Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You're bored, you're SUPER bored, everything just seems so unappealing today and you don't know why. It's starting to frustrate you now. You were perfectly fine before, happily finishing a painting you had been commissioned on Patreon, but ever since you finished putting the brushes away, it was like there was nothing to do! This was completely untrue because you have millions of games you haven't played yet, whether they're video games or board games, and plenty of fun places you could drive to! But for some reason, you're still at a loss.

Currently, you're testing to see how fast you can spin yourself in your pink & white gamer chair as a last resort. Now you're dizzy AND bored. Great. What now? You think to yourself as you try to stop the world from spinning, so you can concentrate on your thoughts. That reminds you of Jevil's theme, The World Revolving, from Deltarune. Deltarune was a fun game, even if it only had one chapter. Maybe another will come out soon? Hah, doubt it tho, lmao.

Your vision finally goes back to normal, your stomach loses the queasy feeling, and you're able to sit upright in your chair. The plush pillow on the back of it cushions your head the more you lean into it, the white ears stick up from behind it making it look like you have bunny ears. You tap your fingers against the armrests and you skim your eyes across the computer monitors, skimming over each of the icons subconsciously, and wrack your brain for an idea to pass the time.

You sigh dramatically and slouch in your chair. You look up at the popcorn white ceiling of your room in defeat and are about to give up and just go back to sleep, but as you're about to get up something on your desk glints in the corner of your eye. You turn towards the trinket and stare at its golden, polished surface, an idea coming to mind. You reach forward and grab the locket from its place, making sure to not knock down the barricade of water bottles in front of it.

You subconsciously trace your finger over the engraved rune on its front and chew on the middle of your top lip in consideration. ...I mean, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to finally play Undertale. I’ve been in and out of the fandom for, what, 5-6 years now? Your hands fiddle with the locket chain, opening and closing the clasp that lets you put it on like a necklace, and you enjoy the sound of the clasp clicking as you let your thoughts wander.

What kind of Undertale fan am I if I haven’t played the game yet? All I ever do is read fan fictions, play dating sims, and watch walk-throughs of it anyways. So, what have I got to lose? Your face warms slightly at the memory of your 15-year-old self fangirling over how attractive the games made the characters. You stare blankly at the locket, hands no longer fiddling with it and instead just cupping around the jewelry to hold it. It’s silent for a few seconds before you finally speak up.

“Fuck it.” You decide and click the locket around your neck, comfortably setting it in the middle of your chest over your soft, white, turtleneck sweater and turn back towards your computer. You open up the file library, type in the game name, and hit search. “This better be worth it or I swear.” You mumble to yourself as you scroll through the game files. As you hover your mouse over the red heart icon, excitement and antsiness running through your veins, you’re suddenly hit with a weird feeling of detachment, but you pay it no mind and double-click on the game.

A new window opens so you shut the file library and hit Shift + F4 to make the screen full-size. Music starts playing from the speakers and you nod your head to the happy rhythm and scooch your chair closer to your computer monitor. As you read along to the game prologue, you notice that the feeling of mental detachment becomes stronger as if you’re dissociating. As the story slideshow comes to an end, you feel yourself becoming heavier for some reason like you were being drugged, and your body relaxes into your chair. 

You hear the sound of the UNDERTALE title popping into view and the mini text at the bottom saying [PRESS 2 OR ENTER] to start the game, but you can’t move your hands. What’s going on? What’s happening? Why can’t I move? Am I having an episode? Am I gonna pass out? Thought after thought after thought hits your brain like freight trains as you try to regain control of your body, but your movements are sluggish and delayed.

Your eyelids droop like you’re gonna fall asleep, your eyesight defocuses, and your lips part slightly. In the corner of your eye, you see your computer screen start to glitch, and the Undertale background music starts to lag and distort too. Oh, god… You think, even though you can’t move your face to show your distress, Please don’t tell me I have a virus, please no. You want to say more, you want to see what’s happening to your computer, and you want to stay awake, but everything seems to go slower and slower, and your eyelids start to droop more.

You’re on the verge of falling completely unconscious, head lolled to the side, arms swinging at your sides as if you’re a ragdoll when you begin to hear a disembodied voice read the starting dialogue out loud.

"Long ago, two races ruled over Earth; HUMANS and MONSTERS."

"One day, war broke out between the two races.”

“After a long battle, the humans were victorious.”

As fun as it is listening to the story of undertale, I’d like to be NOT paralyzed. You think to yourself.

“Shush.”

WHAT—

“They sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell.”

“Many years later, legends said those who climbed Mt. Ebott never returned and none did.”

“Except for, of course, a human child named Frisk.”

As the mysterious voice continues with its story, you find it harder and harder to keep your eyes open, head swimming.

“This is the story of UNDERTALE.”

Of… course… it is. You say in your head, mouth too full of cotton to speak, body feeling numb.

“With the power of DETERMINATION, they befriended the monster race and freed the monsters from their confines of the underground.”

“HUMANS and MONSTERS soon began to peacefully live together once more, but a perfect happy ending doesn’t exist.”

“Not long after the monsters settled back into Ebott City, a rip in reality opened and allowed the crossing of worlds.”

W… ha… t?  I s ……. go… i …n ..g ……on?

“This was not Fate’s doing and so in an attempt to fix the abnormality within the story, Fate created DESTRUCTION, a being capable of removing the anomalies from the world and recreating balance.”

W… hy do I …feel so…… slug… i… s…h…?

“You, [Y/N], are Destruction and I welcome you to the world of UNDERTALE.”

H………………u………………h………………?

Chapter Text

The first thing you notice when you become conscious is that your whole body’s stiff as a piece of wood and that it’s cold. No, wait, scratch that, it’s fucking freezing. Why’s my room so cold? Did the AC break? Did I accidentally change the thermostat and forget? WHY’S IT SO DAMN COLD?? And… dark?

Wait, what the fuck?

You blink your eyes, and nope, it’s still pitch black. Did the electricity go out too?? What time is it even?? You shuffle your body around a little bit, groan at the stiffness of your shoulders, pick your hand up and wave it in front of your face. You can’t even see the outline of it, but you can feel its presence.

Hold the phone- Why’s my arm on the ground?? Why am I on the ground? Wasn’t I just in my chair? Did I fall out of it?

God, I have so many questions. This is hurting my head.

