this is one of those scenes that's sort of been in my mind this whole time but always in a nebulous way that i knew I'd need to write out. it hasn't been concrete until now. and it was so cool to figure out because i had to use every tool, every bit of foreshadowing, every built up story element to all come together to save naya.
naya and flowey's relationship is the secret ingredient of joat. without it, there's no story, there's no build, there's no resolution. this little shit has earned every moment. i love him, FUCK, I LOVE UNDERTALE, AAAAAAAAAAA
Here’s the official Masterpost for NemaTale! This is a work in progress as the comic continues to update, but I’ll try to keep it up to date. If any of the links don’t work, please just shoot me a message letting me know!
This post is ongoing, which means it will update as new pages and other stuff gets added to the comic! Thanks so much for reading <3
⭐TFP Plush Drop + Giveaway⭐
The plush leftover drop is this Friday at 6pm central!
plushishop.bigcartel.com
It's first come first serve so once they sell out, look out for pre-orders in the future!
To celebrate the new plushies, I am also running a giveaway starting NOW!!
Giveaway Details
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I will randomly choose a winner from each Insta, Twitter, and Tumblr so you have three chances to win! Winners will be announced on Saturday night, July 25th! If you win, I will DM you!
You take a deep breath and exit the large doors, cold winds greeting you as you take your first steps outside the ruins. The doors shut behind you, leaving you stranded with no choice but to move forward. Even if you were layered up with the old clothes you found, the chilly snowfall made you wish you didn't have to leave. Alas, with nothing left to eat, you had no choice but to wander the rest of the Underground.
Hugging your arms close to your chest, you marched toward a strange... fork in the road? At least with the way the pillars stuck out of the ground and spaced too far apart, it made it too impractical to be anything but a design of some art piece.
"Weird..." You pass through the pillars.
"HUMAN!"
You jump three feet forward, startled by the loud voice behind you, or rather that someone was living down here at all. Turning your head, you make out a tall shadow approaching. Seemed to be a man, but why did he cry out human?
Has it been a long time since he saw another person?
"Hello?" You nervously called out.
"GREETINGS HUMAN!" His appearance revealed the closer he got. "I AM THE GREAT- ER- I AM THE KING, PAPYRUS!"
When he stood before you, your eyes immediately glanced to the top of his head, a crown sat around the white base. Seems Papyrus is a kin-
"OH DEAR HEAVEN WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU!?" You took several steps back when you saw that this king is but a walking skeleton. "How are you alive?"
"GOOD QUESTION HUMAN," Papyrus said. "HOW CREATURES ARE ALIVE IS SOMETHING I'VE HEARD MK WONDERING ABOUT FROM TIME TO TIME, I STILL DON'T HAVE A REAL ANSWER..." The king rubbed his chin. "BUT I BELIEVE IT IS BECAUSE WE HAVE A SOUL!"
"..." You stood there, wide-eyed and speechless. He both misinterpreted and answered your question. This corpse got a soul still, cool. "How... long have you been... a skeleton?"
"THAT'S A RUDE QUESTION TO ASK HUMAN. AFTER ALL I, THE GREAT- I, KING PAPYRUS, HAVE BEEN A SKELETON ALL MY LIFE. I BELIEVE WHAT YOU'RE TRYING TO ASK IS HOW OLD ARE YOU." He seemed assured that he had corrected your question to make sense. You blinked and blinked again, watching him ramble on about asking his brother how old he is.
Is this real?
A living skeleton in front of you. Talking. Moving. Never human to begin with???
What did you walk into?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"AH HERE IT IS, [NAME]." Papyrus gestured to the strange area with red circles and rocks.
After Papyrus had explained to you that monsters are indeed real and that all humans are required to solve puzzles, you followed behind him as he guided you to your first puzzle. Introductions were made properly, and after he reassured you that you didn't need to address his highness so formally, you arrived at the puzzle.
"What am I looking at?"
"THIS, HUMAN, IS A PUZZLE." Papyrus went over the rules, but you just seemed even more lost than before. Mid-sentence, he noticed your scrambled brain and put a hand on your shoulder. "WORRY NOT [NAME], I'VE DONE THIS BEFORE, AND I'LL GLADLY SHOW YOU HOW IT'S DONE."
Papyrus walked around the rocks in such a way, turning the red circles into green triangles. Once he turned the last one and stepped out of the puzzle, he pressed a button in the snow, and it reset the puzzle.
"NOW YOU TRY TO TURN THE CIRCLES INTO TRIANGLES."
"Okay..." You hesitantly place your foot onto one of the circles, and instantly it switches to a triangle. That really messed up your brain. You rubbed your eyes, hoping that would help it adjust.
Not thinking too hard, you walk around the puzzle. You were doing great until you had turned all the circles into triangles and trapped yourself in the middle. The problem didn't cross your mind til you turned to leave and turned a triangle into an X.
"YOU WERE VERY CLOSE HUMAN."
"Do I have to restart it?"
"PRECISELY!" Papyrus hits the restart button.
"That wasn't a guess, but okay."
You redid the puzzle a few times, Papyrus encouraging you every step of the way. The same process follows when he introduces you to the other puzzles. Oddly, his words of encouragement brews warmth in your heart. Going through the puzzles finally became fun, at least until your stomach growled.
Reality smacked you with a brick to the face. The reason you left the ruins. You needed to find food.
"ARE YOU HUNGRY [NAME]?" Papyrus asked, noticing you holding your hands over your stomach.
"I... I forgot I was."
"SILLY HUMAN, HOW COULD YOU FORGET YOU'RE HUNGRY? YOU SHOULD NEVER SKIP MEALS," Papyrus lectures you. He doesn't realize he's the reason you forgot, best not mention that. "LUCKILY FOR YOU HUMAN, WE WERE ABOUT TO HAVE A SPAGHETTI BREAK! COME ON."
You follow the skeleton over to four tree stumps. Two small ones sat on opposite ends of a large table-sized stump, and a microwave sat upon the fourth. Papyrus put something in and turned on the microwave, and you took a seat on one of the smaller stumps.
"YOU KNOW HUMAN, I HAVEN'T HAD THIS MUCH FUN DOING MY DUTIES IN A LONG TIME," Papyrus says as the microwave hums, you smile. "IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE A HUMAN FELL INTO THE UNDERGROUND SO THESE PUZZLES HAVEN'T BEEN USED AND I WAS GETTING WORRIED THEY WERE GETTING RUSTY, BUT THEY'RE STILL AS GOOD AS NEW!" Papyrus exclaimed, shining that cheerful smile you've gotten to know.
The microwave hums on, and as slowly as the snowflakes fall, Papyrus's smile drops.
"[Name], May I Be Honest With You?" Papyrus asks, turning to you. From the way he's fidgeting with his gloved hands, something is clearly weighing on his mind.
"Go ahead," you nod.
"I... I Haven't Had Fun In A Long Time. Not Just Doing My Duties, But In General..." He looks off, his mind calling back memories. "When I Was Crowned King Of The Underground, IT WAS GREAT! MY BROTHER WAS THERE, AND THERE WAS A CEREMONY, AND A PARTY! EVERYBODY LOVED ME! AND I HAD FUN... I WAS SAD That My Other Friends Weren't There, But Sans Said There Were Just On A Well Deserved Vacation. AND GOOD FOR THEM! THEY WORKED REALLY HARD! But It's Been... 10 Years Since They Left For Vacation... Sans Tells Me He Gets Calls From Them From Time To Time, But Strangely, It's Always When I'm Busy... They Never Answer When We Call, And I-"
Papyrus stops himself, afraid to vocalize his thought out loud. The microwave beeps and pulls out a plate of spaghetti. He sets it in front of you and takes his seat. You taste the dish and wonder if it is even spaghetti, but at this point, you were too hungry to care, and you didn't want to comment on it when the skeleton is already spilling out his feelings.
"I Think Sans Is Lying To Me To Spare My Feelings..." Papyrus rubs one hand over the top of the other. "I Don't Know Where They Are... Or Why They're Away... But I Wish They'd Come Home By Now... I Miss Them... I Want To Be Around Everyone Again..."
Water drizzles out of the skeleton's eye sockets. It looks so wrong. Someone so cheerful and friendly should never have tears running down their cheeks.
(enemies to lovers!sans x reader— i’m just a sucker for the trope im ngl. THIS IS MOSTLY EXPOSITION, SO FEEL FREE TO SKIP)
pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 3.5 | pt. 4 | pt. 5
The air feels heavy, and the room seems smaller with every sharp word exchanged between you and Sans. His voice, usually so calm and casual, rises with an intensity you’ve never heard from him before. He’s standing so close now, his eyes ablaze with something between anger and desperation.
“maybe I was your rock,” he snarls, “but you ever think that maybe i’m tired of holding everything together while everyone else gets to fall apart?”
His words pierce through you, and for the first time, you’re unsure if this is even the same Sans you once trusted. His familiar slouch is gone, replaced by rigid tension. His grin, the one that always seemed to soften his words, has vanished. All that’s left is a raw, bitter expression.
“you think I don’t care, huh? you think i just don’t want to help?” He’s practically yelling now, his voice cracking with the strain. “i’ve seen this all before. i’ve seen everything fall apart too many times to believe anything lasts. so yeah, maybe i am detached. and maybe i don’t show up. but you don’t know what it’s like to watch everything you care about disappear over and over again!”
Your breath catches in your throat. He’s never said any of this before, never let you see this part of him—the part that’s more than lazy jokes and half-hearted smiles. But the scorn in his face now makes it hard to recognize the Sans you once leaned on, and a painful seed of doubt begins to take root.
“Was any of it even real?” you ask quietly, your voice shaking, unable to keep the hurt from surfacing. “Everything we’ve been through—was any of it real, or were you just waiting for it to fall apart too?”
The question hangs in the air between you, heavy and sharp. For a moment, Sans looks like he’s about to say something, but then his eyes dart away, and the tension that was holding him up seems to deflate. He turns his back to you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, his posture slumping once more.
Silence stretches on, cold and suffocating, as you wait for an answer that never comes.
“Okay. I get it.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s enough to fill the void between you. Sans doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move. His silence feels like confirmation, and it cuts deeper than anything he’s said so far.
You don’t wait for him to respond. You don’t want to hear another word, to let him rip apart whatever’s left of the trust you thought you had. So you turn on your heel and bolt in the opposite direction, your footsteps echoing in the emptiness around you.
Each step feels like it’s carrying you further away, not just from the argument but from him— from the Sans who used to be your rock, your constant. The wind stings your eyes as you rush away, not caring where you’re going, only that you’re getting away from him, from the hurt, from the realization that maybe the Sans you once knew is gone.
You round a corner, your breath ragged and uneven, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that threaten to spill over. Your chest feels tight, but you don’t stop running. Not yet. Maybe if you run far enough, it’ll hurt less. Maybe. But the doubt follows you like a shadow, weighing down every thought.
Was this really the end of whatever you had? Or was there something else beneath all that anger that you missed?
But right now, you don’t care. You just need to keep moving.
Your legs give way beneath you as your back presses into a cold brick wall, the rough surface biting into your jacket as you slide down. The friction slows your descent, but not the heaviness in your chest. The jagged edges of the bricks seem to mirror the sharpness of the words that were exchanged, cutting deeper with each moment replaying in your mind.
You sit there, knees drawn close to your chest, trying to steady your breath, but it keeps catching, uneven and shaky. The alley is dim, its shadows long and uninviting, but it feels like the only place you can catch a break without someone watching. The world outside moves on, indifferent to the storm raging inside you.
The cold from the ground seeps through your clothes, grounding you in a way that’s both uncomfortable and oddly comforting. You stare ahead, your vision blurred—not by tears, but by the weight of everything that just happened. The sound of your own breathing becomes the only thing you can focus on, each inhale a battle against the knot tightening in your throat.
“Was any of it even real?”
The words echo in your mind, and for the first time, you’re not sure if you were asking him or yourself.
You pull your jacket tighter around you, trying to shut out the cold creeping in from all sides. But it’s not just the cold of the night, it’s the cold of Sans’ absence, the absence of the one person who, for a time, made you feel like you weren’t alone in this world. And now? Now you’re not even sure where you stand anymore.
The silence in the alley presses in, and you’re left with nothing but the hollow ache of everything unsaid.
But you push forward and manage to drag yourself home, the walk feeling longer than usual, your mind weighed down by the events of the night. The familiar surroundings of your room feel distant, like they belong to someone else, a version of you that no longer fits in the cracks of this reality. You barely make it to your bed before collapsing, face buried in the pillow as exhaustion—both emotional and physical—starts to take over.
But sleep doesn’t come easily. The argument plays on a loop in your mind, every word, every look, tearing at you from the inside. You toss and turn, trying to find comfort, but all you can feel is that hollow space where your best friend used to be. The thought of facing him again tomorrow churns your stomach, so you decide, even in this restless state, that you’ll avoid him.
Not that it’ll make much difference. He’s been emotionally distant for what feels like forever now. It wasn’t just last night—it’s been a slow process, like he’s been slipping through your fingers without you noticing until now. He hasn’t been around much, and when he is, it’s like talking to a shadow of who he used to be. Conversations that once flowed freely now feel strained, full of sarcasm that cuts deeper than it used to. His eyes, once full of warmth, now barely hold your gaze for more than a second.
The next day, you go through the motions. You keep busy, throwing yourself into anything that will keep your mind occupied, pretending everything is fine. You make sure to avoid the places you might run into him, not that it’s hard—Sans has mastered the art of disappearing, physically and emotionally. This thought made you chuckle drily to yourself.
Another thought crosses your mind: maybe this is exactly what he wants, for you to stay out of his way, out of his life.
It hurts, but you swallow it down, convincing yourself that this distance is for the best. If he’s already cut those ties, maybe it’s time you do the same. But even as you tell yourself this, there’s a part of you that still hopes, a quiet whisper that maybe, just maybe, things can go back to the way they were. But for now, you push that thought aside and focus on making it through the day without letting the cracks show.
You’re walking, lost in your thoughts, when the sound of a warm, familiar voice cuts through the haze.
“Oh, my child! I did not see you!” Her gentle voice carries from just a few steps away. She’s holding a basket full of what looks like fresh ingredients—probably heading back from a nearby farmers’ market. Her eyes, filled with that motherly kindness you’ve gotten to know, soften the moment they land on you.
You stop in your tracks, forcing a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Toriel,” you say, trying to sound cheerful, but your voice betrays the weight still pressing down on you.
She looks at you closely, her smile faltering ever so slightly, as if sensing the heaviness you’re trying to hide. “You seem troubled, my dear. Is something bothering you?” She steps closer, her concern growing as she takes in your tired expression. “Come, why don’t you join me for some tea? It always helps to talk.”
Her words are gentle, but they strike a chord, tugging at the fragile balance you’ve been holding onto. You glance away, unsure if you’re ready to talk about what’s really on your mind. Not yet. But the warmth in her eyes, the way she calls you “my child,” makes you want to be held in her embrace, if only for a moment.
“I—yeah, sure. Tea sounds nice,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. You can’t bring yourself to talk about Sans, not yet, but maybe spending time with Toriel will ease some of the weight sitting on your chest.
She gives you a soft, knowing smile, the kind that says she’s not going to push, but she’s there if you need her. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder, she guides you down the familiar path toward her home, her presence offering a small comfort to the anguish brewing inside of you.
The walk is quiet. You attempt to break it with some small talk.
“How is everyone?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light and your voice steady.
Toriel gives you a warm smile as the two of you walk side by side. “Everyone is adjusting well, I think,” she says, her voice as soothing as always. “Undyne and Alphys have been keeping busy, of course. Undyne’s taken up helping with surface patrols—it seems to satisfy her need for adventure.” She chuckles softly. “Alphys has been working on some new projects, though I imagine she’ll never stop tinkering, no matter where we live.”
You nod, keeping your expression neutral, trying to absorb the mundane updates as a distraction. But there’s an underlying stirring in your chest, as if something wants to break through.
“And Papyrus?” you ask, your tone light, though it takes effort. “Still dreaming of becoming the greatest guard?”
Toriel’s eyes brighten at the mention of Papyrus. “Oh, yes! He’s been very determined. In fact, I believe he’s started giving some of the surface children ‘training’—though I suspect it’s more of an excuse to spend time playing with them.” She shakes her head fondly. “He’s always been so cheerful.”
Her words warm you slightly, the thought of Papyrus’ boundless optimism giving you a small sense of normalcy. But as you walk beside her, a familiar ache tugs at your heart—the one you’re trying to bury. You can’t help but wonder how long you’ll be able to avoid the one update that really matters. Toriel glances at you, perhaps sensing the unspoken tension still hovering over you.
“And… Sans?” you ask, despite the recent events. Your voice is steady, but only because you force it to be. You feel a lump form in your throat as you wait for her response.
Toriel pauses for a moment, her eyes softening with understanding. “Sans… well, you know how he is,” she says carefully. “He’s always been a bit elusive. He comes by now and again, but…” She hesitates, her expression turning more concerned. “He seems quieter these days. I can’t say what’s on his mind, but I’ve noticed he’s been keeping to himself more than usual.”
You feel a sharpness in your chest, though you try not to show it. Toriel, ever gentle, continues walking beside you, giving you space to respond or to remain silent. The weight of her words only serves to confirm what you already knew—Sans has been pulling away from more than just you. Still, it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
You simply nod, your eyes trained on the path ahead. “I see,” you murmur, keeping your voice steady, though the ache in your heart refuses to let up.
So she’s noticed too. The thought sinks in, and bitterness creeps into your chest, tightening around your heart. Of course, she would notice—Toriel has always been observant, always caring. But hearing her say it out loud, confirming what you’ve been feeling for so long, only makes the ache worse.
You press your lips together, holding back the flood of emotions. You want to keep this private—your problems with Sans are your own, and dragging others into it feels wrong. Especially Toriel, who views both of you practically as family. The last thing you want is for her to feel caught between the two of you.
“I guess he’s just… being Sans,” you say lightly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. You hope the casual tone hides the bitterness starting to settle in. “He’s always had a way of disappearing when you least expect it.”
Toriel doesn’t press you, though her gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than usual. She’s too kind to push, too gentle to demand answers. Instead, she simply nods, her eyes filled with that ever-present warmth and understanding.
“Yes, that’s true,” she says quietly, though you can hear the faint concern in her voice. “But do not forget, my child, sometimes even those who disappear need someone to reach out to them. Even when it seems like they do not want it.”
Her words are soft, careful, but they hit you harder than you expected. You nod, keeping your face neutral, but inside, the bitterness swells, twisting with the hurt that’s already there. Her words had striking relevance, it was as if she has already read your mind.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you reply, though the words feel hollow. You’re not sure you have the strength to reach out to Sans right now, not when it feels like every attempt is met with indifference or worse—anger.
As you continue walking with Toriel, you feel the weight of your emotions pressing down harder, but for now, you tuck them away, determined to keep this battle between you and Sans alone.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, jolting you out of the moment. “Ah! I forgot I had business to tend to,” you say, quickly pulling out your phone and glancing at the screen, even though you don’t really need to. The notification is almost a welcome excuse—a lifeline to pull you away from the delicate thread of the conversation before it unravels into something deeper.
Toriel gives you a gentle smile, her eyes still soft with concern but understanding your need to go. “Of course, my child,” she says kindly. “I won’t keep you. Just remember, if you ever need someone to talk to, my door is always open.”
There’s a flicker of guilt in your chest for cutting this moment short, but you push it down. You’re relieved, in a way, to escape before the conversation could pull you into the vulnerability you’re not ready to face. “Thanks, Toriel. I’ll see you later,” you say, offering her a warm smile before turning away.
As you walk away, you feel the tension ease just a little. You’d dodged the weight of a confession, at least for now. Still, the lingering thought gnaws at you: how much longer can you keep this bottled up before it all spills over?
But for now, you shove your hands into your pockets and let out a breath. The business you claimed to have can wait. What you really need is some time to clear your head.
You head to Grillby’s for some solace in the form of food—and perhaps a drink.
The familiar warmth of Grillby’s hits you as you step inside, the soft glow of the firelight casting shadows on the wooden walls. The quiet murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses are comforting, like a hum that fills the empty spaces in your mind. You let out a small sigh, feeling a bit of the tension ease from your shoulders. This place, at least, still feels the same.
Grillby stands behind the bar, his fiery form flickering with a steady, calm glow. When his eyes catch yours, he gives a slight nod of recognition, his silent greeting. He doesn’t say much, but he never has to—you’ve always found a strange comfort in his quiet presence, like the silence between you holds more understanding than words ever could.
You slide into your usual seat at the bar, feeling the familiar texture of the worn wood beneath your fingers. Grillby approaches, wiping a glass with his usual deliberate care. He sets the glass down and raises a brow, the universal Grillby signal for “What can I get you?”
“I’ll take my usual, thanks,” you say, trying to sound casual, though the weight of everything still sits heavy in your chest. You glance around the bar—it’s quieter today, which suits you just fine. You’re not really in the mood for company, but somehow being here, in this warm space, makes it feel a little more bearable.
Grillby nods and gets to work. He moves with a certain grace, each movement practiced and purposeful. You watch him for a moment, appreciating the steady rhythm of his routine—it’s a welcome distraction from the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind.
As he places your drink in front of you, you offer a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks,” you murmur, wrapping your hands around the glass, letting the lingering warmth from his palms seep into your own. For a moment, you just sit there, taking a long sip and letting the drink soothe you, even if it’s only temporary.
Grillby doesn’t pry, but you can feel his quiet, steady presence lingering nearby, as if offering silent support. He’s always had a way of being there without needing to say anything, and somehow, that’s exactly what you need right now.
You let out a long breath, leaning forward slightly, your elbows resting on the bar. “Rough day,” you mutter, though you’re not sure if you’re speaking to Grillby or just to yourself. Either way, the words hang in the air, and for a moment, you allow yourself to feel just a little less alone.
Can I please have blue, mob, axe and red with a witch s/o (like s/o can use magic) and they are being actively hunted by witch hunters and have a very close call with them (as in s/o almost gets killed and their boyfriend saves them)
If you don’t feel comfortable with the hunting and the almost dying then just some fluff with a witch partner please
Really enjoying these so far, keep it up (and remember to take necessary breaks if needed)😊
✨️Note from Magnolia:
❗️TW❗️: Blood, guns, violence, mentions of body horror
For those who wanted some angst, hang on tight.
So, a few things before we get started. Firstly, I know red is missing, I kinda got carried away with the other three boys in this ask and ran out of steam. I also don't want to make you all wait another day for me to write out Red’s portion. I really like how the others turned out.
Secondly, if you, dear anonymous asker, wish for me to finished Red's section, you may send in another ask and I will get to it when my creative juices can get more out for this concept.
Third, I'm sorry I was not gifted with brevity.
I feel like this one needs a little window dressing before we start off. Setting up the world of magic users alongside monsters and this world of persecution. Just so I don’t take up space in each boy's part.
✨️🧹✨️
When the monsters came to the surface, more than just the monsters were released. Magic itself was unleashed back onto the world as a whole.
Artifacts once thought useless, now whirred back to life and genes of log lost sorcerers
lineage become active once more. It takes time for people to realize what happened, but it eventually becomes clear. About 0.1% of the population of earth could now use magic in some way, small sparks from their finger tips, and of that population 50% could use it in a meaningful capacity, including healing or combat.
It didn't take long after that for people to begin to call those with magical abilities demons. Just as monsters were given their title and persecuted, so were the new wizards and witches. The government tried to keep the monsters and magic users safe. Not out of kindness, but seeing their usefulness in new technology. Groups started to form, groups of people calling themselves Hunters. They broke into the new magic cities, made to keep magic users safe, and take whoever they could get their hands on. Sometimes just killing them, other times experimenting on them. They Hunters wanted to see if they could nullify or trap magic again like the mages of old, recreating the barrier to “save” the world.
Now onto our specific skells!
US!Sans (Blue)-
This reality would break something in Blue. The world of freedom had gone from a perfect dream, to a tense existence in a gilded cage. How could these people try to kill innocent monsters, more than that, try to kill humans who had lived among them all their lives! He'd never admit it to anyone, but it breaks that part of him that gave Chara the benefit of the doubt in the underground(even when it got him killed).
It wasn't all bad though, he met you. During the chaos of the return of magic, you were ripped away from your old life and dropped in a city that was once almost abandoned. The houses were dilapidated and almost non-functional, the people were all confused and scared of the monsters around them, and you had a new ability you knew nothing about. But here you were, being ever kind to Blue and his slap dash family. You never let the words of others paint your view of him and you became a fast addition to the family. It didn't take long for him to fall for you and you for him.
It only took a few months for the city to flourish. All the tech and niceties of the underground were happily shared with the humans that were dropped into the city. The once desolate city became bright and clean with the cooperation of monsters and humans together. It was amazing to see.
There were problems though, no one could leave. The monsters were trapped again, but this time for their own safety. The Hunters had already claimed a few lives of monsters and mages alike. They likely had someone on the inside of the government, letting them in and out, but they kept finding ways to take people. It wasn’t clear which was worse, being found dead, or being one of the few found. Those barely clinging to life on some twisted operating table.
