put that away for now?”

“Doesn’t matter if I put it away or not. It’ll still be happening in the background.”

“Yes but it won’t give me an  existential crisis.”

Sans let out a little bark of laughter.

“Yeah. I get that.”

He reached up and slapped the white X in the corner.

“Thank goodness. Now we don’t have to think about that anymore.”

“I didn’t mean to drive you to existential crisis.” He said apologetically.

He knew he would not stop thinking about that for a very long time. He didn’t have to have foresight to know he’d have nightmares about watching Sans’ life draining away.

He forced himself to smile.

“It seems like everything does it nowadays. Let me make you something to help that little hunger problem.”

Notes:

told u I’d upload more
bet u didn’t believe me

also pls comment if you like this kthanxbye

Chapter 34: Certain Future

Grillby had needed to bring ingredients over from his restaurant. The brothers had basically no food in the house-not a great situation since it appeared that Sans had an upsettingly fast metabolism-except some spaghetti that Sans generously referred to as ‘cooked’.
Grillby had thrown it out and made a stir fry after ensuring that Sans could wait the half an hour to eat. It was one of his personal favourites-a simple chicken, veggie and cashew affair-and if Sans really was his soulmate, maybe he’d have the same tastes?
It was an early dinner for him; Heats wasn’t home from school yet, but he’d made quite a bit of the stir-fry. He’d just warm it up again for Heats and Fuku, whenever she came back to eat.
He brought their food to the table before realizing there were no chairs.
Honestly. How did these two function?
He set the bowls down and went to shake Sans awake. He hadn’t noticed Sans falling asleep. He didn’t snore audibly, which Grillby was delighted to (not) hear. After all, they’d have to share a bed one day.
The little floating zs were actually kind of cute, and Grillby had the sudden urge to kiss him awake. The strength of his desire made him nauseous.
He didn’t even love Sans. Was this what he wanted, or what the soulmate bond wanted?
A tiny, selfish part of himself liked the thought that Sans must feel this way about him all the time. At least he knew Sans wouldn’t mind.
He reached out and shook Sans before he could think on it any longer.
Sans vanished almost as soon as his eyesockets opened, and reappeared on the other side of the couch. Grillby was left with black spots in his vision that faded quickly.
There was a pause as Sans fully woke up and realized what had happened.
Grillby had to laugh at his sheepish grin.
“Five more minutes?” He joked.
“Well, that was adorable.”
“Yeah yeah. I’m more than a pretty face, you know.”
He ducked his head, embarrassed at Sans’ tone.
Did Sans not like being called cute? Or did he just say it too often?
Grillby didn’t really know what else to say about him, but knew the feeling all too well.
Sans was looking at him funny, he realized.
“You know that was a joke, right? I don’t mind.”
“Oh.” Of course it was a joke. He was never serious.
“Jeez, I gotta be careful what I say around you, huh?”
“My apologies, I just assumed...”
“I’m not that sensitive, Sunshine. I should know better by now.”
Grillby is uncomfortably quiet.
“So, um, is dinner ready?”
“Oh, yes! Where do you two usually eat?”
“On the couch.”
“Why don’t you have any chairs?”
“Furniture’s expensive,” He said with a shrug “And the couch works just fine.”
He huffed.
“There isn’t even a table there, and you have a perfectly good one in the corner!”
“Yeah I know. But Papyrus doesn’t like the concept of sitting, so we don’t have any.” There was a pause.
“That was a joke. But we really don’t have any in the house.”
He handed Sans the bowl without any further comment, shaking his head.
“This smells really good...guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I’d gotten used to your greasy stuff.”
He flushed green for half a second, getting a little tingle of pride.
“Not that you’re particularly discerning.”
“Ouch! You know, I eat more than just slime food.”
“Yes, you eat uncooked pasta covered in burnt sauce and this single thing I have made you that is not slime food.”
“Man, for such a sensitive guy you can be pretty nasty.”
Grillby’s flame greyed at the thought and he shut his mouth.
“This is why I don’t talk.” He signed apologetically, “I just can’t seem to behave.”
Sans gave him a look he didn’t quite understand. His eyesockets hooded, his smile strained and downturned...He almost seemed sad.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Just kinda funny. You don’t need to stop talking, hon.”
He did stop talking. For the rest of the day he didn’t say a word. He’d already hurt Sans once today.
Sans had kindly told him to leave the dishes and get them tomorrow.
Grillby could tell he was growing more despondent the longer he lingered in the house, so he’d excused himself.
He didn’t sign to Fuku and Heats much when he brought their dinner home.
The thought of his own soulmate seeing the sort of person he was and finding him unpleasant...nasty, as Sans had said...
Perhaps he was better off silent.
For everyone’s sake.
-

Alphys heard it, over and over. They were in the walls, echoing around her room, keeping her up at night.