You sigh in annoyance, Calm the fuck down (Y/N), you’re gonna give yourself a migraine. You turn onto your back and let your arms stretch out to the sides, and that’s when you realize it. Weird, didn’t I have a carpet near my desk? I don’t remember the floor being this smooth. You hesitantly pull your arms back to your sides. You furrow your brows and it takes you a second for your brain to register. Oh wait, this is probably some weird-ass nightmare or something, I can just wake up. Duh.

You roll your eyes and then shut them tightly. Counting to five you open them as quickly as possible but still find yourself in the dark. Okay, let’s try again. And you did… about three more times… Okay, this is getting concerning, what the fuck’s going on? You’ve been boringly staring at what should be the sky, for a while now, so you decide to finally sit up. You reposition your forearms to be against the ground, sorta behind you, and sit up.

You cross your legs under you and sit leaning on your knees and thighs. You start to look around you, even though it’s all still pitch black. As you’re shuffling around, something big and heavy pokes at your chest and you remember that you still have the locket on. You look down at where you assume the locket sits and slowly move one of your arms up to your chest to grab it. 

You fumble with it for a while, before deciphering the front from the back, twist the wind-up key, and let the nostalgic, upbeat theme flow out from inside. The soft, quiet music has an almost lullaby effect on you, it does almost every time. You’re reminded of the times you used it as a way to fall asleep because it was so peaceful. You close your eyes and slowly nod your head to the beat, and as you do so, you notice that the longer the music plays, the more it almost echos around you, but not in the creepy, empty alleyway type of echo, but more like you’re wearing headphones and it’s a 4D audio. It’s nice. You could probably fall asleep like this. 

You start humming along and smile at how it strangely reminds you of your childhood. The music box soon starts to take breaks between notes, letting you know that it needs to be rewound for it to keep playing. You open your eyes (even though it’s still not going to change the fact that you can’t see) and look back down in the general direction of the locket to wind it back up again. 

Right as you pinch the windup key between your pointer finger and thumb to twist it again, a buzzing(?) feeling travels up your arms and to your chest, like you’re statically charged, making you shiver and quickly let go of the windup key. You furrow your brows and run your hand through your hair a few times. Weird… what was that about?

You blink a few times in confusion and then cautiously reach toward your chest, not wanting to get shocked again, and poke the heart-shaped music box.

...

You poke it again and sigh in relief when nothing happens, but then hiss when you're suddenly hit by bright lights. You scrunch your eyes closed and cover them with your hands. Glimpses of orange, yellow, and blue waver behind them, creating a slideshow of glowing colors.

“What in the hell?” You whisper to yourself and then rub your eyes with your hands. After your vision clears up, you gasp at what you see emitting the mix of colors.

Levitating in the air in front of your chest and the locket, was a very familiar-looking, cartoonish, 3D heart, made up of orange, blue, and yellow. The SOUL traits of BRAVERY, INTEGRITY, and JUSTICE. You gasp again in awe and realization and cup your hands around the heart, but not touching it. Your eyes trail all over the heart, as the colors inside of it move around almost like a lava lamp, and that’s when you see your hands. 

You hadn’t noticed it earlier because of the lack of light, but now that (what you assume is) your SOUL is lighting the place up, you can finally see yourself. The first thing you notice is that your hands look 2D and animated, just like the heart before you. You can’t decipher the art style as anyone’s specifically though as if it’s undecided or constantly changing, kind of like Pablo Picasso’s art style. 

You decide to use the light emitted from your SOUL to check out the rest of you. Your outfit also looks different too, drawn in the same style as your hands, giving them more of a cartoonish look, but what weirds you out the most, is that the locket has changed drastically. What used to be a shiny, golden heart-shaped locket with the royal family’s emblem printed on it was now a very pretty shade of silver with your name in place of the delta engraved crest.

“...Prettyyyyy~.” You stare at the locket’s new design in awe to yourself. You turn it over a few times and take in its deciding not to question any of the things that have happened in the last 10 minutes and update. Pocketing the locket, you look back up at the floating heart in front of you. Okay, so what do I know so far? I’m somewhere that has absolutely no light sources whatsoever, I have a SOUL, my music box’s still with me, and I look like an animated character.

…

I dunno man, this sounds a lot like I’m in the void if any of this shit is to go by… Stupid thought, but it’s the only thing you’ve got. Well, either that or you’ve been kidnapped and they did a shit job of keeping you tied up and fucked you up with some kind of hallucinogen. 

Okay, well now you don’t know what to do. Are you supposed to put your SOUL back? And if so, how the hell do you do that? You’re not touching that thing, if fanfics have taught you anything, it’s that if you touch your SOUL, you’re either going to hurt yourself, see memories, or…. Eugh. Do that . And you’d rather not do any of those.

So now you’re just boringly staring down at your SOUL, in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to do. Great. You mindlessly start making popping sounds with your mouth like the pop cat meme as you look at the floor around you. It’s solid black and feels extremely smooth, but instead of reflecting the light of your SOUL, it almost absorbs it. Which, kinda scares you, to be honest?

Welp, that’s enough focusing on the deep stuff for now. What else can you do? I mean, if I’m right, the void is an endless space of black and nothing, so I could always just walk around… You nod to yourself at the thought. Yeah, sure, fuck it. Why not go exploring? Who knows, maybe you’ll find someone. So, being mindful of your SOUL still in your hands, you stand up and make your way in a random direction, across the void.

You honestly don’t know how long it’s been, but during some point in your journey your SOUL just kinda… disappeared? From what fanfics ‘n shit has taught you, you’re supposed to “push” it back into your chest, and then it goes away. It didn’t do that though, instead it kinda just started glowing less and less until when you went to feel for it in the air your hands, it was gone. You still don’t know what the fuck that was about. And honestly, you couldn’t care. Some of the glow from your SOUL stayed around after that, and at least you could still see yourself.

After that, you kept walking, playing the music box every once in a while, and you’ve been aimlessly wandering in the dark for about… what? 20-30 minutes now? Maybe an hour? Eh, who cares, it’s not like anyone’s counting. “Pffffffbbbb-” You blow a raspberry with your mouth, “UHHHGGG- I’m so booooored,” you whine as you stop walking and hang your head. You sigh dramatically and stare at the “ground”. You scrunch your face up in contemplation, what to do, what to do?

...

“In the gallows~, or the ghetto~. In the town or the meadow~. In the billows, even over the sun~, every end of a time is another begun.” “You understand, mechanical hands are the ruler of everything. Ah, ~ Ruler of everything. Ah~ I'm the ruler of everything in the end.”

Whoah, your voice even sounds better than before, you like it.

