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abitoflavender · 2 months

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a super depressing one-shot that may be a part of a series I want to make

(tw: abuse) (i did not proof or reread any of this. i wrote it in 10 minutes at a rapid fire pace and decided to post it bcs im eepy) (also plz read the tags before commenting!)

Chara and Frisk were curled up on the couch, each of them covered up in at least two throw blankets. They were having a Pixar movie marathon–they had both caught a cold that past week from school, and the cold, December weather, and Toriel had insisted they’d stay home until they were both feeling well. The sun was out, but blocked out behind the thick, blackout curtains that were closed. Though the heat was up and on high, it felt as though the frigid temperatures were seeping through the windows and the front door, hence the two being under a couple of blankets, as well as wearing fleece pajamas. There were Gatorade bottles and half-eaten sleeves of Saltine crackers on the floor in front of the couch, a bottle of liquid cold medicine on the end table beside Frisk.

They were watching all of the Pixar movies in order, starting two days ago. One or the other, or the both of them, typically ended up drifting off during each movie, so it was taking them awhile to finish them all. They were on Coco, one Chara didn’t find particularly interesting.

“It’s just like that other movie about the Day of the Dead.” She said to Frisk, keeping her tired gaze on the TV. Her voice was raspy from coughing for the past few days.

Frisk glanced over at them, too comfortable in their spot in the corner of the couch, cocooned in two thick blankets and their head sunk deep into their pillow to actually move their head to look at Chara. “What one? There’s another Disney movie about it?”

“No, it wasn’t Disney. It had these snakes and this guy in a room with a bunch of candles. I think they fought a bull, too?”

“Ohhh,” Frisk sang, “The Book of Life?”

Chara looked over at Frisk with a little grin, “Yes, that one. They’re literally the same movie, except for the fact that Coco doesn’t get killed to enter the Land of the Dead.”

“That movie doesn’t have music, though.” Frisk brought their focus back onto the movie.

“Yeah, it did. The guy sang that ‘I love you too much’ song to the girl, remember?” Chara sat up a bit, her movements slow. She pulled her blankets up over her shoulders, sitting up and against the back of the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest.

“Well, it’s not as good as the songs in this one, duh.” Frisk snickered, their voice quiet, just above a whisper.

Chara kept her snarky look on her face, continuing to look down at Frisk, “Never said it was. The story was just better.”

Frisk scoffed, “Because the guy died?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, whatever, Chara,” Frisk yawned, “Great taste you have there.”

The two went quiet as Coco began to sing Un Poco Loco. Chara couldn’t help but hum along to the tune–a quiet hum, just in the back of her sore throat. Frisk couldn’t even hear it over the movie.

The song ended and the movie went on. The silence between the siblings ended with Frisk asking, hesitantly and softly, “Hey, Chara?”

Chara looked over at them, meeting their eyes as Frisk sat upright, crossing their legs and leaning back into the couch. Just off of the look on Frisk’s face–of which Frisk was obviously trying to downplay their emotions, but Chara knew them too well to fall for it–Chara knew that they were…nervous about something.

“Hm?” Chara hummed, “Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m–”

“I can go grab us some more Gatorade, if you want?” She shifted in her spot, ready to stand up before Frisk then blurted, leaning forward to her a bit.

“Nono, I’m fine. I just…”

Chara settled back into her spot, slowly, looking at Frisk with furrowed eyebrows and a confused look in her eyes.

Frisk pursed their lips, hesitating yet again, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, for a while. I just…don’t know how to ask it, or when I should bring it up, so…but I want to ask it.”

“Okay?” Chara raised an eyebrow, “What is it?”

Frisk shrugged off their blanket and took the remote from the coffee table in front of the couch, muting the movie. Chara watched them do so, realizing as Frisk pressed the mute button that they were about to ask a very specific kind of question.”

“Oh.” Chara mumbled, their head falling down at their lap.

“I-I don’t have to ask,” Frisk stammered, “I know it’s-”

“No, it’s…fine?” Chara looked back up at Frisk, “It’s fine. I guess I was just expecting something like, “did you think Ernesto was his relative?” or something like that. But, if you really want to ask something…else, that’s fine.”

Frisk remained quiet, pursing their lips nervously again. Chara sighed, scooting to her left and sitting right beside Frisk. She wrapped her arm around her sibling, pulling them gently into her in an embrace. Frisk’s body instantly relaxed into hers, leaning their head against her chest. She smiled softly, her raspy voice still having a certain reassuring, proper tone and manner to it.

“Hey, remember what we’ve talked about?” Chara rubbed Frisk’s shoulder with her thumb, Frisk’s eyes falling to their lap.

“No more secrets?” Frisk mumbled.

“No more secrets, and we gotta be open and honest to each other, because we’re the only person that we have who understands one-another, right?”

Frisk nodded, “Right.”

“Then ask away. No matter the question.”

They took a deep breath in, their body stiffening up as they slowly spoke, “...why did you go to Mt. Ebbott?”

Chara’s smile faltered for a moment before falling. The two sat in silence for a minute, the flickering from the TV in the dark room adding a certain feeling of awkwardness to the tense moment.

“I’m sorry,” Frisk whispered, their voice breaking, though not because of any tears. They cleared their sore throat before speaking again, “I know…it’s a hard question. I’ve been wondering about it for a long time now, and just…I just want to know.”

Chara slowly sighed, tightening their arm around Frisk. They looked up at her, an almost apologetic, yet incredibly saddened look in their red eyes. Chara met their gaze and gave them a quick, reassuring smile.

“It’s okay. I’ve…never talked about it before. Not even with mom or dad, or…”

“Asriel mentioned it,” Frisk nodded slowly, looking back down at their lap. “the first run that we did. I don’t know if you heard it or not, but-”

“I did, I just forgot about it,” Chara chuckled shortly, “there were so many runs, so many timelines…it’s hard to remember just one conversation, is it not?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“What did he say, exactly?” Chara continued to speak slowly and quietly. She didn’t hesitate on her words, but her tone clearly showed her fear, her battle to force herself to speak.

“He said that you weren’t the greatest person, and that you hated humanity? And that he knew you didn’t fall down for…a happy reason.”

Chara didn’t reply immediately. She took a moment to find her words, to say something…well, she needed to say the truth, but didn’t want to even think about it, let alone speak the words aloud.

“Okay,” she sighed, her tone instantly changing from fear to sadness, “I…he was right, it wasn’t good.”

“...can I ask what happened?”

Chara nodded, though Frisk wasn’t looking, She bit at her bottom lip, holding back so, so many emotions as she gripped Frisk’s arm tighter, pulling their warm body closer to hers. “I haven’t told this to mom or dad, or anybody else. I’ve never told a soul about…well, my…my human parents.”

Frisk held their breath, freezing for a second. Chara had began to speak so slowly, so softly, that Frisk was sure they were going to begin to cry any moment. They knew she wouldn’t let them know she was crying–she never cried, at least, if she could help it. Chara was right, and Frisk knew it–it was a hard question, and Frisk knew it was going to be an awfully sad conversation.

“They…they hurt me. Bad,” Chara began, closing her eyes tightly, resting her chin on the top of Frisk’s head. “Since I was little. They hurt each other, and they both hurt me. My entire life with them was just…wake up, maybe eat, get screamed and hit at, and try and sleep.”