Sans was now a member of The New Not Royal Guard (thank you Toriel for the name). It would almost be a dream come true, if it was for different reasons. He was posted around town to keep watch alongside many of the previous guards, but it was hard work. The few Hunters they had found had tried to go out in a blaze of glory, it was the first time Sans saw monsters dust. It took a toll on him and made him train even harder. He ended up away from home more often, away from you. And that would almost be the end of you.
🩵💙🩵
It had been a long day of patrol. Not because they had caught any Hunters, but because they hadn't. There had been reports from the border that something was going down. There were camps found, ammunition cases seen, and foot prints leading toward the city. Alphys had the whole city on high alert. No one was ever found though. Every lead came up a dead end, every whisper of a sighting, unfounded. It was just hours of tensely chasing ghosts.
Now it was over though, and he was almost home to you. Paps was busy working with Undyne on a new electrical grid to feed off the old core, so he wouldn't be back till later. It would be just you two, and maybe that's all he really wanted right now.
“OH SWEET HUMAN OF MINE! I AM HERE FOR KISSES AND-” His voice died in his throat. The apartment was trashed. Furniture overturned, traces of battle magic in the air like a static charge. “No, no, NO!” It only took a quick sweep of the apartment to see you were nowhere to be found.
They had come through the window and dragged you out the way they came. Your magic wasn't the strongest, but your training with Blue and Alphys had clearly paid off. There was one body to be found, and it wasn't yours. With how strong the magic was in the air you couldn't have been gone more than 20 minutes, he could still save you. Blue quickly turned his work radio on and called in your missing status as well as the tracks your assailants had left in their retreat.
His soul was pounding, sweat dripping down his skull, thinking of glimpses of the pictures of bodies he wasn't supposed to see. The humans fileted, souls extracted and desecration. All now wearing your face in his head. He kept sprinting after the fading tracks in the damp alleyways, trying to keep his sockets clear as tears tried to filled them.
Then he found you. You were unconscious over some hooded figures’ shoulder, forehead bleeding.
“SUSPECTS FOUND, CONVERGE ON MY LOCATION, MAKING CONTACT.” Before Alphys could talk him out of it, Blue turned off his radio, and. Went. Off.
It was like every emotion filtered down into just two, fear for your safety, and blind, searing rage at the humans who planned to mutilate you.
This wasn’t going to be talked out, the boy skeleton who would have talked this out wasn't here. Who was here, was the man who knew what dust looked like, and who knew what these men had planned for you. By the time Alphys ran up to Blue's location, the fight was over. The men were shockingly still alive, but they were never going to be the same again. It took all Blues remaining goodness in his soul to keep them alive, only making sure they could never touch or harm you, or anyone else, ever again.
You were okay, just concussed. It didn't change the fact Blue was now terrified to leave your side. He was stapled to you and Papyrus to him. Paps was determined to try and protect his brother from whatever he was feeling now, since he wasn't there to protect him or you that night.
Since “the incident”, almost two months ago, Blue didn't go on patrols anymore. It was partly because Alphys sent him on leave, partly because he hadn’t asked to go back. He seemed like the same skell you always loved, sweet, kind, bright as the sun, but he wouldn’t let you out of his sight for even a second. You finally caught him clutching you in the middle of the night, quietly sobbing apologies into your shoulder. When you stirred, and rolled over to face him, he flinched like he was hit. He tried to apologize for waking you up, but you cut him off. You pull his face to yours and look into his eyes lights.
“Its ok Blueberry, my sweet Blueberry. I know you’re scared, we all are. But we can't live in this fear, we can't let it consume us, we can't let it win. I want you to go back to work.” You pull his skull down to your chest so he can hear your heart beat and you can run your hand down his skull. “Someday, we'll be free as birds. We'll go wherever we want, and maybe even travel the world. We'll start our own little, happy branch of this crazy family tree and have our own little baby bones to love. All our dreams will come true, but we have to keep moving towards that future. We can't let the evils win in this world, we have to be brave.” By now Blues sobbing had come back full force as he muffled them in your shirt and chest. You let him cry it out and eventually pull him into some feather soft kisses, before curling up together. Finally getting some decent sleep.
MT!Sans (Mob)-
It took a lot of restraint for the monster mobs to be docile this long, but they knew when they were at a disadvantage. For once they also had a common enemy. Coming to the surface was supposed to be a new start, but it quickly turned into business as usual. Magic turned from a feared unknown, to a hot commodity pretty quick. Healing, weapons, shields, all things only monsters and now a select few humans could produce. It certainly wasn't legal, but the government officials turned a blind eye for the right price.
Hunters had tried to strike fear into the Mob monsters, but who were they to try and start turf wars with experts. They still lost a monster here and there, but if they were going to have the humans help with producing magic items, they were going to have to keep them safe. Tit for tat.
Mob's life really hadn't changed much in the move above ground, besides the extra vitamin D. That was until you walked into his life.
You were so scared in the beginning, in a strange place, hunted by lunatics for something you never asked for. The small kindness Mob showed you, at the time all an act for the government to let down their guard, made you cling to him. He was the only one to smile at you in your first week in town. To be honest, he had only smiled at you because you looked so cute. You were swimming in some oversized sweater given out to you by government aid. Your hair was mused and you kept biting your lips till they were red.
When Sans smiled, handed you a blanket, and asked if you needed anything else, he seemed like an angel. When you started crying and felt him hug you close you really couldn't blame yourself for clinging to him.
Mob couldn't just stand there and let a beautiful lady cry. He might be a mobster, but he's also a gentleman. You started following him on his routes, both for the aid he brought, and for his company. He was gruff and short tempered at times, but he always had a smile and good conversation for you.
Mob wouldn't admit it to a soul, but he loved having you on his patrols. You followed him like a lost puppy, and it was just so stinking cute. You talked to him about music and movies he needed to catch up on once trade routes opened and even traded a few jokes with him. It didn’t really register just how fond he was becoming of you, you were just always there. It was after a particular incident Sans finally saw just what a doll he had stumbled upon.
💙🎥💙
Another day of aid routes was almost up. It was a mostly quiet day. The humans were thankful as always, and this profited the Mob in two ways. No human they helped dared say anything if they saw something shady going down, and it kept the monster's optics looking good.
Mob's little puppy human had ridden along with him, helping him as they handed out meager supplies and clothes. It was a great day for you though. Sans had laughed multiple times at your jokes and had even set aside a nicer, newer set of clothes just for you. He wasn't supposed to pick favorites, but he called it payment for your “volunteer” work. At this point you had gotten to the apartment surrounding a small park.
There was about an hour left on the route when you thought you heard tires squealing in the distance. A large white van tore out of an alleyway about 50 feet from the truck you and Sans were working out of. Mob felt something cold shoot through his magic and acted.
“everyone, run!” Mob barked and threw some of the civilians to the side with his magic. He then pulled you behind the far side of the truck.
The van doors slid open, and seven men poured out into the street. They took up a position and opened fire on the truck. Bullets flew over your head and pinged off the metal loudly, but Sans kept his arm around you. In the split second their clips ran out, Mob shot up, letting you go, and threw a hand to the sky. Three men on the left were impaled by sharp bones coming from the ground, writhing for a moment in the magic before going still. The other four scrambled to the side down the side street where Sans had thrown the bystanders.
“shit.” Mob bit out, he didn't want to leave you alone here in case more men came. “toots, hang on.” He growled at you grabbing you by the waist and teleporting you to the other end of the side street.
You see the civilians flinch at your sudden arrival, feeling nauseous at the sudden change in location. Mob pushed you in their direction before turning back to the Hunters.
“let's dance.” It was all the warning the three got before they had the hulking skeleton charging at them with bones ready to pierce their soul. You heard a few shots go off, but quiet followed soon after. Peaking into the alley, you saw Sans standing, huffing with exertion, with the Hunters at his feet.
Sans looked toward you and you looked past him.
“SANS!” You ran as fast as you could, faster than Mob thought a human could move. He heard a click behind him. It was a blur. There was a gunshot. You stood between him and the Hunter, a pathetic magic shield with a shattering hole in the middle. The hunter had a bone, instinctively thrust, from the ground through his throat.
There was a moment of pause. You turned to face him. Your big, oversized sweater had a red patch slowly blooming, just above your heart. You smiled at him, and try to take a few steps towards him, before you collapse. Mob managed to catch you, cradling your head and holding you tight.
“why? pup, why did you do that? i thought you ran with the rest of the humans. why did you shield me? im supposed to protect you!” He felt his hands trembling as he held you. You couldn't speak, just breathing made the searing pain flair in your shoulder. Shakily, you raise your hand and push your fingers to his mouth. His eyes search yours for understanding, and you mouth, ‘I love you’. The focus from your eyes starts to fray as your hand falls from his face.
“hey, no! you can't close your eyes right now. i can't heal well enough to save you. you need to stay awake at little longer, i'll teleport us to the lady and she'll fix you up, ok? just hang on!” But you had already gone limp in his arms. His hand on your back felt hot and wet. He couldn't even give you bottled healing magic, he never carried it, if he was hit, he was gonna be dust before he could get to it.
He can't lose you, you're HIS. You belong with him, by his side, riding shotgun and cracking jokes. How dare these filthy, dirty, humans try and destroy what's HIS. Fuck, when had he begun thinking about you like this? Who cares? Mob was going to save you, and then he was going to make you stay right where he could keep you safe for the rest of your life.
When you woke up next, you were in a far nicer bedroom than you were used to. It wasn't luxury, but clearly someone with better resources than you lived here. You could hear voices in the room over, one clearly Sans’. As you tried to sit up a sharp sting rang through your shoulder. It was nothing compared to the fresh gunshot, but it made you cry out in pain. Silence came from the other room, before thudding footsteps raced towards the door. It slammed open revealing a disheveled looking Mob. His usual loose tie was gone, along with his coat and vest. His sleeves were pushed messily up his arms and there was a brown tinge to his finger joints. He also looked painfully tired, but when he saw you awake he seemed to light up a little.
“darlin’ you're awake! thank the stars. you've been out all night. how do you feel?” Mob swept over to the bedside and helped you lay back down. “you might be hurting for a while. you're healed, but with... how close you got, the pain might linger a little.” The hulking skeletons' shoulders slumped as if the wind was let out of him. “you know, i can never repay you right? for taking that bullet for me. i'd have been dust if that hit me, but there you were, playing the hero.”
“You don't need to repay me silly, I did it cause, well, you know…” You press the side of your face into the pillow, trying to hide your embarrassment at your confession yesterday.
“cause you love me? well i never want you to do it again, but if i can bare my soul to you for a second here pup,” he paused, pulling your face to look at his, “i love you too…” He finished, pulling your lips to his mouth gently. Just enough for a gentle sweet kiss, but enough to make you both feel your magic thrum between you. When he pulled away, Mob cradled your face in his hand.
“from now on, you'll live here, under the skeleton name. i can keep you safe here, and give you the life you deserve.” You can't seem to fight him on this in your weakened state. He crawled into the bed next to you and slowly showers you with skelle-kisses as you drift back to sleep.
HT!Sans (Axe) -
✨️Let's give this poor boy a break from the angst a little, and give him some fluff. ✨️
When it all started, everyone was terrified. The humans with magic were terrified of the tramatized monsters, and the monsters were scared of the very thing that trapped them in the hell of the underground for so long. It was nice having enough food, though it could never be enough food, but it was painfully tense between the two parties. Until something shifted.
The rations were handed out every other day by the government all at the same location for both monsters and humans, but it stayed mostly separated. Crooks is waiting in line with Axe when Paps starts to get anxious, then he gets stressed and right before a full blown panic attack hits, you show up.
Sans was trying his best to calm his brother, but nothing was working, then a human grabs Paps hands and makes him look them in the eyes. Axe almost jumps straight to fight mode, but then he hears your voice, so soft and beautiful, patiently walk Crooks through breathing in and out to calm him down. You are still clearly terrified of himself and Crooks, hands trembling, but here you are, helping his brother where even he failed. That starts the very tentative friendship between you and both skeleton brothers. You act also as a sort of gateway between the two races. Other humans see you with the scary monsters and see how kind they can be, how they like similar things to us, how they share similar fears. Tentatively, the two races begin to mingle. Monsters still struggle in larger groups, sometimes becoming agitated to the point of lashing out. With extensive therapy, and Alphys developing a mood stabilizer drug, most monsters find a new, better normal.
Sans began seeing glimpses of the monsters that existed before the hunger. They laughed freely, ate their fill, hugged, smiled, played, and lived. Axe started to wonder if he could become himself again. You didn't seem to care which version he was. After the first few weeks, you never flinched at his touch, you would give him hugs as greetings with permission, and you made him feel normal. Through you, he also started to see magic as more than just a weapon again. It started as experimentation for you. Away from any souls who might feel threatened by magic usage, you began to test the limits of what a human witch could do.
As it turns out, human magic is quite a bit different from monsters’. Monsters magic creates from within, bones for skeletons, duplicates of chosen weapons, elemental magic for elemental monsters. There were exceptions, like healing, but most magic came from the monsters being. Humans magic manipulates the world around them. Growing plants at accelerated rates, transmutation of objects from one state to another, and terraforming. They could still perform some monster magic, but it was difficult and far weaker.
You took to the new magic like a fish to water. Finding new and creative ways to use your new powers to make the world around you a better place. It was almost therapeutic for Axe to watch you use magic so delicately and with such love behind every spell. He especially loved when you used magic on him.
❤️🪓❤️
It was about a year and a half into your friendship with Sans. The city of Magic, as it was now called, had finally begun to truly improve. Monsters were being treated for their trauma, the humans had gotten over their fears of the monsters and began to get a handle on their magic, and the city as a whole was beginning to flourish. You had moved next to the skeleton brothers after becoming friends, one of the first humans to move into the “monster zone” of the city.
Seeing you everyday made something in Axe's soul, something he thought long dead, flutter in his chest. Each day, you would come with a new magic spell you figured out, you were already natural. Sometimes, it would be something small, a small flame moving from one candle to another, other times it you levitating off the ground by a foot or two.
The skeleton's favorite were ones that involved you using magic on him. The first had been a spell to make the person touch glow lightly. You had placed you hand on him and focused. Your magic felt like heaven. It was like a warm blanket of calm and peace washing over his soul. He forgot magic could feel like this. Monster magic had long lost its light hearted nature, it was now sharp, prickly, and abrasive to use.
Axe had to keep himself from asking you to cast it again. He knew somewhere in his broken skull it was weird to ask you to use magic on him over and over. That didn't stop him from becoming your guinea pig for any magic that involved another person. The past few weeks you had been incredibly focused on perfecting, as you called it, your magnum opus of spells.
It also ment Axe hadn't felt truely peaceful in a week. Being around you seemed to pavlov him into feeling better though. You wouldn't let him see any of your notes on rhe spell, but he would still hang out and nap on your bed while you scribbled theories and notes.
Today was the day though. Crooks and Axe had just finished breakfast when you texted Axe to come over for a surprise. When he teleported into your living room you were already bouncing on your toes making a cup of coffee.
“Sans! I figured it out!! I think I got it right. Come sit down, I need you to sit down for this one.” Your hand grips him and his hand, soul flopping in his chest, and pulled him to the couch. You practically shove him onto it, if you were actually strong enough to force him to do anything.
“what Do you got for mE this time little ladY?” His cracking voice laced with intrigue.
“Ok! This one is a first attempt, but based off of my other spells and my hypothesis, this should work!” You were practically glowing for him, smiling brighter than the sun.
“okay, What exactly is iT though?” It wasn’t like you to be so secretive.
“Jus this once, I want it to be a surprise. Close your eyes.” You run your hand over his sockets to get him to close them, before plantting your palms into his shoulders. He felt you adjust your stance before a strong wave of your magic washes over him. It was the strongest he had ever felt from you. Instinctively, Axe gripped your arms, just above the elbow. As you focused you magic, he heard you whispering something under your breath as wind began to whip around the two of you. Sans was lost in wanting to make sure you didn't hurt yourself and feeling absolutely amazing under your touch. Your magic started to focus. First in Axe's shoulders, then his neck, then his… skull?
It felt so warm, like the warmth of a cup of soup in his hands, but deeper. There was a small clacking sound, and like a light switch turned off, it was over. Your magic fell out from underneath him as you stumbled on your feet.
Sans’ eyes snap open as he grips your arms enough to steady you.
“whAt did you do?” Was all Axe could get out, feeling shell shocked.
“Heh, you can't tell?” You reach up to Axe's bad side of his skull. He flinches, expecting pain from the hole, but your fingers meet his perfectly intact skull. It feels… different, but its there none the less.
“h-How did you do That? healing magic doesn't work on it, im broken.” His voice sounded like a reverent whisper as he traced the faint line left of his once gaping wound.
“That's cause I didn't use healing magic, I used mending magic. You know how I used my magic to make sugar sculptures for you and Papy?” He nodded. “Well, I used the same principal to make my magic, into your missing skull piece! Then I used mending magic like when I fixed your favorite mug. It was really hard because I needed to make sure it matched your magic signature perfectly. But, now you've got a piece of me, or I guess my magic, with you forever.”
Axe hadn't been able to focus on it before with your flood of magic disappearing so suddenly, but he could feel it now. The calm of your magic, of you, thrumed in his mind. “Here, look!” You reach behind your back for the mirror you had prepared just for this and go to hand it to him, when you hesitate. “Hm? Sans, your eyes, they're white? They were red a second ago?”
Axe sees it a split second later, he looks… normal. His skull is intact, the only evidence it was ever gone, is a hair thin shimmer of gold where the edges of the hole were. His eye lights are white, like the were as a child. Your magic staving off his negative magic. He looks like himself again.
You find yourself crushed to Sans chest as he weeps thanks into your hair. Eventually, he pulls away, sockets wet and eye lights fuzzy.
“what can i do to make this uP to you sugarcube? you've made me whole again.” Axe looked down at you with pure reverence and adoration.
“K-kiss me?” You startled yourself with the bold declaration. “I mean, nothing! You don't need to do anything!” You attempt to back out of his arms in embarrassment, but Axe pulls you back, locking you in with his arms. Before you can say anything else, his mouth is on yours. Its a searing kiss, hot and desperate. He locks your head in with his massive hands, making your head spin as he kisses you silly. When you tap out for air, Axe is smiling like a boy in love.
“i'll give you a thousand kisses sugar cube. A million, if you'll stay by my side. you've already given me a part of yourself, can I ask you for moRe?” Axes eyes had become little white hearts staring at you.
“L-Like what?” Your heart pounding from the kiss.
“please angel, will you give me a chance to mAke you as happy as you've maDe me? Could you try to love a monster like me?” And you can only muster to answer him with another kiss.
But now, can you write angst? I read the Shadow Milk Cookie segment of your last yandere writing and now I have an idea. How would the yanderes react to us dying? You get to pick the scenario and stuff, but I love angst, so yea.
ANYWHO, this is getting long, so thank you for listening to my rambles. Have a good day!
For some reason, tumblr is refusing to let me answer my asks. But I still suggest you ask me regardless, I’ll always answer them in away way I can.
I love your ideas, they give me great ideas to flesh out the characters I love so much!
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!Yan!Caine
“H-hah… HaHa! It’s- it’ll- be okay, my dear! I can fix this!”
He carefully positions your motionless body, ensuring you sit upright, with every limb meticulously adjusted as they slip out of place. Each movement is deliberate, as if he’s trying to breathe life back into you, restoring a sense of presence in the stillness.
“J-just sit still, sit- sit still and, I can just…”
He snaps his fingers.
And nothing happens.
He rubs his hands together.
“Alright! A little tougher now, I see! Just-“
He snaps it again.
“Can you…”
And snaps again.
And you're still dead.
“Don’t make this so DIFFICULT!”
And again.
And again.
And again.
“Come on… COME ON!!”
The atmosphere is electric, filled with a sense of urgency as his fingers dance across the surface, a blur of motion that captivates all who watch. Each snap merges into a bothersome melody, creating a high-pitched vibration that resonates through the air.
“Please… come on… come ON!”
In a twisted moment of desperation, he finally succumbs to the rage boiling inside him. With a haunting yell, he lunges forward, abandoning all restraint. His hands find your lifeless body, and he shakes it violently, as if trying to force the life back into you. Each furious movement echoes the depth of his sorrow, reverberating through the still air like a chilling requiem.
█ █▚▌ 3 3 ◗ ◣▌ 0 ▐▄█
Violently slamming his fists against the wall after hours of attempted patching.
Your body is there, unmoving, still lifeless.
Surrounded by distorted objects and the arms of a tortured AI.
The world around him fades, leaving only the desperate need to bring you back, intertwining grief and fury into a raw, emotional tempest.
“Why… would you just leave me like this? Was I not enough…? Am I just… was I just not good enough for you?”
There is no answer.
And there will never be an answer.
!Yan!Wally Darling
“Neighbor? Are you sleeping?”
He looks up and down your lifeless husk, confounded as to why you’ve decided to rest on the floor.
His little fingers of fabric tap your shoulder gently, expecting you to wake up.
“Is this a new game you're playing?”
His eyes widen a bit at the idea of a new game to play.
“I’d like to play too.”
He quickly settles himself down onto the floor, right next to you, his favorite spot.
A few minutes of him lying down next to you pass by.
“I don’t think I’m playing this right…”
He mumbles into your ear
“Oh, it’s because I’m not closing my eyes, that must be it…”
The room is heavy with stillness as he leans in closer, a sense of comfort settling over him like a warm blanket. The weight of the moment envelops both of them in his quiet solitude, and you in eternal silence.
He breathes in deeply, seeking solace in the familiar presence, unaware that he is embracing nothing but shadows. The world around them fades, and in that fragile space, time seems to stand still. Each second is a reminder of what once was, and he feels a sense of peace wash over him, oblivious to the finality that now defines the air between them.
“Neighbor, you don’t feel as warm as you usually do.’
!Yan!Tenna
“Cut the cameras, CUT THE CAMERAS NOW!”
Tenna rushes over, her eyes filled with concern as he kneels beside you. With gentle hands, he carefully wraps her fingers around your fragile form, his movements precise and tender, as if you were made of glass.
"I’ll be careful," he whispers, his voice a soft reassurance.
"I can't let anything happen to you." The warmth of her touch contrasts with the chill of your damaged body, igniting a flicker of hope within him.
He finds a long table and gently lays your body down, his heart racing as he examines you from head to toe, anxiety written all over his face. Glancing frantically at the backstage crew, he shouts, his voice echoing off the walls.
“What are you doing just standing around?! Get help! Get them a pillow! Call someone, dammit!”
Panic sets in as he watches them scramble, urgency fueling his every command. Every second feels like an eternity, and he can't shake the feeling that he must do everything in his power to make sure you're okay.
“Oh, please, please wake up, you’ll be okay! Everything’ll be okay, and we’ll go back to our show, and you’ll never scare me like this again!”
He could feel the tension rising in the room, a thick cloud of frustration settling over him. How did it come to this? The laughter, the late-night rehearsals, and the spark of creative energy that once flowed so freely now felt like a distant memory.
“Didn’t you hear me?! Cut the damn cameras already!”
He shouted, the urgency in his voice echoing off the walls. The crew exchanged nervous glances, frozen in place under the weight of his command. Each word dripped with a mix of desperation and irritation, a plea masked as an order.
He couldn’t shake the image of the show they had built together. But now, the thought of losing that forever, of piecing together a new normal without the heart of it all, fueled his anger. He didn’t want to face a future that felt empty and devoid of the spark they once shared.
“Cut the cameras! Go to commercial! Stop it! JUST STOP IT ALREADY!”
There were, in fact, no cameras currently on.
!Yan!Pierrot
You fall to the ground, and in an instant, all life is drained from your eyes. You feel nothing but an overwhelming urge to close your eyes.
“No.”
A whisper, one of struggling restraint, fills the tense air. Pierrot falls to the floor, visibly shaking, his gloved hands gently cup your face. His eyes, a mix of longing and fear, search yours for understanding. The moment stretches, heavy with unspoken emotions, as the world around you fades away. You can feel the warmth of his touch, a contradiction to the coldness of the floor beneath you both.
“My dear… please…”
His finger gently slides down to your neck to feel your pulse. There’s nothing. It’s too late. The silence that follows is deafening, a void that swallows any hope that lingered in the air.
Panic grips the room, and time seems to freeze, each second stretching into eternity. The weight of reality settles heavily, the unthinkable truth echoing in the corners of your mind. He wants to scream, to deny what’s unfolding before him, but the chilling absence of life steals his voice.
What now? Each breath feels like a betrayal, a reminder of the warmth that once was. In this moment, everything has changed, and you’re left grappling with the shadows of what could have been.
“Oh, what a shame…”
The atmosphere crackled with tension as the green one appeared from the shadows, a sinister grin spreading across his face. It was the kind of smile that promised trouble, sending a ripple of unease through the air. His eyes glinted with mischief, and every step he took seemed to echo with a sense of foreboding.
“The Pierrot’s pet couldn’t take it in the circus… hm, now that’s not too much of a stretch, is it?”
Pierrot's breaths come in sharp gasps, each one more labored than the last. He presses his fingers deeper into your neck, a mix of desperation and intensity in his grip. The sting of his touch breaks the surface of your skin, drawing blood.
“Well, now your little pet can be useful as sustenance- I’ve gathered quite an appetite from this little game you’ve been playing.”
“THAT'S ENOUGH!”
A clawed hand strikes the harlequin's mask, leaving a deep mark and a damaged surface.