You sit down to rest your legs. You close your eyes, nod your head, and pat your legs to the beat of the song. “Do you like how I dance? I got zirconium pants.” (“Consequential enough to slip you into a trance.”)

“Do you like how I walk? Do you like how I talk?”

(“Do you like how my face disin tegrates into chalk… ”)

“I have a wonderful wife, I have a powerful job. She criticizes me for being ego~centric.” (“Ha ha ha.”)

(“You practice your mannerisms into the wall.”) 

“If this mirror were clearer, I’d be standing so tall!”

(“I saw you slobber over clovers on the side of the hill.”)

“I was observing the birds.” (“Circle in for the kill.”)

(“I’ve been you. I know you, your façade is a scam.”)

“Y’know you’re making me cry, this is the way that I am.”

“I’ve been living a lie, a metaphorical scheme.” (“Detective, undercover, brotherhood. Objective; obscene.”)

“Oh~, no, no. Oh yeah~.”
(“Oh~, no, no. Oh yeah~.”)

Background music seems to spawn out of nowhere as you pretend to play the drums.

“Do you hear the flibbity jibbity jibber jabber with an, ‘Oh my God, I've got to get out of here or I'll have another word to sell, another story to tell, another timepiece ringing the bell!’”

(“Do you hear the clock stop when you reach the end?”)

“No, you know it must be never-ending. Comprehend if you can, but when you try to pretend to understand,”

(“You resemble a fool, although you're only a man.”)

“So give it up and smile!”
(“So give it up and smile!”)

As the music repeats its chorus, the mystery person grabs your hand and spins you around, in almost a tango. The two of you dance across the inky black flooring of the endless void as your voices echo off its imaginary walls. Nearing the end of the song, the figure grabs you by your hips and spins you around once more, dipping you at the end as the chorus comes to a close. You start laughing at the absurdity of the situation, “Pfft-”. You allow them to pull you back up and take a step back as you gain your breath. “That was quite an interesting duet, eh?”

A low, echoey chuckle comes from the person in front of you, (“Ha, I guess so. Don’t think I’ve sung with anyone in quite a while.”) You make a noise, “Don’t think I’ve ever heard someone sing with such a good voice.”) Plopping down on the floor once again, you rest your cheek on the palm of your hand and sigh. “So, what’s your name partner?” Thinking about it, their voice sounds very familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it at the moment.

You hear them shuffle around, if the sounds of their clothes are anything to go by, and suddenly a glimpse of white moves in the corner of your eye. You didn’t get a good look at them earlier because of how fast you were dancing and because they had a hood on. Soon after the shuffling stops, you feel a sharp gaze on you, not like they’re judging you, but more like they’re observing or inspecting you as a scientist would. (Like Gaster would.)

(“You… are a human, yes?”) They ask you, curiosity evident in their tone. 

You nod, “Yeah, that’s me. Dunno how I got here though.” You don’t, not even fanfics could help you with finding out how or why you’re here. (Probably some dumb cliché like soulmates though.)

(“I assume you have questions, right? It’s not every day you see another being stuck in the void, especially a human. No offense of course.”) They say, and you just shrug. “Maybe. I mean, to be honest, I don’t care, I’m not worried. I’d like to stay here if I could. It’s nice.”

(“Mm, I suppose it is...”) They say in contentment, and you nod. “You keep calling me human. Why is that?” (“Well, I don’t believe I ever got your name, and you’re a human. I can call you something different if you’d like.”) Of course, that’s why, stupid. “Guess I didn’t tell you. Well, you can call me Locket then.” You say, and of course, nickname yourself Locket. ‘I mean, who doesn’t want a cool, but simple, alias name?! I can always give my real name later if there ever is a later.’

(“Oh, well in that case I guess I should introduce myself to. My name is Dr. WD Gaster, but you can just call me Mr. Gaster.”) As he says such, he pulls his hood off and smiles at you behind his glasses, and whoa. That is… one hot skeleton. Thank god he can’t hear your thoughts, otherwise, you’d be a tomato. “...You kinda look different than I imagined.”

(“Oh, really?”) Gaster questions, curiosity lacing his words.

“Mhm, I know aaaaall about you.” He tilts his skull and raises a brow bone. (“How so?”) He asks.

“You know about the multiverse theory, right?” 

(“Yes, I believe I do. Why?”)

“Well, in a way, I’m from a different universe. One where people like me knows everyone in this world, including you and your ‘followers’, and kind of are like puppet masters. Frisk being the puppet.” You inhale deeply, “In our world, the underground and everyone in it is part of a video game called Undertale. It was an 8-bit player-interactive game released on September 15th of 2015. That’s not important though. What is important is how you play it.”

“In Undertale, you, the player, go through the underground as Frisk, the 8th fallen human. Throughout the game, you’ll encounter the monsters of the underground and it’s your decision whether you want to befriend or hurt them. Each action you make will impact the type of ending you get at the end of the game, that being after you encounter the king and leave the underground. The three main endings go as such; Pacifist - the typical happy ending where you keep your LV at 1, befriend all the monsters in the underground, and free them from the mountain, Neutral - where you neither befriend nor hurt any of the monsters enough to make an impact in the ending of the game and leave the underground by yourself, taking the 6 human souls with you, and Genocide - where you have no mercy and make it your soul purpose to kill everyone in the underground and once again leave with the six humans souls along with the dust of the innocent under your boots.”

Heaving in a breath, you cough into your arm. Gaster pats you on your back and waits until you stop practically coughing your lungs up. (“I’ll have to admit, that is a lot of information to take in. This proves so many theories of mine that even my mind is running at a pace too fast to determine.”) Your feet start to hurt from sitting on them for so long, so you reposition yourself before speaking again. “I don’t blame you, I’d be in total shock if a random person of another species dropped by out of nowhere and tried to tell me everything I’ve ever known was just code.”

He hums and you fiddle with your fingers as you wrack your brain for what else to talk about.

“A- anyways, back to what I was saying earlier. I know you have two sons named Sans and Papyrus, respectively named after the fonts, just like you. Papyrus is the taller, more energetic sibling despite being the younger brother and Sans being the lazier, shorter of the two.”

(“Papyrus is taller than Sans now? I never would’ve thought. Granted, I haven’t seen either of them since the accident, and Papyrus was still a toddler then.”) He sounds a bit sad as he says that, and it’s no question why.

“If there was one thing about watching over Frisk’s journey that annoyed me the most, it was that no matter the route they’d take, there was never a way to save you too.”