“But nobody came.” The voices would repeat. Over and over, mimicking patients she’d never heard speak.

The phrase was all too familiar, and a miserable thing to hear again.

The last time she’d heard it...she didn’t want to linger on the thought.

It was spoken all too often during the war, and she’d heard tell that it was repeated in certain hospital wards by traumatized patients.

Who knew where it had begun, but it was a phrase every monster knew.

Monsters were exceedingly social creatures, some species almost to a fault, and to be alone at any time was a source of distress.

But being alone during a traumatic experience? So many monsters couldn’t take it.

Alphys wanted to stay in bed, but she just couldn’t. Not while one of her patients was struggling alone in the depths of her lab. Or in her walls...or wherever they were.

She started easy.

“Where are you? You’re not alone.”

“But nobody came.” Whispered the floor.

She swung her feet over the side, sticking them in her slippers before bothering to remove her covers.

She grabbed her lab coat off the floor next to the bed and deposited it on the floor a few feet away. Half a second later, the bed folded itself into a convenient cube that would have swallowed the lab coat instantly.

She took the elevator down to her lab, still hearing those voices below her.

It was so slow; she had to work on it one of these days. When she wasn’t the Royal Scientist anymore, she’d have all the time in the world to work out these issues.

 

She heard a scream from below and began to pace. She covered her aural sinuses as the screams continued, as the voices grew harsher.

Was the elevator getting smaller? Her lungs burned. Was she breathing too much?

“Get away from me!” The screaming person said.

Alpha knew that voice. It wasn’t a whole voice, it was the voice of a patient of hers. One she had heard speak.

Marylin Aqaria. Her single unmixed patient, the one she’d spent so long isolating...

The elevator stopped.

The doors took a moment to open.

There she was, half-formed as everyone down here was. She lay on the ground, her teal skin unusually pale, her long hairlike tendrils forming black mesh around her shoulders.

Everything under her shoulders was trapped in white slime. She could see the creature’s many eyes and mouth-like openings, and she recognized them even when they were in this shape, though she had no name for them.

These were endemic in her lab, but they had never attacked a patient; one had pet the dogfolk, one had pushed a bad memory into her inventory, but they were harmless.

She thought they were harmless.

Marylin’s handcuffs hung off her wrists; had she done that herself? To what end?

“It burns.” She looked straight at Alphys.

“Lorem ipsum docet.” One of the mouths said cheerily.

Alphys grabbed her phone and scrambled through her apps until she found one that would administer a controlled shock to her target. She used it as a defibrillator, to jumpstart equipment, but never to harm something.

She jammed it into the creature’s viscous form and administered a shock.

Broken, untameable text spat out several mashed together phrases:

nope, But it didn’t work, I’m lovin’ it

and several others too garbled to comprehend.

It only seemed to grow in strength and size, oozing upward to consume her shoulders and neck.

“What are you doing? Make it stop!” Her request ended in a whimper.

“Lorem-ipsum-docet.” One mouth began the chant and the others joined in as it began to climb to cover her mouth.

Alphys didn’t know what else to do, so she stuck her hands inside the mass. There was a slight sting, but her scales were tougher then Marylin’s thin membranous skin. She tried to pull the slime off, but again her efforts went the other way and the creature just covered Marylin’s head. Her screams became muffled by layers of slime, and then they went silent.

And there was an awful contraction, a sizzling, and a new phrase.

“Come join the fun.”

-

It was two am and far too early for knocking. But there was knocking on Grillby’s bar door.

He could feel pain through his bond and was surprised at how soon he had gotten used to everything hurting.

His security spells informed him of this, though he didn’t know how that could be considered a security concern.

It didn’t even tell him who was doing the knocking, and that gave him pause.

If it was one of her sisters...

“Who is knocking?”

