Chapter 1: Directory
Chapter Text
Sept 1: ACT — Sans is frustrated by the constant RESETs, but he doesn't dare risk changing the script and throwing unknown variables into the equation. At least... that's the plan until he finds Frisk crying alone in the woods of Snowdin
[Themes: comfort, protective Sans, good big brother Sans]
Sept 2: Trust — This one takes place when Sans was a child, following my worldbuilding of Sans' childhood.
– Sans had been living on the streets for a while now, doing his best to care for his babybones brother who can't even properly walk yet. But that Fire guy was nice... too nice. Nobody would just offer him help these days, not when he didn't have parents to protect him and Paps anymore. But... Paps was sick, likely caught whatever Sans himself had been fighting off for days. And Sans didn't really care if he was sick, but Paps was a completely different story. Just this once, he'd try this whole... trust thing.
[Themes: sickfic, protective older brother Sans, protective dad Grillby, learning to trust]
Sept 3: Love (all lowercase) — A small scene of Frisk with Toriel during their very first trip to the Underground—before they even realized they had the RESET power. They're understandably frightened of this tall intimidating monster, even if Chara continually assures them that she won't hurt them, but what's this weird flickering warmth in their chest?
Sept 4: Hope — (in the works! This one's gonna be long)
Sept 5: PAPYRUS — [Delayed but in the works]
Sept 6: sans — In which there's a secret Neutral Route ending where Sans becomes the king of the Underground... but it's just a little too much work for him. CW for possible MCD?? He sorta falls asleep and it's implied, but time is RESET so it's really fine—
Sept 7: LOVE (all uppercase, Level of Violence)
Sept 8: Flowey
Sept 9: SOUL
Sept 10: Death
Sept 11: RESET
Sept 12: Memories
Sept 13: Pacifist
Sept 14: Fear
Sept 15: Mercy
Sept 16: Genocide
Sept 17: Human
Sept 18: Scientist
Sept 19: Stars
Sept 20: Tradition
Sept 21: Magic
Sept 22: Surface
Sept 23: Stories
Sept 24: Trauma
Sept 25: Ghost
Sept 26: Home
Sept 27: Truth
Sept 28: Party
Sept 29: Family
Sept 30: Frisk
Chapter 2: ACT (Sept 1)
Summary:
Sans finds Frisk crying in the forest of Snowdin, and decides he's had enough of following a script.
Notes:
I'll say here and now... I wrote this in like... an hour. So don't expect it to be very good.
Chapter Text
Sans watched as Frisk exited the Ruins, letting out a small breath of relief when he saw their EXP at 0. Not a speck of Dust on them this time, thank the Stars. Even still, he felt frustration swirling within him, hot and wild like the lava rivers of Hotland. How many times did this make? He wasn’t sure.
He didn’t have perfect recall of the other timelines, but he had pieces of memories from them. He knew there were timelines when Frisk had gotten them to the Surface—more than once. He knew there were timelines where the kid had killed everyone, creating a horror scene that put the Waterfall Massacre to shame.
He may not have remembered them all in their entirety, but he remembered enough. He knew they’d happened, remembered finding a red scarf in a snowbank surrounded by windblown Dust. He remembered stacking ‘dogs on the kid’s head using his blue magic until the kid giggled too hard and they all came tumbling down. He remembered loving the kid like they were his own family, and he remembered hating them with equal passion—the sting of betrayal and confusion overwhelming in a way he’d never known.
He vividly recalled the moment he’d realized that the kid’s SOUL had a double layer to it—that they were being possessed by a corrupted SOUL that was incomplete. Once he’d managed to pry away the two from one another, the Genocide Runs stopped. He knew that much, at least.
But now… now this was happening. These stupid half-baked friendly runs through the Underground that got RESET sometime after befriending Alphys but before reaching Asgore. Sans didn’t understand why.
He narrowed his eyesockets at them as they walked, nearly forgetting to snap the large branch after they passed it (he noted with a distant amusement that they still forced themself to jump slightly at the sound, and glance nervously over their shoulder, despite Sans knowing full well that they knew he was there).
It was almost like they were searching for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t particularly care anymore. Sans just wanted time to stop repeating itself.
He said his lines, watched as the kid responded with theirs. They did his brother’s puzzles this time too, pretending to struggle with some of them so Papyrus wouldn’t think he’d made them too easy—Sans really appreciated that, because he had the vague feeling that Paps had gotten really downhearted about it when Frisk had once solved them all on autopilot.
He managed to find Frisk and Papyrus while they were Fighting, and held his breath the entire time until Frisk Spared him. He knew he didn’t always remember where they Fought—especially in those Dustruns—but it was always a breath of relief when his brother was able to walk home on his own two feet from that encounter. He knew it wasn’t fully Frisk those times, but at the same time he couldn’t help the way his SOUL shuddered with the echo of the pain of losing his brother.
The day went pretty normally, for a good run. His brother had his first ‘date’ (the kid was eight, but he knew Papyrus hadn’t really thought about that, and his brother probably didn’t see the difference between friendship and dating just yet anyways), so Sans made sure to snap a few pictures to tease him about this later—even if later never came.
As night settled around them and his brother nodded off to sleep after his bedtime story—a true gift Sans didn’t take for granted, because his brother was still alive to read these stories to—Sans felt himself growing restless. Sleep, for once, sounded like the furthest thing from his reach.
Well, he’d had his bouts of insomnia and nightmares before, so really what was another soon-to-be-erased night?
He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets and Shortcutted to his front porch, setting about taking a nice long stroll. He was just making a loop through some of the woods when a sound caught his attention. It was so quiet that he had to stop walking to hear it again. Soft sniffles and a half-choked sob echoed through the midnight forest, and Sans found his browbones furrowing in a mixture of confusion and concern. Was someone lost? It sounded like a child.
