The Skeleton Journals @theskelejournals - Tumblr Blog

Sep 16, 2025

A little late again to the festivities, but it's been TEN YEARS since Undertale came out? Wow. That means Grillby has been part of my life for nearly that long. How lovely and wonderful. What joy and friendship this silly little fireman has brought me. I've had some of my best days thanks to this game and the group of friends that has come of it, and so I'll always be thankful to Toby Fox for creating it.

In honor of this, have a tiny short story that takes place in a world very different from Undertale, but with a couple of familiar faces.

Below the cut for your browsing pleasure. <3

“Gustav!”

“Hm?” I lifted my head from the silverware I was polishing to see Quinn waving at me. I grinned, waving the cloth in my hand at them to return their greeting. “Hello birdbrain.”

“Heyo hothead. What's on the menu today?” Quinn had memorized the menu ages ago, so the question was moot, but it never stopped them from asking it.

“For you? Yesterday's potato peels.”

“Disgusting, I'll take it.” Quinn hopped onto the diner stool in front of me, patting their hands on the counter in time with the song filtering over from the jukebox. “Can you add some normal food in with them though? I'm so hungry.”

“Hah, of course.”

Ten minutes later Quinn was alternating between humming along to music and chewing. I could hear their feet thumping softly against the edge of the counter under the bar. It was a normal, rhythmic, expected noise that I'd come to realize I missed when Quinn didn't show up for lunch.

Glancing over at the other table I was meant to be minding, the gaggle of young teenagers who were near regulars. They were gathered closely around a Switch, the girl with the dark afro in charge of its controls. If I remembered right, and I was sure I did, her name was Jamari. They seemed to be fine with what was left of the giant basket of fries and their individual sandwiches, and their drinks were still fairly full, so I left them to their own devices.

That is, until Quinn had turned to lean against the bar and people watch, and then started giggling.

“What is it?” I asked, setting a rack of glasses behind them on the counter to unpack. Quinn just giggled again, then pointed with their chin.

“The teenagers keep looking at you and then back to their game, then back at you. They're discussing something in heated tones now, look.”

Sure enough, they seemed to be in a spirited yet whispered debate about something. The blonde who was smaller than the others was shaking her head, furiously, while the others were trying to convince her of whatever was on the Switch. I smirked fondly, they reminded me of my own younger brother Garan. Jamari looked back up and saw me watching, so I glanced back down to the glasses I was unpacking to spare her any embarrassment.

A row of glasses dried and put away later, I looked back up at the sound of a cleared throat.

“Excuse me, Mr. Vercher?” It was the small blonde girl, holding Jamari's Switch in both hands. “Could you solve a debate for us?”

I chuckled, drying my hands and moving to lean my elbows on the counter near her. “I can try. What is it?”

She laid the Switch on the counter then spun it, orienting it towards me. The screen had an 8-bit world on it, an orange and brown diner much like the one we were standing in, complete with a jukebox in the corner. And behind the bar was a little man dressed much like I was, except his head was made of flame. I laughed softly, leaning closer to look at the red bird on the stool near the fire man.

“Is this what the debate's about?”

The girl nodded, pointing to the fire man. “Everyone over there says he looks like you, and we want to know if you ever got approached by a mysterious video game maker and asked if he could use your likeness in a game.” She was so straightforward about it, I couldn't help but laugh again.

I shook my head, still grinning. “I'm sorry, I can't say that I have.” My head dipped to look at the little fire man again. “You're right, he does look like me though. If my head were a fire.”

Quinn leaned over to look as well, and the girl shifted the Switch to give them a better view. “Oh my! Look! An actual hothead! He is you!” Quinn's laughter was much more raucous than my own, and the blonde girl smiled in triumph.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Vercher, you've proven me right and everyone else wrong.” She gathered the Switch back in her hands, then paused. “Oh, his name is Grillby if you're curious!” With that, she darted back to the table, no doubt boasting her victory over the rest of them. I chuckled at the groans from across the diner.