“Nobody…nobody noticed? Didn’t people and teachers at like, your school notice?”

“No, nobody said anything. The other adults around knew that if they said anything to anybody, especially the authorities, that it would just make things worse, and the other kids…they were judgey. They whispered about it, but never more than that. Nobody could help–they didn’t want to.”

“...I’m sorry,” Frisk sighed, “I’m…I’m sorry, Chara.”

Chara hummed, nodding slowly and opening their eyes just a bit, looking down at the top of Frisk’s head, “One night, I…I overheard my parents in the other room. One of them was threatening to kill the other, and…”

She trailed off, closing her lips and going silent.

“Chara?” Frisk asked, remaining still. A few seconds of silence passed and Frisk carefully pulled themselves upright, looking up at Chara’s face, “Chara–”

Tears had filled Chara’s eyes. Her red eyes were wide and her breath was shaky as she stared in a daze down at her lap.

“Chara,” Frisk said, louder, feeling as though their heart fell into their chest. Without a second thought, they got up on their knees and hugged Chara, wrapping their arms around her neck and shoulders and squeezing her as tight as they could, being sick and all. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to talk about it. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Chara began to sob, crying out loud with shaken breaths. With the movie muted, her cried carried across the house, and a second later Toriel came running from her bedroom.

“Frisk? Chara? What-” Toriel stopped in front of the two, looking down at her daughter with wide, saddened eyes. She was entirely expecting the sobbing to come from Frisk, not Chara…

“Chara, honey,” Toriel knelt down in front of the two, Frisk letting go of Chara. Toriel rested her paws on Chara’s damp, pale face, looking into her face with concern, “What is the matter?”

Chara pulled her arms out from beneath her blankets and jumped into Toriel’s arms, burying her face into her robe. Her sobs grew into bawling, gasping uncontrollably between each cry.

Frisk fell back into the couch, biting their lip and tearing up themselves. Toriel rubbed Chara’s back with one paw, the other running through her rust hair.

“What happened? Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright…”

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry.” Frisk blurted out, a tear rolling down their cheek. Toriel looked over at them, still holding Chara tight. She looked so small in her mother’s arms, like a small, helpless child.

“What do you mean? What is the matter?”

“I need…” Chara managed between cries and gasps, “t-to talk to you…”

She continued to cry as Toriel slowly let up on their embrace, resting her paws on her small shoulders as Chara sat on the edge of the couch. Her cheeks were rosier than usual, her face and shirt soaked in tears.

“Whatever it is, please…I’ve never seen you like this, Chara.” Toriel nodded slowly, saddened.

Chara glanced over at Frisk, giving them as much of a reassuring nod as she could, before looking back up at their mother.

“...about my human parents, and how I ended up with you and dad, and Azzy.”

Toriel stayed quiet for a moment, simply looking into Chara’s eyes. She nodded slowly, “Is that what this is about?”

Chara nodded, but Frisk spoke for her, “I asked about it. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Chara shook her head, her gaze still on Toriel, “you…you need to know about it. The both of you do.”

Toriel nodded again, lifting her paws off of Chara’s shoulders and taking a seat on her right. She lifted the fallen blankets over Chara’s shoulder, wrapping her up as Frisk scooted in closer to the two, leaning their head against Chara’s arm.

“Go ahead,” Toriel smiled at Chara–a smile that told Chara that, no matter she was about to say, Toriel would remain composed. While she knew that wasn’t going to be the case–not this time–Chara began again, her voice shaky and still raspy, with every few words being interrupted by a hiccup.

“My parents…hurt me. They hurt each other, and they hurt me, bad. Nobody at school said anything, ever, and neither did anyone who saw us at the store, or anywhere else. They were both always screaming. I don’t think I’d ever heard them speak…normally.”

Toriel remained quiet, as did Frisk.

(tbd)

#undertale story #undertale #one shot #from this comic idea ive had since 2016 #i'll make it one day #or maybe ill just write a fanfic for now #please let me know if you would read it #its called reset hehe #also chara uses she/her pronouns in this--a fact of which ill explain in detail if I post another one of these #artists choice!!!#chara #frisk #toriel

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bibi-likes-to-draw · 5 months

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A redraw of my favorite exposition part.

I tried doing a lineless style on this piece as a study practice and I think it turns out really well and I hope I have the opportunity to do more pieces like this.

#video games #undertale #undertale fanart #redraw #linless art #trying something different #undertale story #idk what else to tag

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steelstreqq · 11 months

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throughout my whole time in this fandom since like.. 2017, i don't think i've EVER drawn my interpretation of the human souls so i thought last night would be the perfect time.

as far as i'm aware, toby never made canonized 'alive' versions of the souls and i've seen a ton of fan iterations so i kinda figured 'okay, why not make my own little designs'!!? i love character design and i adore undertale so this was right up my alley.

i really don't know if there's a canonized or widely fanonized timeline in which these humans fell either, so fuck it!!!!!!!!!! made my own!!!!

assuming the human/monster war occurred far back enough to where the only monsters who experienced it firsthand are toriel, asgore, and gerson (who is a tortoise, an animal that lives anywhere from 80-150 years) (and boss monsters get an extended life if i remember correctly), the war most likely happened somewhere around 120~ years ago. if the fallen human (lets just say the opening scene actually depicts chara since their sweater only has one stripe) fell around 201X, all of these souls would've had to have fallen afterwards.

of course, these humans wouldn't have fallen in a consistent year pattern (such as one human per 6 years), the timeline isn't linear like that. i'd imagine it's more of a scatter plot, with dates being inconsistently close or father away.

the timeline i came up with in my head in order of humans falling is as follows:

Justice, Integrity, Kindness, Bravery, Patience, and Perseverance

the reason i believe it went in this order is mostly judging by the items the humans had on them, and what i drew them with. other interpretations like the souls falling in the same order that o. flowey uses them against you works as well. this is all just my silly fanon interp. :)) !!!

this is the first and last time i'll ever write something this long..... i hate writing so much but i guess all these words seemed to spill out. whoopsies!!!!

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thesayox · 7 months

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UnderDistortion pt.2 (final)

Chara explored the place for a bit before reaching hotland and getting inside Alphys's lab, strangely enough everything was turned off, except for the monitor that was used to follow Chara. As she looked closer at the monitor a click sound could be heard and suddendly Chara was trapped in a cage as glitches started appearing and before Chara could do anything everything went black.

When Chara woke up she saw two figures: Mettaton and Alphys, who were both ready to kill Chara, Alphys wanted to do it to avenge Undyne, and Mettaton for an eternal glory from his fans.

But before they could do anything a fireball destroyed the cage, the fireball came from Toriel who apologized for leaving alone the human, and the reason she left the ruin was to claim her throne, but before that toriel decided to help Chara against Mettaton and Alphys who no matter how many times she says that Chara killed Undyne, Toriel wouldn't believed her and so the battle started but wouldn't be longer until chara noticed the high defense that Mettaton had, and in that moment Toriel had an idea, Chara woul run away while she would take care of them since the two monsters were only interested in Chara, which wasn't really happy with the plan but it was the only choice, Chara started running away while toriel surrounded Alphys and Mettaton with her fireballs.