He asked the security lines.

A hum.

“Sans.”

Okay, so they hadn’t seen each other much in the days since his last fit, but it was two am.

He pulled some warm clothes on and stormed downstairs, several quite unkind thoughts brewing in his head.

He opened the door.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

Sans was shaking, his eyelights mere pinpricks in his orbits.

“I’m sorry, but I need to tell you something. I know it’s too early, but-“

“Are you sure this can’t wait?”

“I’m dying.”

Well.

“Okay, um...would you like to elaborate? Do I need to get you to a hospital?”

“I have about a year left.”

“Okay. So, you didn’t just find this out, today, at two am. Why did you need to tell me right now?” He should have been scared, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew this was coming. Sans was always exhausted, always in pain and always sick.

But he still should’ve been scared.

“I have a cancerous growth of guilt in my SOUL. Not telling you has made it so much worse. I know I should have told you earlier, but-“

“I don’t love you. You don’t even know if I plan to keep our bond at this point. You didn’t want me to leave you.” He didn’t need to be Sans’ soulmate to figure his exact thought process.

For his part, Sans looked-and clearly felt-ashamed.

“Were stuck together, Sans. I thought I made that clear to you.”

“Yeah. Don’t you worry, I feel like shit about that too.”

“So, what did you do anyway?” Since he had a feeling he wasn’t getting any more sleep that night.

“How much time do you have?”

Yep. No sleep.

Notes:

Look
pleas comment if u like this......
pls

I wrote a chapter
Wrow

 

I’m sorry Grillby :(

Chapter 35: What You Wanted

Frisk knew Carlos’ routine by now. Knew when his work started and ended, all his breaks in between the hours of eleven and seven, later on weekends. Him showing up at their home in a village burned down by some grieving bird monster was not a part of that routine. It was even less routine for that visit to come sometime around noon on a Friday, when he should have been hard at work.

“What do you remember?” His voice was soft, his eyes on the inside of their home.

They hesitated. Well, how much did he remember? How on earth should they start?

“Don’t worry about me keeping secrets. I’ll be dead soon.” That was true.

They gestured for Carlos to come into the house. They sat on a cushion one corner of the room, safely away from the fire pit that dominated the centre.

Their stolen sleeping bag lay bundled up on the corner, wrapped in the remains of shopping bags to keep some of the lazier bugs away. It worked some nights.

“This is the first time we’ve met.” Was that a good place to start?

“I always thought about stopping by when you and Asnoch were around. I don’t want to mess up your...you know, heroic quest, you know.”

“You know about that?”

“Yeah. For whatever reason, I’m the only one of us that becomes a ghost. Even though ghosts aren’t...you know, it’s not quite me, but when I come back at the beginning of your playthrough I remember what that part of me saw.” He glanced quickly at their face.

“I’m not mad, Frisk. I mean, I’d keep resetting in your position too.”

“You know everything that happened?”

“I know a lot. Not everything, but...a lot. I think Sans feels bad for me, you know? So he tells me a lot of stuff I won’t get a chance to see for myself. Or...I guess that I haven’t-look, time is hard but my point is-“ he stops suddenly, his tired eyes boring a hole in their floor, “God, I don’t even know what my point is. I guess I just needed to talk to someone else.”

“I know. It’s too hard to talk to Sans about this stuff.” They’d tried.

“And Asgore’s terrified of ghosts. I don’t even know if he’s fully aware of everything that’s happened, and I don’t want to infect him with it, you know.” Was he? And what, exactly could Asgore be infected with?

“I’m... sorry you keep dying. I just wanted to save him.”

“Like I said. If it was my family I’d be doing the exact same thing. And it’s not all that bad. Sans makes sure I don’t suffer, you know?” Did Sans kill him, then?

“What’s Sans told you? Things you don’t see, I mean.”

“Nothing that’ll help you save him. Though I might...and this is a very big might. Know where he goes to hide.” Frisk sat up straight.

“Where? Does he always stay in the same place?”

“I found a door that wasn’t there before in the Underground. It’s in the capitol city, New Home. You know Winter Street?”

“I’ve never been able to go there.”

“What do you mean? You just get on the River-folk’s boat and tell them what street you’re going to. You can’t get there on foot, but it’s not hard.”

“I don’t know any street names. They don’t show up on my options. I can usually only go places I got to on foot already.”