“Grillby hm? Interesting. Wonder how much he's actually like me.” My quiet musing didn't go unheard by Quinn, who snickered.

“Well you're both hotheads so there's that!”

Their laughter was muffled by the polishing rag I whipped in their face.

#undertale #journalverse #or is it?

theskelejournals

Sep 13, 2023

thefirejournals

Go Make a Legacy

Two months into living on the surface in Austria, Wingding and I decided to live permanently in Annecy. Q and Juliet decided to join us, and our boys weren’t far in Austria if we wanted to be with them for a few days. It hadn’t been a very hard decision, Austria was crowded and loud, and whenever Germany was mentioned Dings made a show of changing the subject back to Annecy.

Sera, Gautier, and I had grown up in the lakeside city, and even two centuries ago it had been a tourist attraction. It was nothing compared to what it’d turned into, however. The quiet town had blossomed into a beautiful resort city with more hotels and restaurants than anyone could really count. The peaceful city of my childhood was busier and more crowded than ever, but still held the charm and wonder from before. It had expanded across the valley, around the lake, everywhere it hadn’t been while I was still growing up.

Our old neighborhood had been destroyed when we had been evacuated, and since built over. That was blatantly visible even as you drove along the mountain into the city. I had held onto hope that our homes had survived, but there had never been any chance. So, the short lived dream of returning to my family’s home was gone, but Dings and I had managed to find somewhere just as good. It was near the local schools that had been built while we were underground, and honestly not that far from the edge of my old neighborhood. The old diner would have been within walking distance if I would have gathered the nerve to go see if it were still there.

We’d settled into our new home easily, using the gold we had from our respective jobs Underground, trading it for human money. A human banker with a bit too much greed in his eyes for my tastes helped us out, and got the job done despite my dislike of him. Between Dings and myself we had more than enough funds to settle into a home and begin establishing ourselves on the surface. While Dings was still recovering from what we’d called “void sickness,” I’d taken a job at a nearby restaurant, just as a line cook, to keep income flowing and get some roots dug back into Annecy. Even though it bothered him, I’d told Dings that I wasn’t expecting him to work at all until he’d recovered, and I was prepared to take care of everything. He had a hard time taking that, he hated being dormant so very much. But with his legs literally not working, there wasn’t really anything he could do. Luckily, Q had the brilliant suggestion of him doing a few courses online to get Dings on track to becoming a teacher.

We’d discussed it - him signing and me hoarsely translating to a slightly drunk bird - before even moving to France, and Dings had decided he no longer wanted to be the Royal Scientist, but he did want to remain in the field. The happiest medium for him ended up being a teaching position, and he lit up at the prospect once Q suggested it. As for me, I don’t really know how to do anything outside of a kitchen, so I was perfectly fine staying in one. I was good at it, comfortable with it, so I went ahead and got the certifications and training I was asked to and went right back to work. The only difference was I wasn’t at the bar, and the building didn’t have my name on it. Having been in the business for so, so long, I shook my head at a lot of the things the other chefs did, but it wasn’t my place to say anything as an entry level line cook.

We managed like this for a year or two, Dings tapping away at his essays and reports while I snoozed away in my chair after the dinner service. The same year Dings finished his courses was the year I proposed to him, and we got married not long after. That’s a story I’m happy to tell, but after I finish this one.

We’d been in Annecy for roughly two and a half years at the time, and that was when I finally worked up the courage to drive through our old neighborhood to see what had become of it. All the streets remained, the physical layout of the neighborhood had not changed. The buildings had, though, of course. Driving past where my family’s home used to sit, especially wearing Gautier’s coat while doing it, was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. Sera had decided to stay in Austria as well and continue her work as a translator, so she wasn’t able to make this little journey with me. That made it all the harder.