There’s no stopping the damage after Pierrot had a taste of revenge justice. Striking the green figure again and again until there’s nothing left but another body and a stained costume.
He clutches onto your body while his rampage continues, refusing to let you go until the warmth escapes your skin.
!Yan!Sebastian Solace
“You… stupid, stupid, idiotic… RAGGH! Why couldn’t you just listen?”
He stares ahead at your corpse with disgust, not at you, at himself. Why did he let you leave his store? Why couldn’t he just make you stay? Hell, he would’ve tied you down if it had kept you safe.
Sebastian slithers over and lays his head on your stomach. The sounds coming from your innards meant nothing because there was nothing.
“It feels like you're still here… but you're just trying to torture me, aren’t you?”
He growls menacingly, his claws digging into the floor with anger.
“Well, ANSWER ME!”
He didn’t anticipate a response from your lifeless form; he just needed an outlet for his fury, a target for his screams.
“What- what’s this? What…?”
He feels something besides your blood staining his cheek.
It’s a tear.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen one of these…?”
He leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper, almost shy about what he’s about to say. “I really wish things had turned out differently,” he admits, feeling the heaviness of regret in the air. Talking to someone who’s no longer here feels strange, but silence demands he say something about what they shared.
Each word comes out slow, like they’re floating in the heavy atmosphere. The room seems to hold its breath, every shadow watching as he lays bare his feelings. There’s a bit of shame creeping in, a reminder of everything left unsaid.
“Life didn’t have to end this way,”
he goes on, his voice tinged with sadness. There's a strong need for closure, a hope that maybe, just maybe, this moment will bring him some peace.
“I already miss you,” he finally says, the words hanging there, barely audible yet filled with meaning. In that quiet moment, he yearns for understanding, knowing that even in the stillness, something real connects them.
!Yan!Shadow Milk Cookie
“H-hah… heh, why would this…”
Shadow milk looks confused, almost. The joke was over now; this was the moment you could come out and say, “Surprise!” And he could compliment your deceitful behavior.
“My silly, please! The joke can only be funny for so long- I- you can get up now!”
He floats down to your cracked-up dough. Eyeing you carefully, the crumbling on your face, the jam dripping from the crevices.
“Hm, I see… this isn’t a joke, is it…”
His face goes nearly white as he looks up from you. There's a brief moment of total silence. Then there’s a moment of insanity.
“Hm… heh, hah- HAH! Haha! Hahaha!”
His wild laughter fills the room, echoing off the walls like music. “Hm, the ultimate lie! Pretending you wanted to live, only to leave me when I least expected it! Wonderful performance, my little silly!”
He twirls around in the air, moving his feet lightly through the breeze.
“It’s just so silly, isn’t it? Yes, how whimsical, how peculiar, how idiotic, how… devastating!”
He turns away from you, covering his face with his sleeve to hide his tears. Unspoken words fill the air, creating a heavy silence. Each time he tries to hold back a sob, it sounds like it is mocking him. He feels trapped in a moment that needs understanding and kindness.
“Aren’t I just so stupid! Thinking this could last…”
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Authors notes: I love writing this and my proofreader had fun as well, and I love when people give me asks! So please keep sending them!
—In which the television you see in your dreams doesn't want you to wake up.
A/N: Someone needed to make a Yandere Tenna fic and I guess it's got to be me. See my vision, I beg of you.
CW: Yandere, Manipulation, Guilt-Tripping
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The Dreemurr family's divorce is a town wide scandal, the 'incident' causing it forever an unspoken haunt to the townspeople.
To you, however, it's the reason you got this nifty little free TV.
It's cool—works just fine, though it has some parental restriction codes that were quite the inconvenience to get through, but it's free. That's right. Zero dollars. You just visited Miss Toriel one day like you thought any good neighbor would. And luckily for you, she asked if you could take her television off her hands, because no one in the family used it anymore, and it just brought back memories she didn't want.
So you helped Miss Toriel and got a free TV. Sweet.
It sits in your house, affectionately nicknamed "Tenna"—because of its long antennae that almost seem to squirm when you touch them. You know it is far from the most modern form of entertainment, but it is entertainment nonetheless, and besides—you've reluctantly grown attached to this television. Late nights on the couch, just you and it, have become commonplace. Sometimes, you even fall asleep.
And on one of those nights, the dreams begin.
You are in a place so dark it's light again—bright, saturated colors in checkered patterns marking the floors, infomercials everywhere, and tons of little flyers with the same fuzzy TV silhouette your eyes can briefly make out.
Okay, what kind of fever dream this is, you don't even know. Might as well just make the best of it.
You pick up a flyer.
"Coming Straight From Your House—Mr. (Ant) Tenna's Marvelous Mystery Board!"
Some sort of game show- wait, did that flyer just talk?
There is suddenly a spotlight on you.
"That's right!" Continues the voice, with the same chipper yet even timbre of a gameshow host. From the wall behind you pops out-
A man with a television head.
A very hot man with a television head.
You would be remiss not to admit it, really. Sure, he does, well, you know, but the TV-head is really just a bonus! On top of that surprisingly charming suit and nice ass, the TV-head fills your brain with ideas that make you wonder if you are deranged.
You decide not to give them the time of day just yet.
Meanwhile, the man with the television head continues to race about his gameshow.
"Special prizes, physical challenges, and more, only on-"
"I'm in," you say, and for all his bravado, the television man—Mister Ant Tenna from the poster, wait, your TV is named Tenna, wait, are you seriously dreaming about your TV as a hot gameshow host—startles noticeably, antennae going ramrod straight.
"You are?" He says. You nod.
"Uh, yeah. Seems cool."
He claps his hands with excitement, and suddenly, a thermometer appears on screen, immediately cracking with excitement.
"Magnificent! Splendid! The Fun-O-Meter's off the chart folks! Mike, play the applause!"
And pre-recorded applause ensues. You wonder if anyone is actually watching. Except no one is watching, because this is a dream.
You go through the motions—play the games, win the prizes. You get Z Rank, because you have what many would call a massive skill issue. But Tenna does not mind, regarding you with the patience of a saint.
The credits roll, but Tenna seems hesitant.
"Maybe- another round?" He suggests. You nod.
"When I come back," you say, before he can get the wrong idea. "Every good show needs an intermission.'
With that, you leave your dream, certain that it really was just that. A one time dream.
But then, the next late night on the couch comes, and you find yourself in that same dream once again.
Tenna's antennae droop as he speaks to you in private afterwards.
"You sure took a lot time!" He says, trying to sound cheery. It fails, though, considering the way he shrinks in discontent. "It's alright though, I get it. It was fun enough, just me and the board- I've- never been good company anyways, and-"
He's trying so hard to sound alright with it that it just makes you feel even more guilty. His antennae droop, and you avert your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the guilt from stabbing at your heart. It doesn't work.
"You're great company," you say, in lieu of asking how come it was just him and the board when he has all those employees under him. "You know what? I'll stay as many rounds as you want! Seem fair?"
Immediately, he perks up, rapidly growing in excitement, antennae perked back up.
"Absolutely wonderful!" He says. The Fun-O-Meter once again explodes. Applause roars as Tenna starts rambling.
You play and play as many bonus rounds as you can until Tenna is something akin to satisfied. At last, you wake up.
You have slept through the entire day. Angry messages await you, as a result of obligations miserably unfulfilled. You don't even want to check them.
But you do. Typing out responses and making amends.
You wish you were back there, in that dream of yours.
So you stay by the television and fall asleep once more.
And once again, Tenna greets you.
"You came by faster today, darling!" He says. You find yourself liking the nickname, if only because it is him saying it.
You nod.
"That I did."
"Miss me?" He asks, and if he had eyes you just know he'd be batting them innocently.
"No," you start, trying to set up some sort of coy flirtation, but you immediately regret it when he visibly deflates.
"Oh," he says. "I- should have seen that coming. I mean, hah, you're absolutely stellar, darling, and I'm... Just..."
"I- I didn't mean it!" You hastily amend. "I was just joking. Really, I don't even know what I was thinking; I'm sorry!"
He smiles at that, placing a tentative arm on your shoulder.
"You-" he starts, before clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure. "You won't mind if I do this, then?"
And before you can ask what he means, he's pressing a fiery, impassioned kiss to your lips.
It's half-loving, gentle, like you are the most precious thing he has ever held within his arms, half an act of possession, like he wants to lay claim to you in a way no one else can. The possessive half is carried out guiltily, you can tell, the way he gently licks at all the bites he leaves, consoles you when you yelp at the little electric shock he gives.
You've never wanted anything more.
The kiss ends, and you find a gutted sob escaping you. Tenna startles.
"Was that not alright, darling?"
"This- This can't be a dream," you say. You feel pathetic, longing for a relationship conjured up in a fantasy like this. A man born from your own furniture, who obsesses over your happiness like it is his sole priority. That can't be what you want, and yet it is. "Please don't let this be a dream."
You suddenly feel a comforting hand on your back, the touch initially sending a shock down your spine."
"It's not a dream," Tenna says, breath tickling your ear. You can only hope he's right.
You wake up with a start, dreading the day.
——————————————————————————
The relationship of your dreams is half fantasy, half nightmare. Tenna is a sweetheart, indeed he is, always fretting over your every concern and comfort, letting your worries melt away with his games and challenges.
And then sometimes he'll snap, scold you or break, and mere moments later, he'll be on his knees, begging not to leave.
"Please stay," he begs you one night, the blow of the wind that should have been pleasant chilling you to your very core. "You're all I have. Please-"
"I will," you nod, gulping. He doesn't believe you, face contorting into its familiar motion, and regardless of having no eyes, it's oh-so expressive that it immediately makes you shoot up with dread.
"Say you love me," he whispers, shaking you with a manic sort of feel. "Say it."
"I love you."
"I don't believe you."
"I- I love you," you say. "Please."
And like some sort of trance has been broken, his head jerks, the hands that were only just shaking you now cradling with the gentleness you normally know.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs, kissing reverently as if that'll prove anything. "Don't leave me. Please."
You know you won't. You can't. You'll keep waking up later and later in the day, letting him take more and more out of your time. He is greedy, absolutely ravenous when it comes to you, and he'll devour you whole if that's what you offer.
And yet you offer yourself whole anyways, because you just can't say no.
Time passes. It's all a blur. You remember less and less of your day to day activities, and more and more of your dreams. Of Tenna, sweet and charismatic and pleadingly manic the next. How he beckons for you to stay even when the ring you now recognize as your alarm screams for you to wake up.
And how could you not, when his kisses are so inviting?
It all comes to a head one night.
"Stay," he murmurs, serving you dinner. You sigh.
"You know I will," you say.
"Not like that," he says. "Stay here. Forever."
"For- ever?"
Your eyes widen as the implication of his words catches up to you all too late.
These dreams- no- they're-
"I have a life back outside," you say, panicking as his antennae twitch in displeasure.
"Then you'll leave me to rot...?" He asks, falsely resigned. You gulp. You know him better by now. You know how intelligent he is. How assured.
He knows exactly what you'll say, that he knows you know but you'll do it anyways, damnit-
"That's not what I mean," you say. He sighs.
"Of course you can tell yourself that!" He says. "I really am insignificant... Just a tryst-"
"I'll stay," you say at last, acquiescing as you always have. He beams, kissing you like a touch-starved puppy, and you forget yourself for a few moments.
As far as any of your friends and family know, you will never wake up again.
But as far as you know, intoxicated by the seemingly permanent love in the air, you are the most awake you have ever been.
May I request a Deltarune Prophecy Trio x Reader Scenario where (Name) gets abducted by the Roaring Knight near the end instead of Undyne?
For the scenario: (Name) was never part of the Prophecy, which made them feel very unimportant during the group’s adventures, even when Kris, Ralsei, and eventually Susie, tried to cheer them up. However, during the events of Chapter 3, (Name) is able to stand their ground against the Roaring Knight, managing to damage its blade in the process.
Because of this, the Roaring Knight abducts (Name) right as Kris and Susie get back up, who then chase after the two to try and save (Name). As for why the Roaring Knight kidnapped (Name), could it be because they’re actually important to the Prophecy, just not in the way the group expected? Or is it because The Roaring Knight sees them as a problem?
Who knows…
P.S: Sorry if this is pretty long and tedious for you. This is just my first time doing a Deltarune request, and I found myself enjoying the Roaring Knight upon seeing them in action.
……….
That’s okay! I love the Roaring Knight (even though they keep kicking my ass). This became longer than I thought but hhshfh I love this idea to death. So enjoy!
When you decided to go with Kris and Susie to get some chalk for Alphys’ classroom…never in your life would you think that such a simple task would bring you all into this bizarre world.
Or, rather, a series of bizarre worlds that you’ve come to know collectively as the Dark World. In every new one you entered, you were always dressed the same: clad in outfits and holding weapons that reminded you of various fantasy RPGs you have played throughout the years.
Very quickly you’d come to learn that this wasn’t just some fantasy setting. Nor was it anything like those video games or tabletop games you were acquainted with. These were very real places with entire societies of Darkners–people who have been hidden away from the Light World for ages.
You’ve met many during your trips throughout these worlds, creatures and humanoids alike who resembled everyday things. You learned their stories and chose to be friendly and peaceful…even though at first Susie was always clashing with you and would rather clobber whoever got in her way than listen to a word Kris said.
But after escaping from imprisonment at the Card Kingdom’s castle, she had a change of heart and decided to trust their word from now on, letting them take charge of the party. And at the confrontation with the King of Spades, it turns out that your kindness towards everyone paid off…as Lancer and his troops came to your aid and overthrew him, allowing you to finally seal the Dark Fountain.
You were convinced it was all a dream….until you, Susie, and Kris returned to Castle Town and discovered that those Darkners were thriving, happy despite their kingdom vanishing.
Ralsei was delighted to see that you’ve chosen the peaceful path forward. He was the one who anticipated the arrival of the remaining “Delta Warriors” who would save the world by sealing the fountains before they shifted the balance of Light and Dark too much. And he had full confidence that this “story” could have a happy ending if the group managed to help everybody they could.
With this mindset, you were more than eager to explore the Cyber World, exploring the city and sparing those you came across. Eventually, it led you to Queen’s mansion, where she tried to use one of your friends to open another fountain, believing it would lead to paradise….until Ralsei grimly explains the tale of “The Roaring”, and convinces her not to go through with it.
That reminded you of a figure she, King, and Jevil have mentioned before: The Knight. They seemed to be some all-powerful godlike entity who was above the rulers of each Dark World, and a cruel one at that.
They didn’t sound like the type of person who could be defeated through mercy, but then again….who knows? Maybe they can be persuaded if you chose your approach carefully.
Im playing after 2 weeks deltarune again and OHHH IM SO BAAAAAD (´д｀|||).
Like i dont want to play tenna's games i just keep losing and losing on the restaurant one like hell no...
So... can i have a tenna x reader?, like reader is so so so sad that keeps failing and failing the minigames and stuffs and just- run away from the scenary crying from incompetence of being really really bad (+ stage fright) ? I need a bit of angst lmao
You and me both, anon. That restaurant game is UNFAIR and Guitar Hero is killing my hand.
Anyway I'm really bad at angst but I hope you like this anyway!
Cut!!!
Tenna X GN!Reader Hurt/Comfort (I hope)
In which you run out on your obligations
Tenna's feet pounded against the floor as he ran down the backstage hallways of his stupid, oversized, horribly echo studio. He turned a corner, a little sharp, just barely turning in to to stop himself from slamming into the wall, before continuing his long strides in his new direction.
Mere moments ago he was in his element, unbothered and thriving on stage, twirling his mic in one hand as he started his show with a point to camera, and an artificial round of applause from production.
Next to him was you, his lone contestant, he only needed one for the segment and it was you! He was overjoyed!
The game was a simple balancing act. He'd seen a waiter on a sitcom carrying 5 plates in one hand and 6 drinks in the other just the other day and thought that'd make a perfect physical challenge for a segment! It took a lot of work, but they'd finally got the set finalized the other day, and now it was time for a test recording.
A hand came to his screen as he thought about how thankful he was this was one of the rare instances of an episode of TV Time being taped in advanced, instead of premiered live. Not that that was any better at the moment.
You'd started off so strong, balancing plates of totally normal things people eat, like dog food and bags of milk, going from table to table to gather more, and doing amazing!
Then you suddenly looked off stage, off to staff at... something. Then there was a loud crash, and Mike was calling for a cut.
While the crew cleaned up the mess and reset the stage, Tenna pulled you away, got you some water, and explained it was fine to drop stuff, that's part of this challenge! but sense this was a test, we're gonna keep playing till you can make it to the end of the timer, okay? And you were doing so well! It won't take long!
Tenna was positive his little pep talked helped... But then when he called for Action, you just stood there. Frozen. Staring at a camera and... shaking?
After another cut and another pep talk you go back to the game, at least, but... You were still shaking. It didn't take long for you to drop something, and Mike to call for another cut.
Over and over, Tenna would call action, you'd get a few plates, and then with a loud crash Mike would call for a Cut. On and on the cycle repeated itself, until the recording crossed into overtime, and Tenna was slouched so deeply in his director's chair his feet touched the ground.
Mike considered calling it there and just splicing together the best parts of all the tapings they'd done to fake a win, but Tenna REFUSED the thought! He knew you could do it!
And just as he was saying that, a Pippin patted him on the calf to get his attention.
You were gone.
They'd given a vague direction that you'd taken off in, and so that's where Tenna was now, running aimlessly through his own backstage, asking anyone he passed if they'd seen you coming this direction.
He was lucky, and a few Shadowguys had seen you wind your way back around to the green room. Tenna strode into the small room, hunching a bit to fit before his mind could catch up with the rest of him and shrink himself to a reasonable size, his antenna just barely not touching the ceiling.
The room was empty, beside the barkeep, Ramb.
"Ramb," Tenna gave a few more glances around the room as he walked to the bar, sitting himself down in front of it, "have you seen today's lucky contestant?"
Ramb gave a smile that was half a grimace, he placed a glass he was uselessly cleaning down and silently pointed behind the bar before shrugging, "Can't say I have."
Tenna took the hint, though not before a very long processing time. He braced his hands on the bar, just barely fitting his large head inside, and peered down.
On the floor, curled up into a ball with a glass of water, was You, his star contestant.
Tenna opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He drummed his fingers before pulling himself out of Ramb's space, letting out a dramatic sigh, "I see... Such a shame, and they were doing so amazing at that physical challenge!"
"I was not," You said in half a hiccup. Tenna leaned over the bar again, you looked up at him, tears running down your face, before pulling yourself up with a sniffle. Ramb took this opportunity to head out the back way to give you two space.
"Well I think you were! You just needed a few more tries!" Tenna smiled, you shook your head.
"I was awful! I dropped everything, I couldn't stop shaking, I-!" You gripped onto yourself, "I ruined everything..."
Tenna flinched and instinctively reached out, grabbing your shoulders, "No, starshine, you didn't ruin anything! I- It's my fault! I made the game too hard! Oh, please don't cry..."
Tenna fished a hankie out of his jacket pocket, wiping your face gently with one hand, still holding one of your arms with the other.
"I'll fix this. We can fix this, it's okay," He attempted to reassure you, as well as himself, as he rubbed (hopefully) soothing circles on your arm.
You sniffled, taking his hankie and dabbing your eyes. His now free hand found itself on the counter, anxiously drumming away.
"I don't think.. I'm made for the spotlight..." You smiled weakly, Tenna's heart sank at such an expression. He gripped you a little tighter.
"Okay... Th-That's okay! We'll find something backstage for you!" Tenna's drumming hand took your own, holding it securely, "Mike can fill in for you for the challenge, no problem-o! A-And you can fill in for Mike while he's playing! Okay??"
Looking at Tenna's anxious face, scared to death you'd choose to leave, desperate to find something ELSE for you to do... It made you smile. You nodded with a giggle, "I don't think I can replace Mike, even just for a day."
Tenna immediately lit up, letting you go and standing so fast he nearly hit his head on the ceiling (when had he grown back to full size??), "You won't know until you try! And if you can't! We'll find someone else's job for you to take! Perhaps you could be the Bartender, we could use one of those!"
You laughed at, what you assumed was, a joke at poor Ramb's expense, and climbed out of the bar, following Tenna back to the stage as he continued to list employees he was CERTAIN you could replace with EASE.
You figured, despite being camera shy, working at Tenna's Studio might not be so bad. So what if you couldn't be in the spotlight? There was plenty of work behind the scenes. And from the sound of it, plenty of spots open.
The festival! Times of joy all of Hometown looks forward to! Fun activities, delicious food, volunteering on your parents' behalf because they think you’re a hermit! What’s there not to love?
Oh? You don’t like the festival?
Oh? You haven’t gone in years?
Oh? Your ex-best-friend Kris is going with all their new (and old) friends and you’re left in the dirt because of a certain looming past that hangs over everyone’s head?
Well then, it sounds like your day’s going to be fantastic!
~~~
NO MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CH 5 BESIDES FESTIVAL. and even then id say thats a stretch LOL
we are SO FUCKING BACK. 11.7K WORDS WE ARE STARTING OFF STRONG THIS YEAR. i really didnt want to start off super angsty but anons ask was too good and festival angst sounded so good to me ugh i couldnt help myself SO WE HAVE MIX OF BOTH NO SAD ENDING MAYBE BITTERSWEET IF ANYTHING
i also had way too much fun with the non-kris interactions but i havent written these guys in so long i miss them all man. I MISSED U GUYS LIKE HELL ALSO SO ENJOY THIS MESS OF EMOTION !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
ps i missed u too kris if ur reading this plz text me back
~~~
the ask + another ask i got like a year ago (one of my first ever) that semi inspired a certain aspect of the story but i still wanna do smt with it as the focus so im KEEPING IT IN MY INBOX FOR SAFE KEEPING
~~~
Hometown isn’t one for extravagant events. Not compared to the holiday celebrations in every major capital across the globe, anyway.
While the world’s out parading with bright – albeit quite extra – fireworks that paint the sky, sweet treats that add up to an average mortgage for the month, and events that accumulate all friends and family into one claustrophobic, sweat-drenched room…
…Hometown is different. Whether it be good or bad is up to who you ask.
Concentration from a thousand square kilometers to a single, measly square kilometer takes care of the fill-all-the-empty-space issue. Less ground to cover means that the residents can appreciate the measly half-a-dozen games all the while more. Can’t make a few carts look scarce when the end of the street’s in view, right?
And, of course, with the lack of property value (and property at all), less people live here. Population’s barely hit a hundred. At least, last time you checked.
Which means, chipping in makes all the difference. Strength in numbers, after all!
Damn. You’re starting to sound like your father.
The festival’s today. It’s been in the forefront of your mind like a tick that won’t leave you the hell alone; sucking every last bit of life force from your soul. And, better yet, it’s not your fault.
You do anything that puts you outside the house? Something meager, something that should be simple, like taking out the trash?
Your mother catches you halfway down your driveway. “Oh, dear! Would you drop these decorations off at the Church?”
You’re trying out some crappy dessert recipe you saw online, that you just so happened to write down before the Angel struck the town with the worst fury ever conceivable to the living eye? (internet outage)
Your father appears from what you can only assume to be a puff of smoke – because damn is he sneaky – looming over you like he’s seven feet tall. “Honey, that looks delicious! Should I talk to Carol? Ask if you could open your own booth this year?”
You’re watching TV. That’s it. And boom.
Parents corner you on both sides of the couch. A scrapbook in hand– your scrapbook. Well, it wasn’t entirely yours, but you take credit for it now. Because who else will?
“Awwhh,” your mother coos like she's taming a wild skunk, scared you’ll spray your defence juices (running to your room). “And there’s you trying to hit the target. You could barely lift up the hammer! Look how cute you were!”
Were. As if you aren’t adorable now. Thanks, mom.
You should’ve known. With how much your parents make you run their miniscule, slightly inconvenient errands, your senses should’ve alerted you for something big. It’s not like they found a way to bring up the event in every conversation for an innocent reason. Reminiscing? C’mon!
No one should reminisce in this town. Time’s arrow merely marches forward.
Only when you were woken up at the asscrack of dawn from your mother shaking you awake with a sense of urgency and nervousness you’ve never seen from her, did you really understand what all of it meant.
Oh no. She volunteered your lazy backside to set up the festival, didn’t she?
Your question was answered not shortly after it appeared.
“Get up, get up!” She seemed to have wrapped your arms and body into your blanket like some security burrito, fully immobilizing you from attack. “Today’s the festival! You’re helping out this year, no arguments.”
Shoveling something into your mouth as a poor excuse for breakfast, your mother led a groveling you to your front door. A box of pennant bunting banners sat near your shoes, nesting a plastic bag of deflated balloons.
You were outside before the mere evidence of the sun shone through the horizon. It was almost too dark to see the street. Or, maybe your eyes were closed. You could’ve been sleepwalking, for all you knew.
You would’ve put up more of a fight, but it was difficult. You were so tired. Still are.
And now you stand, box flipped upside down to act as a makeshift stool, hooking the flimsy string from wooden post to wooden post to tree to tree. Just the sight of them makes you a tad queasy.
The festival hasn’t exactly been something you look forward to on a yearly basis. At some point, it might’ve been the highlight of your holidays.
It all leads back to Dess. Not that it’s her fault, but it’s hard not to recall the events and label it as an obvious turning point.