(“I don’t think there would’ve been much you’d be able to do for me anyways. Thank you, though.”) You can hear the smile in his voice. “Haha, you're welcome, I guess,” you reply, cracking a half-smile.

It goes silent for about half a minute and you almost start to think Gaster’s left, but then he speaks back up. (“Could I… try something?”) Gaster asks, hesitantly. You shrug and reply, curiosity is evident in your tone; “Yeah, sure, I don’t care. What’re you gonna do?”

(“I was hoping you’d let me CHECK you. Is that alright?”) He smiles as he says this and, honestly, you can’t say no to him. Plus, it’d be cool to see your STATs. “Oh, yeah. That’s cool, go ahead.” You smile back and turn your whole body to face him. One of his floating hands reaches out toward your chest and his fingers are spread out. His eyes take a moment to flicker down to the locket around your neck. He raises an invisible brow and chuckles, but doesn’t ask about it.

His attention turns to your sternum right above your chest and one of his eyes weakly flickers from its normal white eyelight to dark indigo mixed with a bit of royal purple. You stare at it in awe and ooh.

You’re too busy checking out Gaster’s eye to notice anything else until he speaks, (“That’s very interesting, I’ve never seen a person's STATs like that before…”) You blink in confusion and look towards where Gaster’s attention was directed, which was strangely above your head. What you say made you gasp.

Floating a few inches above your head was a black box with white sides. It was about 2-3 inches in height, 4 inches in length, and half an inch in width. It bobbed in the air like a balloon and would, once every few seconds, turn left and right a little. There was nothing on either the front or the back, but judging by the confused and slightly concerned look Gaster was giving it, that was a bad sign.

.

“Is there supposed to be something there?” You ask, still amazed by the little thing above you. You see Gaster nod in the corner of your eye, (“Yes. You see the blank space here on the front of it?”) He points to the black, space of the box that’s facing him, and you half nod in acknowledgment.

His hands drop back to his lap and he looks off to the side a bit in thought, (“Well, usually when you CHECK someone, this box appears, but only yourself and the person CHECKing you can see it. That space there is supposed to show the CHECKed person’s name, HP, ATK, and DEF.”)

“Yeah, I know that. But I don’t think I get what’s wrong yet.” You look down and fiddle with the heart around your neck as you speak. Gaster sighs and you look back at him to see that he is staring at you with such intensity, you feel like you could burn under his stare. (“In short, you, Locket, do not have any STATs.”)

You stare at him for a few seconds with a neutral expression on your face, your brain still processing his words. Your attention flickers down to the floor between you and you blink a few times, trying to come up with words to say, but only one comes up.

“...Wait, what?”

Chapter Text

“Do you haaave… chartreuse?” You squint your eyes at Gaster in scrutiny. He smirks and hides his face behind his fish shaped cards as he speaks, (“No, I do not, go fish.”)

“DAMN IT!” You cuss and begrudgingly pick up another card from the draw pile on the ground.

The two of you are currently sitting across from each other playing Go Fish with a deck of cards that managed to get voided too, to pass the time. 

(“Hmm, do you have… warm red?”) Gaster asks cheekily, ‘That little fucker-’ you think to yourself and throw your 3 card deck up in the air, revealing a (just mentioned) warm red, chartreuse, and hot pink, as you give up. “I’M DONE!” You yell.

Gaster laughs at your antics and picks up the cards to put them back in their box, (“That’s 4 games in-a-row, meaning I win.”) He says sing songily and you just huff and pout playfully. “Cheater.” You mumble under your breath, but Gaster catches it. (“Sore lo~ser.”) You snort and tell him to shush.

The sound of the cards against Gaster’s hands as he collects them, is somewhat satisfying and you start to let your mind wander back to earlier today (or yesterday? who knows how time works here.) when the two of you were talking about your STATs.

“No… stats?” You asked slowly, “But isn’t that impossible?” You watched as the floating box above your head disappeared in a blink and you looked back at Gaster. He had one of his hands on his mandible while the other just floated in midair. (“Not necessarily impossible, just… unheard of.”)

You fiddled with the loose fabric on your pants, “So, am I a good kind of special or a bad kind of special?” You asked, slight worry and curiosity evident in your voice. Gaster hummed to himself, (“I am unsure. Of course, I have never met anyone with invisible STATs before, but it could also just be something like the void messing with them.”)

You didn’t say anything, so he continued.

(“There is another way to check your STATs, but you'd have to ask another monster once you get out of the void to do it.”) You looked up from your pant leg, “Can you not do it?”

He tilted one of his hands in a so-so motion, (“I probably could, but it’s best not to test the limits of the void. I don’t want to accidentally put you in danger just because I was trying to bring you into an encounter.”)

‘Ohh, he was going to bring me into an encounter. Yeah, let’s maybe not do that here.’ You thought to yourself as you nodded to Gaster. ‘Though, I wonder what would happen if we tried that.’

There was a few moments of peaceful silence between the two of you, and you soon realized exactly how tired you were. You shuffled yourself around a bit so you were sitting crisscross, braced one of your arms on your thighs, and rested your face in your hand as you started to drift.

Gaster noticed your tiredness and tapped you on the shoulder to get your attention. You cracked an eye open and looked at him. “...Yeah?” you sleepily asked and he motioned to the void floor. (“You can lay down if it is more comfortable.”)

(“The void does use a lot of energy and it is best to stay well rested.”) “Mmh.” You made a noise in acknowledgement and moved to lay on your side. The ground was cold like an inside PE pavilion (you didn’t know why you compared it to that) and you folded your arms under your head, using the long, fluffy sleeves of your shirt as cushions.

You didn’t know if Gaster slept, but you didn’t really dwell on the thought as you were already slipping into unconsciousness. “G’night Gaster, or morning.” You sleepily mumbled, words slurring together slightly.

(“Locket?”)

(“Locket, can you hear me?”)

(“Locket, are you alright?”)

(“Locket!”)

‘Huh?’ You blink out of your flashback and furrow your brows in confusion. A hand snaps its fingers in front of your face and you flinch backwards in surprise. (“Locket, I’ve been trying to get your attention for a while now. Are you ok?”) Gaster asks, concern obvious in his voice.

“O-oh, oh uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good, just zoned out.” You stutter stupidly, “S-sorry, haha.” You laugh awkwardly and scratch the back of your neck. ‘How did I not hear him? I must’ve been really lost in my thoughts. He’s already finished putting the cards away.’ you think to yourself in embarrassment.