I paused in front of the lot our house used to sit on long enough for the fact the building I was staring at wasn’t my old home to sink in, then restarted my car and headed down an all too familiar path. Even now, so many years later, I’m still not entirely sure why I took the one turn that would take me to the diner and not home to Dings, but I’m still completely fine with that split second decision. Taking a left instead of a right after sitting at the corner for a good three minutes, I held my breath.

It’s not there, there’s no way, there is not any way, no chance. My thoughts went on in that loop, and I pulled over across the street from the diner’s lot. I couldn’t look to my right, I could not. I stayed inside the car and stared out the passenger side window, out towards a building I had never seen, one that had been built while I was Underground. I may have sat there for at least fifteen minutes before a text message brought me out of my thoughts and I finally shook myself out of it. Glancing at my phone quickly, I answered Q’s query as to when I’d be home then finally looked up.

What I found was a low brick building, standing the middle of the parking lot, a few people coming out of the door holding to-go boxes.

It’s still here.

I stared in awe, watching customers move around and be seated, eat with their families, just in general be happy and enjoy their meals. It was like nothing had changed besides the parking lot and the clothes the customers were wearing. I couldn’t be completely sure until I got a closer look, but it even looked like the staff was wearing the same or similar uniforms. I couldn’t stop a laugh at that, and so I put a hand over my mouth to catch it. Silly of me, now that I think about it, since I was alone in my car.

It took a few more minutes for me to do it, but I gathered up the courage and got out of the car, quickly darting across the street to the edge of the parking lot and staring at the building I’d practically lived in for nearly 30 years. I don’t think I breathed.

I can’t believe it’s still standing so many years later. I always just assumed we had lost everything. It always seemed like the most logical explanation given what all had happened.

I was startled out of my thoughts by a car pulling into one of the parking spaces next to me, and shuffled out of the way to let the mother of the family open her door. Over the years we’d been on the surface, I’d gotten used to dirty looks and barely lowered voices offering up snide remarks and comments, so I was surprised when all she did was give me a friendly smile and move to release her child from their carseat. I offered a much shyer one back and took a breath before finally heading into the building. The door had been replaced however long ago, to keep up with security and other technological advances, but it was roughly the same weight and still swung the same way. It felt just like walking in decades, centuries ago. Almost like traveling in time. It was strange, but also pleasant. I had been working in the diner Underground for 200 years, it wasn’t as if I had been out of the industry. But walking into this diner, this building that I had grown up in, was an entirely different experience.

So many memories came flooding back as I slipped in and looked around. Not much had changed on the inside either, besides obvious technological upgrades and ways to improve safety. The bar and dining room layout was the same, new tables and chairs of course, but everything was more or less in the same place. Even the color scheme had remained, but obviously been repainted. I guess the design my mother had come up with had stood the test of time. I stood for a moment inside the door until the hostess caught my attention.

“Ah… heh, excuse me, sir? Are you looking for someone?” She sounded a bit timid, but I couldn’t blame her. I was likely one of the only monsters she had ever seen up close. And I was, in fact, a walking flame. Even some monsters drew away from me still.

“Oh, no, apologies.” I slid out from in front of the door, making room for the family that had pulled into the parking lot. Luckily they already had people waiting for them, and I could keep the hostess’ attention. “I haven’t been here in a very long time, I thought I should come and see how things have changed.”

When she tilted her head and furrowed her brow at me, I was suddenly and blatantly reminded of my accent and how it was bordering on three centuries old, and therefore not exactly easy to understand, even when we spoke the same language. With an apology, I spoke a little slower and she grinned back with a nod.

“Ah! I see! How long has it been, monsieur?” She leaned on the host stand, grinning wide, and I grinned back. It didn’t really matter if the friendliness was just for show, seeing two humans smile instead of withdraw in fear was a huge boost to my mood.

“Oh, heh, well…” my hand went to my headflames and I gave up calculating the exact number very quickly. “About two hundred years, honestly.” Blue streaked into my headflames at her reaction, wide eyes and jaw dropped.

“What? There’s no way, none! How old are you?” Her voice had raised half an octave and she was speaking faster, it was impossible to hold back a chuckle.