Everyone used the excuse. Whether it be from shock, depression– it was an easy reason to cancel the festival that year. Or, it wasn’t cancelled. You can’t remember. If it did happen, you didn’t go.
The Dreemurrs didn’t go, either. The Holidays? They practically host the damn thing. If they did do it, it was much smaller than years prior.
You remember wanting to go. You remember thinking it wouldn’t be nearly as fun going alone. You might’ve begged someone. Noelle? Asriel? Kris? They all must’ve shut you down, one way or another. Grief works differently for everyone, after all.
You’re not too sure how you feel about it. About the festival, you mean.
Lost in your own head, you accidentally tug the string with too much gusto, causing them to unravel from their perfect place on their respective trees.
“Goddamnit,” you curse, tossing your useless end to the grass. Thankfully, the streets are rather barren of people. Half-empty boxes litter alongside adults too absorbed in making their stands look appetizing to care.
As long as no one asks why you’re out here. You haven’t made an appearance in damn near a decade. Change is obvious, when it happens. They’ll all definitely notice if you bring too much attention to yourself.
Speaking of attention to oneself.
Someone’s voice booms through the quiet streets. In your humble opinion, they’re far too loud for a sun that low in the sky. And it’s not constant chatter, either. They’ll pause for a few seconds, absorbing the dialogue from a far more hushed, likely imaginary voice.
You feel your eyebrows tighten, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in the tuft of leaves.
But you force yourself into indifference. You find yourself tuning out most voices nowadays.
Collecting your previous failed attempt, you leap back onto your cube throne and double-knot the thread around a different branch. The obnoxious source of sound grows near, enhancing your already-unbearable migraine from lack of sleep.
You kick your box to skid underneath the next tree. Your hands paw at the drooping string, almost as slouched as your hunchback, only catching hold when a pair of footsteps come into hearing vicinity.
“Oh, what?” The feminine-yet-masculine voice calls from behind you, panged with familiarity. “Wait…”
Your eyes couldn’t roll back further if you tried. Your head might’ve tipped off your neck, but you’re hoping it wasn’t assholish enough for her to notice.
Of course, the only person who’s loud enough to make your morning more grueling (“only”? You could think of a dozen others) is halted at the base of your box. Maybe if you stand completely still, she’ll think you’re some unflattering statue the festival’s using as decor this year.
Susie… something. Last names aren’t important. She’s your classmate. If you count showing up fifty percent of the time as a valid classmate. She’s friends with–
Y’know, her friends aren’t important to note! Who is she friends with? You don’t know!
She kicks your box to get your attention, but it only startles you into crumbling the leaves between your fingers. You hear a huff, maybe a laugh? And then–
“Aren’t you the kid who got stuck on the school roof? After school, like, a week ago?”
Really? Is that what you’re remembered for? What happened to “leave your mark on the world”?
You quickly tie your second knot between the branches, throat filled with a spite you cannot control. “C’mon. I have more of a legacy than that.”
“Oh yeah?” She bites back. You can vividly imagine her shit-eating grin.
“Yeah,” you sigh, shuffling the box down the grass with your feet once more. You make a clear intent not to face her, even through your peripherals. You probably look like an idiot. “I was napping.”
“Your foot was hanging off the ledge.”
It’s not like you would’ve rolled off! You have pretty good muscle control in your sleep. And, besides– “I purposely did that– the ledge‘s good for wind circulation. Keeps you from getting heat stroke up there.”
Another knot done. It’s muscle memory to you now. Or you’re just rushing to get through it. Either’s okay with you.
“You sure?” She questions, accusation embedded in her speech. “Could hear how loud they were yelling from ICE-E’s. Seems like you were dead as a corpse.”
Corpse, shmorpse. “More like sleeping like one. And I wasn’t stuck. If I can get up, I can get down.”
“Isn’t that what cats think when they climb trees?”
“Yeah, maybe in old-timey cartoons,” the box rolls on its side, stuck on the root of the next tree. She must be following you closely. It’s like you’re not moving from her whatsoever–
Realization dawns on you. You pucker. “I’m not a cat–”
There’s a loud crash, bang on the other side of the street. One quick peek shows one of the stands tumbled over another. And, despite your self-imposed rule, your peripheral fails you. You make out a purple blob following your line of sight, and something else…?
When Susie’s snout whips back to you, you’re instantly on the tree once again. “Damn, how’d you do it? Some secret rooftop door? The vents?” You hear her rustle, as if she’s nudging her elbow into something. “Climbing some vines?”
You find yourself answering with dead seriousness, tying off your end of torture. “Maybe a mix of that? And some loose bricks.”
You’re a bit lost as you ramble, fishing around for the bag of inflatable nightmares on the dirt. You fiddle with one and – despite your slight annoyance – you decide to be a polite person and actually face the monster you’re talking to (mostly because you don’t have the excuse of bunting banners anymore).
“There’s some sweet spots to lodge in long handheld stuff,” once you’ve got a good handle on the mouth of the balloon, you make eye contact for the first time today. “Like knives. Their handles are good for… stepping… on…”
Your heart drops into your stomach. Yeah, you should’ve known.
Expecting it might’ve made the shock just oh so slightly easier to cover up.
With bulging, wide eyes, you make an intense effort to stare into the purple monster’s soul. But it doesn’t matter; your peripheral vision has failed you for the second time.
Kris, whose stealth may rival your parents’, stands statue still adjacent to Susie’s ever moving form. A striped sweater, permanently burnt into your abused retinas. A glare so effortlessly neutral, so effortlessly calm, it strikes fear into those willing to take a peek (in some messed up, contradictory way).
You look so normal right now. You should sign up for the “most normal” competition. That’s not a thing. You should invent it. That’d show how normal you’re being. At this very moment.
“Uh, you okay?” Susie’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t hide her confusion. Like how you don’t hide your normalness.
You think you’re smiling, but it might be frozen in some awkward, forced lip-tilted-up mess. In your tightening grasp, the balloon’s orifice is assaulted by your thumb. (Ew. You’ve gotta put your mouth on that later.)
A rush of ballsy adrenaline shivers up your legs. You decide to spare them a teensy, weensy glance.
And your worst nightmares come true. They don’t react. Deadpan.
You instantly grimace. It’s ugly, too. Like your entire face’s drained of water, wrinkled like a prune. You swear you’re not usually this much of an open book.
They seem unsure if they should be here. In this free space of road. That you’ve claimed as your temporary stomping grounds. But alas, they’re obviously following the leader.
They’re almost waiting for something, too. As if you’ve got a million things to say and they need to hear all of it. The eye contact is driving you insane. Like, who can say so little with such a stare!
And besides, you have nothing to say! You’re horrible with… saying things.
Susie’s oblivious, too. Your brain’s just focused enough to see Susie’s attention shift from you, to the human, and back to you.
Does she not know? Who you are? Besides the whole roof thing– she doesn’t know who you really are? At least, to Kris?
Not that you’re anything. They aren’t anything to you.
Are you not important enough for Kris to say? Mention, even just a tad? Maybe some late night vent session about their respective deep, mysterious pasts? Just your name? Your description? Something?
Not that you care. Just curious. Everyone’s curious.
Are you a sensitive subject?
Not that it matters!
You sure as hell know who she is.
Or it’s just because she’s loud. Hard to miss. Whether that be a positive or not.
They hang around all the time. Attached to the hip, like–
Like nothing. Yeah, show off your healthy blooming friendship. Everyone wants to see it!
You’ve been so cranky with the idea of going outside– festival. With the festival. You touch grass. Promise. But you almost forgot that you, despite the lack of people to see, still need to see said people. It’s a festival. Duh.
Which means: front row seats to their intimate bond!
Which does not eat at you when you think about it for more than a fleeting moment. What’s there to think about? You’re completely fine with it all.
It might’ve been actual years since you’ve made eye contact. You haven’t seen those ruby eyes in passing, by accident, nada. That’s how careful you’ve been.
…does Susie really not know who you are?
Your face might’ve twitched. You’ve got a horrible poker face.
And yet, you’re surprised when you face the angsty teen once again. She’s beyond engrossed, scribbling something onto her exposed arm with a permanent marker. Definitely saw you weren’t answering the question she asked multiple minutes ago.
You manage to get a glimpse. It’s a step-by-step list of instructions for a certain roof heist she seems to be planning. How on topic.
You release a breath deep within the caverns of your chest.
This isn’t worth your time.
“Yeah,” you suck in through your teeth, feigning disappointment. “So I gotta get another box.”
Your stupid box of bunting triangle whatever they’re called are still three quarters full. But you don’t let either of them peep a word of suspicion. You’re stiffly shuffling away. A doll with frozen limbs.
Susie might’ve not noticed. You didn’t check.
Kris’ eyes followed you smoothly. You tried to smile; friendly, easy, a mutual understanding. But you couldn’t get your lip to turn up.
You’re still well within earshot when you start blowing up your balloon, beginning your trek to the Church to kill some time.
Those same pairs of eyes are glued to the back of your skull. A bad itch you can’t reach. You’re only relieved when you turn the corner.
Once your plastic bubble’s inflated to your standard, you tie it shut. Fishing a loose string from your pocket, you knot the ends together.
You release it.
And it slowly drifts to the ground.
Fuck. You need the stupid helium tank for those.
Double fuck. That would’ve been the perfect excuse.
This is gonna be an unbearable day, isn’t it?
~*•*~
The good thing about expecting torture is that you won’t be disappointed when you receive it.
The festival. This is still about the festival. Just to clarify.
You thought, as a shift into a more optimistic lifestyle, that you could be hopeful of what your volunteering duties actually entail. Who knows? Maybe you’d just be doing setup. And you could just go home after. Grueling morning for a totally worth it escape.
Yeah. You were stuck between that and knowing you’d be booked the whole day.
Good thing you leaned towards the latter.
Your dad is apparently a good friend of Sans. Mr. Sans? You haven’t heard of such a relationship between the two, but you don’t know lots of things. Like how people think coffee tastes good.
He asked you to meet the skeleton at the ice cream stand. You’d have willingly volunteered around the police station if you knew it’d get you out of working a stand in the middle of the damn town.
You gave him your standard greeting, and he took it just fine. You didn’t really have the incentive to ask what he needed help with, so you’ve just been hovering around while he slacks off an equal amount.
The regret starts to kick in when more and more monsters double-take. Surprised you’re around, as if you’re some enigma. Hell, you might’ve turned human in their eyes!
You didn’t think that many people cared to keep up to date with your life. Or they don’t, and that’s why it’s so shocking to see you now. They probably thought you were dead.
Maybe if you were actually doing something, they’d feel more inclined to ignore the random person leaning against the convenience store.
You tap the skeleton’s shoulder, careful to apply enough pressure to where he can feel it, but not enough that your fingers awkwardly slide under his clavicle. Is that possible?
He barely tilts his chin to you, displaying his lazy grin. You ask, despite already knowing the answer. “Is there anything you actually want me to do? Or am I just here to do nothing?”
You watch the lights in his eyes zip to your own, raising a nonexistent eyebrow. It freaks you out more than you’d like to admit. “didn’t know you wanted to do something.”
“Well, I don’t not want to do something.”
He turns back to his array of imaginary customers. “sounds like you’re gettin’ a pretty sweet deal, then.”
You swallow. You can’t take the staring anymore. Time to be a responsible citizen! “So I am here to do nothing?”
“nah,” he checks his wrist for a watch he doesn’t have. “i’m going on break. you gotta run the stand for a sec.”
Your jaw unhinges. You’re allowed breaks? “On break?”
He shrugs. “hey. workers union says we need more breaks. helps with morale.”
“We don’t have a workers union. You barely have a real job.”
“pretty sure janitor is an official job title.”
“I mean for the festival–” you stutter, waving your hands around like a psycho.” It’s, like, mostly volunteer work.”
His head tilts, ever so slightly. “volunteering means you’re willing to do stuff for free. you don’t seem very willing.”
“I am beyond willing!” You are not beyond willing, but he doesn’t need to know that! “And don’t you run, like, three stands? Doesn’t that mean I have to do all of them?”
But he brushes you off. “nope. those ones are covered.”
“By who?”
“a ton of other dudes.”
You deadpan. “A skele-ton?”
“uh, what?” He almost laughs, as if you made the most offensive statement of all time. “c’mon kid. that’s the easiest joke in the book,” and his shiteating grin widens. “i wasn’t bone yesterday.”
Goddamnit.
“Okay, whatever,” you try to shoo him away. “Go on your break. I’ll figure it out.”
He’s already halfway down the road before you finish your sentence. “you got it, boss.”
What a weirdo.
You ignore the crank in your back, pulling up a chair that he (for some reason) refused to use. It sits somewhat snug against the ice cream stand, leaving enough space for you to criss-cross.
Besides the few kiddos here and there, there’s not too many running up to the stand. But you’re not complaining. It’s practically perfect.
While the stares are subverted to the ice cream, you find people-watching to get boring quickly. Lack of people to watch. Lack of variety in selection. You’re picky with your self-imposed main characters.
And so, with nothing else to do, you rest your forehead on the edge of the stand. Gravity pulls your eyes to the grass, to your feet.
Your eyes drift closed before you can stop them. Not that you’d try to, anyway.
It was years ago. Back when someone else ran the ice cream stand.
You remember it vividly; you, Kris, and Noelle getting ice cream on a day like this. Walking through the streets wasn’t nearly as dangerous as the general media made it out to be. You were familiar enough with the town that your parents didn’t feel the need to accompany you.
Asriel and December were off doing “teenager things”, as the latter deemed it. He always shoved her shoulder when she’d describe it like that, but he never denied the label.
There’s a new flavour, much to your big, beady eyes’ delight. It’s astounding to you; you’ve never seen more than the set selection of creams.
The lady’s very kind when she describes it to you. You don’t really understand some of her words, whether they be too big or too unfamiliar to you. All you heard was “candy” and you were sold.
The regret never kicked in, even after receiving the cone. An unnatural, pure red colour. Might have that stuff your mother puts in some of her pastries? Food colouring? It has little chunks of candy. Maybe cherry. They don’t look quite as solid as you thought they’d be.
Noelle gets something similar in concept; a rosy strawberry with little frozen chunks of said fruit. Kris gets butterscotch cinnamon pumpkin. You thought it sounded like a handful, but it even smells homey.
With the lack of a line, you three barely shift to the adjacent sidewalk, enjoying your ice cream in peaceful bliss.
After a few kitten licks, a child Noelle glances at your cone. “How is it?”
“Sweet,” you comment; not necessarily in a negative connotation. “But good.”
You both go back and forth for a minute, describing your flavours (as if Noelle hadn’t done the same for hers last year. Or the year before that). After that, much of the in-between is blurry; Noelle gets a mild brain freeze, panics, and stuff starts leaking everywhere. You’re alone with Kris before you realize it.
“What’s yours taste like?” Like you don’t know the answer.
They don’t respond traditionally. Instead, they tighten their double-handed hold on their cone, lifting it to your face.
You don’t deny the offer. Obviously. You collect a dab on your tongue before repeating the same question.
“You just tried some,” they state blatantly.
You’re not put off by their confusion. “Yeah, but I wanna know what it tastes like to you.”
Their shoulders bounce for a moment. You realize, hidden by their palm, they’re smiling.
It makes you smile, too. Child smiles are always contagious.
“It tastes like…” they seem to think for a moment. “Pie.”
You recognize the similarities, specifically in the beige colour. “Pie? Like, mom’s pie?”
You never realized that you used to call two people by the same name. Mom.
“Yeah.”
No further explanation needed.
You’ve stopped licking your ice cream. Instead, you watch their eyes scan your sweet treat. “What’re the bits?”
You scoff, as seriously as you can manage. “What? You weren’t listening to the lady?”
“Not really,” they admit.
“Well, it’s… uh…” you trail on, mind blank with any ideas. “I dunno.”
Your tongue shapes into a scoop, attempting a large lick to collect one of the chunks. It swishes around in your mouth. You’re careful not to bite into it before ensuring all the ice cream’s melted and swallowed.
Your jaw unhinges, as wide as you can go; the small candy resting in the center of the muscle. “‘ere ‘ou go.”
They don’t waste a single moment, getting as close to your face as possible. Their eyes are glued to the treat in question, brain whirring for something to compare it to. You feel their nose brush your bottom lip.
“It’s like a gummy,” they decide to settle on.
“Weally?” You slur. Your tongue pushes the aforementioned gummy between your teeth, intending to cut it in half. For them to try. That was obviously the best solution your child brain could come up with.
Underestimating your strength (and their unmoving proximity), you chomp hard on the chunk. While you expected to bite right through it, the gummy proves itself to, in fact, not be just a gummy, as random spurts of juice explode onto your lips.
…and Kris’ entire face.
They barely flinch, only squinting to avoid getting the sugary liquid in their eyes.
“Oops,” you say earnestly. You swallow the outer gummy shell and instantly reposition your face to inspect the liquid misting their own. Not that you had to move far.
The larger splats have begun dripping down their soft skin. Who knew the small thing could have so much juice in it?
You involuntarily lick your lips. The taste is nice, you think absentmindedly.
“Hold still,” you demand with complete seriousness.
They seem a bit lost when you cup the back of their head. You’re careful to not dislodge their horns (which, now acknowledging, you actually thought they had said appendages when you were younger).
And yeah, you were just a kid. And yeah, it was probably some form of a health violation.
But you, without a drop of hesitation, stick out your tongue to lick up the red droplets from their face. Your gross, sticky tongue. Lapping up their salty skin.
You can literally feel their face morph into a smile. The way their cheekbones lift; the way their eyes begin to crinkle. It’s a weird feeling under your tongue of all things, sure, but it’s become oddly ingrained into your memory. One of those things you can’t forget.
“Stop,” they giggle. And it’s such a lovely sound. You didn’t appreciate it enough back then.
They shove your cheek with their little human hand, rendering your attack immobile. You’re rather defenseless as they seize your own cone, bite into the ice cream (yes, bite), and use their newly attained triple gummies to squirt sweet nectar all across your face. And neck. And shirt.
“Ewww,” you drawl despite your matching grin. You’re somehow drenched. Definitely sticky. Definitely gross.
And, without another word, they’ve begun lapping you up now.
From a bystander, you two’re just mutually, nastily licking. Like you’re trying to eat each other. And yeah, they’re definitely right.
The cones in your hands aren’t forgotten, either. Half of yours is smudged on their jawline while half of theirs is painted across your cheek.
Thank the Angel Noelle’s paying.
Speaking of–
“Eeeaahh!” The deer wallows, pointing an incriminating finger between the two of you. “What happened!? You’re both bleeding!”
And the look Kris gives you. Man, you couldn’t have held back your howl if you tried.
“W-what’s so funny?”
A groggy sound escapes your throat as your eyelids struggle to open.
It’s trippy as balls hearing Noelle’s child voice morph into her deeper, current one. She’s with Susie, and Kris, in an intensely deep conversation about octopus balls. Or something just as riveting as that.
You’re not a spiteful person, but it’s perhaps a smidge, just a tad, eensy weensy bit aggravating to see the trio together. C’mon, Kris and Noelle? When the fuck did they rekindle? Maybe mutuals with Susie? Like hell Susie’s social enough to fix that trainwreck of a falling out–
And oh, just your luck! They’re in the mood for ice cream today, aren’t they? They couldn’t have come an hour earlier, when you weren’t running the stand? How’ve you pissed the Angel off this time?
Noelle, previously far too infatuated with Susie to notice, now realizes who she’s headed right towards.
The alarm is instant. She halts like a deer in headlights (ha.); her eyes engulfed with a million different emotions, all leading back to let’s not go this way, please.
However, Susie ignores the deer’s obvious panic and laces her claws through Noelle’s equivalent to tug her along. All without breaking the doe’s line of sight from you.
Kris, at the very least, pretends to act natural. Walk side by side with Susie. They’re so lucky their bangs cover your view because damn if you could confidently stare them down? You would.
Things’ve changed since you last saw them. You’re not backing down. You’ve grown balls.
Noelle’s noticeably dragging, struggling to keep up her polite smile. You’ve had conversations with her, somewhat recently. More than Kris, but that bar’s in hell. With her, you’re civil at best, snarky at worst. Medium highs and higher lows.
Thank the stars you’re too exhausted to say anything crazy, right? Unless that’s the perfect formula for an unfiltered mess of a dialogue.
“Hey, rooftop,” Susie unwinds her digits from Noelle’s, leaning a large forearm on your stand. What a nickname.
You copy her nonchalance, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. “Yo. You want ice cream?”
Stupid question, but you almost feel inclined to make sure they’re not here to torment you.
“Yeah… what’s the one with all the chunks in it?” She points to one of the colourful rectangles. You almost cringe from the C-word. “Are those marshmallows? Uh, nuts?”
Your heavy restraint stops you from making a deez nuts joke. “Rocky road?”
“Yeah. I’ll have one of those,” she glances over her shoulder. To Noelle. Who’s been staring at you when she thinks you’re distracted. “What’d you want, again?”
When all attention’s on the deer, she freezes up. You can’t tell if you should be disrespected or flattered that she thinks about you this much.
It’s when she says your name. All robotic and forced. That’s what startles you. “I will have mint chocolate chip, please!”
You blink, pausing Susie’s prep mid-scoop. Nice self control. “Don’t you hate that flavour?”
Her facade crumbles instantly. “Oh– god you’re right, wait, uh…”
It’s odd. When she turns into a babbling mess, you feel just a bit looser. Like things aren’t a bit weird.
You exhale through your nose – the closest you’ve gotten to laughing all day. “It’s not like the flavours change every year.”
It’s an educated guess. It’s not like you’d have known.
“Right, right, uhm…” She gains a bit of confidence; she’s waddled up to be at arm's length of the stand. She stands on her tippy… hooves… and tries to peek into the little compartments.
Her brain’s scrambled. You don’t really blame her. You decide to be a good samaritan. “How ‘bout strawberry?”
And that seems to hit an imaginary bell in her brain. Would you look at that? “Yes! That– I’ll have that.”
Hoping to speed up this slightly awkward experience, you turn to Kris. They appear no different than they did five minutes ago. This morning.
“B. scotch?”
They shake their head. “Cherry bomb.”
“Really?” You blurt. And you instantly want to punch yourself in the face for it.
“Mhm.”
You’re so sure you remember agreeing the flavour was way too sweet. The ratio of gummies to ice cream was far in favour of the former. You don’t think you minded, though.
You don’t even know if they liked it! It’s not like they asked for more. Not that you had much more to give. You’re certain it ended up on the pavement.
Whatever, idiot! None of your business.
You don’t dare to peep another word, choosing to occupy yourself with scooping the sweet treat with precision only given to people like Dess. Damn could she bat.
Once you finish with the first two, Susie gives you a look as you hand her Noelle’s cone. Probably wondering why your hands are shaking so bad. To your surprise, Noelle chirps out a thank you and then they’re walking away why’re they walking away–
You’ve never shoveled ice cream so fast in your life. But why? Kris won’t make conversation! What’re you so worried about?
It’s just you and them and you and them and your balls apparently ran off to do shots with Sans and where the hell is he?–
“There ya go,” you say like some shitty customer service worker, practically shoving the treat in their mouth for them. You pretend you feel nothing as their fingers brush yours.
But they’re not leaving.
They’re lingering!
They do not linger. Well, not in the traditional sense.
They don’t even lick their ice cream.
They just… pick out a lone gummy from the top.
And hold it out in their hand to you.
You swallow, preparing as if you have the guts to say anything. Maybe you seem offended, eyebrows furrowed as you glance from their hand to their eyes. You don’t like that you can see their eyes. You’re too close.
You try not to sound irritated. “What, don’t like the bits?”
They cock their head. “You like them, don’t you?”
Your face instantly softens. Fucking damnit.
Because yeah. You do. And you don’t like how they remember that.
You’re slow to take the piece; careful when your fingers move too close to their warm-blooded surface. Maybe you feel something when you accidentally touch. Maybe. But it doesn’t matter what.
You’re not surprised when they instantly leave. It’s not like they’re the type to look back.
Unlike yourself, who's staring at their head like a madman.
Once the trees block your vision, you give up. The counter’s cool against your flaming forehead.
You stare at the gummy, pinched softly between your nails.
You don’t have the heart to eat it.
~*•*~
After Sans comes back, he relieves you of your duties. You’re still not sure why you had to be there an hour before his break, but whatever. More time killed.
You’re sorta lingering around, not entirely sure what to do. It’s not like they gave you a manual on how to help out. So you’re just pretending to look busy so people leave you alone. Like fiddling with decorations. And… actually yeah that’s pretty much it.
The best part about this festival in particular is how much it emphasizes the importance of tight friendships and bonding opportunities. Two things, of which, you currently do not have. Lots of group games. Group activities. Group eating booths.
That last one might not be true. But you swear, shitty food tastes better when you’ve got a group to laugh at it with.
And maybe it’s your low standards, or maybe you’re just feeling particularly lonely right now (after pocketing the gummy instead of eating it). But you decide, after accidentally making eye contact with a certain bluebird in the middle of the street, that… that…
You take a breath. Your ego shrinks. Because c’mon. You’re choosing to talk to Berdly. What’re you doing?
His head zips around every few seconds, as if he’s trying to look for someone. Conspicuously. Failing tremendously, might you add.
When he sees you’re not making a beeline for him just to turn at the last second, he looks like he wants to tell you off. You definitely don’t have the best relationship. And yet, it seems as though he refrains.