(“It’s alright. You just weren’t responding and I got a little worried.” ) Your mind blanks at that sentence and all emotion is gone from your face. You can hear yourself rebooting as your brain finally processes the statement and you think to yourself, ‘He was... worried? About me?? ’

You look away from Gaster and frown to yourself where he can’t see it and berate yourself in your head. ‘Don’t be stupid, (Y/N). Of course he’d be worried, you’re the only other person he talked to in… stars, who knows how long!’

(“...Locket?”) Gaster slowly asks in apprehension at why you’d gone silent so quickly. You blink yourself out of your thoughts and look back at him, “Oh, uh, sorry.”

His look of confusion changes to a warm smile and you’re suddenly reminded why he’s one of your comfort characters, (“Like I said earlier, it’s alright. I’m just glad that you’re fine.”) You smile back. ‘Cute.’ you think to yourself.

You finally break eye contact with Gaster and an awkward silence starts to form between the two of you. You start to pick at your nails as a nervous habit, trying to think of something to break the silence.

You start to brainstorm ideas for topics to chat about, but soon realize you don’t know anything about this Gaster. You know everything about him that’s mentioned in the games , but other than that, you’re clueless. Hell, you don’t even know his favorite color .

All of a sudden, you decide you’re going to find out as much as you can about this mysterious void skeleton man as you can and bond the fuck outta him.

“So…” You start off, “Do you have any hobbies?” Gaster blinks at you in confusion until he realizes that was a question, (“O-oh, well, there isn’t much to do here in the void, but I used to knit.”)

Well… that's not what you were expecting, but you’re not complaining. Interesting fact to add, whatever author is writing your story here in the void. “Ooh, really?” You ask in interest and curiosity.

He nods and the slightest amount of a lavender colored blush dusts his cheek bones. ‘Oh. My. Stars.’ You scream in your head, ‘IT’S LAVENDER!!’ He. Blushes. LAVENDER. You’re screaming, this is too much for your heart to handle. Thankfully, you’re a master at hiding your emotions, so all he sees is a smile.

“I like to sew and draw a lot.” You say absentmindedly. “Sometimes people actually paid me for my drawings, they really weren’t that good though.” You start to go on a rant about your art commissions, pausing once or twice to let Gaster add onto the conversation.

Soon enough the two of you were laughing together, sharing your most absurd stories, Gaster’s about the troubles of raising Sans and Papyrus, and you sharing about your dumb child-self moments.

As the two of you started to calm down, you finally noticed the antsy feeling in your body and shifted around, trying to make it go away.

Most of the time, you only really got this antsy and restless when you needed to stim or fidget with something, but you didn’t want to weird Gaster out with some of your more loud stims and you didn’t have any of your fidget toys.

Speaking of fidget toys, most of your fidget toys you had gotten off of amazon, but some of them were gifts from friends and family. For example, one of your favorite fidget toys was a white infinity cube that you had gotten from one of your siblings on your birthday.

Actually, now that you’re thinking of your friends and family, you wonder how they’re doing. ‘Have any of them noticed I’m gone? How much time has passed since I got here?’ You start to ask yourself these questions, but stop yourself before you think too much about it as you’re gonna give yourself a headache. 

Your mind backs up and starts thinking about how you really don’t have anything other than the clothes on you and your locket. You don’t have more clothes, or food, or necessities like a toothbrush or deodorant, or your meds, or even Ms. Penguin.

…

The initial panic of possibly having nothing from your old life except the clothes on you and the locket finally sets in. Your eyes widen like saucers and you slowly turn your head to the ground in front of you and stare at it in realization.

You hunch over your lap and put your head in your hands. “Oh my stars…” you whisper to yourself in realization. “Ohhh myyy staaars.” You cover your eyes with your palms and purse your lips.

(“What’s wrong?”) Gaster asks in concern and you move your hand up to your hair to speak, “I just- I don’t- ARRG!!!” You yell out in frustration as the words get tangled in your throat. “I don’t know if I’ll even have any of my stuff. I mean, most of it I can just buy replacements for, but I might not even have any money! Or my passport!” You throw your hands up in the air in anger and sigh.

‘Yeah, I could just buy more clothes and everything, but where will I find the money for it? I might just end up as some homeless person. Plus, even if I did manage to get all my stuff back, it still just isn’t the same. Not to mention it’d take YEARS!’

(“Pass...port?”) Gaster snaps you out of your thoughts as he asks in curiosity. You explain, “Yeah, a passport’s basically what you have as proof that you’re a citizen in that country. I live in California in the US. Since I’m over the age of 18, I have a passport to verify that I’m an American citizen. If I don’t have that, I could be arrested.”

Gaster hums, oblivious to your financial crisis, (“Ah, I see. That does seem unfortunate, but… why are you worrying about it all of a sudden? As far as I know, there’s no need for a passport here, or anything really. What would you do with it?”) He asks and you open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out.

You look down at your lap in thought, ‘He...he’s right. I might not even get out of here. I might just be stuck in the void forever.’ Your thoughts begin to swarm in realization. Gaster notices your dread, (“Oh, oh dear, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to scare you with that.”) He places a skeleton hand on your shoulder and apologizes.

You focus all your attention on the comforting feeling of his hand on your shoulder to ground yourself and place one of your hands on top of his. You sigh deeply, “No… no you’re right. I don’t know why I freaked out like that. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up...” ‘Yet, I still have some hope.’

You pat the hand on your shoulder and look back up at him with a sad look in your eyes. He looks back at you with an apologetic look, but before he can say anything, your music box starts playing on it’s own. The first note being surprisingly loud and a little off, scaring the shit out of you two.

Gaster pulls his hand back in surprise and you jump a bit in your spot. After the initial shock, you chuckled a bit and grabbed the locket, your fingers wrapping around it in a way that stops the wind-key from moving, stopping the music.

After making sure your heart rate was back to normal, brought the locket closer to your face and clicked it open. Everything inside looked normal and nothing seemed out of place. ‘Maybe my shirt tugged at it and it started playing?’ You think to yourself.

(“What are you doing?”) Oh, right, you almost forgot about Gaster. “Checking to see what might have caused my music box to start, but I can’t mind anything out of place.” You say while turning the music box every which way, inspecting it.

(“That’s what that sound was?”) He asks and you nod, “The chime? Yeah, that was this.” You decide to let it keep playing just to make sure nothing is damaged (You don’t exactly know why you thought it would be.) and twist the wind-up key.

Once you’re sure you’ve twisted it enough, you let it go and click the front back closed. You let it fall back to your chest and use the silence as the time to listen to the locket.