“Heh, I’m bordering on three hundred now. Getting up there.” I glanced down, blue gathering into my headflames once more as my hand slid to the back of my neck. If the hostess’ eyes could have gotten bigger, they would have.

“That’s amazing! You’re totally the oldest person I’ve ever met!”

“Oh heavens. I can’t say I’m surprised.” The bell on the door chimed and I slid out of the way as the hostess regathered her composure to greet and seat the newcomers after a quick apologetic glance my way. I waved her on and decided to make my way over to the bar and find an empty stool. It seemed I’d come in the middle of a weekend rush, those odd ones in the middle of the afternoon when everyone got bored at home and decided that a diner was more interesting than a book or the radio. Or, well, I suppose the television or computer these days. Upon sitting at the bar, I was greeted with a friendly shout over the bartender’s shoulder.

“Sorry, one minute sir! I’ll be right with you!” He called over the sound of the blender, shooting a quick glance at me with a wide grin.

“No worries friend, I see it’s busy.” He grinned once more, thankfully, and returned to his blending. I settled on the stool, folding my hands together and resting my arms on the counter. The mirror behind the bar still existed, the shelves had been replaced with metal ones, but considering the length of time that had passed, that was unsurprising. I wouldn’t doubt it in the slightest if the wood had literally rotted away. It hadn’t exactly been new by the time we’d left it.

“Alright, bonjour, what can I do for you today Monsieur de Feu?” The bartender appeared in my vision as I glanced up, he was grinning away, obviously trying not to stare but failing at it. With a gentle chuckle I grinned back, speaking slower than normal since my accent had already confused the hostess.

“Bonjour, I was actually wondering if the owner was available? I would like to ask them some questions.”

The bartender furrowed his brow at me for a moment, and assuming it was over my request, I continued.

“You see, I used to work here, ages ago. I’d like to discuss the history-” “Oh, sir, of course, he will be glad to speak with you.” He waved his hand and picked up a glass to polish it. I held back a smirk of amusement, that was my go-to when speaking to customers. “I was just focusing on your accent, are you Canadian?” He glanced up and I blinked in confused for a moment, then laughed. “Oh, no, I am French, I was born here in Annecy. I was part of the group that was, ah… Underground.” My hand lifted to rub through my flames. It was hard to talk about what all had happened, you had no idea how anyone was going to react. A friendly smile could turn to a glare with just those words. Humans, it seemed, tended to hold grudges for things they hadn’t even personally been through. We were lucky there weren’t any humans still alive from the war. Thankfully the bartender just nodded and went back to polishing his glassware.

“The owner is indeed here, he will likely be out in a moment to tell me to go take my break and that I’m working too hard.” He smirked softly, fondly, and looked back towards the kitchen as someone started laughing. It was a loud, booming, pure delight of a laugh and I couldn’t help but be reminded of my own father since that had been his laugh as well.

With an amused grin, I turned back to the bartender, “I know the feeling. My father was the same way.” “Well I like him already.” The bartender grinned, and looked back up as a figure came into view. He was about as tall as my eldest son, but much more round. His jovial voice betrayed the gruff demeanor that his bushy mustache and eyebrows gave off, and once he turned my way his large grin spread. Coming over, he clapped his bartender on the back in a familiar, fatherly way. “You’re working too hard. Get out of here, you’re overdue for your break.”

The bartender gave me a ‘see, I told you so’ smirk and nodded at his boss. “Oui, chef. I’ll take my ten.” He moved to put his rag and the glass he’d been polishing down, but the owner pulled both out of his hands and shooed him away. “Hah, alright, alright, I’m out!” The bartender held his hands up in surrender, nodding to me once more before slipping back into the kitchen.

