#final! frisk

[the-writing-mobster]

| Some Final! Frisk doodles from The Most Dangerous Game | 💙 🔪 ❤️ |

.

.

.

Your honor I love her. Your honor I need her. Your hon—

[the-writing-mobster]

Currently halfway through with TMDG ch. 22. It's coming out soon. Gonna try and shoot for Sunday!

.

.

.

~ HAVE A SNEAKU PEAKU! ~

She couldn't tell if the static in the air was real or all in her head. 

Ice crunched beneath her boot. Her frosted breath clouded her vision of the forest floor. She was searching for something, though she wasn’t exactly sure what. Maybe it was proof. Proof he’d been out there… though, with the snowfall, she doubted she’d find anything. And maybe that was what she really wanted. To find nothing. 

So she could live in a world where she still had the upper hand.

--

[the-writing-mobster]

| HARK! A NEW TMDG CHAPTER HAS HIT THE PENTAGON! | Chapter 17 is OUT and ready to be picked to pieces! | 💙 🔪 💔 |

.

.

.

Chapter theme:

Small Chapter Excerpt ~

— 💙🔪💔 —

He’d found her… 

Heart leaping into her throat, Frisk’s hands dug into the gritty sand. Fingers ensnared on a jagged rock that she hoisted up into the air! 

“What have you done!” she roared as the rock hurled down into that horrid sneer! Hurled down into that greasy beard! Into those wild eyes that had leered at her for far too long! 

The rock cracked through raw cartilage. Its bleeding surface shined in the moonlight, and that grotesque skull caved, squelching and screaming, beneath her vengeful fist. She lifted the rock high into the sky, her body reeling from the force like she were bound to worship this ceaseless violence for forever! Bound to this inescapable fate. And the face beneath her was twisted in its viscera. 

Brown hair, bleeding teeth, dull, dark eyes framed by thick, fluttering lashes that all begged for mercy. Begged for her to stop! But she couldn’t stop. 

Couldn’t or wouldn’t? 

She needed this more than air.

And the rock crushed the sparrow beneath her. Crushed the bleating lamb! The innocent fawn with its throat torn out across the desert floor. 

“You did this! It was you!” 

Down bludgeoned her fist! 

Her own face cracking beneath its hunger! 

“You deserve this, you fucking coward!”

Down hurled the rock; a meteor, and His face was the Earth. 

His flesh, collateral. His grinning sneer would be erased! Erased from her memory! He would torment her no longer! NO LONGER! 

“LEAVE ME ALONE!”  

[the-writing-mobster]

I know the most dangerous game is a Frans fic but I’d be lying if I said you didn’t make me ship your OC Ibrahim and Frans so hard 😭

AS YOU SHOULD! FRISKRAHIM 5 EVER!!!!! He is the sun to her cold Earth! He chases away the winter and melts away the ice! He supports her in every way he can. He is true romance! He is everything she deserves and she doesn't even believe she deserves him at all! IF YOU LOVE IBRAHIM THEN I HAVE DONE MY JOB!!!! It'll make the tragedies of this fic hurt all the worse and your tears taste the sweetest

The Frans of this fic is not really a romantic ship as much as it is a HORRIFYING PREDATOR PREY DYNAMIC that is interesting to explore. BUT IN NO WORLD WOULD FRISK EVER FALL IN LOVE WITH THAT IRREDEEMABLE PIECE OF SHIT!?!? Also Sans just sees Frisk as an object (albeit a fascinating one) to conquer.

This sums up the Frans ship of TMDG:

(also thank you @marihem for those two fabulous pieces of TMDG Fanart hahaha. FOLKS my oomfie draws Ibra so well, she is the BACKBONE of the TMDG fandom)

.

.

.

[the-writing-mobster]

I feel like an asshole that i don't like Ibrahim im really sorry im trying my best! Sob* i think I'm just worried for my frans ship staying out there shaking outside the view sob i love this au but im anxious as hell

Well, that's totally your prerogative lmao! I can't force anyone to like Ibrahim, or to not ship Frans (I... ship frans, I just ship it in many different dynamics and forms besides romance) all I wish for is that people don't root for Ibra's gruesome death or something just for Sans and Frisk to... have a shot?