At first, you think it isn’t playing at all, but then it starts and you breathe a sigh of relief. That relief doesn’t last very long as you soon realize something about the music is very wrong.

Your face morphs into one of scrutiny and judgement as you glare down at the locket around your neck in confusion. The song it’s playing is definitely not His Theme/Memories.

You try to recognize the song, but nothing comes immediately to mind, so you pick the locket back up to hear it better. After a few seconds of going through possible songs in your head, it finally hits you.

The song that’s playing sounds a lot like the Undertale OST, It’s Raining Somewhere Else , but… why would it play that song? Is it important in some way?

(“What’s wrong?”) Gaster finally pipes up and you panic for a second, ‘Should I tell him the music changed?’ , you think but decide not to. “U-uh, n- it’s nothing, never mind.” You say. Today just keeps on surprising you.

(“Alright…”) He says finally, skepticism lacing his words. You have to force yourself to leave the locket alone, even though you really wanna find out why it’s playing It’s raining Somewhere Else and not His Theme/Memories.

Music boxes can’t change songs, can they? How (and why) did it change?

As the music comes to a slow stop, you start to notice very very faint wisps of a silver-white color emitting from the locket. You almost didn’t notice it, it was so thin you could have easily mistook it as steam.

The streams of silver-white came from under the hood of the locket, concerning you slightly as it almost looked like the locket was smoking.

You bring a hand up and wave it through the wisps, and it did feel almost like steam, cool and slightly moist even though it didn’t leave any remnants of water on your hand, but thicker like incense oils.

You feel eyes on you, look up from your hand for a second, and meet eyes with Gaster who was also watching the strange steam. You blink at him and the two of you then look back down at your hand and the ‘steam’.

You wave your hand through it again and watch as instead of disappearing like normal steam or incense oils would when you wave it away, it separates into smaller wisps and wove through your fingers like it was alive.

You watch in awe as it trails down your hand, past your wrist, and into your sleeve. You let the locket go and use that hand to pull back the sleeve, curious as to where the wisps would go next.

Your eyes widen a bit and you tense up in surprise and fear as you see the wisps turn a solid black on your skin, trailing up your arms like snakes and stopping right before your elbow, making your arms look like they were tattooed to look cracked.

“Whoah…” You say. “That’s freaky cool.” You smile a bit and watch as the wisps start to follow your other arm, so you switch and hold your other sleeve up. (“I… don’t think music boxes are supposed to do that, but maybe human ones are different?”) Gaster says with both concern and curiosity.

You laugh, “Hah, no, they aren’t. I should probably be concerned too, but this is too cool.”

Soon enough, both of your arms, below the elbows, are covered in swirls and streaks of black who-knows-what. You let Gaster prod at the lines on your arms while he mumbled to himself, but you’re too focused on the fact that his fingers feel like chalk on your skin to understand what he’s saying.

It feels so weird to have someone who’s hands you’d expect to feel like plastic or something because of the way he’s ‘drawn’, feel so much like smooth chalk that you almost think he’s going to leave white streaks on your arms.

You laugh in your head at that thought, but it’s cut off immediately when you suddenly feel an unnaturally cold spot on your right arm. You scrunch your face into one of discomfort and uneasiness and tug at your arms to let Gaster know that you want them back.

He lets go of your arms and you pull your right one close to your chest to itch at the spot, thinking you can make it go away, but the more you scratch at it, the bigger the feeling gets.

You start to hold your arm away from you like it’s gonna get you sick and pull the sleeve up again. You try to shake the feeling out, but nothing seems to be working.

Gaster soon notices your discomfort and asks, (“Is there something wrong?”) You make a noise, “Mmh, just, my arms feel weird.” You pull your arm back to your chest and start using different methods to get rid of the cold feeling.

(“Weird how?”) Gaster asks. You brush at your arm like it’s going to go away, but of course, it doesn’t. “Like… it’s kinda numb and cold-” Your reply gets cut off as your shriek in pain and move your arms away from your body. The cold feeling immediately bursting into hot, searing pain on both of your arms.

(“L-locket?!”) Gaster asks in worry and he moves forward to put his hands up in a placating gesture. You look at him, face scrunched up in confusion and pain. “Wh-what’s happening?” You ask, as if Gaster will have the answer.

He looks over your arms and body, trying to see and find the problem, but nothing looks different. “It’s- it’s like my arms are burning, like I just got stung by a bee, but worse!” You say frantically, trying to keep your composure and resist the urge to scratch.

Gaster starts to say something else, but the pain starts to envelope your whole arms, trailing up your body, making it feel like you’re burning alive, and your ears start ringing. You yell out in pain as tears prick at your eyes and the pain just keeps getting worse and worse and worse—.

Gaster grabs your arms lightly to get your attention, but apparently whatever is causing this didn’t like that, and sent another wave of fiery, hot pain through your whole body, causing you to flinch back and pull your arms away.

Your breath comes out it ragged, heavy pants as your lungs try to get air in through the pain. It’s all just pain. Hot, searing, fiery, torturous pain.

Just pain.

It’s all pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain,pain-(Somebody grabs your shoulders.)
painpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpain-(They’re shaking you, calling your name.)
painpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainpainPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAIN-(Your throat hurts.)
PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPA(You’ve been screaming.)
PAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINPAINHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPHELPMEPLEASEHELPITHURTSHELPHELPMEPLEASEHELPITHURTSHELPHELPMEPLEASEHELPITHURTSHELPHELPMEPLEASEHELPITHURTSHELP-

(JUST.)

HELP—

(STOP IT!)

The pain stops. Everything stops.

There’s nothing.

…

It’s all gone.

…

…

You’re alone. It’s dark.

…

Where is everyone?

...It’s all quiet.

………...Did everyone go to sleep?

……...Did they leave?

…

……...

……………...

………………………..

How many people were you with again?

Does it matter?

…..

‘I’m… sorry.’

...Huh? Who’s there?

‘It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.’

...

It’s okay, you’re forgiven.

‘I’m… I’m sorry. I…. promise, I’ll make…... it up.. to….. you.’

What a kind stranger.

‘Okay.’

…

‘Okay.’

Chapter Text

For the longest time, you feel yourself floating (or falling?) through the darkness, the imaginary wind whipping your hair every which way, tickling your face. It’s different than the darkness in the void though. You feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness multiple times, but the last time you wake up you’re no longer floating and are instead laying in a VERY fluffy, white, hammock chair that was being pushed softly from the back, making it swing.