“So what brings the husband of the Royal Scientist into my diner?” His grin was pleased but a bit shy, and to say I was shocked would have been an understatement. My face must have betrayed my bewilderment because the man started laughing and set the glass down. “You and your husband were all over the newspapers when that barrier broke, alongside the Royal Family. You’d be surprised how many people know your face.” “Heh, well, you’re right about that. I didn’t realize those pictures had gotten published. And, heavens, we weren’t even engaged back then. How did you kn- oh! That damn bird of mine put an announcement in the paper, that’s right.” I shook my head at the memory, Q laughing up a storm once I’d realized what they’d done. The owner chuckled, nodding.

“That ‘damn bird’ gave us a nice peek into the fact monsters are just like us. Helped… humanize? You lot a little more. For lack of better term, apologies.” “Ah no worries, I understand what you mean. Made us seem more real and not some scary story mothers use to make their children behave.” I chuckled and clasped my hands on the bar, leaning on my elbows. The owner had a slightly stricken look, and looked like he was worried he’d said something wrong, so I grinned. “All I mean is I’ve heard the stories people tell about Mt Ebbot. Frisk sat in my bar and told me all of them once when they were waiting for their mother to pick them up.” Another gentle grin and the owner calmed, returned it, and crossed his arms to lean against the back bar. The action was once again so reminiscent of my father and even myself that I cracked another grin.

“So what brings you into the littlest part of Annecy, sir?” “Well, actually…” I lifted a hand to rub through my flames, masking the bit of blue trying to peek through them. “My father used to own this diner. Back in…” I squinted into the liquor bottles, calculating years and time periods. “Up until 1915, when the war started.” I moved my gaze back to the owner, shyly, I didn’t know how he would react. But surprise of all surprises, he was grinning as if he had a secret.

“I knew your face looked familiar for reasons other than the newspaper.” He shoved off the bar and motioned for me to follow him. “I would love to show you what the first owners after your family found when they came in to clean the place up.”

I furrowed my brow and moved to stand, pausing next to the stool briefly. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to interrupt the dinner prep…” The owner laughed and waved me on again, so I smirked and followed him back to his little office. It looked much the same as it had two hundred years ago, with the addition of a computer and other updated electronics. “When the next owners were cleaning out the bar area, there were a lot of photographs stuck to the lower part of the mirror.” My eyes widened at the mention of the photographs, of course! It had been so long since I had thought of them! Even before the war they had been there long enough that they had become a part of the background, never thought about but always appreciated. When I broke out of my brief sentimental moment, the owner had set down an incredibly old box, almost as old as I was. I grinned and recognized it as one from the shoe store that had been in town ages upon ages ago. It had been taped and re-labeled a few times but it was unmistakable.

“Oh, wow. Good heavens. What a relic.” I sat in the chair across from him at his motion, reaching for the box then pausing. “Oh, may I?”

“Hah of course! If I’m right, everything in it belongs to your family anyways.” He sat back in his chair with the most jovial grin, folding his hands over his stomach and nodding me along.

With another quick grin I pulled the box to my lap, lifting the lid gently, holding my breath before peeking under it. All my breath went out in shock.

On the very top of the short stack of photos, was one from the day Gautier had been shipped out to his location. My brother, in full uniform, looking away from the camera with a soft forlorn expression, taking in the little city he’d lived in all his life.

“Oh… heavens…” “Is that someone you know?” The owner leaned over curiously and I turned the photo for him to see, a sad smile stretching on his face.. “It’s. My brother. I haven’t… I haven’t seen his face in two hundred years. And here it is, perfectly preserved.” Turning it back into my line of sight, I shook my head. “I honestly thought I would never see him or anything concerning him ever again.” I smirked, that was a bit of a lie since I still had his coat and wore it regularly, but it had become far more mine than his over the centuries.

“Well the family resemblance is definitely there, you two could be twins.” His smile was honestly infectious and it brought my own grin back.