Chara eventually reached the MTT. Hotel but as soon as she entered, another glitch occured teleporting her into the judgement hall.

At the end of it Sans was waiting for Chara to get his revenge for killing Papyrus, and before Chara could even speak, Sans fired a gaster blaster at Chara, who dodged it, the two fought for a while with chara that only tried to spare Sans but it didn't work, and as sans was ready to use his "special attack" the lights turned off, there were only glitchy sounds as something appeared, it was Omega Flowey, who immediately attacked Chara, and managed to kill her.

Chara didn't have any determination in her soul since she got separated by Frisk/Player. And thought it was all over as she closed her eyes one last time, but something called her, a voice that said to not give up just yet (just like in a game over screen), that voice came from toriel, Chara woke up once again, ready to give to everybody their happy ending, she was filled with DETERMINATION, her attack increased, and after just a few minutes of battle as she was ready to hit Omega Flowey one last time, something happened, a glitch covered Omega Flowey and instantly deleted him with the six human souls, as Chara was teleported one last time in the judgement hall.

The place was strangely quiet before a figure appeared, a figure that looked like frisk except it was totally black with only red eyes and smile, long arms with sharp claws. It was soon revealed that the figure was the player who decided to personally take care of Chara and erasing her, Chara tried to attack the player but it didn't work as the player took no damage as the only thing the player did was stare at her before attacking, Chara tried her best to dodge all the attacks since in this battle, her new determination and abilities would've not worked, that means she had only one life.

Chara then decided to tell to the player to stop but it did not really work, but then Chara went with a different approach, she tried to tell the player that she understands their curiosity but it's not really worth it if it means the end of monsterkind, the player's attack got slower and slower until the player stopped, Chara then told to the player to close the game as she would take care of the rest before taking the player's soul and absorbing it, forcing one last reset, as the last thing that could be seen was every monster in the surface just like in the pacifist ending, with chara replacing frisk.

Credit for the pic goes to:

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haveyouseenthisskeleton · 1 year

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Out of the closet

Hello! A few weeks ago, I teased you a small one shot about one of @carlyraejepsans headcanons that inspired me a lot, which is that Sans is trans, with that small comic about Alphys and him exchanging clothes that I shared here some time ago. Well, here it is! And great news, this is also a Papyrus centric story, because why not.

Here goes the synopsis:

Like every evening after school, Papyrus prepared himself to put down his school bag at its place, on the coat rail next to the entrance door. And like every evening, he got ready to cringe because Sans would have put her things on HIS coat rail, that he would have to put away so he could hang his heavy school bag on its usual spot. This was his coat rail, they both decided it long ago. Why was it so hard for Sans to understand it?

But today, Papyrus had the surprise to find his coat rail perfectly empty and ready to be used. His backpack in his hands, Papyrus hesitated, nervous. Why was it empty? It was never empty. Papyrus made it empty. Sans always loved to put useless things that didn't even go on a coat rail just to annoy him. It was their evening routine. But that routine was now broken. It was not normal, and Papyrus hated when things were not normal.

And where is Sans anyways?

#undertale #sans #papyrus #trans sans #papyrus is not innocent #papyrus centric #hurt/comfort #angst #undertale story #undertale fic #undertale fanfic

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kokonattsu-tokui · 9 months

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Reaper x Passive!Nightmare

Hi! Here is my very first fanfic' OS published on Tumblr! I wrote this for a Discord event where you had to place the sentence 'Maybe in another life' in your story.

This is a Reaper x Passive!Nightmare. At first, it should have been a Reaper x Reader... but I had way too much imagination!

This OS is on my Wattpad account (French) too. It will become a long fanfiction. In fact, this text below is just the first chapter. But it can be read with no problem!

Considering that one is immortal and the other is six-

No. There is NO romance.

Reaper!Sans from Reapertale belongs to @/renrink.

Passive!Nightmare from Dreamtale belongs to @/jokublog.

Trigger Warning: Death, weapon, heavy blood, harassment and suicide mentions, injuries, cuss word, mental health(?). It contains some headcanons of mine. May be a bit long!

Enjoy your reading!

Maybe in another life

Sans, better known as the sorrowful nickname ‘Reaper’, detested his job. And that, for several reasons.

Firstly, he was a God of Death. Nevertheless, as it did not seem enough to assign him this horrible work as soon as he was created, he must necessarily be different from his brother. Papyrus was also a God of Death… But the painless death: he was only appearing to pure beings or those accepting their destiny from the outset. Those who were dying peacefully, having peace of mind and light-hearted. Sans, him, had to reap the souls of people who had committed atrocious crimes, whether they repented, whether they regretted... or not. In any case, they were all refusing their death. And were really impolite, mischievous or contemptuous.

Do not get him wrong, he loved his brother. Incidentally, he was wishing him never to know the agonizing aspect of their domain. At least... to never experience it.

Secondly, death knows no rest. He always had to go to such places, at such moments, to such people. He had to listen to the last prayers, the last words, the tears, the harrowing cries of the dying person or their entourage. The evidence being that, even the most corrupt of living beings could have a family, people who care about them.

Thus, Reaper was accomplishing his thankless task. And as the days, months and years passed, he lived simple, complicated situations, some giving him a rough ride, preposterous or frustrating… He was preferring some to others, without actually beginning to truly like his morbid duty.

He was preferring to precisely reap this fragile link between the soul and the body, without an ounce of bitterness. He was rarely granting five more minutes of life to those he was calling 'patients'. After all, his own were clearly not meriting it. This situation was bearable, he was managing it well and it was making his work easier, since the soul was transferred to the afterlife without a problem. Ironically, it was also the one happening the least.

Of course, there were always the other moments more... problematic. More recurrent.

If he had not been able to be present in time to reap the thread of life himself, then it would break by itself. And the complications were beginning because he had to persuade the soul to follow him or manage to catch it. Peace once dead, what a joke!

A whole plan of negotiation was then being put in place, composed of sweet words and anger contained on one side; and fury, fear and despair on the other. Reaper had to make use of all his self-control to convince the soul to finally give up. Several times, he almost lost his temper because a second lost trying to catch a single person, was letting the other dying people of the Multiverse reap themselves and repeat the same actions.

He had to literally chase, run after those spirits sometimes fleeing or hiding from him. However, never for very long: Reaper could feel their presence. He was Death itself, after all.

And there were other situations that were rarer but a lot more arduous… Like those people who, even after the reaping, were not realizing that they were henceforth intangible forever. They were more prone to become Doppelgänger, Poltergeist or any other dangerous supernatural entity in the grip of strong and negative emotions. Especially when they were finally becoming aware of their condition. And Reaper refused that, he did not want to deal with that kind of thing anymore.

He did not even want to think about the souls of Determination or any other strange type that were making him travel for nothing: they were refusing death and even him, could do nothing about it as long as their veritable time had not come. He could ignore them, yet, what was infuriating was that he just did not know how to tell the difference between these ‘false’ deaths and the ‘real’ ones. Those damned souls were dying well and truly but were refusing to accept that fact... and were coming back to life.