He stopped at the edge of a small clearing. It was Frisk.
The kid was sitting against a large tree with their knees tucked tightly to their chest as they buried their face in them and cried. He hesitated at the edge of the treeline. He’d never seen the kid cry before—not like this. Not in this desperate way where they bit their arm in an effort to keep silent. Something about it pulled at his damaged SOUL almost painfully.
It would mess up everything, if he approached them. It would throw all stability out the window and introduce more unknown variables than he would like to something that had once already been a happy ending. It might even somehow become a catalyst for triggering more Genocides.
But Sans was a bleeding SOUL in more ways than one, and he’d never be able to walk away from a child in pain. Especially one that he still thought of as family. Sans had observed this entire timeline mess for far too long. It was time to stop fleeing. It was time to ACT.
He crunched the snow as he approached the kid, but they didn’t seem to hear him. He crouched about an arm’s length away from them, careful to stay both out of their strike zone and personal space, but be close enough to offer comfort.
“hey, kiddo.”
Frisk’s head whipped up, revealing puffy bloodshot eyes and flushed cheeks. Their face was smeared with a mixture of tears and snot, and their lip was bleeding from where they’d been biting at it earlier. Sans hid a wince when he saw a bit of blood on their arm from where they’d been sinking their teeth into it in an effort to keep quiet.
“S-Sans?” Frisk hastily swiped their sleeve against their face, but it didn’t seem to do much good when they were still crying. “Wh-what are you do-doing here?”
Sans used a Shortcut to snag a box of tissues from the market, depositing a bit of gold there to cover the costs. He handed it over to the kid, who carefully took it. “well, i couldn’t sleep. so i was out on a walk.” He leaned back into a sitting position. “what about you?”
“I… um… I just…” They shook their head. It was obvious that Sans had caught them off-guard by approaching them. He wondered if this was something they did in the other timelines. “I… You’ve never um…”
“the other Sanses never found you here, did they?” He watched the snow gently drift from the clouds that covered the magical sky. It was a clever piece of illusion magic to block the cavern roof that hid behind those clouds. It let them trick themselves into thinking there was more beyond those snow-laden clouds.
Frisk froze, staring at him with wide eyes. “H-how?”
“ah, how do i know about that?” Sans shrugged. “well, there’s an anomaly with the timelines. starting and stopping—” he cut himself off when he realized he was slipping into his old lines. He wasn’t looking to attack the kid, and going off the way their body tensed, the familiar words would do far more harm than good. “and… and i kinda remember them too.”
“You… you what?”
“not everything, of course.” He quickly reassured them. “bits and pieces here and there. like that time i took you to grillbz’ place and pranked you with the ketchup bottle. or that time i stacked a million ‘dogs on your head. and… and that time we went to the park together with everyone and flew kites. and when Tor learned that snails were a delicacy in France, so she insisted on a trip there to share her snail pie, which ended up being so popular that she was able to sell the recipe to several restaurants for a good sum…”
He trailed off when he realized he was getting lost in his memories.
“I…” The kid looked horrified. “You remember.” They swallowed thickly. “Do… do you remember…” They stared at their trembling hands, and Sans gently reached out to take them into his own.
“i remember that your SOUL was possessed by a corrupted one. i know it wasn’t you.”
“But… it…” Frisk squeezed their eyes shut. “I wasn’t able to stop it and… And us leaving the Surface… that was me.”
“i’m sure you had your reasons, kiddo. we can talk about that later. but right now, i want to know why you’re out here in the middle of the snowdin woods crying.”
Frisk shook their head. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”
Sans carefully tugged them closer to himself, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around their shoulders, both for warmth and to wrap them in the protective magic he’d been soaking into it for most of his life. The kid melted into it, and Sans gently took their arm in his grasp, eyeing the bite wound that was sluggishly bleeding. It was a bit deeper than he’d expected.
“i dunno kiddo, but i think we might have different definitions of ‘fine’.” He pulled at his magic, changing it from its usual shade of blue to green. The wound began to stitch itself back together. Sans wasn’t the best with green magic, but it was plenty for a small injury like this, and after a few seconds there wasn’t a mark left.
Frisk poked at their arm with intrigue, running their fingers over where the wounds had been. “That’s cool.”
“well, i’d say it’s snow big deal, but my bro can do a much better job with healing magic than me. i’m a bit of a bonehead when it comes to healing magic.” The kid giggled at his puns. “seriously though, Frisk. what’s wrong?”
“Other than the fact that you remember all the times I’ve hurt you?” Frisk shook their head. “I can’t… I can’t find a way to save them.”
Sans’ SOUL skipped a beat. “save who?” Was this why they’d been jumping back again and again?
“Chara and Asriel.” Their voice was hardly a whisper, but there was so much guilt in it that Sans felt nearly breathless. “They… Chara asked me to find a way to help her… and–” They hiccuped, arms wrapping themselves tightly around their knees once more, though they tugged his jacket tightly around themselves and appeared to take some comfort in its presence. “And Asriel’s stuck as a soulless flower right now, and that’s not right! He… he and Chara are mom’s kids, and… and I can’t replace them! I won’t! Mom doesn’t mean it like that, but I know Chara thinks so! She sees mom doting on me and it hurts her. And I can’t imagine what Asriel feels. He’s tried, he tried to love them, tried to feel some kind of warmth and comfort from them, but…”
Sans gently wrapped his arms around the kid, pulling them into a much-needed embrace as he processed the words tumbling from their mouth. Chara he was vaguely aware of, but Asriel? The dead prince of the monsters? The only soulless flower he knew in the Underground was Flowey.
Well, that was just some kind of messed up irony, wasn’t it? The sweetest little prince had somehow become a homicidal timeline-wrecking soulless flower that Sans was pretty sure he’d killed more than once in his capacity as Judge.
He subconsciously rocked the kid as they cried, the motions etched into his bones from years of raising Papyrus.