“Ah,” he pronounces your name wrong. Damn. “Lost as always, hm?”
You scoff. Your heart’s not really in it. “Says you. You’re the one scanning the place like you’ve committed a crime. Watching out for the police?”
His beak flies open. “Of course not! I’m patiently awaiting my three bachelor/ettes!”
It doesn’t take you more than a moment to realize. “You mean Kris, Susie, and Noelle?”
You’d say he was impressed by the way his eyebrows fly off his head. “What an astute observation coming from… a below-to-mid average student such as yourself!”
“It’s not that difficult to assume.”
He’s practically talking to himself. “Ah, you share many characteristics with Kris! They’d be top of the class with me and Noel– with Noelle and I if they tried.”
You thought this dude was an asshat before. The hell changed?
“It doesn’t assist in your academic journey that you sleep through every lesson,” he continues. “Quite similar to–”
Don’t need to hear the end of that! “Sleep is private time. Stop watching me sleep.”
He gawks. “B… but you sleep in class! You sit right next to me? It’d take an absolute plebian not to notice!”
“How ‘bout you make like a plebian and stop noticing?”
Totally not worth the headache. You’re about to trash-and-ditch, as you’d like to call it, when–
He wraps his feather-coated chicken fingers around your hand. “Wait!”
He almost appears… earnest for a sec. “Wait,” he repeats.
You’re instantly terrified that Kris and Noelle said something to him. About you.
You saw them coming out from the computer lab a few days ago. Seems like they were awfully buddy-buddy. Like… with Berdly. Buddy-buddy. That’s insane.
But then…
“I need you to vote me for king.”
“What?” You rip your hand from his. “No. That whole voting thing’s for, like, kids.”
He’s automatically defensive. “No! It’s a testimony to demonstrate your superior bonds of friendship with your average peers!”
“Am I an average peer?”
“Um,” he pauses. “No. You’re above average. Now vote for me.”
“No.”
His lackluster coolguy persona drops. “You owe me! I allowed you ownership of my notes on Wednesday!”
“Ehm, no, I stole them. And–” Your tongue gets caught between your teeth, a bit unsure if you should be admitting this next part. “–they weren’t even yours. I know they were Noelle’s.”
“Erm, actually, they were replicas of the notes acquired by Mrs. Alphys that Noelle was fulfilling for Kris while they–”
“Really!?” You snap, shaking the bird by the shoulders. “How fucking close are they!? They sure didn’t care to reintroduce me into their rebudding friendship!”
He seems utterly confused at your outburst. It’s not like he was paying attention, either. Something else caught his eye are you fucking kidding me–
“Ah, there they are!” He watches from behind you.
No, nope, you’re done with this. No more bunting banners, no more ice cream, no more Berdly. No more Susie. No more Noelle. No more Kris.
You lightly shake him until his eyes are set on yours, panic strung through your fingers. “Okay, Berdly. I’ll vote for you as king and queen. Have a good day!”
And you really try to leave. You really do. But he tugs you back like a man– boy set on a mission.
“Uhm, actually!” He somehow seems more stressed than you. “I only need the king vote. I am a king. Not a queen.”
You very unsubtly whip your head to the trio. They’re gaining on you. “Yeah, okay! I’ll do whatever you want! Just let me go!”
That seems to strike a realization in him. “Erm, I also need those notes back.’
“You said they weren’t yours!”
“I mean the ones from Monday, not Wednesday. Also maybe Tuesday’s and last Friday’s– not this Friday but last Friday–”
“Yes, Berdly, I’ll give you every note I’ve ever had! In fact, you can take all of mine, too!”
“No, I don’t want your inferior– I mean, I don’t need your notes, I want mine–”
“Fine! Yes! All your notes! Given!”
He taps his beak. “Actually, you can keep some in exchange for an exquisite walk around the festival.”
The bird waggles his eyebrows. You’re about to go off on him, when you hear a pair snickering behind you.
It’s Susie and Noelle. They’re laughing at your pain.
Kris isn’t emoting nearly as much as them (or at all), but you swear you see a twitch at the edge of their lip every few seconds.
However, Berdly’s got other priorities; he steals the spotlight rather quickly. “Ah, if it isn’t my three potential partners.”
Whatever. As long as the attention’s off of you.
You’re not really listening to his speech. It’s long, drawn, dramatic. You’d prefer to just… rest your eyes. They’re all too occupied to notice, anyways.
There was a festival morning. Not nearly as grueling as this one.
You’re at the Dreemurr’s, planted right at their front steps, not quite listening to Toriel’s own speech about having fun and staying safe alongside Kris and Noelle. You’re too busy watching Dess and Azzy.
They’re together at the end of the driveway, huddled like they can’t help but share the same bubble. You’re not quite sure what proximity like that means, but you know it means something different. Something else.
She’s showing him something on her phone, right before intertwining her fingers with his.
It feels natural; the way your body’s inclined to act on impulse. You’re grazing Kris’ hand before slithering your digits between theirs. Nothing about their expression changes. But you feel their fingers rest between your knuckles. It’s just so right.
“Can I go with Kris this year?” You peep, directing your question to Toriel. You feel their hand tighten.
She almost instantly swoons, ruffling your head like you’ve just asked the cutest question imaginable. “Of course! You three go together every year!”
You’re not sure what the feeling is, but you feel inclined to look away. “But like… I mean like… how Dess and Azzy go every year… together…”
Any emotion from her face vanishes in an instant.
Instead, she’s calling out to the aforementioned two, who’re too busy giggling to prepare for her anger. “The HELL are you teaching these two?”
Asriel’s entire body morphs into fight or flight (definitely flight), scrambling for an explanation, even a question.
Thankfully, December comes in for the save. “Nothing inappropriate, ma’am!”
But she sounds far too cocky for it to reign anything but false.
Despite that, Toriel decides to take it. She flips some internal switch; smile wider than she can manage. “Okay! Have fun! Do not make bad decisions!”
The latter’s not directed to you. But that’s not what you’re focused on.
You’re still holding hands.
Back then, you wouldn’t know what a shiteating grin looked like. Dess’ own actually might’ve been the first you’ve ever seen.
She calls for her little sister with intentions horribly impure, leaving you and the little human alone on their porch.
When the three are out of view, you’re shifting closer to their heat, whispering in their ear. “Okay. How about, this year, you climb on top of the ferris wheel thingy–” the gondola, “–and I’ll sit in it and I see how long I can shake the thing until you fall off.”
They already seem on board. “We’re gonna get banned again,” they smile. It’s rather contradicting with the assumed concern of their words.
“Then we gotta do it fast.”
And you watch each other for a moment. Formulating more ideas through your telepathic minds. Your grin grows a bit too big for your small face.
It’s sad. You have the face for a big smile now.
You don’t hide how intently you’re staring at Kris. You don’t know when they started mirroring you, but they’re gazing right back. It’s hard to care. How many times has this happened today?
Berdly’s practically white noise. You only stop to glance when he shifts from Susie to Kris– from Susie to Kris.
Oh hell no. That better not mean what you think it means.
“Kris…” he coos. “Kris cross applesauce–”
Before Susie can interject, you’re yanking him by the back of his shirt. “No.”
Because screw that. Like hell you’re gonna let them get close with Berdly of all fucking people.
Like hell you’re gonna let them get close with anyone before whatever the fuck happened fixes itself.
And of course all eyes dart to you! Of course you look like a psycho for– you’re actually saving them from future years of torment! Why’s everyone staring at you like you’re crazy!?
Kris doesn’t look at you like you’re stupid. Their eyes widen ever so slightly.
Your teeth clench, as if saying ‘don’t you dare’.
Don’t you dare what? Who knows!
Too late to back down now!
…actually, what do you do now?
Susie’s the first to move, snaking an… octo-ball from her pocket. There’s little hairs and furs and lint sticking out of it.
She displays it to you like it’s a million dollars. “Want it?”
You’re too lost to say anything other than: “Okay.”
They all watch as she tosses it to you. You chomp on it slowly. The lint instantly gets stuck in your teeth. Or is that the hair?
Noelle’s almost more confused than you. “Didn’t you eat yours, Susie?”
“I did,” she admits, like it’s a felony. “Then Kris stole another one. And I stole it from them.”
“Kris? You wanted another one?”
Before they can interject, Susie’s shrugging her shoulders.
“Of course they didn’t,” she waits for the second half to enter your mouth before continuing. “It was gonna end up with rooftop anyways.”
And you’re practically choking to death.
You’re not sure what’s more multicoloured: their rosy cheeks or your face from lack of oxygen.
~*•*~
Some kid stole the balloons from one of the trees. Of course it was one of your trees. That means you’re legally responsible. And it’s hardly an hour past noon. Who’s out here stealing before the festival hits its peak? Does it even have a peak?
You’d like to think the hooligans would only come out at dusk. Hooligans? Did you really just say hooligans?
Sure, you might have the same sleep schedule as someone in their eighties – sleep for sixteen hours and take little naps between – but you didn’t think you’d start talking like them until your, like, thirtieth birthday. There’s not much hope to go around.
Due to your amazing star-child track record, you felt awfully obligated to go get replacements. At the Church. It’s rather out of place of the festival’s whole vibe.
While the sun crisps up the top of your head, your eyes don’t immediately dilate at the dark foyer. There’s a few tables to your left; the vague shape of bowls displayed on their surfaces. You think there’s someone further in front of you, maybe someone to your right?
It doesn’t really matter. Get in, get out.
Not only are you partially blinded, you’re also mid-eye-rub, stepping blindly towards the storage room. There’s a sound, maybe a thump above you, and–
“Gyyah!” You shriek.
Someone’s dropped in front of you dangling on a string and you’re trying to get your brain up to speed but you’re too exhausted to think straight–
Your feet do all the decision-making, stumbling over one another, right into the unexpected guest behind you.
Fate tests you, and it tests you hard.
The moment you smell that apple shampoo, the moment you feel their hands hover near your shoulders in an obvious attempt to help you right yourself, you instantly cower away, shuffling to one of the tables with the… blood juice.
Alphys – the one hanging from the string, dressed as a vampire? – stutters your name in a confused panic. “I d-didn’t think I’d see you here, hehe…”
Well, her priorities are certainly in check.
“Yeah, I just…” you start, but don’t find yourself continuing.
It’s the trio (woah, really?), all previously distracted with Catti’s fortune-teller table. You’re assuming. Judging by the way Susie’s finger’s only a few moments from tapping the cat’s crystal ball.
Kris is oddly far from the pair, though. Closer to you, the middle of the foyer; their hands still slightly raised from your quick departure.
“That–” your voice cracks. “That wasn’t… uh, I wasn’t trying to– I didn’t see you. There. My, uh, my bad.”
Why’re you trying to explain your very natural reaction to getting spooked?
It’s not like you scare easily. You’re really not on your A-game.
“Haha, don’t worry. It got me, too,” Noelle chirps from her safe distance, offering a rather understanding smile. “Memorized every scare here. Guess we both didn’t expect anything new this year, huh?”
‘Expect anything new this year’. Fucking hell.
She hasn’t even noticed you haven’t attended this stupid festival in the last, like, decade? Really?
Some friend she is.
Your fists… unclench.
Guess you can’t really call her that.
“Sorry,” you say to no one in particular, staring at your feet like you’re some timid moron.
You retreat past the floating Alphys, squeezing into the storage room and shutting the door with more aggression than you’d rather they hear.
The trio doesn’t seem as thoughtful, though. You can hear their murmurs through the door. It’s a chore to try to tune them out.
The place is filled to the brim with boxes. It’s rather apparent that they didn’t have the time to keep it all organized before the big day.
You scan through the first few, only rummaging into decor-themed boxes. First, second, third, and on your fourth, you find it. A half-empty plastic ziplock of balloons.
You didn’t kill nearly as much time as you wanted to. What if they’re still outside?
They’re not. You heard them spout their goodbyes.
Maybe you just want to kill time for yourself. It’s not like anyone’s looking for the balls of air, anyways.
You contemplate sitting on the floor, but decide against it. Bits of glitter and confetti’re already stuck to the bottom of your shoes.
As if beckoning you, you glance to the piano bench. You feel it staring back.
Begrudgingly (and thoughtlessly), you take a seat. Memories that’ll spark, feelings that’ll emerge. You don’t feel like dealing with that. You don’t ever do.
And yet, you find yourself resting your arms on the keys, pressing just lightly enough to hear the jumble of notes play. You’re the only one who gets to listen.
Your head falls on your nest of arms. And you close your eyes.
You had much more space to shuffle on the bench, having been half the size. But it didn’t matter; you still sat shoulder to shoulder. You were both small, despite this being one of your later memories.
You can’t really remember why you’re here. You think they’re practicing for their festival performance. You don’t think you asked. You just wanted to hear them play, to be honest.
Their fingers, nothing compared to the bulk of the keys, press with a practiced confidence. Something you rarely see from them.
Not that they don’t display ego at times, but you’re pretty sure they don’t intentionally do it.
You wait until after they finish to praise them. “Cool song,” you press the keys, completing a clunky c-scale. “What other ones do you know?”
Either you’re horrible at hiding your true intent, or they’re really good at reading you. “Know how to do ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’?”
Just the question alone gets you excited. “Nope.”
Their left hand disappears behind their body. When they gesture to their right hand, you hold your own up with purpose.
Their fingers envelop your wrist, guiding you to a placement two octaves from their own. Your thumb rests on the C.
“You ready?” They return to their own position.
“Mhm.”
Their thumb presses the note twice. C note. Their eyes drift to your own, waiting for you to copy. You do.
The rest continues en suite. Your notes follow like an echo to their own.
Once you run through it together, they silently urge you to play it again, without them. You try.
A few notes off – an A instead of a G, an E instead of an F – but it sounds recognizable to the source material.
Stubborn as ever, you play through it again. You pause a few times, but you don’t press any wrong notes. Feels good.
“Okay,” you pretend you’re not beaming with pride. “What’s next?”
“Next step up?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m ready.”
Somewhere near their feet, they bust out some insane looking sheet music. Notes you’ve never seen before, shapes you’ve never seen before. Just based on their struggle to keep a straight face, you scoff. But you don’t back down.
“Ehm, how ‘bout you play through once? And I’ll do the thing where I’ll learn by listening,” you offer, as if you have the right to negotiate.
They feed into your bullshit. You wouldn’t have called it that back then; you’d have called it a ‘joke’. “Playing by ear?”
“Yeah. I got it,” you ready yourself with your misplaced confidence.
You can tell they’re not taking you seriously.
They abruptly start playing, both hands heavily involved. You pretend to mimic their hand placement at your comfortable two octaves higher. It’s definitely not working. You have no idea what you’re doing.
Your smile only grows when you notice their speed increase. Oh, yeah. You’re absolutely lost.
But then, their composed music starts to deform, and you realize they’ve just started (lightly) smashing the keys at random.
You copy their spam of notes, piano deafening to the listening ear.
And yet, you hear them laugh. It’s louder than anything in the room.
To you, at least.
Maybe only to you.
It’s so unbelievably contagious.
Or it’s only contagious to you.
You slow your clutter when you hear them play the lowest note on the piano.
You copy an equivalent, playing the highest.
But they keep playing it.
You’re confused. This isn’t how the memory goes.
The sound bleeds through your ears until you realize it’s not just in your mind.
You barely shift your head. You leave just a small enough peephole above your arms to see who’s trying to ruin your peaceful, much needed rest.
You don’t have it in you to act surprised anymore.
Kris stands at the edge of the piano, watching you wake up.
Much of your face is shielded, but you’re sure they can make out your furrowed eyebrow.
Their finger falls from the note, back to their side. “That’s not good for your back.”
You’re still woozy. “What?”
They give just the slightest of nods. “Slouching over like that.”
You’re instantly peeved. Oh, come on. They’re hunched over, knocked out in class, like, every day. “Says you, zombie.”
And you instantly want to take it back. Because you’re not close enough to make a joke like that anymore.
You pretend to take their advice, lifting into a half-assed sitting position. “Sorry.”
They don’t seem offended. They don’t seem anything.
You watch their eyes drift to your hands that naturally rest on the piano. Said hands instantly go to your lap.
But they’re not leaving.
“Where’s Susie and Noelle?” You ask. Out of courtesy, for the most part. You don’t really want to know.
Their gaze refuses to leave your fists. “Holding hands in the eyeball bowl.”
They either came back as a group, or Kris is straight up lying to you. Either way, you can’t help but laugh. “Didn’t they ban that specifically?”
They hum. You heard it from adults this morning. Weird subject to eaves drop on, but it’s all you could find that was semi-interesting.
“That’s not as surprising as it should be,” you continue. “Az and Dess did some nasty finger shit in there–”
And your mouth zips shut tight.
Is stating their names a violation of the unnamed policy? Lighting the already-crossed line on fire?
But they don’t falter. In fact, their lip tilts up, just enough. You know you’d be the only one to notice. Like the weirdo you are. “You sound like Catti.”
“The hell did Catti do now?”
“She hates Susie,” they shrug. “Something about corrupting Noelle.”
It’s not a great feeling. To not understand the dynamics that Kris talks so casually about. But you pretend to get it.
“Oh, Noelle,” you coo. “Such a pure soul. Far too pure for Catti, though. Or Susie,” from what you can gauge from watching her. “Or you.”
To your unhideable shock, they perch on the edge of the bench. Yeah, as far as they can be from you, but they sit nonetheless. “Or you.”
You’re surprised to even be a part of the equation.
They glance past you, to the floor. To the box next to your feet. Right.
“Dad ask for help?” They ask. They’re starting a lot of conversations. More than you’re used to.
You also can’t tell if they’re asking about the crate specifically, or about the entire day itself. “Didn’t want to, but yeah. Could be doing more important things right now.”
“Like sleeping?”
You sigh dreamily. “Yeah. Like sleeping.”
They seem to hesitate for a moment. It’s nice to know they’re just as unsure as you are. About any of it. About all of it.
They settle on: “Don’t let me stop you.”
You waver. But it’s Kris. You don’t know how to say no to Kris. You never did, you never do, and you never will.
You rest your head again, mimicking your attentiveness from when you first got to this hoarder’s paradise. And you close your eyes.
Sleep approaches quickly. Right before you let it take you, cocooning you in its wanted grace, you hear that same song.
The one for the festival. The one meant for an audience.
But this time, it’s just for you.
~*•*~
You awake with the most grueling back pain. It travels from your tailbone right up to your neck. Guess you should’ve listened, after all.
There’s a tissue resting on the music rack. It blankets a red gummy.
You dig for the one in your pocket, only to bring it up to your eyes. It’s sticky, covered with little fabric hairs. You’re sure there’s an unpleasant residue waiting for you where you kept it.
You pop them both in your mouth. The juices coat your tongue like a warm hug.
The festival’s practically over. You spent the last few hours in your own head.
With empty streets and emptier thoughts, all you can think of is the ferris wheel.
Your trek there is short, efficient. You ignore one of the pole’s bald spots. Could’ve definitely used a balloon or two.
As you stand at the base of the contraption, all you can think is: Damn. It’s a lot bigger than you remember.
You break off a lone branch from one of the surrounding trees, keeping it with you throughout your mission. Behind the booth sits a few buttons and levers. It doesn’t take you long to press the right ones, ultimately pulling the latter to get it moving.
Its spin is slow and aged. You wait for the next gondola to appear at your feet, hopping into its unlocked side door.
When your ride hits the halfway mark, you hang out the open hatch, aiming your stick at the booth’s protected lever. Once you cross the three-quarter mark, you toss it violently.
It whacks the lever with enough pressure to just lodge it over from on to off. You’ve got a stronger throw than you thought, ‘cause wow you didn’t think that’d work.
After you’re certain you’ve hit your peak, you crawl back into your gondola, leaving the door open a crack because you know you’ll find some dumb way to get locked inside.
You’re above the trees, in view of the horizon. The sun swims in oceans of red, orange, and pink hues. It’s beautiful.
You sit yourself on the uncomfortable metal benches, resting your head against the hard frame of the heart.
Your eyes drift shut. This would be such a good time for another nap.
Maybe you’d dream about the times Kris would rock the seats. Or when they’d manage to jam the machine so you’d get stuck at the top for half an hour. You can hide from everyone up here.
Maybe you want to think about those moments, whether involuntary or not.
But as you phase in and out of consciousness, you can feel your sleep to be dreamless.
And it just… ruins it all.
You’ve seen Kris more in the past twenty four hours than you have in the past couple years. And now, when you’re too tired? That’s when you can’t spark up a single memory that your brain wants to dream about?
And not only that, but you feel like you’re being watched. You can knock yourself out in minutes, sure, but not when you’re paranoid.
You turn your back to the sunset. Towards the trees.
There’s a tuft of brown hair hanging over the heart’s arch, framing those damn beautiful red eyes–
You better shut your corny ass up.
And yeah, you scream. Much louder than you did in the church. It’s like your thoughts summoned them to your location.
From what you can see, they don’t react. But there’s just the slightest raise (lower?) in their cheekbones. Your pulse quickens, for some reason.
They disappear, retreating back to the top. You don’t feel the metal groan from the relieved pressure of their departure. But then again, you didn’t hear them get on, either. So who knows?
There’s two distinct taps on the roof. A fingernail to the frame.
You exhale, long and measured. Your day’s already been fucked as is. Might as well make it worse.
And you sorta hate yourself for thinking that. You would’ve said the exact opposite years ago.
The idea of interacting with them feels like so much work. But… not them, specifically.
You think you like it when they go out of their way to see you.
Maybe.
But it’s been so long.
Has nothing changed? Has any of it changed?
You’re both so different.
How different could you really be?
You climb out the side door effortlessly, as you’ve done a million times before. Instead of hearing your conjoined parents holler for you two to come down, there’s nothing but trees waiting at your feet.
They watch you settle on the opposite arch. You refuse to look in their general direction.
“That’s not how you play.”
Your eyebrows furrow. “What?”
They criss-cross their legs, leaning back on their palms. “Didn’t feel you rock it once.”
You don’t like how easy it is for them to bum you out. At least this time, it feels like you’re more mad at yourself than you are at them.
You pull your legs to your chest. “Where’s Susie and Noelle?”
Better question. Why do you keep asking?
“Off doing stuff.”
And c’mon. You can’t help but flush at the implication. “Not like that, right?”
Out of the corner of your vision, you can see their fingers bunch into a tight fist. “Not like that.”
You feel shitty for even asking. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
You don’t even know why they’re here. You don’t know why you’re okay with them being here. It’s probably their voice. Maybe their presence.
Doing nothing. Doing something.
It doesn’t really matter to you. You feel indulgent.
Before tomorrow comes and you’re both back to normal.
“How was your day?” You ask, hoping they don’t think you’re being disingenuous.
They pause. You might’ve thrown them off.
“Good.”
“Yeah?”
“Noelle and Susie seemed to have fun.” If you were anywhere close to making eye contact, they’d have broken it instantly. “They did most of the games.”
You find yourself staring at the side of their head. Greedily. “But did you have fun?”
“Sure.”
“‘Sure’?” They can totally feel your gaze.
They drum their fingers on the frame. “Forgot how many duo games there are.”
“Damn,” you sigh, partially feigning sympathy. The other half? Couldn’t tell you. “Third wheel?”
“Somewhat.”
“I mean, I can't tell if I’d rather be left out of a trio or straight up have no one to go with at all! Haha… ha..”
Wow, nice joke. Really funny! You couldn’t have sounded more pathetic.
That’s when they turn their head to you. Curiosity? Confusion? Maybe just a hint of alarm?
You break it, glaring straight ahead. No need to look over anymore.
You kick your feet off the ledge, hoping to get a nice breeze on your calves. But your knees bend over the end, feet flush against the glass.
Your feet were never long enough to go over the edge before. It’s a weird feeling.
…
Fuck.
You push down the bile rising up your throat. “I think I hate this festival.”
“Why?”
“Why not? It’s just another reminder that this town’s smaller than a dime. Why’re we– they pretending nothing’s changed? We all know she’s gone. No one’s moved on. One less than ten isn’t the same as one less than a hundred.”
Woah, there. You’ve gotta slow down.
“There aren’t ten people in town.”
But they’re not even treating you seriously. “Might as well be!”
“Have you moved on?” They accuse. Neutral as ever.
Your voice gets caught in your throat. You recover quickly. “More than most!”
They give you the most earnest look you’ve ever seen. It doesn’t feel right.
“Then why aren’t we friends?”
Oh, what an attack!
That you’re not!
Going to!
Respond to!
What could you say to that? There’s nothing you could say!
You shuffle away like they’re leaking poisonous gas and oh right! You’re on the heart’s slope!
You start sliding fast, legs taking a dive for the ground, arms thrashing like you’re a drowning baby, when–
Kris’ hands latch around both your biceps, carrying you with the sole will of their determination. And all you can think is damn, they’re stronger than you thought.
Which is not the right thoughts to be having right now!
You’re sure you look like a flailing idiot, but even they look far too relaxed for someone who’s slipping by the minute.
And they continue as if this isn’t happening!
“Maybe everyone’s pretending nothing’s changed because they have moved on.”
You squeeze their biceps, only to skid a bit further. “Then, I don’t know, they’re lying to themselves!”
And yet, their eyes. It’s like they really want to tell you.
Their mouth remains sealed. But they give you a quick shake of the head.