I also hope that hardcore shipper readers don't delude themselves into thinking Sans and Frisk will actually fall in love despite everything he's done by the end of TMDG; Ibrahim or no Ibrahim.

TMDG is not a romance and I don't intend to force it to be one. Besides, I've already written an enemies to lovers, toxic to lovey dovey romance in WDYW, I'm exploring new depths now.

[marihem]

Some Final and SK doodles hehe

The Most Dangerous Game by @the-writing-mobster

[the-writing-mobster]

| The Most Dangerous Game | Chapter 6 Excerpt | 💙 🔪 💔 |

.

.

.

Tack, tack, tack, tack… 

Frisk sucked in a weary breath and reached for her mug. The porcelain was cold against her chapped lips, the murky coffee inside disgustingly lukewarm on her tongue, but she swallowed it anyway. Her eyes burned. The words on her screen blurred beneath her and it took everything in her to stifle the yawn threatening to come over her. 

Crickets chirping. The soft sigh of the HVAC breathing cool air through the grates in the floor. The hum of her computer screen. Lines of dotted color swimming in and out. 

Tack, tack, tack, tack, tack… 

Unfortunately, one could believe that her loneliness and her noble effort to see the best in people, is what led her to her brutal end. ｜

She rubbed her eyes, the sounds of the night buzzing in her aching head. A dark kaleidoscope of color swarmed the back of her eyelids and sent her briefly to another world connected only by scarlet string and madness. 

Frisk sucked in a long breath she refused to admit was a yawn, the incessant noise going silent as her breathing roared in her ears. 

A low moan escaped her as she came too and was greeted with true silence. She mused that the AC must have switched off for a moment. That was fine, she told herself. It’d been getting pretty cold. Even now, she could feel the prickles of goosebumps creeping on her arms and down the back of her neck. 

The words on her computer screen swam across from her. I need to step away. Look over my notes, the thought sent her careening to her feet. 

Each step she took sent pins and needles through her and she seethed through her teeth. How long had she been sitting there? She counted the hours to herself. She’d been writing ever since she’d gotten home from her meeting with the editor in chief so that meant… six hours straight? Was that right? That couldn’t be right. Ibrahim would’ve stopped her… unless he’d also been writing and in that case… 

Frisk smirked at the realization that they must have both been in a flow state. Who were either of them to wreck each other’s process?

“I’m almost done,” she said aloud as if trying to ward off the uncanny silence of the witching hour and give herself some company. 

 

The only other company she had were the pictures of Sarah’s carcass staring at her from her cork board. The acknowledgment of those dead, brown eyes sent Frisk searching the floor for lent out of some desperate attempt at avoiding them, if only briefly.

When the floor truly had nothing of substance to offer her, she was dragged by the chin back to that board. How dare she look away. Look upon me and see how I’ve suffered, whispered her own, morbid guilt. 

“Look at me!” 

She blinked hard at the invasive memory of her own small voice. The photos were blurry in the dark, unfocused in the ghoulish blue glare of her distant computer. She blinked again as if that would fix them. 

It seemed to work, though, and Sarah gazed back at her when she opened her eyes. Only… her eyes were larger. Lashes thicker… skin shades darker if not a tad ashy from the cool embrace of death. Lips plumper. Bruised.   

Familiar. 

Frisk furrowed her brow and sucked in a breath of stale air. Her feet swayed towards the board, pins and needles biting up her leg. She plucked the photo off the wall, a distant clack of the thumb tack falling to the floor. 

Pale, dead skin. Small, glazed eyes, angular, hollow cheeks. Nothing about the photo or about Sarah had changed. I need to call it a night. 

The crickets certainly had.

.

.

.

Chapter Theme:

Read the full chapter here!

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Also, next chapter drops tomorrow!

[the-writing-mobster]

| The Most Dangerous Game | Predator | 💙 🔪 💔 |

Both Chapter 5 AND Chapter 6 are available to read on AO3! You can find the link to the fic by clicking the blue title up above.

.

.

.

“Scary, is a good word for it… I hope you’re not scared of me…”