Alas, if his instinct as a reaper was indicating to him a Universe where he was required, hence, he had to go there. You never know. Those were the special cases he was encountering every so often.

All of this was wearying him continually. And even if, as a divine creature he did not feel physical pain or tiredness, his morale, which was already not being set fair, was always suffering a blow. Few were finally accepting their destiny after a word, following him obediently without shying away, accepting his scythe on their being or the touch of his hand. Geno had even attacked him several times.

These are the kinds of complaints that were going through Reaper’s head, as he was pursuing a spirit for the umpteenth time. His dark thoughts were whirling, assailing him and angering him as he was letting his body handle the maniac. He sighed with relief when he finally grabbed the child by the hand, sealing them forever in the afterlife. This alternative version of Chara will have given him a hard time… Certainly, he thought, the Frisk and Chara were definitely the worst to reap.

He furrowed his eyebrow arches and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the migraine showing up. He teleported himself to his next patient's house, who was supposed to come to him in two minutes. Enjoying his brief respite, the skeleton went into the kitchen and discreetly filled his cup of black coffee still lukewarm. Swallowing the liquid in no time at all, he felt much better. Fortunately, the coffee was helping him to hold on. Even though he knew he was drinking it to excess, the bitter taste was giving him a sensation of a semblance of life. But what he appreciated was the warmth of the beverage that was bringing him a vague impression of melancholy. A feeling of nostalgic plenitude was then spreading throughout his entire being during a few precious seconds.

Reaper washed his container and put it away under his tunic, making his work tool appear. A door opened on the go, the bullet flew, and his client collapsed on the ground. His scythe fell without hesitation as his wings unfolded, ready to take him to his next destination…

»——•——«

Reaper rarely met his brother.

Each of them could feel the presence of the other and know exactly where he was in the Multiverse. This was due to a magical bond whose reason for its existence remained unclear to them. Perhaps because of their status of God? Or a brother characteristic that Gaster had wanted to give them? They were not too concerned about it; it was convenient for them. The loneliness and horror of their work would have already driven them crazy.

Anyhow, their reunion would only be meaning one thing: several people with different states of mind were at death's door, or had already passed away. Many reasons could be the cause: a war, an accident, a disastrous weather event, misfortune… Generally, the two skeletons would only glance at each other in dismay or encouragement. Everything depended on the situation, which could be horrible, unbearable to observe.

Sometimes, the Gods of Death were both finding themselves in front of a confusing case. As surprising as it may seem, they realized that there were people whose death could not take part in their destiny. Like this strange gray child. Ink and Geno were also among those immortals. They were not gods. But it was close enough. They were the only living beings that Reaper could touch without turning them into dust.

It also happened that, from time to time, Core would join him or Papyrus to keep them company. Even though this walking mystery never stayed very long. The last breath, the sweetest it can be, has nothing amusing to observe even for an omnipotent being. Especially close up.

It was ironic. Death finding itself in a dead end. Where it even was no longer the point of no return. Becoming just a formality, sometimes inconceivable, sometimes forgotten or even foiled.

So, when Reaper perceived that he had to go to Dreamtale, the same place where he was currently feeling his brother’s presence, he sighed deeply. What was it going to be this time? The annoyance was already beginning to engulf him. He was already not liking what he was doing, why make his task even more complicated?

Chin up! Perhaps they will simply be in the same Alternative Universe but at completely opposite locations. In addition, he remembered that this world was rather pleasant and sweet and not much else. Well... it was hardly a bed of roses either. He had not been able to visit much to really get an idea, only the few dwellings where he had reaped a few lives. But he still remembered Dream perfectly.

The child who was almost always arriving in time with his golden apples to prevent the death of a person; this one yelling at him, with impetuosity and wickedness. It was clear that the poor boy was being exploited by these ingrates given his Guardian status. His brother Nightmare was not being outdone. Also a victim of harassment without Dream knowing anything about it, it was going as far as death threats.

Reaper gritted his teeth while scything his last soul in the world he was in, his thoughts bringing themselves up again. Now that he was thinking about it… what if it was for them that he had to go to Dreamtale? Those little ones have been surrounded by scoundrels since their creation. The probability was much too high, their short life had been a hell…

Even as a seemingly ubiquitous entity, Reaper could not see or anticipate how his patients were leaving the world of the living. He knew they were doing it, he was coming to them and that was it. However, this time, there was no doubt for him. Everything was coinciding and he was not stupid.

One was taking his own life, accepting the arrival of Papyrus. The other’s life was hanging by a thread, certainly praying for Reaper never to appear.

Shaking his head to avoid imagining this before time, the reaper teleported with a snap of his fingers, ready to put up with the miserable and unjust ending of two innocent children.

»——•——«

Reaper had always been used to predict the worst. Whether he was right or wrong, it did not matter. The outcome always remained the same.

However, when he appeared near this tree with bicolored fruits, his orbits darkened. He was feeling a heavy ambiance around him. It had everything like a ruthless war. The azure sky had made way for an oppressive blood-red one, the glowing red clouds casting a shadow over the earth. The air seemed to have cooled… a cold biting the heart, piercing it like thousands of thorns. What had occurred to the happiness? Vanished. There was nothing left but an atmosphere giving nausea, causing pain and fury to lose the head.

From the Tree of Feelings, there remained only a dried out trunk and branches, the apples entirely pitch black dangling in misfortune. Negativity was reigning supreme from this point forward, having seized this wooden throne coldly receiving it; this new queen overthrowing the balance and the peace with positivity. Murderous intentions, paranoia, depression became its mercenaries. Silence, manipulation, wickedness became its henchmen. And at the foot of it, the unintentional initiator of this coup d'état. A six-year-old skeleton, horrified, holding an ebony stained apple in his hand.

Sans felt his soul pound in his ribcage. He tensed, his hand clenching his robe at the place of the very culmination of his being. Ah… He was feeling unwell. He was feeling swooning... His vision grew darker, he could almost see a veil blindfolding him, his pupils fading. His thoughts let themselves be overwhelmed by an infernal black like a dreadful cumulonimbus. The tornado in his mind was on the increase, crushing every ounce of his reason, knocking over any capacity for judgment. His sadness transformed into grief, his anger turned into rage, his contempt changed into disgust. His body began to tremble violently, his head struck by a throbbing pain. The storm residing inside of him was growing, trying to become a hurricane.

The God of Death was ready to explode. Too much, it was way too much! Biting his tongue until the pain invaded his mouth, he grasped his head with both hands, his fingers sinking into his skull as he was bending over. His erratic breathing erratic, his soul beating faster and faster… Everything was nothing but fog and darkness. He had to free himself, he had to let this hell out! He would feel so good, so better!

One of Reaper’s frightening powers was the creation of black holes. He used them only to catch the souls fleeing from him. But it could happen that in the middle of rage, the blackness consumed him. Then, the inexorable attraction of the celestial body was destroying everything in its path. And that was exactly what was happening. A dark aura began to surround him. And all these voices echoing louder and louder in his mind kept whispering in a hypocritical way the same sentence to him: What is the use in trying to fight...?

The angel of death was falling into the throes of despair and nothing and nobody could prevent it from doing so.

“Sans! Sans! Can you hear me, Sans? Focus on my voice!”