“Oh, the resemblance between him and my sister is even more, they have the same color flames. It’s amazing how many times people thought those two were twins despite the height difference.” I set the picture of Gautier down with a chuckle, pushing aside a few bits of old paperwork that I’d take a better look at later. Underneath them, I grinned at another photo of Gautier, but this time surrounded by Sera and Mama. Pere had a photo of her in his wallet when we lost everything in the war, so her face had never left my memory. Seeing her with her children, however, was entirely different.

“Is that your family as well?” The owner’s voice jolted me out of my quiet reverie, and I looked up with a grin and quiet nod. “It’s my mother.” I turned that photo to him as well.

“Oh, you absolutely are her son.”

“Hah! I’ve heard that a lot.” I chuckled, setting that photo down as well. “I’m sure, the resemblance is uncan-” His attention shifted as his office door creaked open, the hostess’ head peeking around it.

“Pardon, chef, they need your help in the kitchen.” She looked as if she were holding back a laugh, and the owner smirked back. “Roland says it’s important.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does, he always does. I’ll be there in a moment.” He nodded and the host trotted off away from the office, ready to absorb whatever drama was about to happen. The owner turned back to me with the same smirk and pushed out of his chair. “I had better go see what all the hubbub is about. Feel free to stay in here, everything in that box belongs to you and any other members of your family.” “Oh, thank you sir. That’s so kind of you. I won’t invade your space for long.” He laughed and waved my comment off as he walked out of the office.

“Don’t worry about it at all. If you wanted to, I’m sure you could find the paperwork to kick me out of here. So I had better stay on your good side.” His tone and grin assured me he was friendly and teasing, so the blue that flooded my flames dissipated quickly and I let my nerves out in a chuckle, relaxing back into the chair. I was left to poke through the shoe box, finding more photos of my family along with other bits of paperwork and trinkets I hadn’t thought about in ages. The wooden keychain that had held the spare keys was in the box, the keys obviously gone and likely replaced. Small toys left behind from customers’ children had been gathered into it as well, things from the era that belonged to my family but not to us. Goodness these are probably worth a fortune by now...

I heard uproarious laughter coming from down the hall, the kitchen, and I assumed it meant whatever drama had happened had been absolved. With a soft smirk, I started to gather everything back into the box, pausing as my phone buzzed in my pocket.

[When will you be home, my light?] It was from Dings, and I melted a bit at the mental image of him pouting at his phone because he didn’t know where I was. He was so adorable.

[I’m not sure, I’m finishing something up and then I need to stop by the store and also pick up Brelle, I’m asking her over for dinner tonight and Sera may be coming into town tomorrow as well.] I’d decided while texting him back that the other people in the photos needed to see them as well, so I’d call Sera on my way home and just swing by the Diva’s house as I went past it.

[Oh, alright, I’ll make sure we have a clean plate for her, and get the spare bed ready for Sera. Please be swift. I miss you.] The shyness was still so blatant in Dings’ messages, even after being married for this long, and I chuckled at it. He had always been shy but to watch him slowly work out of it was a treat and a blessing.

[As fast as I can, Dings darling. Have no fear. I’m bringing home a surprise too.] I finished off that text and pushed my phone back into my pocket, setting the lid on the box and tucking it under my arm. As I went to leave the office, the owner was coming back down the hall, and I waved at him.

“Ah, all done looking?”

“For now, I’m going to take it home and have my sister look through it as well.” “Wonderful! Bring your whole family in for dinner this weekend, I bet they’d love it.” “I’m sure they would!” I laughed lightly, imagining Sera and Brelle once more bickering across a table next to the window. “Oh I’m sure they would.” I paused, rubbing the back of my neck briefly, then looked up at the owner. “Say… you... wouldn’t happen to need a chef or a bartender... would you?” His grin could have lit a bonfire. “You know I think we just might.”

=========================

Hours later, after dinner and dessert and an impromptu performance of the aria from Phantom of the Opera from a ever so slightly drunk Brelle, I set the box in her lap without a word.