“Yeah, that’s usually how the River-folk works, but you can’t walk to the capitol. Maybe someone just had to tell you the name of a street? Or maybe the game expects you to fly there. You are the...you know, the angel of the prophecy, right?”

“I guess...but flight magic is really hard.” They hadn’t tried it for long.

“I was joking! You can actually fly?”

“No! But I’m learning.” They’d been trying to learn for cycles, but it wasn’t going well. Carlos didn’t need to know they were bad at magic, though.

“Well, it’s a pretty long trip. Let’s stick with the River-folk if you can’t fly.”

“Where’s the door you were talking about?”

“Winter Street. The door’s really obvious, it’s this big shimmery black metal thing with a skull on it. Sans was behind it on your last playthrough, but...he was already too far gone by the time I found him. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

-

“What did you do?” He asked again. Sans was seated on his apartment’s couch, and he was trying very hard not to think about if the neighbours saw Sans come in. Especially the state he was in.

That was how rumours of him being an incubus would start.

Maybe he shouldn’t think too hard about that.

“Nobody saw me.”

Grillby jumped.

“You think really loud when something bothers you.” Sans flashed a smile at him.

“You’re real nervous about that, huh?”

“We’re talking about you right now. Don’t try to distract me!”

Sans let out a short bark of laughter. The circles under his eye sockets seemed to get darker.

“Alright, I’ll get on with it. Five years ago-“ Already his words felt wrong, discordant; The warmth of a lie, the chill of truth in less than a sentence, “I was...a very different person. I was careless and angry and I thought I knew everything. My carelessness killed a couple of kids. My father ended up banished to wherever I came from because I was arrogant. And I. Guess I’m the reason we’re all trapped here.”

“Were they your children?” A lot to unpack, then.

“No. I’m not a father.” Sans could have learned to lie from the fae. Grillby was halfway impressed and fully annoyed.

“Why do you think it’s your fault we’re here?”

He seemed taken aback that Grillby would even ask that.

“Don’t you remember how the war started, honey?”

“Of course I do! Humans found a demonic parasite and decided to kill everyone over it.”

“No. They found me.”

“Oh. Well. That’s.” That was a lot.

“It makes a lot more sense when you know it was me, huh?”

“It doesn’t make sense. But humans  see things differently than we do.”

“You’re the first monster who didn’t  run screaming when you saw what I look like. You’re the only monster I trust enough to tell, and that’s only because I...you know.”

“Have to?” Then, did Sans feel the same way about their bond?

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” he scratched his skull distractedly, “Though I guess there isn’t really a better way to describe it.”

“Tell me about the children. What happened to them?”

He shook his head.

“Of course you’d ask about that. I should’a figured.” He looked up at Grillby for a second.

“One of ‘em was a demon. A really young demon, and they’d taken some other kid’s body. The other one was...I don’t remember what he was.”

“How did you meet them if they weren’t yours?”

“The demon asked me for a cigarette. I tried to be a good influence for once and said no. Apparently the demon still thought I was cool. Kept bothering me. Their brother would tag along sometimes. That’s all.”

“What happened to them?”

“They really looked up to me. For some reason. So they told me about their life, all the stuff they got up to and...one day they told me that they didn’t even know if their host was still around, but that they’d finally stopped struggling. I didn’t realize they’d just taken the kid’s body, you know? So I told ‘em...that they didn’t deserve that body. That they should give it up, let the host take over again. I told them to go home, but the way they took it was...a lot worse.”

“I see.”

“They ate a bunch of Kingsflowers and...left the body to their host, except the host was already dead, I guess.”

Kingsflowers...that was one way to make sure the human’s body wasn’t effected. The demon must have studied the king’s yellow flowers at length to pick only Kingsflowers from the mix. It would have had to be planned.

“Do you know the demon’s title? Wait no, they must have had a name. What was their name?”

“I can’t say their name.” A self inflicted curse, no doubt.

“But their title was The One Who Comes When You Call Their Name.”

-

Grillby was lying on his bed, too emotional and tired to do anything. His phone rang. It kind of felt like an insult. He couldn’t get up, much less speak.

He took a deep breath and checked the caller ID. He wasn’t really in a state to talk to anyone, but he might manage a few words for his father, or Fuku. Or he’d just stay silent and listen. He was used to that.