The hooded skeleton felt two warm hands grab his cheeks, forcing him to raise his head. His empty eye sockets met his brother’s worried pupils. Sans could hear the cries of people dying around him, distinguishing blurred movements behind Papyrus who was forcing him to divert his attention only on him. The chaos was still vituperating inside of him, trying to tear him away from that life-saving touch.

In all of this shambles, Reaper had almost forgotten the person who mattered the most to him, the only one who could stop him.

“There, that’s good. Look at me, Sans. Breathe slowly. It will be okay, it happens to everyone to feel overwhelmed.” Papyrus continued in a calm voice. “You feel it too. There is still a glimmer of hope somewhere. All is not lost, don’t worry. Focus on that tiny positivity. I’m here.”

Sans suddenly grabbed hold of this one's wrists, squeezing them tightly as trying to find an anchor point somewhere in the physical world. He was not even aware that he had stopped breathing, submerged by the waves of negativity. He shut his eyes, complying with what the other god was asking of him. Slowly, his grip loosened, his own pupils reappeared. As if a light radiating from Papyrus was piercing through his clouds of qualms, dispelling his intrusive thoughts.

The divine being completely regained consciousness, hit by reality like a slap in the face. It was at that moment that he realized the heavy silence that had fallen on Dreamtale. Everything seemed devastated, abandoned, in mourning. The ferrous smell of the blood was merging with putrid lingering odors capable of turning any stomach. The soil was being permeated by a liquid as black as the abyss and emitting foul effluviums. The scarlet blood was still dripping from the bodies sliced in half with an impressive macabre sharpness. A statue resembling Dream was laying on the ground, next to a rotten trunk.

Shivers were sent down his spine as he was seeing this sudden change from this pacifist Alternative Universe to the post-apocalyptic world. No more living beings, only corpses littering the ground and zombies wandering aimlessly. The unique manifestation of life that he could feel was situated deep inside of this Dream of stone. The souls were screaming each one more so than the other, running away, crying, trying to hold their loved ones in their arms without success. This vision tugged at his heartstrings. Then, the annoyance and resignation took hold of him. Reaper hated his work.

“What happened?” he murmured, still disturbed by what he had just experienced.

Papyrus told him everything. How Nightmare had contaminated all the apples with negativity, explaining to him why Reaper had been affected so sorely by this transformation that eliminated any positive emotion from this world. How Dream had been jostled and trampled mercilessly. How Nightmare was prepared to let himself die by taking a severe beating by the inhabitants. How the God of Death had been ready to extend a hand to him in order to reassure him once he had done so.

Yet, the skeleton dressed in purple had clinged to life. And this change definitely forbade Papyrus to reap his life to his greatest displeasure. He felt helpless, he could only collect one soul from this place: a terminally ill lady that Dream was supposed to save with the last golden apple.

The brother had bit into a black apple, before eating all the others. This, while enduring incomparable suffering as the corruption was trickling from his body. As his bones were breaking, as they could not contain all the evil that was rushing in. He repeated word for word the last wish of a broken being.

He narrated everything to him, without omitting anything, with a distressed face. Papyrus was the personification of Death. But he was still Papyrus. He could not bear the suffering of others. Soon, the child disappeared, drowned in this blackish mass with a fetid smell and deadly tentacles. The screaming, the killing, the desolation.... In the matter of a few minutes only, a whole world had been condemned. In the matter of a few seconds, a pure soul had been soiled with sins.

Sans remained silent during this time, his face wearing an indescribable expression. Papyrus had released his face, standing by his side but no longer daring to look at the scenery that was giving him retching. And once his story was over, he waited for some reaction from the smallest of the skeletons.

Snorting sarcastically, this one gave a faint abstruse smile. In the distance, he could make out the souls of the unfortunate wretches, slowly becoming aware of their state or being contaminated by negativity, changing into ghostly entities and malicious spirits. If he took care of it now, he could stop things from getting more difficult. Ah, life… What a joke in bad taste! He, who had expected to discover two corpses near the Tree of Feelings, was now finding himself hunting spectral monsters. He finally opened his mouth, looking into his brother’s eyes.

“He… It just goes to show… A rotten apple spoils the barrel.” he said nonchalantly.

Papyrus stayed frozen at his sentence, giving him a disapproving look, his mind trying to assimilate what he had just heard. By the time he reacted, Sans had already pulled out his scythe, ready to go to work, snickering slightly at the face of his brother. It was doing him good to joke or make small talk with him. He was feeling his worries were going away just for a brief instant.

“Sans!” exclaimed the tall and outraged skeleton, crossing his arms like a mother scolding her child. “Seriously?!”

Of course, that comment was inappropriate in that situation. But the god knew Reaper well. When he was behaving like that, it was to conceal his angst. A way of announcing that his brother could not care less... when it was absolutely the opposite. Never was Sans speaking to him about what was going on inside his head. Never has he confided in him. They had all eternity ahead of them but Papyrus knew nothing would ever change.

The latter sighed before showing a worried expression again, deciding to change the subject to not get the reaper's back up. He cast a glance at the scowling and hissing apparitions across Dreamtale, wandering around like lost souls, spewing out a slimy and repugnant liquid. And suddenly, he felt the vital need -a way of speaking- to go to another Universe. Here he was again, in connection with a soul. It was bad timing but death never took a vacation.

“Duty calls. Will it be all right, alone?” wanted to assure Papyrus, a little guilty of having to leave Sans dealing with the consequences of the acts of one unfortunate soul.

Oh, he knew he would have no problem defeating them. But death waits for nothing and no one and every lost second counts. This disorder had probably already delayed his brother’s collection of souls.

“Don’t worry, bro. It's not the end of the world. They’re shabby, I’ll crush them to a pulp easily!” Reaper replied with a wink.

The concerned one only displayed a deadpan expression before raising his eyes to heaven, containing his annoyance at these jokes which he did not really appreciate. The off-beat humor, the misfortune of others, the self-deprecation, the polemical subjects…not for him! He waved one last time at his counterpart, wishing him good luck; then he opened a portal and crossed it, taking him away.

Sans, from now, was all alone in this reddish and seedy immensity. Shrugging his shoulders, he stared at a paranormal creature whose potency had increased tenfold by exposing itself to the evil enveloping the world. This concentration of goo was so powerful… it could ravage an entire Multiverse. With a single snap of his finger, he made a Gaster Blaster appear and fired without an ounce of remorse at what was once an ordinary living being. The deflagration and the light beam drew the attention of the other monsters, uttering shrieks before setting on the man with the scythe, feeling the danger emanating from it.

“I’m dying to drink a cup of coffee.” Death gnashed his teeth, his right eye shining with burning magic.

His cold eyes looked at his enemies defiantly. Taking a run-up, wings spreading like a shadow above them, he was ready to call the tune, his tunic twirling at his every move. His sharp blade rose, marking the tempo of a long music score. His Gaster Blaster will constitute the orchestra, his black holes will resonate the last note.

Once again, the angel of death will play that silent melody which was the eternal rest.