You turn your body and curl into the fluffiness of the chair, getting ready to fall back asleep again, but the rocking of the chair soon comes to a stop and someone nudges your shoulder lightly. You nuzzle your head into your arms and make a noise, refusing to let whoever this disturbed your sleep. The person above you snickers and keeps poking you until you finally get up.

You blink blearily and rub the tiredness out of your eyes with one hand. You pick your head up and look over the back of the chair. You’re greeted with the [animated] face of a kid, no older than 13-14, with strawberry blonde, pixie-cut hair, peach-colored glasses, white skin, slightly rosy cheeks, and pitch-black eyes with white irises.

Their eyes seem to be leaking black tears despite them not crying or looking upset like watery mascara. They don’t seem bothered by it, so you don’t ask. They also have a little bit of acne near their hairline on their forehead and their chin.

Their outfit consists of a red & blue, oversized, spiderman jacket, and a white shirt underneath. You can’t see anything past their chest due to the position you’re laying in the chair. You blink at them and they smile back with the tilt of their head. They give you a look that says, ‘Done checking me out?’

“Oh, uh, yeah?” You say awkwardly, almost forgetting to respond. “Who are you anyway?”

They let go of the back of the hammock chair and walk around it in front of you. They put their hands in their pockets, but take one back out and hold out to you, a tape recorder. You look at the tape recorder in their hands and then back at their face in confusion, unsure of what exactly they want you to do with it.

They playfully roll their eyes and pick up one of your hands and place the tape recorder in it. They point to the play button on it and you hesitantly click it with your other hand. The tape recorder makes some noises as it starts whatever tape is in it. When the only noise that the tape recorder is emitting is quiet background static, the person in front of you leans onto one of their legs.

Someone on the tape clears their throat and introduces themself, “Why hello, you!! Well, ain’t that a surprise! I’m Kris, but you can just call me Error, and no, not like the sans.” You raise an eyebrow at the recorder and look back up at the stranger. They say nothing and pull one of their hands out for you to shake.

You go to shake hands with them and say “I’m Locket? It’s nice to meet you—”, but are cut off by the sound of a deflating whoopee-cushion and your face blanches. The whoopee-cushion goes on for about another 4-5 seconds before it finally runs out of air.

‘Di-did they just-?’

Kris— Error? tries their best not to laugh, but fails when you ask the dreaded question. “...Did you just prank me, with a whoopee cushion?” They let go of your hand and wrap one around their mouth before they say “Heheheheh, Toby Fox was right, IT IS ALWAYS FUNNY!”

You notice how extremely well they lip-sync to the person on the recorder, but it doesn’t click to you that the voice on the recorder is theirs until you see how they’re not lip-syncing to laugh. You gape in shock at them, so very very confused at how they got their voice to be in the recorder while also saying it out loud.

They finish laughing and sit on their knees as they wipe imaginary tears from their eyes. “Okay, haha, okay I’m done.” Error says and looks back at you. “Anyways, I can tell you’re confused, and allow me to explain. This is the anti-void and you are its god!”

“The????????? Fuck does????? That means??????????” You stare at them, very confused. You hold a hand up in front of you to stop them, many questions running throughout your head that you need to be answered. “Okay, hold on. First, how the hell did you do that??” You ask motioning to the recorder and their mouth. “And second, what the hell do you mean god??”

“Oh, well. Right, so, for that first question, it’s a secret so you gotta lean in.” You do so and they beckon you even closer until you’re a few inches from their face. They cup their hands around their mouth and whisper, “Magic.” You lean back and groan. “Noooooo, don’t be so vague. Don’t do this to me!!”

Error shrugs and leans back as they reply, “I don’t know, just one of the perks of having magic, I suppose.” You scooch back to make yourself comfy in the hammock again and huff, “Yeah, also, you haven’t answered that question. What the hell do you mean you’re a god??” Error taps their chin in thought, thinking of a way to explain. “Well,” as they begin speaking, a marker appears out of thin air and they begin drawing a diagram on the ground, “You’re not from here, of course. Your physical body is still in the reality you’re familiar with, but your consciousness and soul are here, in the dimension of Undertale.”

They draw two circles, one labeled “home” and one labeled “undertale”. Inside the circle “home” they draw a thick stick figure and erase a part of it in the shape of a heart from their chest. They move over to the circle titled “undertale” and draw a smaller circle inside of it and draw a black heart in it to symbolize your soul.

“Wait—,” you put your hands up in a ‘pause’ sign and stand up, “wait, wait, wait, wait —.”

Your head spins back towards Error, “So you’re saying this is REAL?!” Error innocently blinks at you as their eyes flip-flop colors as they blink. ”In the sense that your senses apply to this world, yes…” They smack their lips. “Physically it is impossible to travel dimensions unless you’re somehow ahead of time itself, but I’m sure you’ve heard of ‘shifting’, yes?”

“Yeah… I’ve never really believed in it though, but is that what this is?”

“Sort of. ‘Shifting’ consists of using meditation or connections with the fourth plane to create your own reality within the dimension of your choosing, it is why you’ll never meet another person shifting in your reality unless it is specifically planned. They are  called alternate universes.  This is what you are familiar with when it comes to Underfell, Underswap, Swapfell, and so on.”

To illustrate, they begin adding similar stick figures with missing hearts to the circle titled “home” and drawing other circles named shows like Stranger Things, Harry Potter, Bluey, and Homestuck with smaller circles inside of them, a heart in each. They most likely just picked names off the top of their head to explain better. “You see? They are in their own little pockets for nobody to disturb them and them to disturb nobody. They can alter the worlds how they want as it is only copies or AUs of the original world.”

“You, though,” they say as they use their finger to slowly erase the circle around the single heart in the “undertale” bubble while making eye contact with you to emphasize the importance of their action, “are in the original. As are many of the other universe’s characters, such is the reason for you. [Y/N], you have been brought here because of your ability to [ERASE] Sans and Papyrus.”

“You, [y/n], are one of  a kind . "

Holy. Shit.

As if it had been summoned, a large black and orange button appears in front of you titled “[ERASE]” in big, bold, 8-bit letters. Shock evident on your face, you slowly reach a hand out to touch it, seemingly in a trance. Only a moment before your fingers connect with the button does Error— Kris grabs ahold of your wrist and looks at you sternly. “You are a creator, [Y/N]. You have to power to wipe out this entire world and everything with it from the multiverse entirely with the simple flick of your wrist. Do not be foolish.” 

You put your hand back down and take a deep breath, your heart pounding against your chest. “So… what does this mean?” you ask.