“it’ll be all right, frisk. we’re going to work together to figure this out, okay?” He wasn’t going to make any promises—he was sick of them by this point anyways, if he was being brutally honest—and he really wasn’t sure how to go about bringing a dead kid back to life or somehow creating an artificial SOUL for a SOULless being—both were considered utter impossibilities, but Sans had never been one to accept that as an excuse.
“You… you’ll help me?” Frisk blinked up at him with surprise.
“of course, kiddo.” He gently ruffled their hair. “just, uh… try to keep the whole… timeline resetting thing to a minimum, yeah? it’s kind of…” disillusioning, disorientating, terrifying, traumatizing, “inconvenient.” he finally settled upon.
The kid gave a firm nod and rubbed at their face again. This time, their face was set into a familiar expression of determination. Sans gave a gentle smile and stood up, brushing the snow from his shorts. He held out a hand towards Frisk.
“it’s a bit cold out here, you look chilled to the bone. snow joke.” He grinned. “howsabout you crash with me and paps tonight?”
Frisk giggled again and took his hand. “That sounds… ice.”
Sans’ laughter echoed through the trees.
Chapter 3: Trust (Sept 2)
Summary:
Sans had been on the streets since his parents died. He was always hungry, cold, and tired, but seeing his babybones brother smile made everything worth it. He'd placed his trust in adults before, but things were different since his parents died. Things weren't what they were.
He didn't really care when he himself fell sick, but his brother? That was a different story. Maybe... maybe that fire monster that offered him a hand could be trusted.
Sans certainly hoped so.
Notes:
Hello!! I've done a lot of worldbuilding for Sans' past (I have a fic in the works where the post-Pacifist crew watches his past from birth to present!) and among that is his childhood.
In my hc, Sans' mother died and he and his brother ended up out on the streets of New Home. In this chaotic time, a lot of orphaned kids fell through the cracks of whatever system the monsters had for orphans at the time. Sans and Papyrus were among them. But Grillby found Sans stealing from a store and offered to pay for it. Ever since then, Grillby did his best to help Sans (who was a proud little shit and very distrustful at the time).
This is a scene in my mind of how Sans finally allowed himself to trust Grillby's kindness and get himself and his bro off the streets for good. :)
Chapter Text
Sans was in trouble. It wasn’t necessarily anything new, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to stumble his way out of this one on his own. He was usually pretty good at winging things—especially considering he was a skeleton monster and they didn’t have wings—but he’d had a low fever for days and it wasn’t getting better.
He was just a kid—still in stripes, and taking care of a tiny babybones that was his brother—but he was pretty sure skeletons weren’t supposed to get sick like this. Even still, there wasn’t much for him to do about it.
He was a kid. On the streets. His parents were dead, he had no place to live, and nobody was willing to hire him because of the stupid stripes on his shirt (and he’d tried stealing something without stripes so he could masquerade as an adult or teenager and get a job, but nobody would believe him when he was so dang short).
A deep aching cold forced a shiver down his spine as he tugged his threadbare striped sweater a little tighter around himself. He really wanted to put his jacket on right now—it’d been a gift from his dad before he’d died and it was really warm, but Paps was so tiny. His baby brother needed the warmth more than Sans did, so he’d swathed his brother in the fluffy sherpa-lined jacket and held the sleeping baby close. Was he a baby or a toddler? Sans wasn’t sure, but Papyrus had started trying to stand up on his own recently, so he was pretty sure a toddler was what he’d be called when he started toddling around, right? That made sense, at least.
A sharp wind whistled through the alleyway, bringing with it the horrid promise of rain—whoever decided to replicate weather systems underground was an idiot or an asshole, Sans decided, because there was no reason for nasty weather when everyone lived underground.
His brother squirmed lightly, a small sound of discomfort echoing off the cold stone walls of their alley.
“shh, it’s okay, paps. i’m here, Brother’s here.” He bounced him lightly in his arms, but his brother didn’t calm down. Was he shivering?
Sans pressed a hand to his brother’s forehead and winced. He was hot. He wasn’t imagining the white glow on his brother’s cheekbones. Sans’ SOUL fluttered with fear. Papyrus was sick.
Had Sans given him whatever he’d caught? Oh, this was bad. This was really bad. He had to… to find medicine or something. Because there was medicine for fevers, right? But Sans couldn’t afford something that expensive, and he was pretty sure that stealing from a pharmacy was a whole different kind of trouble than stealing bread from a food stand.
But what else could he do? Papyrus was sick. It was one thing when it was Sans—he was bigger and stronger and could probably count on himself to power through it—but Paps was tiny . He was so small Sans could hold him in his arms and not get tired! His brother shouldn’t be in any pain or discomfort, he should be giggling and laughing and clapping his tiny hands at whatever small bit of trash Sans threw about with his magic to entertain him. He should be babbling about whatever caught his interest or intrigue—even if he couldn’t really form reliable sentences yet. He should be bright-eyed and optimistic and energetic—the only positive in their lives right now.
He tightened his grip on his brother as he felt tears of frustration forming in his sockets. His head was pounding and those stupid shivers were exhausting, but he forced himself to try to think of a solution. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let Paps get to the point that Sans was at. Begging probably wouldn’t get him far, especially when it was medicine he was asking for. People didn’t even bother with food, and that was far less expensive!
He went to stand, but the world tilted. He clattered loudly against the brick wall behind him, staggering to keep himself upright lest he drop his precious brother. He was so cold—it felt like his marrow had turned to ice. Another shiver wracked his body as the first droplets of rain fell, and he sent a baleful glare at the fake sky.