»——•——«

A sigh was heard when his weapon cut through the viscosity of the last evil spirit. His scythe vanished and his wings folded back as he was stretching out, his head tilting back to observe the carmine sky. Reaper was slightly tired and out of breath. His ribcage was moving up and down at the rhythm of his irregular respiration, his mouth catching gulps of air useless to his body. If he could feel the heat, he would have all the symptoms of past physical effort. A sardonic laugh escaped him at this observation.

He was a God of Death, an immortal and invincible being. Time had no impact on him, he was even flouting its law. He did not, in reality, need to eat, drink, or sleep. His touch was deadly, his weapons pitiless and the end, ineluctable. Now, at the slightest use of his magic, he was weakening and had to rest? What a quirk of fate!

His reaper instinct called him to order. Again. He had to continue his endless journey. Chasing souls, reaping, visiting the underworld from time to time. He had to forget this Alternative Universe like so many others. He clenched his jaw. He had enough. But the strings of fate were keeping him obediently under its control, like a puppet. He had to obey or it would be chaos. And everything would be his fault. Again.

He shook his head. The dismal village was standing in front of him, the harrowing silence of the place was driving him mad. No breath of wind, no bird’s song. He felt that there were only two survivors left. One turned into stone, the other was several kilometers from the village. Which was surprising. Maybe that person was immune to this corruption. Feeling uneasy, Sans prepared to say farewell to Dreamtale and teleport elsewhere.

That was when he heard it.

Sobbing, hiccups, a reedy, muffled little voice whining. Was it Dream? Had he freed himself from the spell? No. His new soul was in a lethargic state. But then, who? A ghost he would have forgotten in all likelihood? If he did, why could he not detect it?

Turning to face the hill where once stood the majestic tree, Sans put his hood back in place, starting to walk slowly towards the origin of the noises. Once he reached the top, he could not help but be surprised. Lying on the ground near the decaying roots, the statue of Dream, facing down, was covered with dust and was a sorry sight. The few remaining puddles of negativity had melted and dried around him. Notwithstanding, that was not what Reaper was looking at.

Nightmare.

On his knees, being in floods of tears on his petrified brother. He was embracing him, the pearls of water drenching the rock. His white cheeks were now puffy, letting his tears flow endlessly, that were going to soak his nice purple clothes. The circlet on his head, formerly of a brilliant gold, was from now quite morose, almost ocher. His little hands were grabbing onto the only one who had always mattered to him. He was trying to nuzzle against the cold and uncomfortable back of the Guardian of Positivity, trying to find the reassurance that he had lost through his own fault…

“Sorry! Dream, I apologize! I’m sorry! Forgive me!” he was sobbing, apologizing again and over again, his breathing jerky.

It was obvious that the little skeleton was tormented by guilt. He had never wanted this. And this heart-rending vision left a bitter taste to the God of Death. He will never experience this cruel pain in the loss of a loved one. On the other hand, just the thought of losing Papyrus was making his heart beat violently. He comprehended this attachment and all the hardship and happiness that it could bring.

“Wake up! Please, don’t leave me!” Nightmare was running out of breath, begging. “I’ll play with you! I’ll read you stories, I’ll keep teaching you to read! I’ll do anything for you, so wake up!”

The boy was being subjected to the worst torture, even after he had passed away. The psychological and physical suffering he had to endure since his birth was by far one of the worst that Reaper had ever seen during his reaping. Good grief, what the hell did fate want to do with him? Could it not leave these poor children alone?!

Without thinking, on an impulsive thought of wanting to console the child, Sans took a step forward. He stopped immediately, lowering his head, staring at his foot as if it was not belonging to him. But what exactly was he thinking? His assignment was to send the dead to the afterlife, not to help them heal from their torments! At the slightest touch, this tormented soul would perish and be finally freed. Yes, that was what he had to discreetly do.

He looked up. His eyes caught Nightmare’s open wide eyes, rooted to the spot, completely frightened. His body was trembling all over, his hands never ceasing to clasp his brother in a protective way.

“Damn it…” the god muttered.

“W-Who are you?!” cried desperately the child in purple clothes, clinging a little more to Dream.

Reaper rarely hesitated about how to proceed. The times he did, it did not end well. But at that very moment, he was lost. Moreover, although the child looked tangible, his translucent body suggested that he was now a spirit. So logically, he had to reach the kingdom of the dead. But if that was the case, where was his body? He had like... disappeared.

If only he had not had a nervous breakdown during the previous events, he or Papyrus could have seen what was going on behind them! There he was now, in front of a saddened ghost whose soul and body were nowhere to be found and his presence imperceptible! He was finding himself with a new special case on his hands! Reaper was irritated by his own behavior.

He was lost in his thoughts, his tense expression and his empty gaze alarming a little more Nightmare. All of a sudden, he felt his soul establish a connection with the latter. The Guardian of Negativity had its essence held somewhere in the Multiverse. What Sans was seeing was only an unstable and wounded illusion, ejected from its own body. The shadow of a specter. His instinct was from this point forward, yelling at him that he had one more patient. So, he had to accomplish his mortuary duty.

He clenched his fists. In one jump, one hit, it could be done. No complications, no time lost. Sans was not fond of empathy. It was a troublesome and hurtful feeling. If he had lacked it, he could have fiddled with his scythe without ever feeling anything for the deceased.

Despite that, the angel of death did not want the true end of the little one to be achieved in such a brutal manner. He had already had enough roughness in his short life. Overdoing it until the end would be just intolerable. He had to brush him or better, convince him to take his hand.

The personification of Death advanced toward his patient.

“Don’t come any closer!” shouted the apparition, leaping up to place himself in front of Dream.

With his arms outstretched to protect his loved one, Nightmare was staring fiercely at Reaper. It was obvious that he was tetanized by fear. His body was trembling and yet, he was drawing deep in his courage to maintain his gaze, sniffing from time to time. The tears had still not dried. Did he even know who he was dealing with? No, of course not. He was only six years old. And even the books he had read were just tales for babies. But he was smart. He must have understood, deep down inside.

“Relax. I won’t touch your brother.” Reaper reassured him with a placid smile.

To avoid provoking him, the hooded one stopped at a good distance from the skeleton child; who did not drop his guard for all that. Argh… How come Papyrus could find patience and witty remarks so easily? He had absolutely nothing in mind to appease the boy with the moon circlet. His black orbits were probably not inspiring trust to him. Perhaps, he had also seen his 'massive cleaning' just a few seconds ago. In any case, he could only acknowledge his bravery. What a pity that he would only show it when Dream’s safety was compromised, and not his.

“You are somewhere between life and death, a kind of in-between.” Reaper began in a voice that wanted to appear gentle. “Your brother will be fine; he’s having a nap. He’ll wake up. But you, if you stay… you’ll suffer. This world will consume you. Come with me. Where I'm taking you, peace is finally waiting for you.” He finished by holding out his hand in a benevolent gesture.

“I don’t want to. I want to stay!” protested Nightmare shaking his head.

“I’m afraid that's not possible, kiddo.” Sans replied in a bittersweet tone, restraining himself from being sarcastic.

There was no exception to the rule. After all, it was the much talked about common trait among all his patients. They were all refusing to accept their death. This was all the more so as natural for a person who only survived six years. The little boy had not even begun to live, that he already had to leave us, to part with his twin. It was breaking his heart but he could not afford to let a spirit wander, especially in a condemned Universe. He took a step forward, his wings shuddering with an unpleasant shiver.