Whoever it was had privated their number. He declined the call and put his phone down on the bed next to him. He lay there staring at the ceiling for the next five minutes.

His phone buzzed.

A text? He could maybe do texts. Grillby looked at his phone.

(She’s dead.)

Another private number.

(Mary’s gone)

But he knew who it was.

(You got what you wanted)

Notes:

Wait what do you mean it’s been 3 months????
Yeah. Things have been rough in my life. Things have been rough in everyone’s life, it feels like.
But that’s fine. I have a few words here for you

Chapter 36: Voice

Notes:

Happy 5th anniversary Undertale! A lot of this was written during the concert last week-I know I’m late-and it’s finally done!
Thank you so much for the patience, if you’ve had it. I know it’s been so long

---

Grillby was looking for his daughter.  He didn’t know he was a he yet, but his form was not so human as the one he usually took. He was eight feet tall, with a wingspan of six feet. He had no eyes on his fan shaped head, though they clustered behind his fan, glowing golden. His eyes did not need to be somewhere logical; they could see all.

Maybe not All, in the way humans meant it. But enough. He could see an encampment in the woods around him. He could see, in a way, the growth of the moss on the bark and the beetles skittering through the undergrowth. A mountain lion back up on the mountain stalked a deer.

And the humans held his daughter in a jar. His new baby girl, so tiny, so weak. They feared her. They didn’t even know what she was and they feared her.

He came into their camp with no subtlety, no reason, just wrath. He consumed the tents, the wooden hints of permanent barracks crackled viciously as they burned at the edge of the clearing.

He lost form, lost control and, in a final swirl of violence, it was all over.  He had killed everyone as they slept.

The jar she had been in was cracked from the heat of his wrath and he called her to him.

She did not come. Again he called, his flame filling the space so that there was nothing that could have prevented her from finding him if need be. He called and he called and he ignored the sizzling of water from the jar she had been kept in. Ignored her dust burning away beneath him.

-

Grillby woke with that dream every few days, clamping his hands over his mouth to physically prevent himself from screaming. He hadn’t had it for years. Not since the war, not since his arrest, but he was having them again. He knew why. Mary...she was gone, but even now she was whispering insidious thoughts into his head.

She was right. He could have killed her when he stormed that encampment.

But he didn’t. She was back in her dorm for two weeks and was probably sleeping soundly. And his son...

Grillby stood. Heats had to be safe. The underground was safe. Sure, there had been so many humans lately, but he’d know if something happened.

He walked towards his son’s room. His son, defenceless as she had been.

He heard a low...was that a buzzing? From down the hall.

It must have been his anxiety.

He moved quickly. Not so fast that someone might hear him coming and flee, but enough that he could make it down the hall that separated him from his son in record time.

The buzzing only got more obvious as he approached. He could almost hear words.

Hadn’t he had a dream like this? With this exact voice?

He opened his son’s door fast and he saw...

Diego, that lizard with no arms. But he was grey and his spikes were in a slightly different place and...his head spun. He had seen her in Waterfall, then? It hadn’t been a hallucination?

There was someone else in the room, too. A taller figure who wore a cloak that had fused to its body. It had once been some kind of skeleton, the bony hands and melted, cracked skull told him that. What happened to it?

He reached out to it, knowing it must have been in pain. Maybe he could heal it somehow. He touched it and knew instantly there was nothing anyone could do.

His son was awake, like he’d been talking to the horrible pair just before Grillby came in. He was sitting up, and he looked content at the sight of these two strangers.

The grey child spoke, voice high and feminine, as it had been the last time he’d heard it.

“Yo, you’re a-“ and here she made a horrid choking noise “too, right?”

The figure with the cracked face put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, and then they were gone.

Heats pouted in his bed.

“You scared them away!”

-

Frisk had lost track of time and the order time came in. The carefully plotted events they knew like the back of their hand were no longer where Frisk had left them.

So when Frisk left their home to start their day, they forgot to listen to the world around them.

If they had listened, they would have known what day it was.

If they had listened, they would have hidden.

Frisk did not listen, and so they walked out the side of the ruined building and stopped dead at the sight of His jacket, a ratty old thing that had been dropped in the shade of the mountain. He’d sat there. He had gotten up. Where was He now? In the village still? They retreated into the safety of their shelter, knowing it was already too late if He was. He would find them. He always did, if they were there to be found.