“My darling what is this? Did you dig up a two hundred year old pair of shoes for me?” Her chuckle was light and she pressed her fingers to her lips to muffle the hiccup that came after it. Perhaps more than slightly drunk. The moment she lifted the lid and saw the picture of Gautier I’d settled back on top, however, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh… Grillbert where did you… oh where was this oh my goodness….” The rest of the box was forgotten, set on the floor as she tenderly picked up the photo and held it up, her other hand still pressed to her mouth.

I grinned from my spot on the couch next to a similarly grinning Dings, I’d shown him the box already once I’d gotten home so he knew my plan. “Well. I went to the diner today.” Brelle looked up with a snap of her flames, eyes still teary but suddenly alert.

“It still stands!? Oh! Oh my heavens! I never even thought of looking, I never thought it would still be there since the rest of the neighborhood got burned, I always figured it was gone forever and we would nev-”

“Breathe, diva.” Dings’ voice was soft, as was the chuckle that followed, and Brelle shot him the softest glare I have ever seen in my life.

“The diner still stands.” I leaned my head gently against Dings’ as Brelle stood and held the photo closer to the overhead light, squinting at it.

“Oh he is still as handsome as ever.” She sighed, wistfully, longingly, and my soul sunk just a little with the sound. Brelle may have been mine and Sera’s best friend, but given the chance she would have leapt like the ballerina she was to be Gautier’s loving and devoted wife. “Oh how I wish it weren’t... just a photograph...” I nodded, closing my eyes for a moment.

“A photograph is far more than we had before.” Dings spoke once more, nuzzling against my cheek softly, and when I looked down he was smiling gently at Brelle.

“You are right, my Wingding, you are right.” Brelle hummed in thought and went back to the box, kneeling beside it on the floor to pick through the other photos, giggling at one of her and Sera. “Oh, I cannot wait until Sera sees these. She is coming in tomorrow, oui?” “She’s going to try. She’s very frustrated that I won’t spoil the surprise for her and am just forcing her onto an overnight train, but she apparently loves Dings enough to come see him.” I laughed as I remembered the phone call, Sera making sure I knew that she would never have done this if it had been just me and Brelle, but Dings made it a special case.

“I’m so flattered.” Dings chuckled against my shoulder.

“And I’m so hurt, wounded in fact. I will have to lament to her tomorrow.” Brelle made a face as she pulled another picture out of the box, tossing it to me. “Destroy that one. I do not care how.” Picking it up from the spot on the floor where it’d fell, I made the same face. It was a group shot from Brelle and I’s theatre days, almost our entire troupe. Most of the people in it we were still on good terms with. At least, those we knew were still alive. There was one person in it that we weren’t, and we had no idea what had happened to him. “Oh, ew.”

“Oui, ew. Get rid of his face.” “Who is it, my light?” Dings leaned over my shoulder to peek at the photo and I turned it to him, pointing to the flame near Brelle and I in it.

“Reule.” “Yes, Reule! Get rid of him. He does not deserve to be with the rest of these happy memories.” Brelle hadn’t taken her eyes off the things she was sorting through, and I noticed the picture of Gautier had been set safely away on the chair.

“Haha, as my diva commands.” I handed the picture to Dings as he reached for it, leaning back against the couch. Dings squinted at the photo and nestled against my side.

“Reule? Should I know about him?” “Hm, no, likely not. That’s not a nice story. Is it alright if I tell you later? Unless you want to see Brelle angrier than ever before.” I grinned up at her then ducked behind Dings’ skull as she shot me a glare.

“Save it for later then, let her sort through the happy pictures.” He tossed the picture lightly onto the end table, out of Brelle’s sight, and rested his head on my shoulder. “Are there any of Yves? I have the one I took Underground, that’s the only one we’ve ever had.” “Ah yes, yes, so many of dear Yves. Plenty of sweet Lara as well. Darling woman, goddess Lara.” Brelle flicked through the photos and pulled one out of my parents together, one Gautier had sneakily taken of them with their heads together and quietly whispering.

“Oh, heavens, how lovely.” Dings grinned and reached for it, curling back to my side with it. I rested my head on his to look at it better.