“I can’t go! P-Please, leave us alone! I won't do it again, I promise!” cried out Nightmare, tears in his eyes. “I must take care of my brother! I must stay with him!”

His crying was showering his face once more and he had a runny nose. He could not hold back his emotions, he, who had to hide so much before. Dream was all he had left. Even the villagers did not succeed in taking him away from him. The God of Death clicked his tongue, his gaze averting the being in front of him. He was torn between affliction and the obligation to end this. The weight of these new remorse would add to the others and haunt him forever.

“Please! I want to stay with Dream!”

With a somber and contrite face, the god escaped from the eyes of Nightmare. It only took him half a second to reappear next to the little boy. His crow wings had majestically spread, the iridescent feathers hiding the sinister cinnabar ether. Their shadow singularly had a soothing aura, like a warm blanket enveloping the two brothers. The look of Sans softened, his smile becoming melancholic.

In a single second, he is within easy reach. Death never waits.

The skeleton child began to turn his head, his pupils expressing stupefaction and despair. But he did not have time to react.

Death never gives any chance.

“Sorry, kiddo. Maybe in another life…” whispered the adult, his hand tenderly placing itself on the top of the child’s head.

Death is forever inevitable.

And always and forever, Reaper will loathe his work.

#undertale #undertale fandom #undertale au #undertale universe #undertale fan au #dreamtale nightmare #undertale alternate universe #undertale fan character #reapertale #reaper sans #undertale nightmare #dreamtale #undertale multiverse #undertale fanfiction #passive nightmare #dreamtale passive nightmare #wattpad #undertale story #undertale sans

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noveltale · 1 year

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I'm posting some animations about him on TikTok, if anyone is interested

meli_melo_kitty

#undertale #undertaleua #undertale sans #undertale story #sans the skeleton #sans #sans oc

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heartandsoulcomic · 2 years

Note

when did Sarafina realize she was colorblind?

Sarafina’s almost complete achromatopsia was discovered when she was about five years old.

It was actually Frisk who first figured it out…

--------------------------------------------------

Frisk walked into the kitchen to make some after school snacks, and was surprised to see Sarafina already sitting at the table, coloring with crayons. The kindergartener usually had too much pent-up energy after class just to sit around, and Frisk would have to corral her from the backyard, giggling and running around her teenage sibling before coming inside to eat.

Sarafina glanced back at Frisk as they walked up to her, but immediately went back to scribbling on the papers set out before her, barely muttering a hello, ears drooping.

Oh dear.

They ruffled the soft fur on Sarafina’s head between her little horns. “Hey Sweetheart, how was your day?”

Sarafina just shrugged, and picked up another crayon.

Okay, try a different approach.

Frisk pulled up a chair. “Can I color with you?”

Another shrug, but a soft “Sure” as well.

Frisk reached for a sheet of paper. “So, what are we working on today --”

They faltered as they saw all the drawings in front of Sarafina. Or rather, the same drawing over and over.

A red house with a brown roof, pink and purple flowers in window beds, sitting on green grass with a blue sky and yellow sun above it. As close as a five-year-old could get to making the same wobbly picture, copy after copy.

“Are you… practicing this drawing?” Frisk frowned. “Your teacher isn’t giving you homework yet, is she?”

A small shake of her head. “No. I just wanna get the colors right.”

Frisk kept their voice light, but it was tinged with concern. “Aw, sweetheart, coloring is for fun. As long as you like it, it’s the right color.”

She sniffled. “B-but I got them wrong. Miss Jenny said.”

Before Frisk could ask why in the world a kindergarten teacher would tell a child they were coloring wrong, Sarafina started crying.

“But it w-wasn’t my fault! We were suposta read the colors on the paper to color the picture right, b-but the other kids tore the labels offa the crayons!”

Sarafina swiped angrily at her tears “I asked for new ones, but Miss Jenny told me to use the same ones as everybody. A-and she got mad after and told me I s-shouldn’t have colored it wrong just ‘cause I didn’t get what I wanted. But I d-didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, I’m sure you didn’t…” Frisk scooped Sarafina into a hug. “Let’s get our snacks, okay?”

One last sniffle. “Okay.”

Frisk put Sarafina down on the counter, thinking furiously as they pulled carrot sticks and string cheese from the fridge.

The kids had torn the labels off…

“Could you pass me an apple?”

Sarafina wrinkled her nose and poked at the fruit bowl next to her, filled with green granny apples Toriel had just bought. “I can’t eat those, I’m ‘lurgic, remember?”

Frisk smiled and quirked an eyebrow. “Intolerant, not allergic. But I’m not. Apple?”

The little girl made a face, but passed the fruit to them.

Frisk turned the green fruit over in their hands. Carefully they asked, “Sarafina? Sweetheart, what color would you call this?”

Sarafina blinked at them. “Apples are red.”

Frisk held the apple up. “Not green?”

A stubborn frown crossed her face. “Apples are red. My alphabet books said so.”

“I see. What about my shirt?”

“Huh?”

“What color is my shirt?” They pulled at the fabric of the shirt, a blue button-down with red accents on the sleeves and collar.

Sarafina stared, growing visibly upset. “I-I dunno. What color is it supposed to be?”

Frisk let out a slow breath. “Oh, Sweetheart, I think I know what’s going on… we should talk to Mom and Sans about taking you to an optometrist.”

Sarafina’s eyes widened, surprise turning to worry. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Absolutely not,” Frisk quickly reassured her. “But I think you might see things a little differently than most people. That’s why you were having trouble today. We should probably go to the optometrist to be sure.”

Frisk handed Sarafina a string cheese and picked her up. “And I think we should move you to a different kindergarten class. Your teacher sounds like a butthead.”

“Frisk!” Sarafina giggled “You’re not suposta call people names!”

Frisk grinned at her. “No, you’re not supposed to call people names. If I have significant evidence of someone being a butthead, I’m calling them a butthead.”

Sarafina laughed again. “Nooo, Mama said!”

“Alright, I guess it’s not fair if I can call people names and you can’t.”

Frisk exaggeratedly glanced around.

“Do you want to? Just once?”

Sarafina froze for a moment, then very, very quietly whispered, “Miss Jenny’s a butthead.” And burst into giggles.

Frisk carried the still giggling Sarafina to the living room, sweeping up the identical drawings and tossing them into the trash on the way.

#ask heart and soul #undertale story #heart and soul extras

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ut-cyan-kingdominruin · 3 months

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Introducing Guntiver, the deuteragonist of Kingdom In Ruin!

Guntiver is just a simple looking monster who carries around and delivers stuff for other people. AKA he's a delivery boy for basically anything people give to him. He enjoys it! And he thinks it'll look good on his resume whenever more actual jobs get established in the Underground.

He was used to more...royal delivery work, back in the day. But Toriel, the one who gave him the Royal Delivery job in the first place, left the throne, so Guntiver followed as a self appointed escort of sorts.

Then Mahogany falls down, and sets up her own little detective stop in Toriel's house. Guntiver follows them around a few times because Toriel asks him to, and eventually Mahogany has a new sidekick that can store more things than they can, along with having the miner hat to light up the way in dark areas. It can also reveal invisible ink or otherwise hidden writings! Very useful things for a detective.