Maybe the weather was caused by the magic trapped in the barrier or something. Like how he read that severe fluctuations in atmospheric pressure caused by natural disasters like volcanic eruptions could cause things called thunderstorms. So maybe having a few hundred thousand monsters trapped under a mountain created a sort of false atmosphere with its own unique weather patterns and—
Papyrus squirmed again, and Sans blinked bleary sockets at his brother. Right. Paps was sick. He had to… to find help for him.
Wasn’t there a fire monster that’d offered him help if he wanted it? The guy had paid for Sans’ stolen food and baby formula and then offered him a place to stay or something, but the kid was young, not stupid. Adults didn’t help kids for no reason—not kids like him and Paps. Not kids who no longer had parents to protect them.
But…
“Bwother… hurts…” Papyrus whimpered as the rain started coming down fiercer, and Sans took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way his joints ached and burned against the frigid ice in his bones.
“i know Paps. i’m gonna get us somewhere dry and warm, okay?” He pulled the hood of his jacket over his brother’s face to shield him from the rain and cradled him against his chest, praying his trembling arms wouldn’t give out and drop him.
That fire guy had said he lived by the park. Sans didn’t give people second chances, but he supposed this guy hadn’t done anything bad… yet. He had paid for food, and often swung by Sans’ usual haunts to talk. Sometimes he’d ‘forget’ food or clothes. It was… odd. But maybe odd was what he needed right now.
He stumbled through the rain, unsure if his hazy view of the city was from the rain pouring down his eyesockets or his fever spiking. The world was a little fuzzy, sounds were muffled and distant, and more than once he had to catch himself before he stumbled to the ground.
He feared that if he fell, he wouldn’t find the strength to get back up.
Sans made sure to keep a secure grip on his brother, who was watching him with wide eyesockets. He was surprisingly calm, all things considered. Paps was always intuitive—he could pick up on Sans’ moods pretty easily, and was always quick to realize when Sans needed a distraction or when he was hurt somewhere.
This time, it looked like Papyrus realized he needed to not squirm around and wail—Sans would have to find something sweet to give him later as thanks.
Sans felt a sigh of relief when he made it to the park, only to stare in despair when he realized something important—he didn’t know where fire-guy lived. They’d met at the park more than once, but he’d never bothered to ask where the guy’s house was.
He leaned against a tree, cyan tears flowing down his cheekbones and mixing with the rain as he realized he’d put forth all this effort for nothing . Paps was still sick, Sans could hardly stand, and now the world was even blurrier than before.
Why would he think a FIRE monster would be hanging outside in the RAIN? Rain could be really bad for fire monsters—if they got too wet, it might even kill them. Mom had once said their SOULs were wreathed in fire, so if something doused that SOUL, they’d Dust.
He was an idiot. He was so stupid and selfish and now his brother was sick and in pain and it was all Sans’ fault and—
“Sans? What are you doing out here?”
Sans’ head whipped up so quickly he almost lost his balance. His vision swam and the only thing that kept him upright was the tree that dug into his spine. “fire guy…” He stared at the monster with wide disbelieving eyesockets. The guy held a rather large umbrella in one hand and held a plastic bag of groceries in the other. In that moment, Sans didn’t care that he had tears running down his face when a stranger could see. “please… my brother’s sick. please help us.” He hiccuped, cursing himself for the desperation in his voice.
“Shh, it’ll be all right.” Fire guy gently grabbed Sans’ hand—it was pleasantly warm, and he found himself gravitating towards the monster with a fierce shiver. The fire monster seemed to frown at the action, one hand braving the rain to feel his forehead.
“h-hey, it’s paps you need to worry ‘bout. not me.” Sans dodged the touch, but the world swam again.
“Child, I am made of fire and even I can tell you’re hot.”
Sans resisted the urge to shake his head. “my brother is littler. he’s not as strong as me. help him, please.”
Fire guy seemed to sigh before nodding. “Come along, my apartment isn’t far.”
It was a bit of a haze from there. Sans was mostly concentrating on keeping himself upright and not dropping Papyrus. He was secretly grateful for Fire guy’s hand on his arm, keeping him from stumbling over the slick ground. Bones didn’t really have the best grip on things, after all, especially when wet.
The apartment was, thankfully, at ground level. It was small. A simple two-bedroom place with a small kitchen and living room. He didn’t really pay much attention beyond that as Fire guy—what was his name again? Sans hadn’t really paid much attention to him before—guided him to the couch. Sans gratefully collapsed on there and set his attention to freeing his brother from the confines of the soaked jacket.
Papyrus squirmed a bit as he removed the wet clothing, but thankfully his brother was only slightly damp. Sans had managed to keep the worst of the water from his babybones.
Fire guy returned with two towels and a fresh set of clothes for both of them—though the shirt seemed a little long for Sans, it was definitely children’s clothes. Hadn’t the guy mentioned a daughter once or twice?
Sans jerked away when something was pressed lightly to his forehead. A small beep sounded after a moment and Fire guy pulled it away. It was a thermometer like what mom used to have—the kind specifically made for skeleton monsters.
Why would this guy have that? He was about to ask him when his eyelights caught on something on the bookshelf behind him. There was a whole shelf filled with books on skeleton monsters. Culture, health, dietary stuff, even childcare books. “you got another skeleton here or something?” It was suspicious. The guy just happened to have all these books? Was he some kind of creep that—
“After I met you and your brother, I realized that you may one day take me up on my offer for aid.” Fire guy cut off his train of thought and adjusted his glasses. He moved to take Papyrus’ temperature. “I didn’t know much about skeleton monsters, and I didn’t want to hurt you or your brother if you ever decided to put your trust in me, so I did a little research.” The beep sounded and he shuffled around in his bag for something. “Your brother has a mild fever, but he should be fine with some simple SOUL cold medicine.”
Something in Sans relaxed at that as the monster measured out the medicine and fed it to Paps under Sans’ watchful gaze.
“You, on the other hand, are very sick.” The guy sounded displeased.