But He was a problem willing to solve Himself, if only they didn’t get in His way. He’d go looking for them the only place He figured they would run. Right to the monsters, where He thought they would fit.

But they didn’t fit anywhere. They knew He wouldn’t come back out.

And Asgore would get another SOUL.

They took some time to listen, but heard nothing.

Some part of them wanted to say goodbye. They had just missed him. They said goodbye every time, but this time, they had missed their last chance to forgive him. The summit wasn’t far, and if there was any sign he hadn’t fallen yet they would just leave. He wasn’t here, at the very least.

So Frisk poked their head out of the side of their building and waited.

Nothing.

They stepped out into the sunlight, and looked around. They walked to the mountain pass that led to the hole. They kept on this way; a few steps, then stopping to look around and listen. They knew they were breathing heavily despite how little they had moved. They felt sick, but they forced themself to climb up the ledge to mountain path.

It wasn’t far, and they were so very careful. They would be fine. They would be safe.

Halfway there. There was a secondary path, but it led back down, past the village and into Ebbott city. There was climbing to do now, and they pulled themself up the sloped face of the mountain, sweating even though the wind was cool. They were fast-doing this over thirty times made it so much easier-and they set hands on the next section of path before noon.

Frisk paused to take in deep, long breaths.

And they looked up to see Him, standing several feet away.

He had gone the wrong direction at first, as he was standing on one of the other paths. He was looking directly at them. He shouted something that certainly was not their name.

Frisk ran. Frisk didn’t look back, coalescing their magic around their hands. But what could they do? Fire? Could they do that to Him, even after what he had done to them?

Flight? No, that would take too long and they wouldn’t be able to fly fast enough to get away from Him.

They had chosen the path that would lead them to the underground, though not on purpose. There were dozens of grasping roots waiting to trip them up, and almost as many bushes covered in thorns within face-planting distance.

Frisk tripped and stumbled and scratched themself up on everything they saw. At least, according to the shouting, He was too.

The irony of the man who taught them to be so quiet refusing to keep his mouth shut was not lost on them.

They reached the very top and almost tripped their way into the hole. Not that it would let them pass yet. They looked around, hoping they could find some place to hide, or a place to continue fleeing too...but there was nothing but them, the hole and Him. He grabbed them from behind, hands around their middle. His eyes bulged when he saw their fire and they opened their mouth.

“Don’t you dare!” He shrieked, and they took a horrible satisfaction in the look on His face.

Frisk spoke for the first time in so many years, their voice reverberating with power.

“No.”

And he let go. His eyes glowed like theirs did. His ears bled.

And he fell.

Chapter 37: Unnamed

Sans had found the body, he said. Lying outside the door to the Ruins. He said that ‘someone’ must not have known how to heal the human.

The human must have fallen into the underground and landed wrong. Very wrong. Or maybe he’d hit his head on the way down.

 

He was alive. Barely.

 

That’s how she knew Sans hadn’t done it, wasn’t trying to hide something vicious he had done. Sans was nothing if not thorough.

Alphys watched his chest rise and fall painfully.

 

He could die now. He could live until he was well enough to fight.

 

Only two more SOULs.

 

She could do it herself. Take a scalpel, shoulder a seventh of Asgore’s burden. Every kill weighed on him until she feared he would break.

 

Was it her place? And it was against her oath, though she’d done so much harm already.

She’d just been trying to help.

Alphys went through the man’s pockets and found an ID. Jackson Garcia.

 

And she found a picture of a young child. They were five, maybe six? They wore an oversized sweater and their bowl cut had grown out to cover their eyes. They looked tired.

Alphys squinted at the picture. At the child’s face. Were those bruises, just barely healed?

 

Alphys put the photo back, then the ID.

 

Alphys could have sworn she heard whispering in the vents.

 

“Come join the fun.”

-

He was laying in bed reading Batsy Hart’s Practical Guide to Soulmates again. He had read it five times already, not that it had stopped him getting attached. He’d hoped things wouldn’t be like this. But he’d never had a choice.

 

Not when he could feel when Sans was being shouted at, could sense how deep his brother’s words cut.

 

He couldn’t take it. He set the book down, not bothering to note the page.

 

“Sorry Batsy. You’ll have to wait.”