“Gautier got in trouble for that, until Mama convinced Pere that it was a wonderful moment and should have been captured.”

“Gautier was right.” Dings nodded, setting the photo back into Brelle’s outstretched hand. It seemed she was in the process of sorting them by subject. Family pictures here, solo pictures there, pictures of Pere and Mama over here.

“He was right about everything.” “Pff, Brelle, your hero worship has not ended.” “Oh, well excuse me my darling, for believing in a man who protected his neighborhood while others ran scared.” She flipped her flames back, huffing and glaring briefly in my direction before turning her attention to the paperwork in the box.

“Gautier protected your neighborhood?” Dings asked quietly, and I nodded. “He saved me and Sera from some guards and a mage. The firewall he created held off a good number of the forces even after we got away. That’s what Sera told me, at least. I was unconscious at that point.”

“Perhaps Brelle’s hero worship is well placed then.” Dings grinned, chuckling softly.

“It is! See, Grillbert, this is why we want to talk to your husband more than you.” Brelle swept the photos together without ruining her sorting and deposited them back in the box, standing to bring the paperwork over to me.

“Oh, perhaps I’ll just go to sleep for the night then.” I grinned up at her and shifted as she flopped down on the couch against my other side.

“You shall not. You shall read that paperwork and see if any bit of it is the deed to the diner.”

“Oh that’s likely still there, in the safe. They’d need the deed to give it to new owners over two hundred years.” “Oh! Fine! The original sale then! Anything to get the diner back under the Chaleureux name.”

“That isn’t a bad idea, really. Owning a diner or bar is what you’re used to. You said you didn’t really want anything else.” Dings had taken the first paper out of the stack from me and was looking it over, squinting at the French he was slowly learning.

“Well, I did ask the owner if he needed any help.” “What did he say? Are you going to go back to your home, my darling?” Brelle looked at me from where her head rested on my shoulder, and I ruffled her headflames.

“I am. He needs some help in the kitchen and at the bar, and since I’m used to doing everything on my own, I think I can handle it.”

“Oh how lovely. Back where you belong.” Brelle was smoothing her flames out and grinning, and when I looked over at Dings I was rewarded with his own soft grin.

“Right back where you belong.”

“With you.” I whispered. Dings’ blush made me grin, and I slid my hand in his to lift and kiss his knuckles softly. “Oooooh heavens.” Brelle giggled on my other side, and Dings covered his now purple face with a laugh. “You two are cavity inducing, far too sweet.” She pushed herself off the couch and strode over to the kitchen, picking up the wine bottle where she’d left it. “I am going to drink the rest of this wine if you do not stop me.” “By all means, diva, finish it off. Stay here tonight and greet Sera when you arise from your beauty sleep.”

“I shall then.” “Hehe, you’re more than welcome anytime, Brelle.” Dings leaned forward to kiss between my eyes softly, then stood himself, leaning against the couch and making his way to the kitchen much more slowly than Brelle had. His legs had been working again, for awhile now, but he was still being careful just in case. “Pour me a glass too, won’t you?”

“Oui, mon chérie, oui. Pour vous.”

I chuckled and settled back down on the couch, paging through the paperwork Brelle had handed me. A few bills, likely unpaid, forever unpaid, and a list of tabs from the week before the war. Also likely unpaid. I smirked at the thought and flipped through a few more pages, finally settling on one and squinting at it.

“Huh, I… guess I was wrong.” “What’s that, my darling?” Brelle called, and when I looked over the couch I saw them both looking at me curiously.

“The deed was in the box.” I held it up, and Brelle laughed and pointed at it.

“I told you! You have to go claim the building now!” Brelle’s triumphant laughter spread to Dings and he started giggling into his wine. I smirked and looked back at the paper.

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk about it…”

#grillby #undertale #gaster #grillster #while there are no active stories in the works right now #have this gem lore wrote a few years ago!#its post barrier and very sweet

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