“i’ll be fine. just a nap or something and i’ll—”
Fire guy’s sigh cut him off. “Sans.” His voice crackled like a hearth as he measured out a much larger dose of the fever medication for Sans himself. “I fear if you had come to me any later, your life might have been in danger. SOUL illnesses are not to be trifled with, and from what I’ve read, when skeletons get sick, it’s always a SOUL illness.”
“but skeletons don’t get cold. we aren’t affected by…” He frowned when a fierce shiver wracked his body again.
“Little bones like you two are still growing. Skeletons have a growth of bone around their SOULs to protect them, because you do not have flesh and muscle like others to protect your SOULs. But young ones like you two have gaps around that growth. Your bones haven’t finished growing and fusing together. You must be careful, especially in severe weather or temperature extremes.”
Sans’ eyesockets widened. His mother had always told him to bundle up when it was cold. He’d thought it was just something she told him because it was a mom thing. It wasn’t like he could feel cold or heat like other monsters, so he’d figured that it wasn’t anything more than that.
But now it made sense. She’d been worried he’d get sick. And since Sans had given his jacket to Papyrus when the weather had gotten nasty, it’d left Sans’ SOUL with only a threadbare sweater as protection. It was no wonder he’d gotten so sick.
He pouted lightly as he took his medicine from the fire guy. It was the same one his mom used to buy. He remembered when he was really little he had… a cold? Or something? He wasn’t sure, but he knew this taste. It tasted like a mother’s worry.
“why are you doing this?” Sans found the question tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. The guy was already helping Sans out of his soaked layers and into something warmer and drier. There was even a cup of hot soup on the table for him, and a fresh warm mush-meal for Paps. He felt his eyes watering again. “why… why do you care?”
“I’m a father, you know? My daughter’s asleep in the other room.” He hummed as he tried to feed Papyrus. Sans chuckled when the fire monster’s efforts proved fruitless and the young skeleton took the mush from him.
“he won’t eat if you just feed him.” Sans shook his head, ignoring the way the room swayed with the action. “heya, paps. here comes the tsunderplane! nyrooommmm!” He made a big show of the spoon flying around with his blue magic, earning a delighted giggle from his brother.
“P’ane! NYRRROMM!” He clapped.
“tsunderplane went all this way to deliver you food, Paps!” Sans flew the ‘plane’ towards his brother’s mouth, and Papyrus happily took his bite.
“More! More!”
It took less than ten minutes for Papyrus to finish his food, a happy little giggle-burp informing Sans that his brother was full and ready for a nap.
“You should eat too.” Fire guy gently nudged the still steaming mug of soup Sans’ way. The skeleton ensured his brother was tucked into the crook of the couch and sound asleep before he turned his attention towards his own food.
How long had it been since he’d had a hot meal? The moment the warmth hit his bones, he found himself in tears yet again. “i’ve been crying too much today.” He muttered as he tried to aggressively swipe at the magic leaking from his sockets.
“To answer your earlier question,” Fire guy busied himself with gathering up the remains of Paps’ meal, “there should never need to be a reason for someone to help another in need.”
Sans felt his hands tighten around the mug of soup as his voice tightened. His father used to say the exact same thing. That one should never need a reason to show kindness to others. Maybe… Maybe this fire guy would be different from the others. Maybe Sans wouldn’t regret giving him this tentative branch of trust.
“hey, fire guy.” He stared at his empty mug, the lingering warmth of the broth seemed to help chase away the horrible shivers he’d been struggling with for days. His bones felt heavy and the couch felt really, really comfy. He curled up on his side, cradling his brother against him as he fought to keep his eyesockets open. “what’s… what’s your name?”
The monster startled lightly, and Sans got the distinct impression he was smiling. “Grillby.” He answered after a long moment. “My name is Grillby.”
“grillbz.” Sans smiled softly. “you hurt my brother, i will end you.”
“I am aware.”
“and if you make him cry, you’ll regret it.”
“So you’ve said.”
“thanks.” He let his eyesockets close. “for saving him… for saving us.”
He thought he heard Grillby say something in response, but he was already drifting too far to hear him. For the first time in ages, Sans felt safe.
Chapter 4: Love (Sept 3)
Summary:
Frisk's first impressions of Toriel, the day after they've fallen into the Underground.
Notes:
This is the first time I've tried writing something Frisk-centric, so I hope I've done it well! That said, I like to imagine that, over the course of several dozen RESETs, Frisk's managed to get comfortable enough around the monsters of the Underground to speak freely around them. It takes them a while to get to that point, but from the POV of the monsters, this kid was never timid or frightened of them.
Just thought it'd be fun to play around a little with that concept.
References to child conditioning and possible child abuse in this chapter, if you read into Frisk's behaviors and thoughts, but it's not gone into detail.
Chapter Text
Frisk poked their head out from the bedroom the strange monster had led them to. They’d honestly expected to be killed and eaten during the night, so they hadn’t slept much at all, even if the strange ghost girl only they could see had assured them they were safe.
“What are you so worried about?” Chara crossed her arms irritably. “You’re acting like mom’s about to eat you or something.”
Frisk dipped their head a bit, checking to make sure nobody was nearby. Children were to be seen and not heard, but it didn’t count when it was another kid they were talking to… right? If there were no adults around to hear them, then it was fine.
“I heard they do.” Their voice was hardly a whisper, but it seemed to startle Chara a bit. “Eat kids, I mean. The adults tell us stories of monsters that pretend to be nice just to trick you and eat your soul.” They thought back to the flower that had nearly killed them when they’d first fallen the other day.
Honestly, it was no wonder nobody ever came back from climbing this mountain if they could fall into the monsters’ territory! And now Frisk was one of the countless missing people that had been claimed by the mountain.
“Honestly. You finally speak after all this time and all I hear is bullcrap.” Chara made to touch their shoulder, but they flinched violently from the motion, belatedly realizing that the girl was a ghost and thusly couldn’t actually make contact. Chara jerked her hand back with widened eyes. “S-sorry.”