 

He made his way to Sans’ house and pushed his way inside.

 

Grillby heard Papyrus shouting before he even opened the door to Sans’ messy room. The pain he felt in his SOUL had told him that already.

 

“SANS! Do you really plan to lay in bed all day?”

 

“Like I said. Why not? I’m so good at sleeping-“

 

He opened the door and found exactly what he expected: Sans lying on his bed, covers on the floor, and Papyrus standing furiously over him.

 

“Not that joke again! Are you really so lazy you can’t come up with new puns?”

 

Lazy.

 

Grillby popped to get their attention.

 

Papyrus was triumphant at the sight of him.

 

“Grillby! Can you help me get Sans up? We’re supposed to be working right now!” He grasped at his bald skull like he was tearing out imaginary hair.

 

“I have to leave. I’m late. I can’t wait for him to grow a work ethic!”

 

Papyrus ran off without waiting for a response.

 

Sans didn’t respond to his presence. He was so cold.

 

Grillby put his blankets back on, helping him wrap himself up.

 

“Do you want some of my heat?”

 

“If you can spare some.” His voice was soft.

 

“I’m overactive, I always have some to spare.”

 

Grillby pulled some extraneous flame from his form and reached in to add it to Sans’ ribcage.

 

“Wait, no, just give it to me. I’ll put it in.”

 

Sans stuck his hand out and Grillby gave him the fire. The hand went back in.

 

“Is your SOUL in your ribcage?”

 

“Yes.“

 

“Do you not want me to touch it? Or see it?”

 

“Not yet. It’s...bad.”

 

Grillby ran a warm, comforting hand down the pile of blankets. Of course, that was where the cancer was. It wouldn’t disgust him, it couldn’t disgust him, but...

 

The door downstairs slammed as Papyrus left. Grillby couldn’t help the anger that flooded him then.

 

“Your brother doesn’t seem very respectful of the fact that you’re dying.”

 

Sans said nothing.

 

“Tell me he knows.”

 

“He knows. But he doesn’t really understand, I think. I’ve been sick my whole life and he’s never understood. So telling him it’s worse now, that I can’t handle the pain...he won’t ever understand.”

“It’s not a difficult concept to grasp.”

 

“It is for him.”

 

“That doesn’t give him the right to treat you so badly.”

 

“He doesn’t mean it. Besides, I don’t mind.”

 

Grillby glared at the bundle of blankets.

 

“Have you forgotten that you can’t lie to me?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“This can’t be helping your feelings of guilt.”

 

“Didn’t I just say-“

 

“I’ll talk to him, then.”

 

“Nothing is going to change if you do. Just stay here with me.”

 

Grillby’s soul twinged with pain. His own, for once.

 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

-

*File contains information on both the treatment of the so far unnamed child Sans and his predictions of the future

Do not forget to check this folder again. The unnamed child Sans has a habit of sneaking new predictions in, undoubtedly to avoid provoking me, as the previous guardian did not treat him well.

 

Article 1: A child’s drawing of two people. The previous guardian holding what I am told is a baby Papyrus. Has been defaced by previous guardian to say “Since you will never have a name, I might as well let you pick his.”  Underneath, in illegible writing, I am told is written Papyrus’ name

(Come on dad, I did my best)

Status: Came to pass August 14th, 20080.

 

Article 2: A child’s drawing of three people. Myself, Sans and Papyrus sitting in grass, surrounded by black flowers. The drawing has been defaced by the previous guardian. He wrote “Is this some kind of sick joke He’s never coming home” across the top. The lack of punctuation indicates the previous guardian’s distress.

Status: Came to pass sometime in the year 20085

 

Article 3: A Child’s drawing of at least a dozen monsters, including two that Sans identified as himself and Papyrus, as skeletons. Sans has identified that I am one of the monsters present, though he has not said which one. He says he doesn’t know who the rest are, though I do not believe him.

 

There are four fire elementals (two possibly children), what might be a siren, three lizardfolk (two possibly children) Sans, Papyrus and a dark, formless figure.

 

It has been defaced by the previous guardian. Papyrus and myself have refuted this.

 

(The drawing has “Nobody will ever love you like this”, “You don’t deserve this” and “It won’t happen”. written across it)

(Underneath two people have written “I do.”)

Status: Pending