And, for some reason, knowing that…
…gives you relief.
Wow.
You’re not the only one stuck in the past.
You can’t believe you just admitted that to yourself.
You feel their grip weaken even more.
That’s when you start really panicking.
“Well, maybe we aren’t friends because I thought you didn’t wanna be around me after it all went down!”
Their mouth’s thrown agape.
And you slip from their grasp like butter.
But adrenaline’s got your back, baby! You use whatever grip on their arm you can manage to tug yourself up, delaying your fall.
Great! Now all you need to do is–
Your fingers dig into their sweater.
Right next to their soul.
And you’re dragging them off the gondola like a sacrifice.
As you’re both falling, you watch their shock contort into panic. Yeah, you kinda butchered that one pretty bad.
All you can do now is close your eyes.
This is the end.
You’re gonna die after admitting your life’s biggest secret.
Something you hold so close, so dear.
To the person you’d rather have never known.
It was probably selfish to think it; that they specifically went out of their way to remove you from their life. Especially when you knew they were struggling.
They were all struggling, weren’t they?
You were, too.
Even if you didn’t know December too well.
You still felt it.
The emptiness.
The lack of closure.
And now, you–
“Uuf.”
Your backside slams against the dirt, lungs slightly winded. There’s a silent (still heavy) weight that falls on top of you like you’re some specially made pillow.
As you groan, lids shut from the pain zapping through your bones, you feel a shadow crowd over you.
You squint. It’s Kris, practically sprawled over your body, arms bracketing you. You can feel their breath on your lips.
You’re close enough to watch the red engulf their face as they try to leap away, but–
“Wait!” You tug at their shoulders, positioning them right back over you. You just don’t want them to bolt.
The flames spread down their neck. You bite your tongue. “Are you okay?”
“Are you okay?” They echo, sounding slightly out of character.
Your eyes drift closed. Because you can feel the rounds of laughter rise up your chest.
You’re the only one laughing. You might be crying, too. It’s hard to tell.
You only catch their confusion before they force themself back into neutrality.
“Did you mean to push everyone away after it happened? Or were you just doing that because everyone else was, too?”
They don’t answer. You didn’t really expect them too.
“Bad question,” you croak, releasing your tight fists from their sweater.
After a second of debate, they get up. But they choose to sit next to your corpse-like body instead of retreating into the forest. You’re not sure how they’re not in excruciating pain right now, but you think you can take two for the team.
“Noelle hasn’t moved on,” they comment randomly.
“Duh,” you caw rather bluntly, throat crackling from mucus. “That was her sister.”
There’s a moment of silence before you reach for their leg. Just to rest your palm under their warmth. “Did you go willingly? To the festival, I mean.”
“I don’t willingly go anywhere.”
You cackle at that. “Yeah, but that’s because school sucks. And it’s not fun when people talk to you as if they know you.”
You don’t need them to say you’re right to show they agree.
They poke at your fingers like they’re alien sausages. “Mom makes me go.”
“Yeah, that checks out.”
The sun’s practically gone. You watch the empty, black sky like it has something to offer.
They lay next to you. The entire lengths of your arms sit snug against each other.
You’re about to say something else, when their hand brushes your hip. You totally weren’t about to throw hands when they start digging through your pant pocket. Their fingers escape; between their index and middle lies a key. Definitely not your key.
Oh, yeah. You forgot to return that.
“Wanna go grab free ice cream?” You offer mindlessly, voice slightly hoarse. “Apparently, I still have the key to the cart’s top.”
They look at you like you’re a genius.
“Or we take the whole cart.”
You gasp. “Damn, you’re right. Even better.”
~~~
and then they make out the end
this whole fic takes place over a day and i dont think ive ever done a fic contained to 24 hours bruh im surprised i got enough out of it. also first time writing sans yooo
I love doing fics where reader is just going through the fucking ringer like bros struggling HARD in this one and its only them like get over it LOLOL
lowkey the mood was all over the place like sad one minute goofy the next but i tried to mix them nicely I HOPE U ENJOYED I HAVE ANOTHER ASK THAT I ALR WANNA DO SO WAIT ON THAT I GUESS ??? OR SEND ME ONE AND HOPE I LATCH ON LEECH STYLE LMAOOO LOVE U GUYS OK BYE <<<3<3<33333
Thank you @starleska and their anons for giving me the idea for this fic :D!
Wordcount: 7.6k
Summary: You've been a frequent visitor of the Flower Kingdom and have made plenty of friends along the way. When your feelings for Flowery grow to big to ignore, you start coughing up petals, flowers, and stems. But is this really just about your crush, or are there other feelings that you've been ignoring…?
Notes: Hanahaki Disease, Blood and Injury, Vomiting, Body Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending.
The flowers always enjoy trying out new things. Since you can’t bring any objects from the Light World with you when visiting them, you’ve had to find creative ways in which to introduce them to new things. Lately, you’ve been looking for tabletop games that are easy to replicate. In the end, you settled on Jenga because there are few rules and the pieces should be easy enough to replicate.
Even though there aren’t many ways to play Jenga wrong, you already wrote down the rules in advance since you were certain that Seth would ask for them. And they did.
“Are you sure you haven’t played this before?” You ask Flowery who’s sitting on your right.
Flowery never slips up, not even when he removes pieces that are far from the easiest. It’s obvious he’s just showing off, pushing the pieces out with a single, forceful tip of his index finger. He doesn’t immediately respond to your question. Instead, he removes another piece from the tower. You hold your breath as it teeters for a few seconds but it doesn’t fall. Flowery beams.
“No, never.” He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders. “I guess I’m just berry good at whatever I put my mind to, huh?” A small gust of wind blows through his hair.
“Sure you are,” you say, rolling your eyes without actual annoyance.
You lean forward as you consider your own options, gaze travelling up and down the tower as you look at the perfect piece to push out. There. You press your finger to the wood and are just about to carefully about to push it out. At that very moment, there’s a blur of yellow in the corner of your eye as something soft brushes against your cheek. A loud ‘MWAH’ sound effect plays as Flowery’s lips brush against your cheek.
Your hand jerks forward and the tower collapses, wooden blocks scattering all over the table and floor. You stare at the mess in stunned silence, your hand moving up to touch your heating face. On the exact spot he kissed, your fingers find a stem leading up into a flower head.
“Uuu?” Aqua drawls from the sidelines. She’s seated behind a pile of wood scraps left over from creating the pieces. Cutting them into shape with her knife had been her favourite part, and she’s continuing to make them even though you already have enough. “We can do that?”
“NO, we can’t!!” Seth immediately exclaims, waving your rule list in the air. Their eyes dart from you to Flowery, and back again. “It’s not in the rules… Right?”
Green, seated next to them, holds a hand in front of their mouth, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“Well,” Flowery says, “does it say anywhere that it’s not allowed?”
Seth balks and leans over the paper again, using a finger to trace the few lines you’d written on it.
You’re still a bit disoriented. You pull on the stem sprouting from your cheek and it pops free with little resistance. The flower’s petals are golden, Flowery’s face smiling up at you from its middle. Your face is warm underneath your fingertips, your traitorous heart speeding up before you will it to slow back down. He’s just messing with you, teasing you as usual. It’s the way he is. Your brain focuses on the conversation again.
Flowery is shaking his head. “You snooze, you lose, Seth. M’afraid it’s just a loophole, and I didn’t break any rules.” He elbows you lightly in the side and you jump. “What’s the expert’s think?”
“Uh… Sorry, what was the question again?”
Flowery laughs and quirks an eyebrow. “Wow, you had your head way up in the clouds, huh? Because of me?”
“You wish,” you tell him, forcefully pushing past your shyness and leaning into humour to brush it off. “Keep dreaming.”
“I’m adding a rule! Th-that’s okay, right?” Seth calls out from the other side of the table.
You nod, and they immediately pull out a pen to add ‘NO DISTRACTIONS’ in a big, furious scrawl.
“Ooo, ooo, can I add a rule, too?” Aqua skips over, only for Seth to hold both the paper and the pen above their head. Out of reach until Aqua floats effortlessly up in the air to snatch them away, giggling.
“Aww, that’s too bad,” Flowery muses from besides you, turning his close-eyed gaze in your direction. The corners of his mouth curl up a little higher. “I was looking forward to a bit of payback.”
Your cheek tingles again and you snort, averting your eyes away from. You twirl the flower in your hands and open your mouth to retort when Aqua’s feet just barely graze over the top of your head. You duck down, covering the top of your head with your hands.
Flowery is distracted by the bickering between the two other flowers and you’re a little relieved as the weight of his attention moves away. As he’s trying to determine a small rule Aqua can add, you drag the chair closer to the table and help Green rebuild the tower for the next round. They’re still smiling as they look at you and you can’t help but huff out an amused breath in response.
“Shush, you.”
Even long after the game has long since finished, Flowery lingers on your mind more so than usual. More strikingly, the occasional flower still sprouts from your skin. You have the urge to scratch right before it happens. It’s annoying, though not a huge problem. It’s painless to remove them and, when you return to the Light World, all signs of them disappear.
Still, whenever you return, the issue crops up again. You get stuck in a loop where, because of your silly little crush, you’re already thinking about him more than you should, and now every minuscule itch on your body is reminding you of him, too. Which then makes more flower bloom.
You’re not stupid. There’s a decent chance that, with the way he acts towards you, that your feelings are returned, at least to an extent. Or maybe you’re just being full of yourself. You’ve never seen him interact with any other Lightners, so what do you know?
It doesn’t really matter. You have to be realistic. It isn’t like you can get together with him and you shouldn’t feed into this. For one, there’s quite a few reasons why you shouldn’t be trying to date a literal flower. Even disregarding that, you’re simply not the kind of person that’s made for relationships and you know it.
‘You need to love yourself before someone can love you’, and all that. The sentiment’s been proven to you before. None of that means you’ll stop visiting the flowers. They’re your friends, their world is beautiful, and you care about them. You’ll shoulder this discomfort for them.
Today, you’re sitting in to watch one of Blue’s shows. He’d invited you, assuring you that he’d been working on a new move, and you’ll be sure to adore it. You enjoy his shows. Blue’s heart is always in it and, tonight, he’s woven in his blue roses into the show, spinning and fluttering with his wings as he lands ‘on top’ of them, barely brushing over the petals.
You and the rest of the audience are enraptured until the very moment the show ends. Blue receives a standing ovation from you and you’re not the only one who gets to your feet to show much you loved it.
After his bows, the applause, and the bouquets of flowers tossed his way, Darkners file out of the room as the lights are flicked back on. Blue tiptoes over to you while the room empties out. His wings disappear the moment he touches down in front of you.
“Oh, there you are! I am delighted you could make it tonight.” He clasps his hands together in front of his chest. “What did you think?”
“It was wonderful!” You tell him with a big smile. “Like all of your shows. I loved the way you incorporated your blue roses tonight… It really added a, uh, touch of elegance!” Being around Blue always makes you want to speak in more fanciful ways as well.
“I am so glad to hear that. Speaking of flowers… You are supposed to gift those to the performer during their applause!”
At your non-comprehending look, Blue points to your arm. You lift it up in front of your face. Poking out of your sleeve is an all-too-familiar flower.
“Oh, uh, that’s…” You try to laugh it off and pull your sleeve back over it. The stem is so long that the flower’s Flowery head still peeks out.
“…One of Flowery’s flowers, is it not?” A slight wrinkle appears in Blue’s brow. “But he wasn’t at my performance tonight, of that I am certain. Have you been keeping it there since he grew it for you? Oh, you two are so—”
“I didn’t!” You sputter in response, a tad too quick and bit little too loud. “These have just… They’ve just been kind of growing. Randomly. It’s no big deal.”
Blue puts his feet flat on the ground, his toes still pointed outwards. He opens his eyes and stares at your arm.
“That is very strange.”
You shrug your shoulders and wrap your hand around the stem. “It’s fine, I can just pull them out. Look.”
Contrary to all the previous times that you’ve plucked these flowers, there’s resistance now. You open your mouth and inhale sharply. The jolt of pain straightens your back and Blue gasps, covering his mouth with his hand. You could feel it. The roots getting pulled up as you yanked on the stem, travelling through your flesh.
Nausea coils tight in your stomach as you pull up your sleeve with trembling fingers. There’s a literal hole left on your skin. It doesn’t hurt as much as you think it should, though it definitely still hurts. It oozes a trail of cartoonishly vibrant red blood down your arm. It’s a brighter colour than any blood you’ve ever seen before.
Blue snaps his fingers. A small rain cloud materialises into existence above your arm. You hiss when the first droplets ease your arm, the tension in your muscles easing as the pain ebbs away and the skin stitches itself shut.
You’re about to thank him, when Blue promptly grabs you by the shoulders, turns you around, and pushes you in the direction of the nearest chair.
“We need to talk about this,” he says firmly.
“No, no, no— No, we don’t,” you babble. “It’s, literally, only a weird Dark World thing, isn’t it?” Blue doesn’t halt for a moment and you don’t resist enough to prevent yourself from being pushed into the chair.
“Tell me when this started.”
You sigh and put a hand to your face, dragging it down your cheek. No. You need to stop. He’s only trying to help and you’re making yourself look like a child right now. You drop your hand to your lap and straighten your back.
“Flowery did make a flower grow once, just like this. More of them have been popping up when I, uh…” You trail off and Blue motions for you to continue. “When I think about him. Basically.”
“Blue bouncing butterflies…” Blue mutters underneath his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in between two fingers. “You are absolutely hopeless. Both of you, even. Why are you so intent on acting out a tragedy?”
You don’t respond, staring down at the table. He sighs.
“Tell me this, and be honest: you know that your every breath carries love for him, and that he—”
You flinch as if burned. “Stop. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t… I don’t want to talk about this. Please.”
Blue sighs out your name. “At least let me say this, then. After what happened last time, Flowery won’t be as quick to spell his feelings out for anyone… Though I will say that, in my opinion, he’s been quite clear.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you mumble bitterly.
“You’re hurting yourself. Flowery knows far more about this world than I do, but I know enough about love, and I can understand this much… This pain must be your own inner conflict made manifest. It won’t be assuaged until you make a decision. …And you already know what the right choice is, don’t you?”
“I’m not saying anything. I just won’t.” You speak faster, raising your voice. “I don’t want to and, and, you can’t make me do anything.”
Once again, you feel unbelievably childish. You really don’t want to say a thing though. You won’t, you refuse to, you…
You gasp for breath as your rib cage constricts around itself, the space that had always been effortlessly enough now crushing. Your hand reaches up for your throat as it rattles with a cough and, when it passes, a single, golden flower petal balances on your tongue. You swallow it. Blue doesn’t have to see that.
“If you won’t, I will,” he says.
Your mouth falls open and you let out a disbelieving, short laugh. “You wouldn’t. Blue. You wouldn’t.”
Blue stares you down for a few seconds and then takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.
“…No, I won’t. But I can tell you this… I care about you, everyone here does. I won’t allow you to treat yourself this way. You’re not the only one impacted.” He stands up from his chair, wings sprouting into existence and fluttering restlessly, agitated, behind him. “I will take action if you do not do it yourself.”
You sit there for a while after Blue leaves. He doesn’t understand. You can’t expect him to, but then he shouldn’t be telling you what to do, either. You sigh and slump in your chair. It’s unfair to think that, considering you don’t even know why you feel the way you do half the time. It’s already hard enough to talk about innocuous things. Something as personal as being honest and open about your feelings in a genuine manner makes you want to violently explode.
‘Crushes’ have never been without fear for you, and the times where you thought it would get better, when you had acted on them… You always ended up letting your worst impulses take over.
You’d run and hide, figure out what they might do to get you back if you disappeared. You’d avoid them, allow texts to go unanswered for weeks at a time while simultaneously obsessing over what they were doing without you. Without fail, and understandably so, when they’d lose interest, you’d felt a mixture of hurt and relief. Like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders or a chain severed.
Perhaps you’ve changed since then. You struggle to be able to tell and refuse to blame teenage emotions alone for the ups and downs of your juvenile relationships. You haven’t bothered to try since.
You’ve come to this conclusion: A person like you isn’t meant for relationships. You’re never able to help yourself.
As time passes, the symptoms increase in severity. You’re hardly able to go a few minutes without sprouting new flowers, and you start needing to excuse yourself to run behind the nearest tree and cough so hard you nearly throw up. The petals start being spat out speckled with blood, tears streaming down your face as you have to reach into your mouth to pick up the ones stuck to the roof of it. Suffice it to say, it makes spending time in the Dark World a whole lot less enjoyable. And more difficult.
You can’t exactly say that you’re looking forward to being so miserable again. Having to hide it to the best of your abilities is even more of a struggle. That’s why, though you usually visit every other day, you allow a gap of a couple of days to fall prior your next visit. In the end, you do return, because… They are your friends. And you miss them.
You always land at about the same patch of grass when you enter the Flower Kingdom and, this time, an envelope has been left there with your name write on it in green ink.
Come meet us at the cafe.
When you arrive there, you can just about make out the tail end of a conversation between Yellow and Blue.
"No, no, dear. They're not a criminal, I promise. I simply misspoke. The fact that they're both refusing to address their feelings to this extent, is criminal."
Yellow scratches the side of his head. "Uh.. So are they a criminell, or not?"
"They're not, dear. You know what? Don't worry about a thing."
You're hesitant to enter the cafe. A couple of tables have been pushed together in the middle of the room, all the flowers seated around them. All of them, except for Flowery. Only a single empty seat is left at the table. You don't like where this is going.
"Uh... Guys? What's all this?"
Blue hops up as soon as he spots you, waving you over.
"Oh, there you are! I'm so glad you could make it. Have a seat, have a seat."
Hesitantly, with short, slow steps, you make your way to the table and sit down. With a smile, Green puts down a plate of your favourite food down in front of you. With an apologetic smile, you shake your head.
"I'm not really hungry bright now, but thank you."
The truth is, it's been getting harder and harder for you to eat in the Dark World. You never have an appetite and, when you do try, it’s genuinely difficult to swallow anything. You really don’t want to be rude. This situation is simply already nerve wracking, making it more difficult to eat.
Aqua is standing on top of her own chair. She’s on your left side and leans over to whisper in your ear.
“It’s about the flowers inside you,” she tells you. “I don’t really get it. We all have those, right…? But maybe I could cut you open to get them out?”
Of course that’s what this is all about.
“That’s a good suggestion, but let’s wait and see if there’s anything else we can try out, okay?” You keep your voice steady. If anyone’s to be blamed for putting you in this position, it’s definitely not Aqua.
You look at Blue across the table. “…So? Is he coming?”
“No, of course not,” Blue immediately responds. Your shoulders sag with relief.
“This is merely a means for us to express our own feelings about the situation.”
“Well? What do you all think?” You ask.
Green holds up a sign. We all think you should tell him <3.
You put your elbows on the table and bury your head in your hands, groaning. A pang of pain shoots through your chest. You really don’t want to be talking about this right now, but… What choice do you have? If you don’t humour this right now, they might actually get up and tell Flowery for you, right now. He’s practically their ‘leader’, after all. That outcome would be far worse. If you are going to tell him, you at least want to do it on your own terms.
“Of course you do… Am I that transparent, or did you tell everyone, Blue?”
“It’s pretty obvious,” Seth informs you and you snort. God.
“Thank you, very helpful. Anyone else in the room have any input on my love life? Now’s your chance.”
You should’ve expected this, but you’re then treated to a bunch of confession or date ideas from the different people around the table. It would’ve been funny if you weren’t so profoundly uncomfortable, if every idea didn’t make you run through a hundred scenarios where you’d make a fool of yourself.
The feelings build until you can’t hold them back anymore. You lean forward, cupping a hand over your mouth to catch the petals that leave your lips as you cough and wheeze. Your eyes remain glued to the tablecloth. You ball your hand into a fist and shove the petals into your pocket.
“All we want is for you to stop being in pain,” Blue says gently.
“YEAH!!” Orange calls out, too loud, clearly out of her depth. “Flowery isn’t MEAN!!! If you told him, I’m sure he’d be nice!!”
You’re about to open your mouth and explain that, guys, this is nice and all… But it’s entirely possible for you to think that he’d be nice about it, that he might even return your feelings, and that you still have absolutely NO desire to talk about them. Then, a voice behinds you rings out that makes your blood run cold.
“Who called?”
Flowery’s there, entering through the door behind you with a gust of wind. The entire room falls silent at once as Flowery floats into the cafe. He wouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be here. That’s what the note said. Looking at Blue, he doesn’t look too happy about it either, so whatever distraction he must’ve cooked up for him didn’t last long.
He laughs at the sudden silence. “Wow, you guys exchanging secrets here without wanting me to know?” You refuse to respond. You never asked for this to happen, so why should you? “…Wait, really? Hah!”
You want to sink through the floor. Why isn't there a way for you to return to the Light World whenever you want? That way, at least you wouldn't have to be sitting here right now.. Your face is burning up, one of your feet tapping nervously on the floor u underneath the table.
It’s Seth who ends up breaking the silence.
"Flowery," Seth starts. "If a human started suddenly growing flowers on their body, what could be the cause?"
You want to glare at them so badly. You don't, though. Despite them being around as long as Flowery, they're a lot more child-like than him, and you’re not about to start picking a fight with a kid that’s trying their best to help you. Even if you would’ve liked them to keep their mouth shut. Well, maybe it’s not immediately obvious that it’s you who’s being talked about. Everyone in this room considers themselves humans.
...Who are you kidding. Of course it's obvious that it's you.
"Hm? A human, you say?" You can practically feel his eyes boring holes into your back. You don't move a muscle.
"Well, Lightners in the Dark World manifest their SOULs strongly. So if no one's casting any magic on them, and that's still happening... It probably has something to do with that. A misalignment between the two of them, perhaps?”
His shoes click on the floor behind you. You keep your head in your hands as his presence stands still behind you.
“How’s it growing, buttercup? I haven’t seen you in a little while.”
“I’m fine,” you say and don’t move a muscle. “Just a little under the weather.”
Flowery hums in response. “You do sound like you have a sore throat.” You laugh at that, and making the sound hurts.
You can practically feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air. And he’s exactly the type of person who’ll poke and prod you until you spill it all out. It’s too much for you all at once. The presence of all the other flowers, and Flowery, too, the fact that it’s so obvious what you’ve been suffering from…
You push your chair back. It knocks into Flowery’s legs as he lets out a little ‘oh!’ and jumps back. You don’t turn around, head angled towards the ground.
“I’m just… Going to use the bathroom.” You scurry off as you wonder if there even are any bathrooms here. Have you ever had the urge to use one?
Flowery doesn’t follow you right that second. An explosion of chatter rings out behind you, multiple flower’s voices overlapping, but you ignore it all. You slip out the backdoor and pick up the pace, coughing and leaving a trail of bloodied petals behind you wherever you go.
There’s no time to hesitate. If Flowery wants to catch up with you, he can do so within seconds, and you’re not ready to have that conversation right now. Not at all. You just want to go home again.
You’re right in front of the portal back to the Light World when he calls out tp you.
“Wait!” Flowery tells you. Your hand is extended towards the light. It only takes the slightest brush of your fingers against it to be sucked upwards, to disappear far away from here.
“We don’t have to talk about it right now,” he continues. “But your friends haven’t seen you in a while. Won’t you stay a bit longer? Friendship is a power on all it’s own. It’ll help you feel better.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, the head of a flower falling from your lips, and you leave. You sit on the floor in Asgore’s store for a little while after that, ignoring the corner of pure darkness in the room that leads to Flower Kingdom. On trembling legs, you catch your breath and head back home before Asgore can see you and ask what’s wrong.
You avoid the town’s flower shop for more than a week after that. With every day that passes, it gets easier not to think about it too much. Ever since going there for the first time, you’ve never been away for this long.
They’ll be fine, you tell yourself. The flowers have each other, plus a whole world to entertain themselves in. Over time, the thought crystallises in your head that they probably don’t even care that much that you’re gone. It’s easy to slip into such thought patterns when there’s no possible way for any of them to disprove you.
Selfish as it might be, the clear division between your world and theirs has always been one of its main draws to you. If you really wanted to leave, if something bad happened or simply anything that made you want to create distance, you could do it without any effort on your part. With distance, everything that happens there seems little more than a dream.
Still, when you pass by the store you can’t help but stare up at the upper floor for a few seconds before moving on. It’s one of those times that Asgore catches you looking. Your eyes lock and you can’t simply pretend you didn’t see him. He swings open the door and waves you inside.
“It’s you! Could you come in for just a second…?” You hesitate for a moment and Asgore catches it. “I know you’ve been busy lately. It’s important.”
For a moment, you allow yourself to believe that it’s just about his store. Ever since… Everything that happened, you’ve felt bad for Asgore. He’s never been anything but nice to you. You’ve helped him out with some basic technological stuff for the store, and tried to help him keep up with his finances. (Ever since seeing it’s always in the red, you have, on occasion, also had groceries delivered to his doorstep.) Of course you’d know if a whole new world cropped up in the Flower King.
“It’s about the flowers,” Asgore tells you as he steps inside. “You know, you visit them more than I do, because… Well.” He scratches the back of his head, smiling sheepishly.
“I’m taking care of them like I always do but the golden— Ah, Flowery, hasn’t been looking his best lately. Can you go and check up on him for me? …I’m not sure seeing me would improve his mood any, if I’m being honest.”