Despite everything I've just said about him, he's actually a very skittish person.

I drew this in paint.net and I'm not the best with drawing on computers exclusively, so I will draw more doodles of this guy tomorrow. Also, since I hate not giving exact ages for my main characters, he's 18.

Lastly, he is NOT small, reaching up to Mahogany's shoulder (I don't have exact heights but Mahogany is tall enough for their age); hell he could probably carry them around on his head.

Also he can only speak in higher pitched Shy Guy noises https://youtu.be/Uh7oR1XRHlY?si=2JyKy6Cfr0js1bQo

Minor Q/A

"Wait, he was Toriel's escort??? Where is he in Undertale??? Where's the Delta Rune symbol???"

Guntiver is not a boss monster and will be dead of old age long before Undertale or even hypothetically Undertale Yellow start- for this story at least, Undertale is over 100 years after the events of this story. Since Guntiver also technically doesn't have a royalty-related job anymore, he scrubbed the Delta Rune off of his hat.

"What happens with him in the Genocide route?"

Honestly I've been starting to conceptualize this story as a visual novel, which I will probably make at some point in the future, so as far as I'm concerned, there is no Genocide route. ...The VN would have multiple endings, though. I know there are people out there who really dislike AUs without Genocide routes, and....good for you, I guess? The story I want to tell doesn't have room for a Genocide route and I would be more limited with what I want to do in trying to make space for one. Make your own Patience story if that bothers you so much. The genocide route wouldn't be 'canon to Undertale' in a similar fashion to UTY's Genocide route, anyway.

#undertale prequel #undertale au #undertale patience #undertale #undertale cyan #undertale story #undertale oc #undertale art #patience human #patience soul

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its-a-mimc · 4 months

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Mimic! Sans hears the last words of his loved ones once he returns to his AU, 500 years later!(to him.) Frisk didn't make it out of the ruins in this au.

#undertale #undertale au #sans #sans au #undertale story #sans oc #undertale sans #oc lore #time moves too fast

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abitoflavender · 1 month

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undertale reset is a comic/story I've been planning since 2016. my hope is to actually begin making some headway on it this year, and so I wanted to throw out a bit of information about the series, and what sort of things you can all expect!

reset will be about frisk and the monsters' lives after being freed from the underground, after a countless amount of resets, different routes, etc. they all finally have their "happily ever after", because, for whatever reason, frisk has been both freed from the soulless ghost of chara; who's pleasantries over all of their runs had grown into impatience, and a desire for something more than just mercy, as well as...something else, being gone.

after living on the surface, with monsters being integrated into humankind, for a year, frisk lives with toriel in ebott. one day, sans and frisk take an innocent trip to the mountain, and down to snowdin--once a month, frisk would go use a save within the underground, just in case something were to go awry. they find that they're unable to access their save, and them and sans go and investigate.

within the ruins, the two find something truly, truly puzzling--the first fallen human, chara themself, lying unconscious--but alive--on the bed of golden flowers.

---

I have drawings and note sheets from over the past few years I'd love to post soon, but I also have some recent character designs and even more note sheets, of which I've made in the past month. I don't have those drawings with me atm, so whenever I do, I'll post them here!!!

for now, I'll try and hype up the series as I work on it, as well as having 2 jobs and being a college student.

simply due to wanting to get this story out there--and this fun little thing called tendonitis that makes drawing hard sometimes--I'll most likely write the story first, and throw it up here and/or on my ao3 account, which is linked on this post! (I have a really, really angsty and well-written aruani/attack on titan fic on there that I wrote a while back, if anybody wanted to see some of my writing, aside from the one-shot I've posted here inspired by reset)

anyway...yeah! let me know if anybody has any questions about the series, or whatever! I'm excited to dive into it. thanks! 💜

#undertale #utreset #undertale comic #undertale story #chara #frisk #sans #undertale post runs

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kokoverse-au · 1 year

Text

Anti-LustTale

(Or Love is not forbidden)

Masterlist

Characters' Masterlist

Let's talk!

*Howdy! Attention please, if you click on the links before reading the story, there may be spoilers! Good reading!*

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Characters

Ynaa (coming soon...)

Sans (coming soon...)

Papyrus (coming soon...)

Asgore (coming soon...)

Undyne (coming soon...)

Alphys (coming soon...)

Monster Kid (coming soon...)

Toriel (coming soon...)

There are other secondary characters.

All Undertale characters are present in this Alternative Universe.

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The story's synopsys

♡ This summary comes from Wattpad, where I published this AU's story in my first language: French. Soon, I'll post all the chapters on Archive of our own, in English. ♡

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"Fuck, Sans... If you had killed this human the day you found her, we wouldn't be here..." Undyne whispered to him, filled with remorse and guilt.

She passed his hands behind his back, anti-magic handcuffs surrounding them. Checking their placing, she locked them. Sans could not tell if she was hating him. Perhaps she was blaming herself, too. Perhaps everyone was feeling a little responsible. At least, he hoped so.

"Why did you do that?" she sighed, rhetorically.

"I did it out of love." Sans simply replied.

"That's the stupidest excuse you could have chosen..."

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Fast summary of the Story

Corrupted by the Lust, monsters live a hell everyday, sex and immorality being a daily routine. Sans is one of the most luxurious of them and then, the one who had always been the most disgusted by all of that. He lost hope. He lost will.

One day, while going to this giant purple door, he found a package. A human baby. And strangely, Sans felt... at peace.

Now, Sans has something to protect from this world. And he is not going to give up, even when everyone seems to be against him. But it might be easier than he thought: it seems that this little girl can change hearts...

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Universe's specifications

Creator: @kokoverse-au/@kokonattsu-tokui (myself)

Protagonists: Ynaa - Sans

At first, it was only a story "for fun" during a RP with a friend of mine. No true plot. A bit sad but fluff mostly. Cross was in a part of the RP too.

And then the RP stopped. I wanted to write this story on Wattpad and it became : "L'amour est permis malgré tout" in French. (I translated here in "Love is not forbidden" because the true translation "Love is allowed, despite all" sounded... weird for me).

Then, I realized that I could not just leave those plot holes and all, so I just "overwrote" anything.

Cross disappeared because... well... he was useless to the story? My friend loved him so he was in the RP but in my Alternative Universe, he has no reason to be here!

So yeah. It is based on Underlust. I kept the fluff and sad parts. I made things darker (like always). And here we go: Anti-LustTale.

AND NO! THERE IS NO PEDOPHILIA OR UNDERAGE! It's a dad-daughter relationship!

There is a reason behind this name and I think it is pretty obvious. The chapters are quite long, with some Sans' POV.

Now, now...

What should I choose? Happy or bad ending? It's been a while since I invented it but it doesn't really have an end now.

This Universe is located in the Original Multiverse and the Kokoverse. There might be a slight chance that the characters will appear in the Kokoverse events.

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Anti-LustTale/Love is not forbidden (Unique Volume)

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Annoncements

I drew the cover.

Underlust belongs to nsfwshamecave-pb.

Anti-LustTale belongs to me.