“...t’s fine.” They rubbed their arm and shrunk in on themself a little. “You’re sure it won’t hurt me?”
“She ,” Chara stressed the pronoun, “is perfectly safe. I promise she won’t eat you.” She huffed. “ Or your soul.” Chara added on when she saw Frisk’s expression.
Frisk still wasn’t sure if they could trust that, but the slice of pie that’d been left in their room hadn’t been poisoned or anything. They supposed if they could get some consistent food and a warm bed out of the deal, then maybe things weren’t so bad. Though they weren’t about to push their luck with anything. They had no doubts that monsters were much stronger than humans, and they really didn’t want to experience that difference firsthand.
“Hey, um…” Chara took a tentative step towards them, and Frisk tilted their head curiously. After a moment, the older child shook her head. “Nevermind.”
Frisk shot her a look but didn’t argue the point—good kids didn’t argue. That said, good kids also didn’t hide in their rooms all day, and Frisk may not have necessarily been a good kid, but they were definitely not a bad one.
They tentatively padded down the hallway, pausing when they saw the monster—Toriel, was it?—sitting in an armchair with a book. Frisk had met her yesterday, but they’d forgotten how big she was. Her horns were short and stubby, but she had neatly filed claws on each massive paw. She looked like a gigantic white bear or something. Maybe a dog?
“She’s a goat.” Chara rolled her eyes.
Frisk startled, glancing at Chara dubiously. Had the ghost read their mind?
“You’re easy to read, so no. I’m not reading your mind.” Chara entered the room, beckoning to Frisk to follow. “C’mon. Mom’s reading one of her snail fact books again. She’ll love it if you ask her about it.”
Frisk hesitantly followed, unsure of what to do. In their experience, asking questions never turned out well unless they were questions that allowed the adult to look good. Like asking them about their career or promotion, or asking them about their shiny new purchase or something. The book didn’t look new or expensive, but Chara hadn’t really steered them wrong yet, so maybe showing some interest wouldn’t hurt.
Besides, Frisk did want to know what Toriel was reading about. Even random snail facts sounded like they could be intriguing.
“Oh, you’re awake.” Toriel smiled warmly, but her fangs glistened in the light, reminding Frisk that this person was most assuredly not human. “Did you sleep well, my child?”
They nodded, knowing that it was the expected answer.
“I’m glad. I was afraid you might not sleep soundly in a new environment.”
Well, that much was true. They pointed to the book and tilted their head, letting their gaze flicker from the title to the monster, careful to stay out of her immediate striking range just in case she took offense to the silent inquiry.
Toriel, much to Frisk’s relief, seemed utterly delighted at the not-question. “Oh, this? One thousand and one facts about snails! Did you know that snails have teeth? It’s quite interesting! Some species even have over twenty-five thousand teeth!” Toriel tilted the book to show them a page.
Frisk blinked and leaned forward to get a better look. It was a diagram that demonstrated the mouth structure of a snail. Their gaze caught on the other page, another snail fact that said they were born with their shells.
“Huh. Same old mom. She’s got a bit of a snail thing—loves them as much as a crazy cat lady loves their cats, I guess. ‘Cept mom actually eats snails, so I’m not sure if she’d like one as a pet. She finds them fascinating, but I don’t think she finds them cute.” Chara smiled softly at Toriel, and Frisk resisted the urge to shoot the ghost a somewhat horrified look. Why would she compare a pet owner to a snail devourer?
“Oh, look at this one!” Toriel eagerly flipped the page as she gestured for Frisk to grab a seat on the ottoman. The child hesitated for a moment before doing so, making sure the monster was still a respectable distance away so they could react if she decided she took offense to their presence.
But as Toriel kept reading fact after fact to them, and there was no sign of any aggression from the fluffy monster, Frisk found themself relaxing a little. There was a strange little warmth that was blooming in their chest as the fear began to leave them. It flickered strangely when she sent them a pleased smile, or asked which kind of book they’d like to hear next.
Frisk had pointed out some random book on the shelf which happened to be some kind of fantasy story about pirates and hidden treasure—something they’d heard about but had never had the chance to read for themself before.
Toriel was a very good storyteller. She made fun little voices for different characters, and added just the right amount of excitement to her voice when describing things. Frisk was so enthralled with the story playing out in the form of her words that by the time they’d realized they’d migrated to sit beside her—perched precariously on the arm of the chair—several hours had already passed.
They stiffened, flinching lightly when Toriel gently patted their head. She seemed to notice the reaction, but didn’t say anything about it.
“Thank you for listening to me read. You’ve made me quite happy today, little one.”
Frisk frowned. They hadn’t done anything that would make an adult happy, though? They didn’t do any chores or make themself scarce or get good grades or… or anything .
Toriel seemed to notice their confusion because she gave a gentle smile. “Little one. I am happy because you spent time with me today. I am happy that I am getting to know you, little by little. You do not need to do anything for me, except become happy yourself. That is what would bring me the greatest joy.”
Frisk jolted, mouth opening to speak before they caught themself.
“You can talk, you know.” Chara’s voice was soft and quiet, like she wasn’t sure if she should interrupt the moment or not.
“Come, you must be tired. Let me tuck you into bed, and we can finish this story after breakfast.” Toriel gently herded them back to their room, and Frisk followed along. That warmth in their chest flickered again, small but there . They didn’t know what it was, but it felt… good? Maybe a little… painful? No, maybe scary was better. It was a scary warmth, but… also a good warmth?
They climbed into the bed that’d been loaned to them, and Toriel gently tucked them in, big fluffy paws ever so careful not to hurt them. Frisk blinked up at her when she softly nuzzled their forehead, and while it was still very scary to be so close to a mouthful of fangs, the action itself made that warmth flicker pleasantly again.