“Y-yeah, of course!” You might have your own issues, but there’s no way you’d want for Flowery to be hurt. It probably doesn’t even have anything to do with you. Your pain will vanish as soon as you leave again.
As you fall down into the Flower Kingdom, you close your eyes, wind rushing past your whole body. Miraculously, you land firmly on your feet. As far as you can see, nothing has changed around here. You pace back and forth for a good minute before gathering the courage to speak up.
“Flowery?” You call out across an open field. “It’s, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t… Been around in a while.” He doesn’t have the ability to keep track of everything that’s going on in the kingdom, but if you call out to him like this, you’re sure that he’ll hear you.
Your hands shake in fearful anticipation of the pain that’s certain to blossom. You stuff them into your pockets. A little ways away, Flowery steps out from behind a tree, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, as he usually does.
His entire body looks… Washed out. His golden hue has turned more sickly, even his clothes don’t seem to be the exact same colour as they used to be. The spiked tip of his hair, usually pointed to the side in a way that defies gravity, droops down a little.
“…Heh. You’re really here. I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again.”
“Are you okay?” You rush over to him, stopping only a step away. You reach out for him, though your brain stops you before you actually touch him and your throat squeezes shut. You weren’t even really sure what you were going to do. It drops back down uselessly by your side.
Flowery opens his eyes. With his half-lidded gaze, golden pupils stare you down. “Isn’t there something you wanted to say to me?”
“That’s, that’s not important right now!” You cry out and he laughs. “Don’t just start laughing at me. Flowery, you look awful.”
He gives you a lopsided grin. “Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?”
You ball your hands into fists in your pockets. “This really isn’t funny.”
“…I know. You’re here now, aren’t you? I’m already feeling better.” He does a silly little spin and a bow, but it doesn’t manage to quirk your slips up in the slightest.
You stare at him for a few seconds in muted silence. “You’re saying that you were pretending?”
“Not at all.” A bush pops into existence underneath him, roughly chair-shaped. Flowery sits down. “Why should you be the only one who gets to feel sick because of your feelings, huh?”
You hang your head. Your hands relax in your pockets and you swallow, your saliva making a slow, painful descent down your throat.
“You want to hear me what I have to say?” You say, tremor in your voice. “I don’t think… I don’t think that I should be coming here anymore. That’s what I think.”
Flowery gives you a close-eyed, sad smile, his head lowered a little. “Troubled flowers have bloomed for both of us, I see. …At least sit down and have a final talk with me, then.”
You guess you can owe him that much. Your arms and legs are itching and you’re desperately ignoring the urge to scratch at them. Your pants leg swells with the flowers sprouting from your skin pushing against the fabric. You lower yourself to the ground, only to find that he’s already grown a little stool for you as well.
“Do you have any dreams, buttercup?”
Your brow furrows. “…What?”
“You heard the question.” You cup your hands over your face for a second and sigh, then drop them back down in your lap.
“Is that really what you want to be asking me right now?” Flowery doesn’t say anything, only tilts his head a little to the side. “…Not really. I’ve always been more of the realistic type, I guess. I don’t really see— I guess I just want enough money to live comfortably, time to enjoy my hobbies. That kind of stuff.”
Flowery hums in response, nodding. You lean forward a bit. “What? What is it?”
“Nothing. That explains quite a lot, that’s all.”
You slump back in the stool, branches snapping under the force of your movement as you collide with the backrest. “Just tell me what you want to say. Please.”
“You should let yourself dream. You refuse to, because you don’t believe you can achieve anything that you really want, don’t you? It’s not a bad shield. …But does it still serve you?”
You don’t want to begin to try and unpack that. You didn’t come here to be psycho-analysed by Flowery while your body revolts against itself, pain flashing through your limbs. Sucking in a deep, harsh breath, you yank up your clothes to the knee, revealing the flowers sprouting from your skin, the roots feasting upon blood and flesh.
“Are you just going to sit there and spout bullshit like a self-help book,” you say, voice cracking. “Or are you going to do anything to actually help me?! It’s not that I want this, it just… It hurts…”
Flowery’s smile falters, but he doesn’t look surprised. The others must have already told him about this. You hold your breath as he reaches out for the flowers growing from your skin, the ones that bear so much resemblance to his own. He touches them. A faint glow emits from his hands. Nothing happens.
“These seeds have sprouted from the own unease in your SOUL. I can’t do anything about them myself.”
Your mouth twitches in a humourless grin. What’s the point of hiding any of this anymore, then? You let your chest rattle with disgusting-sounding coughs, bending forward to spit out blood-soaked petals in the gap between your two chairs. One of them sticks to the top of Flowery’s shoe.
Bloody phlegm glues multiple petals together and you chew on whole flower heads before spitting them out on the ground. There’s a rebellious, sick satisfaction in finally showing how fucked up you actually are, how his expression falls any further. Tears stream down your face as you wheeze. They dangle from your chin for a perilous moment before dripping down into the mess you’ve made. With every breath, razor blades are dragged over the inside of your lungs. It hurts sosososososo MUCH. It’s never felt anything like this before.
“Nobody told me it was this bad,” there’s a slight tremor in Flowery’s voice. He reaches out to touch you and, the very moment the tips of his fingers brush against your shoulder, you jolt away as if burned.
“Don’t, don’t touch me!” You scream, your voice cracking. “This is all— This is all your fault! I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t be like this, if, if…!”
You bend over again, another wave of petals crushing your words into silence. Fire lashes through your arms, legs, chest. You close your eyes and when you open them again the mere flowers have transformed into thorned vines that have ripped through your clothes. They’ve lost all previous resemblance to Flowery’s creations, they’re purely your own.
They stretch out further from your own skin, dangling in the air and swaying, seeking something, before turning towards yourself and curling around your body. They leave light scratches that ooze more bright red blood. You’re shaking uncontrollably. Your previous words are like ash on your tongue. Is it his fault? You should’ve never come here again. Look at you now. Downright monstrous.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” you sob out, making yourself as small as possible. You wrap your arms around your lower legs, tuck your face against the top of your thighs. The vines curl closer around you. Most of the pain has ebbed away, though you’re still bleeding. You’re dizzy.
You sit there, in silence, for what feels like an eternity. It can’t have been more than two minutes. You lift your head up and look up. Flowery hasn’t left. He’s still there, eyes half-open, holding one of your vines in his hands. It’s curled around his hand. The thorns draw his blood as well. Golden little streams run down his hand. He rubs the pad of his thumb over one of the thorns.
“These, too… They must’ve done their job protecting you, yeah? But I’m not, we’re not, here to hurt you.” Flowery says softly. “You can let us care about you.”
“Why aren’t you… Why aren’t you mad?” You say, voice a little more than a whisper, bordering on accusatory.
“I don’t see the use in telling you the same things you’ve already said to yourself a thousand times before.” He smiles, just a little. “Contrary to popular belief, I can be nice, you know.”
“I’ve never said you weren’t nice. I’ve only called you annoying.” You sniff and wobble out a poor excuse for a smile as Flowery, similarly, laughs. It’s nowhere near as loud as usual.
You inhale a stuttering breath. The vines pulsate around you in time with your heartbeat. Your chest feels lighter than it has in weeks, and yet.
“You should just let me leave,” you croak. “It’s ob, obvious. I’m not an easy person to care about.”
“The fact that you’re even asking me to do such a thing… Means you don’t actually want to.” Flowery slowly, gently, moves his hand closer to his face. He presses a feather-light kiss to the surface of your thorned vine and a violent shudder runs through your body. As he lowers his hand again, he continues, flashing you a grin that shows a hint of teeth.
“Heh… Who are you to tell me what to do, huh? I can make decisions on my own, thank you very much.” Your nerves expand outward, through the vines. It’s a strange, indescribable sensation, tendrils of feeling that extend past your own body. His warm breath brushes against the surface of them.
“I don’t think you’re difficult to be around at all.”
The word hits you somewhere deep, a weak spot in your armour, a patch of unscarred flesh. They make you cry once again as you curl back down. Ugly, snot-filled sobs ring out as a handful of petals climb their way back up your throat.
“It’s unfair,” you murmur. You voice is muffled by your sitting position, slurred from the petals weighing down on your tongue. The past is on your mind.
“It’s so, so unfair. People can just… They can hurt you, they can you fuck you up, and the one who has to deal with it for the rest of their life— Is still just you. It, it never fucking ends.”
“It’s unfair,” Flowery agrees above you. “But I still think you can change. You can still become happier. That’s what you deserve.”
“A happier me…” You push yourself back up a bit, though you still shy away from Flowery’s gaze. Your smile is sad. “I have no idea who that is. Who that person could be.” You suck in a quick breathe and continue.
“So many people, they, like, have— There’s a ‘before’ and an ‘after’, you know? They know what they were like before ‘it’ happened. I don’t… I don’t have that. I’ve only ever been exactly like this.”
“I know I would like to meet them.” You finally gather the courage to look up. You must look like a complete and utter wreck, but Flowery’s smile remains there in the face of you. “And I’d like to help. The others, too.”
You huff out a breath. “You’re always like this. You make everything sound so easy.”
Flowery shrugs his shoulders. “Believing in myself is all I can do. I’ve always tried first before making up my mind.”
“I’ve tried. It’s still not that easy,” you snap at him, head jerking up. The urge to apologise wells up inside of you immediately, though Flowery only smiles wider.
“I’m certain you have. But have you already tried with the support of seven very kind, if I do say so myself, flowers by your side?”
“…I guess not.”
Is this really okay? You’re still a bit sceptical. It really can’t all be that simple. The easiest solution would be just to leave right now, to go home. Flowery’s warm gaze hasn’t once strayed from your face though, his hand still bleeding underneath your thorns. You can’t just leave. You try to reach a hand up to wipe at your face and you hiss at the thorns tugging at your skin.
“Allow me,” Flowery says.
He seems to pluck a handkerchief out of nowhere. The fabric is a soft green shade with golden flowers printed on it. Using it, he dabs at your face until it’s clean. The vines curled around you have already started to brown and wither, though the thorns are still buried into your skin at points.
“Somehow, I would’ve expected you put your own face on it.”
Wordlessly, Flowery puts it on the ground besides his shoes and your… Gross mess of petals. A second handkerchief appears, this one, yes, with his face on it. You snort, an ugly noise. It’s really not that funny.
You don’t really think about saying it. Perhaps that’s the reason why you can get the words past your lips.
“You know, after all this, it feels a lot less scary to say that I’ve, well, had a crush on you for a while now.”
You wait through a few seconds of painful silence and then look up. There’s a bright pink blush on both of your cheeks. He starts talking the very moment you let out a little laugh at the sight.
“Aww, you’re saying that all of that emotional anguish wasn’t all about me?” Maybe it’s a distraction from his own embarrassment, maybe he’s hamming everything up to make you smile. Either way, you’re encouraging his behaviour, because it does crack you up.
“What? How are you joking around before even telling me how you feel?!” There is no rancour in your tone. You already know how he feels. You reach out for one of the vines around you. “Don’t forget I’m armed.”
The dry, thorned vine breaks off easily in your hands. They’re all slowly turning to dust. You look from the vine in your hand to Flowery, and promptly begin lightly hitting him with it in the leg. He lets out a loud, exaggerated ‘OW!’ with every ‘hit’. If he wanted to, he could easily defend against it. He doesn’t move a muscle.
“Wasn’t making me bleed once enough?” He asks, the vine that he’d held before already returned to dust. Your arm stills. “Okay, okay— I care about you just as much. Flowers of love sprouted in my heart a long time ago.” A little tune plays out of nowhere, rose petals fluttering down from the sky from seemingly nowhere.
“I didn’t want to be seen as too pushy again, y’know? It twisted my stem to hear last time, when I was told that all of my affections were… Unwanted.”
“They’re not unwanted to me,” you say quietly, face heating up. There’s a beat of calm quiet between the two of you.
“Would you like me to get those vines off of you?” Flowery asks and you nod at once.
“Yes, please.”
Flowery is careful as he removes the remnants of the vines, pulling the last bits out from your skin. He casts healing magic and it works, albeit more slowly than usual. The pain from before has all but ebbed away.
“I can’t promise nothing like this won’t happen again,” he tells you. “But you shouldn’t hide it anymore.”
“I’ll try not to.” He raises an eyebrow at you. “Fine. I won’t hide it anymore.”
By the time that you’re all cleaned up, Flowery makes a hole appear in the floor where all of the bloodied petals disappear into. He gets up and offers you his hand. Your fingers remain interlaced even after he has pulled you to your feet. You don’t pull your hand away and neither does he.
“So, we’re dating now, aren’t we?” You choke a little at his direct question.
“Uh…”
“I know that’s how it goes. You spend time together, you confess your feelings and, then, when both of you feel the same way, you’re dating!” He seems a bit proud of himself for knowing all of that.
“That’s how it usually goes,” you admit. Flowery squeezes your hand.
“But?”
“I, I mean,” you sputter. “I’m just not… Sure. If it’s a good idea? Even, even if we feel the same way, we live in different worlds, and,” your voice turns quieter. “It’s not going to last forever, is it?”
Flowery is silent for a good few seconds. He doesn’t let go of your hand entirely, but his grip does slacken.
“You don’t have to tell me that. I know it better than anyone.” He turns his head away, staring somewhere off into the distance. “Still… Doesn’t that just mean that we should enjoy this to the fullest, while we still can? Flowers, and the Dark World, no, they don’t last forever. But neither do you. Everything is bound to end eventually.”
Flower turns back towards you. “I don’t think that’s a reason not to be the happiest we both can be, while we’re still here.”
“…Okay,” you say slowly. “Okay, yes.” Maybe this is okay. Maybe you can do this.
“Yes?” Flowery echoes and then beams, his usual smile brighter than ever. You yelp as he pulls you into the sky by your arm, the both of you flying off of the ground.
“Let’s tell everyone the good news!” He exclaims.
“What?!” You cry out frantically as you’re pulled alongside him. “No way. I’m not talking about my feelings again for at least another two days.”
“Haha! Well, don’t you worry, buttercup. I’ll just do the talking.”
You groan, but stop protesting. Maybe… You are a little excited to see how everyone will respond.
Clan, I require angst. How about reader x Tenna where at the end of the chapter reader jumps to take the hit from the knight to protect tenna. We are the ones who take the fall. ((All I ask is dont kill reader that would be too much for me lol))
Ough yes :(
Don't worry, I don't have the heart to kill them off.
Note: Reader is a Darkner who is also Tenna's partner and co-host of TV Time
....................
Working alongside Tenna had its ups and downs.
On one hand, you were both living it up within his studio in TV World, assisting him in his broadcasts and keeping the audience entertained day and night. And offstage, you were the only who looked over the reviews and helped keep him...relatively sane.
On the other hand, you never thought it would lead to you two meeting the Heroes of the Prophecy: Kris, whose family you and Tenna were familiar with--one that he was still heavily attached to--, Susie, a purple lizard monster who was tough as nails, and Ralsei: the Prince of the Dark himself, who didn't mind playing along with the game you had in store for them.
It was fun, at the start, although there was a moment where you worried for Lanino and Elnina's relationship, hoping that all of this wouldn't lead to you and Tenna having a falling out...
But something in him had changed. And not for the better.
His fixation on keeping the heroes playing became a series of guilt trips and a deep obsession with never letting the show end--even when the script clearly showed that it should've been over several credit scenes ago, and that the Grand Prize (which not even you knew about) should've already been in their hands.
It was supposed to be one round.
Then it turned into two.
And then he suddenly had the idea of a "bonus round" that you both have definitely never discussed before.
You knew something was off, as he would keep leaving in the middle of the board segments to take an "important call"--and there's a few times where you overheard him speaking to someone via his antennae. But every time you confronted him, he just said it was "business talk".
He tried convincing you that keeping the Lightners on his show would immensely help with the ratings and allow you both to stay "relevant"...but you had a feeling it wasn't about that at all.
It definitely had something to do with Kris, given how he hasn't quite gotten over the fact that their family had changed and grown, and they weren't giving him the reactions he hoped for with his games. He was desperate for their attention after not being watched for so long.
Of course you were sad about it too. You missed those good old days, but how could you convince him that this was wrong? That they would eventually have to leave and seal the Dark Fountain?
Skeptical, you decided to go to their side for a while, admitting that not even you knew what he was up to, much to Susie's surprise.
Unfortunately you'd soon find out when the Grand Prize was revealed to be none other than Kris' mother, Toriel.
That's when he caught you alongside them, feeling betrayed and convinced that you were going to abandon him just like everyone else in his life. So he forced you to watch him play his own twisted version of the third board: a fiery hellscape in a city where the quizzes were intense self-projections and the enemies were running from him.
It hurt to see him falling apart like this, especially when you're part of the reason he was hurting right now. You weren't supposed to go against him--the person you loved and wanted to share the stardom with. But it was for his own good. He had to realize these kids couldn't stay here forever.
Thanks to your combined ACTs, you were able to escape the stage and help the group free the Darkners from their contracts. You took charge, declaring yourself as the only boss of this world who was currently of sound mind, and they all listened to you.
A lot of them never really liked Tenna anyways, so recruiting them was easier than expected.
You did that while the trio went to confront him and rescue Toriel within the cold place.
But as snow began to infiltrate the deserted studio, and your people were losing compatibility with this world...you knew time was running out. You could only pray that they sealed the fountain soon.
Eventually, you headed through the abandoned R-Rated section, hearing the sounds of a battle taking place outside. You feared the worst as you quickened your pace.
As angry as you were with Tenna, you didn't wanna see him get hurt. He was your partner, after all. The love of your life.
But as you opened the door and stepped out into the snow-covered fields, there was nothing but silence...aside from the fountain's ever-flowing darkness.
There, you saw Susie talking to the now-shrunken CRT. Nobody appeared seriously maimed or injured, and it made you smile, relieved that the fight had been resolved peacefully. You tried to calm your nerves and wait for a chance to approach.
When Tenna saw you coming over, he looked up in surprise, his antennae upright for a moment...before they drooped upon him seeing the blank expression on your face.
You looked deeply disappointed in him.
And you had every right to be after what he did.
"Ah, [y/n]..." His screen flickered on. "Hello, my dear. My lovely co-star..my....my.....please don't be mad at me...I'm sorry for everything."
"I was mad, but...not anymore." Chuckling, you kneeled down and lowered your hand so he could grasp it with both arms, nuzzling against your palm. "I'm just glad you finally listened to these Lightners. I know how badly you miss those old days with Kris. Believe me...I do, too. But...it's not right to keep them here forever. They're on a mission, and we shouldn't keep them from that."
"Yes, I...I understand now." He nodded, a big grin on his face. "You know what Susie just said? She's gonna help me--help us--find a new home! We won't be forgotten!"
Your eyes widened in shock, before you glanced back at the purple lizard for confirmation, and she nodded. "Yeah. I told him he didn't have to take being thrown away. Kris and I are gonna ask around town. And we'll make sure you both stay together."
"Wow, Susie...you'd do that for us?" You were astonished. "That's-"
"Incredible!! Amazing!! No...it's MARVELOUS!!!"
Tenna suddenly grew back to his usual size, laughing as he swept you into a tight hug. You happily returned the gesture, relieved he was willing to accept her offer.
"I feel electric! I feel like a million bucks!! This...This must be what hope feels like! We should invent a HALL OF FAME just for her!!"
"But...you gotta give back Toriel." Susie bluntly cut in. "She's got people that need her, too."
"......"
Noticing his hesitancy, you let him go and sighed. "I think that's a fair trade. We gotta make this right."
"I...I understand!" He coughed nervously into his fist. "I know it's not what the Knight wants, but...." For a second, he seemed awfully tense, before perking up and grinning at the Delta Warriors. "Kris! Susie! Good contestants deserve a good prize! This way!"
He marched over to the Christmas Tree, and while you followed them, a troubling thought began to cross your mind...especially after noticing the way he cut himself off.
What did he mean by "not what the Knight wants"?
Since when did he make contact with them? Were they the one he was privately speaking to under the guise of "business calls"? Is that why he couldn't say anything to you about Toriel?
Why were you only hearing about this now?
Regardless, you decided not to question it, as he decided to release her from the ball per Susie's demand. Although she was still asleep through all of this, she was unharmed.
The trio looked on with smiles as Tenna beamed about him finally bringing "the family back together". He was so elated, so overjoyed...
But that's when you noticed someone appear behind him.
A familiar figure you hoped to never see.
That shadow entity clad in armor, raising up their blades to cleave right through him. To shatter this moment of happiness into oblivion.
Yet somehow you were faster, shoving him out of the way and intercepting the giant red slashes that have cut their way through the darkness.
In an instant, both of your arms were sliced off, falling into the snow on either side of you. And you gasped out in pain...before there was nothing but silence filling the air.
Tenna swiftly got off the ground, his expression nothing short of mortified as he saw you standing there with no arms. Sparks were flying and wires were exposed from where they've been cut. "[Y/n]...?" His voice was quiet, shaky.
He was still trying to process what happened.
"....I-I'm...fine. I..." Turning around slowly, everyone could see the deep gashing marks that tore through your body, exposing the mechanical parts from within--electronic components crackling and overheating. Your coughs sounded like static, but even still...you smiled at your partner. "D-Don't worry, Tenna-aa..I'm....I-"
Suddenly your body flopped to the ground, all systems going into shutdown.
"What the hell..?" Susie muttered at first, before her shock turned to complete outrage. "WHAT THE HELL?!! [Y/N]!!" With a tight grip on her axe, she, Ralsei, and Kris charged onwards to confront the newfound threat.
It was none other than the Roaring Knight.
The CRT fell to his knees, realizing that they have come for him after he disobeyed their orders. He broke their deal....and instead of being punished for it--you took the fall instead.
Why?
The distant shouts of Susie challenging the Knight and the clashing of blades and swords all became white noise to him, as he stayed by your side, panicking, crying, begging you to respond.
"N-No, no, no, no, no!! Please, god....N-Not you...ANYONE BUT YOU!!! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE ME!! It....I-It should have been me." His hands violently shook as he tried to get you and himself out of the cold place, away from the chaotic battle happening not too far from him.
He didn't care if his ex-employees hated him still.
They would save you.
They had to. Needed to.
He couldn't bear to lose anybody else.
Not when you two were so close to freedom.
.........
Despite the Delta Warriors' best efforts, the Knight had overwhelmed them completely...yet allowed them to see another day.
But until Susie and Kris could get inside the shelter that they retreated to (and rescue Undyne, who somehow got pulled into this mess), they decided that the best thing to do right now was search for you back in TV World.
After sealing its Dark Fountain, they both got to work repairing your Light World counterpart with duct tape and a dream. It didn't seem like much, but with Toriel planning to throw you and Tenna away, they brought you to Castle Town to see how you were holding up.
Surprisingly, the blades didn't deal catastrophic damage to you, as you could clearly remember everything that happened before the Knight's attack.
But that didn't mean you were okay enough to start bouncing off the walls unlike your partner. You were still weak, and in some pain. So you were escorted to the infirmary that had just been built within Ralsei's castle, a Head Hathy guiding you to bed while her assistants ensured you were comfortable.
It didn't take long for Tenna to rush over there as soon as he learned you were alive, nearly crashing into an Ambyu-Lance who was just on their way out the door.
"Sorry! Sorry! How are they, doc??" He frantically asked, confused when the Cyber Darkner pointed their needle at him.
"Patient is stable. But needs their rest." They huffed. "Come back when-"
"He's the only exception, doctor. Thank you."
His antenna straightened up at the sound of your voice--which he hasn't heard since yesterday. And your arms were reattached to your body, looking like brand new.
The Ambyu-Lance allowed him to enter, closing the door behind them. And for a moment he just stood there.
You smiled tiredly, seeing that your beloved partner was okay. "Hi."
"H...Hi. I had a feeling you'd be here." Tenna walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. His fingers were already trembling as he curled them into his pants, wrinkling the fabric. "So...you're doing better?"
"Much better." You nodded, gently setting a hand over his own. But you frowned as you noticed his lower lip quivering, a few sniffles and whines escaping him. "Tenna? It's okay."
"....n-no, it's not. This....This was all my fault. [Y/n], I...I-I'm so....I...." With every other word spoken, he shrunk more and more. He was trying his hardest not to cry. To not break down. To not become so...glooby in front of you.
But you didn't want him to hide it anymore.
You could see that the guilt was absolutely killing him. Yet he still felt like he needed to put on an act, even now. You had to remind him that there's no audience watching or judging. No cameras were recording, and nobody but you two were present in this room.
Not Mike. Not Kris. Nobody.
"Oh, sweetheart.." You held your arms out to him. "Come here."
That's all it took. The softness and genuine concern in your voice--something he didn't think he'd ever hear again--was all it took for him to finally break.
His screen switched off, but tears were still leaking through as he wrapped his own arms around you. He pulled you against him as he sobbed into your shoulder, hiccupping, wailing, unapologetically letting out the pain that he's built up for far too long.
You rubbed his back, trying to helping him calm down. Eventually he became so small that he was sitting in your lap, something he's done in the past whenever he was sad.
"After how I treated you, after e-everything I've kept from you.....you risked your life for me. I'm so, so sorry...for being a selfish little-"
"I've already forgiven you, okay?" You interrupted. "You weren't being selfish, you were just...scared to lose the people you cared about. I know you didn't wanna hurt anybody. I know you didn't wanna hold anyone hostage. The Knight is to blame for all of this."
"...but I..I-I never told you what they said...what they promised me."
"I don't care about that anymore. All I care about right now is us...and that we're safe here."
Tenna sniffled, laying his head on your chest. "I hate being glooby. I never wanted you to see me like this." He shuddered, acting like he confessed to a war crime. "All glooby, inside a-and out...but we all get glooby sometimes, don't we? I can't be the only one!"
"...yes we do, darling. Now's an understandable time to feel glooby." You chuckled softly. "I felt glooby when I woke up here, thinking I'd never see you again. But...we're both okay now. I'm glad Susie kept her word and brought us back together."
"Yeah, she's...sh-she's a good kid. But....oh god, I...I let those kids fight that monster." His voice cracked with horrific realization, covering his face with his hands, trembling. "I should've stood up for them. I'm such a coward!!"
"Those kids are the Heroes. I'm sure they've handled far worse threats. And besides, you were helping me get out of there safely. You can't be in two places at once."
"....I know," he sighed.
"Susie stopped by earlier. Said she's not gonna rush to find us a new home until we're both feeling better. So...we might be here for a while. I know you wanna get out of-"
"No."
His firm tone surprised you.
"I'm...not going anywhere without you." He sat up to look at you, his screen back on, his sleeve wiping the tears away from his nonexistent eyes. "I'm not gonna lose you again. I....I just can't."
You simply nodded, giving him a gentle kiss. "You won't lose me."
"You promise...?"
"I promise."
It ached your heart to see his feelings bleeding out like this. His abandonment issues, his raging guilt, his relief that you're still alive with all your love for him intact...there wasn't any filter on him at the moment.
But this is what you wanted to see. You didn't want him to hide behind games and quizzes and funny one-liners anymore.
You wanted him to be open and honest with you.
Now? He's starting to realize he can do that. And no matter how emotional or "glooby" he may get, you'll still be right by his side.
Note: So last year I wrote something about Darkner!Reader sacrificing themselves to save Tenna from getting slain by the Knight at the end of Ch 3...
Well in light of Flowery meeting a similar fate in Ch 5, I wanted to write something like that again but with Reader being a Plant/Flower who ruled the Flower Kingdom alongside him and takes the fatal hit instead-
Heavy angst/comfort, obvious spoilers, and major character death are ahead.
Enjoy <3
............
Flower Kingdom was beautiful. Always blossoming, thriving, and forever tranquil.
It was a home built for Asgore and Asgore alone, providing him with everything he could ever want and more: diner experiences, fishing trips, cowboy shows...the list goes on almost endlessly.
After so many years, now you could all finally repay him for the long days and nights he's spent in his shop, caring for each and every one of you with tenderness, love, and patience.
None of you were meant to last this long, and yet here you remained still, doing everything in your power to make him feel welcomed.
Flowery especially had grown attached to him, having seen the anguish he's suffered with his family's separation and the whole entire town turning against him. He firmly believed that Asgore deserved a sanctuary--a true paradise where nobody would judge or criticize him, nobody got on his nerves....and nobody betrayed him.
And for a while, you agreed to help him in his endeavor for this Lightner's happiness.
That was...until the three Heroes of the Prophecy arrived into your Dark World, on an urgent quest to seal the Fountains.
Even though Flowery was immediately alerted to their presence, he never panicked, nor did he threaten their lives. Instead he resorted to diversions and distractions to ensure Asgore never noticed them, especially Kris and Ralsei.
You didn't mind his playful banter with the trio, knowing you could trust your partner a hundred percent. But there were moments where he'd confide in you about his...annoyance with their stubbornness and refusal to leave.
He couldn't understand why Kris would want to "rescue" their own father from happiness. Why they'd want to drag him back down into the sea of loneliness and regrets.
Or why they'd be so selfish as to seal off this Dark Fountain and not Castle Town's.
He was certain that the Light World had nothing but misery waiting for him, and while you wanted to agree....you also tried to see the reasoning behind the group's mission.
The Light and the Dark were becoming imbalanced, and with Ralsei's warning about the Knight eventually taking notice, you figured that would instill at least a little bit of worry in Flowery's mind.
You've never seen them, but from the stories you've heard...they were a ruthless figure, with armor black as the night, who bears no shame in killing, corrupting, and terrorizing those around them to get what they wanted.
And if that so-happened to include Asgore, then this world definitely wasn't safe for him to stay in. It couldn't protect him from everything, especially not them.
Yet the Flower Man called their bluff, certain that they were just trying to scare you all into giving up what you've built together.
He promised to push back every step of the way...not with violence, but with love, hoping they'd wake up and come to realize that your caretaker was happier here.
So you both doubled down on spending time with him, keeping him occupied and entertained, even though you couldn't help having this gut feeling that....it wasn't right.
And you could see it in Asgore's eyes, too. Like he was getting bored...or could sense that something was amiss.
You consulted with the Six Flowers to see how their bullet attacks were holding up, wondering what they thought about all of this. They were worried you'd tattle on Flowery if they told you the truth, but eventually spoke up once you reassured them you'd never do such a thing.
The one common opinion they all shared?
They were starting to feel neglected.
You were relieved that they noticed the Lightner's behavior too, given how he's been cutting the "diner dates" short and insisted on doing some work. Flowery didn't mind it much, allowing him to leave whenever he pleased.
Yet despite his smiles, you could tell he was growing more troubled by the minute.
At one point, Asgore requested to speak to you alone, revealing his actual motivations for staying in Flower Kingdom this long: to study and research his notes regarding the Dark World undisturbed, desperate to prove its existence.
"I just...need them to see that I wasn't losing my mind," he told you. "Once I find my answer, I could regain the trust of the police force, my family will understand the good I was trying to do, and maybe...just maybe...I could fix things between her and I."
"I..had no idea. Did you...at least enjoy some of your time here?"
"It was lovely, yes. But I can't afford to be distracted again. Not when I'm so close to the truth..."
You understood, also believing that him seeing you and Flowery together was...a somewhat painful reminder of his youthful days with Toriel, and all the anniversaries that came after their first date.
It's no surprise that he asked you to keep this conversation private, knowing it'd break your partner's heart. But you obliged, for the sake of his happiness.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Before long, the Heroes reached the top of Flower Castle, having evaded the six's attempts at halting their ascension. They remained steadfast in their goal to save Asgore, not letting anyone or anything slow them down.
Flowery finally decided to confront them once and for all, determined to prove that the hopes and dreams of him and his friends were stronger than theirs. He was prepared to fight for this world's continuation, calling upon his allies and urging you to guard the Fountain itself.
Your abilities as a plant were mainly offensive, including sharp thorns you can grow from your skin and vines you could easily command. So laying out traps was easy, but you had them more prepared for the Knight should they arrive.
From your little post, you observed him, the Flowers, and the party all doing battle in the sky, in the glow of the setting sun. They fought well in tandem with his abilities...
But after Kris made the climb up the beanstalk, he had one last attack in store for them: Omega Flowery, as he called it, undergoing a transformation into an ethereal being you've definitely never seen him use before.
Then again, he loved giving himself stats and "superpowers".
He clashed fiercely with Kris' blade, creating quite the spectacle as lights and colors flashed all around them.
Yet in that moment, you worried that he was going to overwhelm them completely...or perhaps he himself would become too overwhelmed and lose control over his actions.
So you swiftly disabled the traps you've set, flying out of the castle and over into the field in case you had to intervene.
Thankfully, you didn't have to, as the battle was already over and nobody looked seriously injured by the time you showed up.
Asgore arrived, horrified by what had happened, consoling Kris and apologizing for the grave danger he indirectly put him in. He had come to his senses, realizing that this Fountain needed to be sealed for good.
Of course...that also resulted in an tough conversation he needed to have with Flowery, which distressed him quite a bit--considering that everything he's done was apparently nothing more than "unasked-for affection".
Those words stuck like glue to him, even as he urged Kris, Susie, and Ralsei to head onward to the Fountain. He seemed resigned to the truth that they needed to do this...especially as it would make Asgore happy, too.
Still, he remained where he was, deep in thought. Alone.
It hurt.
It hurt a lot.
You knew he could use some comfort, so you joined him on the ground, frowning upon hearing one of his voice clips. Its usual cheerful tone was greatly diminished in light of what transpired.
"My king..."
"Flowery." Your voice gently cuts in, a hand resting on his back. "You did your best...all of you did. I couldn't be prouder."
"You saw everything? Heh.." He looked up at you, his smile weary. "Then..I'm guessing you overheard-"
"I did."
"Haha...figures. How silly of me to ask.." He sighed, shaking his head as he cast his gaze towards the sun. "I just thought...I could get through to him one more time. But if that's what he wants, who am I to deny him that?"
"I think Kris has proven more than plenty that they won't stop fighting for his happiness." You assured him. "I say we can put our trust in them."
"....you already knew how he felt long before I did, didn't you?"
Your whole body tensed up. "Knew what?"
"Come on. You can't play dumb with me. We've stuck together like glue all these years. I can reed you like one of Seth's books." Despite his words, his tone was playful, as he smiled back at you and booped your nose with his index finger, chuckling at how flustered you were getting. "Don't worry, sunshine. I understand. Something tells me I probably wouldn't have believed you if you told me. I....I needed to hear it from him."
"A-Ah...yeah. He had to tell you that himself." You awkwardly cleared your throat, relieved that he didn't get angry at you for keeping that secret from him. "So...you're ready?"
"Yeah..I think I am."
Despite Blue's healing rain, he was still felt quite worn-down from the battle. So you helped him to his feet, letting him lean on you for support. "Alright. Let's grow see them one more time. Together."
A soft laugh escaped his lips as he put his arm around you. "I see my puns are rubbing off on you finally."
"Eh. Don't get used to it. They'll always be your specialty." You shook your head, bashful as you both headed towards the Fountain.
Along the way, you noticed the Six Flowers have returned to being simple plants--their true forms. They must have bid farewell to the Heroes and permitted themselves to rest, and honestly you look forward to joining them.
Flowery, on the other hand, held onto you a little tighter, wishing to stay like this for as long as possible.
He didn't wanna let go.....ever.
Who knows when he'd get to be this close to you again?
Yet even he knew that all dreams eventually had to come to an end, so he made no further protest once you arrived to your destination.
There, you watched in silence as Kris' SOUL began glowing, ascending high up into the flowing river of darkness. Asgore watched in amazement, and Susie and Ralsei stood by their friend, relieved that they made it this far without any further trouble.
And thus, the whole world was bathed in a bright white light...
.
.
.
.
.
.
But nothing changed.
"H...Hey." Susie stammered out, bewildered as she looked all around, realizing that everything was the same--save for the Fountain's absence. "Why are we still here..?"
"This doesn't make sense." You huffed, wondering what had gone wrong. "There isn't another Fountain here as far as I'm concerned."
However, before you could ask Ralsei what he thought might've happened, you saw an expression written on his face....one that looked nothing short of horrified. "N...No..."
He knew very well the reason, as did Flowery.
"Did someone make a second Fountain?!"
Everyone looked at him, but before he could be responded to...he already got his answer.
And it came in the form of a dark birdlike entity that swooped in from seemingly nowhere, snatching up Asgore and carrying him far away from all of you.
It was the Knight. Just like they feared.
"HEY!!" Susie shouted angrily as she and the Heroes ran to the edge of the platform, finding themselves unable to follow without falling to the depths below.
"Leaf it to me!"
Feeling your partner shrug himself free, you were stunned to see him back away and face towards the ledge, preparing to sprint. Like he suddenly had renewed fire in his veins.
He couldn't go "Omega", but he wasn't going to sit idly and watch Asgore be taken away.
"Wait, hold on! Don't be a-!"
Any protest you cried out fell on deaf ears as he gave chase to the Knight, large flowers forming platforms under his feet.
He knew this was extremely risky.
He knew it might even get him killed.
But he needed to save him. For his sake, and for yours...and for every Flower that thrived for this long under his care. He had to do something.
The Heroes could only look on in disbelief, seeing as he was able to catch up to them in no time. You debated on going after him, knowing that you couldn't possibly match his speed even if you tried.
But you were so deeply afraid of how this was going to end.
He couldn't beat them on his own.
No way in hell were you gonna let him do that.
So you flew as fast as you could, praying that somehow you'd catch up to them before things got really bad.
Up ahead, Flowery managed to trap the Knight in a battle, determined to keep them here on his terms..not theirs. They appeared surprised by this rather bold move he made, but they didn't try to escape, nor did they attack him right away.
He looked down at the kneeling armored figure, scoffing. "Looks like it's just you and me."
The slit in their helmet narrowed.
"Take THIS!!"
Lunging at them with his "Jarona", he tried to inflict the maximum amount of damage that he could. Values of 999 appeared everywhere in their vision.
With a grin, he jumped back, taking pride in seeing their body fizzling and destabilizing--as though they were about to come undone.
He felt stronger than ever before, psyched at the thought of him finally being able to do something good. Something useful.
"Heh, how did you like my Jarona?"
They were still for a moment, before they swiftly and suddenly cut their blade through the air. In one fell swoop, they've negated all the damage he's done to them. Reduced to zero.
They knew very well the truth behind his fake statistics.
All of them were just for show.
"Wh...You can ignore my fake statistics?" Flowery was shocked, but didn't falter in his resolve. "Heh..who needs stats anyways?" He shrugged. "I've got a bouquet of moves where that came from!"
The Knight was growing tired of his arrogance, so they flew at him--but he was quicker and clashed against their weapon, using nothing but his bare hands and sheer willpower to hold it back.
Every part of him ached, screaming for him to stop fighting.
But he couldn't.
He had to win.
"Seems like you still...don't get it." He spoke through gritted teeth, staring them down. "Nothing is stronger than...a...Flower's....dream...!!"
They managed to overpower him, and seized the opportunity to slash at him and finally put this "weed" in his place.
He didn't see it coming.
The Lightners were too far to intervene.
But there was someone else who wasn't.
Flowery felt himself being shoved out of the way, horrified as he realized it was you who took the final blow intended for him.
As the black knife made contact with your body, a searing pain you've never felt in your entire extended life dragged itself across your abdomen. Spiky stems, leaves, and flowers of your same color began spilling out from you like guts.
One of those vines managed to wrap themselves around the Knight's leg, driving thorns deep into their flesh...assuming they had any at all.
A few measly points of damage were inflicted, real statistics, but they cut themselves loose with ease--
Just in time for another vine to whip at their helmet, leaving a deep gash next to its slit.
For a brief moment or two, you thought you saw the eye beneath it staring back at you in rage, just barely obscured by the darkness.
It looked like....
"No...no, no, no!!"
You couldn't make it who it might've been, as Flowery was quick to catch you and teleport you both to safety.
The Knight didn't follow, instead taking Asgore prisoner and fleeing this Dark World, not caring what became of it.
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.
.
"Here. I got you..I-I got you."
Blinking, you realized you were somewhere near the second Fountain, underneath an ancient cherry blossom tree. Its pink petals were dull, slowly floating down to the ground.
Flowery had you resting against its trunk, before he knelt down to drape his coat over your abdomen. He was silent, trying his best to be calm, wanting to give you some dignity and pretend like everything's fine.
Like he was keeping you warm during the a cold winter's night, when the winds decided to pick up a little more than usual.
Like you weren't just horrifically mutilated by the Knight's blade and on the verge of death due to his carelessness.
The Heroes eventually found you, with Ralsei being the first to rush to your aid. He tried to cast Heal Prayer, even though it was useless--something that he, you, and Flowery knew all too well.
Susie was desperate to find a way to help you, to which he explained that because of your "unique" circumstances as Plants--belonging to neither the Dark nor the Light--it just wasn't possible. You would be too frail to survive in Castle Town.
So they would have to leave you behind.
But despite this grim revelation, you smiled at her hope, wanting to believe she'd figure something out oh-so-badly.
You warned the trio of a great darkness stirring beneath their town, knowing that they'll be able to handle it when the time comes. And once more, you urged them to carry onto the Fountain and not worry about you or Flowery anymore.
Speaking of whom...
Once they were out of your sights, that's when his facade finally cracked, the weight of everything that happened crashing down on him.
You watched as he gave himself healing powers near identical to Ralsei's, palms pressing down on your abdomen as green sparkles danced in the air...
Yet nothing happened.
Your body was still cleaved.
His efforts were just as futile.
"Flowery, please-"
"N..No. Don't talk. I...I need to focus. I need to try." He hushed, growing frustrated as his stats kept showing zeroes. His hands couldn't stop shaking violently. "If I can just believe hard enough, maybe it'll-"
"No amount of belief can fix this. You know tha-"
"Damn it, just let me be useful for once!!" He snapped, although he immediately tensed when he heard you cough.
"It's okay...you've done enough."
Looking up at you, he could see that you were somehow still smiling despite all this pain.
Pain that wasn't even meant for you to take...it was supposed to be him. It should have been him.
Tears of exhaustion and frustration pooled in his green eyes as he gave up trying to heal. "N-No..what I've "done" was screw up and fail to protect the ones I love..." He bowed his head, golden bangs hiding his eyes from view. Yet you could still see those same tears already sliding down his cheeks. "Wh...Why would you do something that stupid!? Why?! Without Asgore, soon you'll be...we'll be..."
He felt you wrap your arms around him, pulling him in closer. And he allowed himself to slump against you, head resting on your shoulder as his body began trembling with quiet sobs.
It was breaking your heart. You've never seen him cry like this aside from the Dreemurr's wedding day..
The last thing you wanted to see was him blaming himself.
"I'm so sorry...y-you...you were trying to tell me not to be a hero. But I wasn't thinking. I was reckless, and careless...and stupid for believing I stood a chance against them."
"You're not stupid. Far from that." You consoled him. "Anyone else would've done the same for him. I made that choice to intervene...and...I-I'm a peace with it now. So...don't put this all on yourself, okay? It's not your fault."
All he could do at the moment was nod, wanting to hold you tighter and apologize a million times over.
This isn't how he wanted things to end.
This dream had become his worst nightmare, and he wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to wake up from it.
Because who would take care of you and water your roots and mend your stem if Asgore wasn't around to? Nobody in Castle Town could, as you would be smothered in darkness...but being abandoned in Flower King holds the same result.
Yet despite these worries, you never considered your existence as a Plant to be "horrible" or "cursed".
You got to enjoy the gift of life bestowed upon you by the Fountain, and getting to spend all of this precious time with Flowery was the best thing you could've done with that.
You just wish this last moment in particular was happier, but the Knight did choose to leave you both alone. And you inflicted a mark on them they won't soon forget.
So in a way, you've claimed victory over them.
"You know..it's always been my dream to protect you. To be the one you can lean on when we've leaned on you for so many years."
"....it was?" He lifted his head up to look at you, sniffling quietly. "But...didn't you tell me your dream was-?"
"Dreams can change, y'know." You chuckled weakly, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb. Brushing away one of his tears, you kissed that same spot and saw a tiny flower spout from his skin. "Thank you for helping me realize it, my love. I know we'll meet again soon."
"..haha, yeah....we definitely will. Either in this life or the next." He mustered up a smile in return, laying his hand over yours. "You aren't leafing me that easily."
Hearing his upbeat tone warmed your heart. You knew he'll be okay, and somehow...you had a feeling you'd be okay, too.
"There's the Flowery I know.."
Then, in the blink of an eye, you turned back into your flower form.
It held a slightly wilted appearance, the stem cut...yet its thorns were still present. They looked painfully sharp, but when he touched them, they were dull, totally incapable of pricking his fingers.
"Thank you for being part of my dream too, [y/n]."
Despite the loneliness growing unbearable, Flowery kept smiling right up until he turned back into a golden flower.
He remained planted beside you underneath that old tree, as the light consumed this world for the final time.
I hope this is okay. May I request Berdly with a reader who, as Snowgrave is cast, takes the proverbial bullet for him?
"You feel that chill, Berdly?"
"Heh, I feel nothing but the fiery passion in my heart for when I rescue Noelle from those small-minded buffoons!"
"......"
"But um...yeah, it did get awfully cold. I am not deterred, though!" Berdly puffed out his chest as he spoke, and you chuckled in response.
Both of you were assigned by Queen to look for her and bring her back to the mansion. But as you wandered the city, you noted the lack of traffic sounds. Usually you'd hear nonstop beeping.
Welp, at least it made the search easier.
"Well-" You began to tease the nerdy bird for his "crush" on the reindeer, when you spotted two figures approaching you both. "Speak of the devil. Good to see you guys!" You smiled upon recognizing them.
Berdly spun around and grinned. "Noelle! You're here. Come back with us to Queen's mansion at once!"
However, you noticed that Kris' stare was awfully blank. Not unlike them but...something about it was rather tense.
Almost as if they seemed uncomfortable about something.
Even Noelle stood unusually silent. You could see a new ring on her finger, though under the band there was red tinting her fur. Like it was digging into her flesh. That concerned you.
"What is that ring for? Is it hurting y-?"
"Kris, it looks like two more enemies are approaching. Should I freeze them?"
Your heart sank into the pits of your stomach. She saw you two as enemies? And why was she asking Kris what to do? Not in the nervous tone of someone who was a generally skittish person, but..with such a monotone voice that made her seem like she was their servant. There was a certain sad look to her eyes, too, as she avoided your gaze.
Something was horribly, horribly wrong.
"N-Noelle..it's us." You stammered. "[Y/n]? Berdly? We're not your enemy."
All of the sudden she gasped, snapping out of her trance as she gazed up. She seemed rather startled and confused, uttering both of your names.
Since she said "freeze", you assumed she gained ice powers. In any other circumstance, you would've been awestruck by this revelation. And it surely would've reminded Berdly of some obscure video game character with ice attacks.
Now was not the time.
"Noelle, are you okay? What...what are you doing with Kris?" Berdly inquired.
"I'm just--we're just.." She looked all around, her hands slightly trembling as she hid the ring with her hand. Then she sighed, hair falling in front of her eyes. "Getting...stronger."
"Getting stronger....how?"
You then glared at Kris, who remained stoic this entire time. "Kris, answer us. What does she mean? I know you're not a talker but we just wanna understand what's going on."
"Proceed."
A single, strained whisper left their lips as their arm suddenly jerked to life, grasping Noelle's shoulder and shoving her forward. The poor girl stumbled a few feet away from you two, falling into your arms. But you caught her and helped steady her.
'God..she looks so pale and feels ice cold..'
She gasped and pushed you away, like you were an electric forcefield that shocked her. "D-Don't touch me!! Please run away!!" She wailed, her voice cracking with raw pain and terror.
Now you and Berdly were officially pissed off.
It didn't matter what happened or why Kris was acting so oddly. They were breaking her mind, and you couldn't stand by and watch her fall apart in front of you like this.
"Hell no. Kris should've kept their goddamn hands off of you!" You bellowed as you drew your weapon, as did Berdly.
"Y-Yeah! We will not stand for your vile treatment of Noelle any longer!" He pointed his ax at Kris. "We have no choice but to stop you by force!!"
Despite Noelle's pleas, Kris drew their sword, glaring at you.
Thus, the battle commenced.
Together you and Berdly coordinated your strongest attacks to only strike Kris, not wanting your dear friend--the obvious victim--to get hurt. You only hoped knocking their SOUL around a bit would finally make them snap out of it.
But something else unusual happened: during the entire fight, Kris did not strike back, nor try to ACT or explain themselves. All they did was raise their shield, ordering Noelle to form her own ice barrier as well. And she obeyed every single time.
Were they stalling?
No..they were planning something awful.
You quickly learned that through defense, you could conserve enough mana to perform magic spells.
But you knew Kris didn't have magic.
Were they really using Noelle to cast these supposed "freeze" spells?
You just laughed at the bitter thought. "Wow..you really are a monster. Using our friend to do your bidding. Even Queen isn't as bad as you!"
They ignored you and looked towards Noelle, seeing that her ring was fully charged. And they commanded her to cast "Snowgrave."
She seemed confused, apparently not knowing all of her own spells. But the more Kris demanded, the more she refused. You and Berdly hoped she was finally fighting back, and all of this could be ended peacefully.
Yet...it never came to pass.
"Fine. You want to see what happens so bad?! Watch what happens when I cast a spell I don't know!!" She snapped, before turning directly to Berdly.
After Kris, for the final time, commanded her to use Snowgrave, she raised her hands to the sky, a few sparks flying out from her palms.
At first nothing happened, as if the spell failed.
But then....her eyes glowed an eerie white as she floated above you three, robe flowing in the wind. You gazed up in utter disbelief, like she was some angelic being, with sparks flying all around her form.
All of the sudden a blinding snowstorm erupted in the alley, but through it you could see a massive icy blue pillar flying directly towards Berdly.
"NO!!!" You shoved him out of the way right as the ice touched your legs, encasing your entire body instantaneously.
The blizzard passed and all that remained was an exhausted Noelle, a silent Kris, a dazed Berdly, and...
You, frozen solid in a large ice prism.
"...[y/n]..? No...NO!!!" The bird scrambled to his feet, running over and trying to chop the iceberg. "HANG ON [Y/N]!! Why did you do that, you idiot?!! HOW WILL WE EXPLAIN THIS TO QUEEN??!!"
But try as he might, his axe barely scratched the surface. It was hopeless. There was nothing he could do to free you.
Noelle barely acknowledged his screaming, or even the fact you weren't her intended target.