“Good night, my child. Sleep soundly.” Toriel turned to leave the room, hitting the lights as she made for the door.
Frisk gently brushed their fingers over their forehead, where the velvety fur of Toriel’s muzzle had brushed their skin. It still felt warm.
“Goodnight mom.” Frisk found the words slipping through their lips in a quiet whisper, but going off the way Toriel’s ear twitched, it was still heard.
The monster turned to send them a gentle smile before leaving them to their slumber.
“Mom, huh?” Chara grinned. “Y’know she’s not gonna say no to that.”
Frisk buried their burning face in the covers. “It’s your fault, Chara.” They whispered vehemently. “You keep calling her mom so…”
“Nah uh. Don’t go blaming me for your slipup.” The ghost snickered. “Besides. It’s not really a bad thing.” She gazed at the door. “I think you made her really happy tonight.”
“Yeah…”
“But you know you’ll have to leave at some point.”
“I know.”
Chara hesitated. “Well… I guess staying a few more days won’t hurt anything. I need some time to teach you about the Underground anyways.”
Frisk poked their head out from the covers a bit. They still weren’t sure about Toriel—monsters were scary—but something in them relaxed when Chara spoke of staying just a little longer. That warmth flickered again at the thought.
“Ugh, get some sleep, you twerp.” Chara turned towards the door for a moment. “If you’re worried about mom, I’ll keep watch for you, so get some rest.”
“Thanks.” Frisk snuggled into the covers again, feeling the fatigue from the night before catching up with them. “G’night, Chara.”
“Night Frisk.”
Tomorrow, they decided, they’d try to figure out what the scary-good warmth was. For tonight, they’d tentatively put their trust in Chara to keep them safe.
Chapter 5: sans (day 6)
Summary:
In all the Neutral Routes we get in the game, one thing remains consistent. Sans is NEVER the king.
But what if he was? In one of Frisk's very first Neutral Runs, before Sans even knew they had the RESET power, Asgore's Last Will named Sans as his successor.
There's a reason why the first thing Sans does in every Run is hunt down that will to destroy it.
Notes:
This one ended up being a bit... uh... angstier than I expected? So uh, sorry for that.
Also, looks like some of my chapters will be posted out of order (sorry about that!) I'll do my best to put the most recently posted chapter in the notes at the beginning here to avoid confusion, but at this point I've skipped over Days 4 (Hope) and 5 (PAPYRUS) for completely different reasons.
Day 4 is looking to be a MONSTER of a oneshot, nearing 10k words right now and not even done. I'll probably turn it into a full story at some point, but look forward to it!
Day 5, Papyrus' chapter, will hopefully be written soon.
I literally did Sans' chapter at work so apologies if it has errors or inconsistencies.
Chapter Text
The human was gone. Sans knew things would end one of two ways—either the human would die and they’d get their seventh SOUL, or Asgore would be too guilt ridden to do in the seventh child and would fall instead. Going off the Dust Sans had found at the edge of the Barrier, it looked like things had turned out in the path of the latter.
The kid hadn’t really struck him as anything special. They’d Fought pretty well, and mostly had enough control to not kill anyone—Sans still hadn’t forgiven them for the mishap where they accidentally killed Snowdrake, though the kid seemed really bothered by it. In short, they’d been pretty all right, as far as humans went.
Then again, Sans had a pretty low bar for a lot of things. Still, that bar could always get lower, he supposed. That said, this was probably the last thing he’d expected.
"what.” He stared at Undyne like she’d presented him with a bomb.
“King Asgore’s will.” She repeated with an exhausted sigh. “He named you his successor… for some reason.”
Sans reached for the paper robotically, eyelights flickering over the words no less than five times to ensure he hadn’t misread something. Sure enough, Fluffybuns had gone off the deep end and named Sans of all monsters the king of the Underground. He took a very deep breath. “nope.”
“N-No!? Sans, this isn’t something you can turn down!”
“i just did.”
“That’s– NGAAH!” She flexed her hands. “Sans, this was Asgore’s last wish. You can’t tell me you’re going to deny that!”
Sans flinched. He had a lot of things that he’d rather do than rule a kingdom, but Undyne was right on one thing—Sans wasn’t the kind of monster who could ignore a friend’s final wish. He groaned, burying his face in his hands and counting to ten. “fine. but only because it’s asgore.”
“BROTHER? OH, UNDYNE! WHAT A SURPRISE, I WASN’T EXPECTING…” Papyrus looked between the two in confusion. “AM I MISSING SOMETHING?”
“Heh, your brother’s just been crowned king of the Underground!” Undyne grinned. “You’ll have to come by the palace tomorrow for the crowning ceremony. Then I think your paperwork will be ready by that point, and—”
“paperwork?!” Sans choked. He remembered Asgore complaining about that, and now… now that was Sans’ job? The more she talked, the less he wanted to do this—final wish or not.
“WOWIE! SANS IS THE KING NOW?! BROTHER, YOU’D BETTER NOT LEAVE SOCKS ALL OVER THE PLACE!!”
“paps… maybe you should do this instead.” Sans sat down on the floor. “i think i’ll go take a nap instead.” He yelped a little when Undyne grabbed him by his hoodie.
“Nope, not a chance, twerp!”
“hey, this is a royal pain in my coccyx. also, don’t manhandle the skeleton—don’t make me say it’s an order.” If he was gonna be forced into this role, maybe he could designate a national naptime or something.
Two months later and Sans was ready to throw something through a very high and very hard window—preferably himself. Being a king was very, very hard. He had meetings all the time, more paperwork than Snowdin had snow, and Undyne was breathing down the back of his neck nonstop. He’d thought being a Royal Scientist was hectic, but ruling an entire kingdom really took the cake. It was the difference between an intern and the head of a department—a superbly different workload.
Sans. Was. Exhausted. Things had only gotten worse when a mandatory routine check had revealed his base stats to Alphys and Undyne, and the two hadn’t let him out and about without a guard since. Thankfully, his brother was officially a Royal Guardsman now, so he could just go out and about with Paps, but Sans liked his alone time. The one time he’d managed to sneak off on his own in Waterfall to nap had caused such a panic that even he had agreed to let someone know before he dipped.
Which was how he found himself now, sitting on a random cliffside in Waterfall, overlooking a field of echo flowers and water that was glowing a light blue with magic. Undyne sat beside him, spear held loosely in her grasp as Sans fiddled with the stupid crown he had to wear. And the cloak they’d insisted he have, because his usual jacket wasn’t ‘kingly’ enough (Sans would argue he was the farthest thing from a king as one could find, but apparently Asgore didn’t think so).
“i can’t do this, undyne.” He buried his face in his hands. His eyesockets were burning with unshed tears of exhaustion and frustration. “there’s so much to do, and… i just don’t have the energy for it.”
“That’s your HP talking.” She huffed. “I’ll admit. I had my reservations about Asgore’s choice when I saw it. Never could’ve pictured you as anything but a lazy sentry.” She paused, shifting positions to look at something Sans didn’t have the energy to raise his head and see. “I was wrong, though. You’ve been doing an amazing job—maybe even better than Asgore. I think I see what he saw when he named you his successor.”
“heh, now that’s a joke.”
“Hey, I’m being serious here.” Her voice sharpened a bit. “Sans, you somehow reassured the entire Underground even after losing the five SOULs. Everyone’s calm and hopeful again. I don’t think I’ve seen things this lively since we found the fifth SOUL, and all you did was implement new policies and change a few laws around! You’ve given one speech, and it was probably the shortest and laziest Royal Speech I’ve ever heard, but somehow it was exactly what everyone needed to hear. I hate to say it, but… Sans, you’re really good at this.”
Sans shook his head. “i’m running on fumes, ‘dyne. this isn’t sustainable. i’m trying my best, but i can only keep this up for so long… this… this isn’t something i can do.” It was too much effort, too much work, too many expectations on already fragile shoulders. His HP may have been one due to a lab accident, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still desperately low on HoPe. He could feel it—the exhaustion in his bones that warned him of an impending fate that he wasn’t even afraid of anymore.
He didn’t know how to tell anyone that all this pressure, these expectations of him somehow fixing everything, saving everyone, was ultimately sending him into a spiral that would end with him Falling Down. He was certain that if his HP wasn’t one because of the incident years ago, it’d still be hovering under the 20 bar at this point.
“Sans…” Undyne hesitated before placing a hand on his shoulder. “You can lean on us a little, you know? You don’t have to try doing everything alone. You and your brother have that same problem. Neither of you are good at asking for help, though Paps is much better at it than you, both of you leave room to be desired. I think he sees you standing there, shouldering everything on your own and tries to imitate that, but he gets overwhelmed pretty quickly and ends up coming to me when it’s just… too much.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m getting off topic. What I mean is that you shouldn’t try holding in whatever you’re feeling.”
Sans tapped a finger against his leg, the soft click of bone on bone strangely soothing as his eyes traced the flow of the water below. “i don’t know how many years i had in me before all this began, but... i don’t… i can’t…” He sighed. “ah, forget about it.” He moved to stand when Undyne grabbed his wrist.
“Sans.”
He held her gaze for a long moment before clattering back to the grass, exhaustion becoming a nearly physical weight on his SOUL. For a moment, he distantly recalled Milo saying something about warning signs and Fallen monsters. For the first time in ages, he didn’t care. Couldn’t even bring himself to care if it worried the people around him.
“i’m tired, ‘dyne. can’t i just… take a nap? just a little one?” Even Sans would say there was a strange tone to his voice—something between exhaustion and deadness. He felt Undyne stiffen a bit at it.
“I don’t think…” She bit her lip. “Actually, go for it.” Undyne gave him a carefree smile—the kind she hadn’t given since Asgore’s death. “Just don’t take too long. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“heh… thanks." He let his eyesockets close as something deep within him shuddered and relaxed. He felt himself drifting into a slumber deeper than anything he’d ever experienced before. It was… soothing. Quiet. Peaceful.
For a moment, he allowed himself to be swallowed by the serenity that surrounded him. He didn’t need to think about anything. He didn’t need to feel anything. Papyrus would be fine with Undyne and Alphys watching over him, so really… couldn’t he simply drift away for a bit?
Just as a distant sense of panic poked at him through the fog of contentment, ringing with a strangely familiar voice that reminded him of red scarves and orange-blue magic, something shuddered. The darkness jolted and his SOUL stuttered and suddenly Sans was overwhelmed with colors and lights and incomprehensible sensations and—
He opened his eyes in Snowdin, skull aching as he grasped at half-remembered sensations and images. After a long moment, Sans realized what must’ve happened. That damn flower’s RESET power must’ve been at play.
With an uncharacteristic scowl, he swung his legs out of bed. He could verify the data and check the findings later. First thing he really needed to do was destroy a certain king’s will…
Okashi_GasterWhoOccasionallyGoesByLumine on Chapter 2 Mon 01 Sep 2025 10:08PM UTC
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Desire (falling_bones) on Chapter 2 Tue 02 Sep 2025 12:55PM UTC
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FreelanceroftheTriforceKeyblade on Chapter 2 Tue 02 Sep 2025 04:57PM UTC
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Okashi_GasterWhoOccasionallyGoesByLumine on Chapter 3 Tue 02 Sep 2025 07:47PM UTC
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FreelanceroftheTriforceKeyblade on Chapter 4 Wed 03 Sep 2025 08:16PM UTC
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cantwaitforpeace on Chapter 5 Wed 10 Sep 2025 08:23PM UTC
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