“It means you’re the main character, and if you’re the main character,” they snap their fingers and a puff of smoke covers your vision, “you need to look the part.”

You cough and hack as the smoke engulfs your body and waves it away. After a few moments, it disappears and you freak to see how you’ve changed. Your skin is now a caramel shade of brown as if you have mixed parents and your hair is now bleached and curly hair with an under-shaved hairstyle and cross earrings. Your nails are painted black and your general physique is masculine.

You take a moment in silence to suck in all this information and process it. As you do, you realize two things. One, they somehow verbally pronounced (Y/N) and two, Error’s voice sounds extremely familiar. You can’t answer the first though, so you move on to the 2nd. “Wait- I’ve… talked to you before this… haven’t I?”

Error looks up from their lap, “Yeah, we have.”  

“You were that little voice in my head telling me to go to sleep and apologizing earlier, weren’t you?” Error’s expression changes to one of bashfulness, like a child that just got caught eating cookies. “Mmmmmmaybe,” they say and hide a smile. You start to laugh, “It’s so weird to know that a 13-year-old has the power to control my entire life.”

“I’m 14.” You give them a weird look for a second before shaking your head and snickering, “That’s even weirder.” Error starts to laugh along with you. As you look back at Error, you notice their posture starts to get droopy and they look pretty tired.

“Error,” you question them, “you good?”

They blink slowly and rub at their eyes, “Yeah… yeah I’m good, just kinda tired.”

“Do you wanna lay down?” You tilt your head and offer, motioning a hand in the direction of the hammock chair behind you. Error shakes their head and starts to stand up, “Nah, I just need to stretch it out, thanks though.” As they get to their feet, you see their expression change to concern and worry and they reach for their head. “On second thought maybe I will lay down…”

Right after they finish that sentence they start swaying on their feet and you stand up just in time to catch them as they fall completely off balance. “K– Error??” You ask worriedly, watching as their breathing slows and their eyes droop no matter how much they try and keep them open. Amid your worry and panic, you have half of a mind to realize that the music box is playing again.

You shift Error around in your arms and click open the locket with your (now) free hand. Gaze flickering back and forth between Error and the locket, you try and focus on the music. It, again, is very familiar and it only takes you a few seconds to decipher the song.

Your suspicions are right. It is Your Best Friend. Flowey’s theme.

Saving that thought for later you close the locket back up and look back to Error. You shake them a bit, waking them back up slightly, “C’mon Error, I need you to stay awake, can you do that? Please?”

They lazily lift one hand and place it on top of yours. They give you a lazy smile and say “Don’t… worry. This is… all… planned.” You shake your head, “Enough of your weird-ass riddles, tell me what the fuck’s going on with you.”

Opening their eyelids one last time, Error looks you dead in the eyes as the black stuff stars waterfall down their face. They smile at you too big to look sane and tap your forehead as they say, “Hehehe… night.”

The last thing you see before you’re suddenly knocked out is the world around you disintegrating and Error giving you a soft smile.

The first thing you do when you wake is inhale heavily and cover your eyes from the blinding sun. If you weren’t being bombarded with different stimuli causing you a bigass headache, you probably would’ve acknowledged the fact that you can see the sun and given it more thought. You try to cover both your eyes and ears to block out the loud onslaught of stimuli, but it doesn’t seem to work very well as tears start to prick at the corners of your eyes and you whimper as you can feel a sensory overload start to come on.

But suddenly, everything seems to get 10x quieter and darker, letting you calm down and Error’s voice echoes in the back of your head. Sorry about that. You relax your face (still covering your ears and eyes just in case) you reply in your thoughts, It’s alright, just wasn’t expecting it. You hear the sounds around you get louder and quieter in sections. Shit, okay, uh- do you think you’re aware enough to deal with everything now? Error asks you in your head, and you shrug. I think so? Why?

You don’t get a response, but you notice that the sounds and lights slowly start to come back and get louder. Soon, everything is back to normal and you’re suddenly hit with the biggest headache you can imagine. You groan out and turn yourself onto your side to get more comfortable. “Wh-what… the hell?,” your voice is ragged and panting like you’re dehydrated and you start to cough.

Frisk. Your mind supplies the name and you look at their hands.

Frisk is holding a brown pot with a large, very familiar, angry flower in their arms. The flower glares at you when he notices your stare, “What the hell are you looking at, human?”

He says the word human with a sneer, but it changes into a look of shock and annoyance as you see Frisk flick one of his petals and glare at him with squinted eyes.

He huffs, “Alright alright, jeeze.” He looks to the side with a face of aggravation and begrudgingly says, “I’m sorry.”

“Uhh, it’s… okay.” You awkwardly say as rub at the back of your head where you can feel a bump forming. You look down under you and spot a checkered red & white blanket laid out next to a very large tree.

Around the picnic blanket, small, white flowers are falling from the tree above and you guess it’s an apple tree. “Whoah.” You say in amazement, as the fallen flowers give the area a very aesthetic look. The flowers have little droplets of water on them which make them glint in the sun. The grass crunches under someone’s boots next to you and you turn your head only to realize it’s Frisk walking up to you.

You push yourself up off your hands to sit on your knees, but immediately fall back as the very heavy weight from before comes back. “wHOAh!” You shout in surprise and lean back at an awkward angle.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Frisk sign with one hand, but you can only decipher a few letters, leaving the rest of the sentence blank in your mind like a game of guessing the phrase.

You blink at them in awkward silence for a second. Frisk suddenly seems to get the memo that you don’t know sign language and shakes Flowey’s pot a little.

He turns his flower face towards Frisk and raises a brow (???). Frisk signs again and then motions towards you. Flowey rolls his eyes and translates, “They were asking about your backpack.”

You raise an eyebrow in confusion, My backpack? I have a backpack. It doesn’t click until you try to sit up again and the heavy weight on your back pulls you back down that you’re, indeed, wearing a backpack.

Your head turns to look over your shoulder in shock, I DO HAVE A BACKPACK?! You don’t let your disbelief show and instead swing the (white & blue striped) backpack off your shoulders to get a better look at it. “Oh yeah, almost forgot I had that.” You half mumble to yourself and start to open it.

Flowey snorts and you look back at him, “How do you forget about an entire backpack??” He starts to laugh but stops when Frisk flicks one of his petals again, but softer. “Hey!! I wasn’t even doing anything that time!” He says and huffs stubbornly.

You shrug and turn back to the backpack, curious as to what exactly it has inside of it. You unzip the biggest part and look inside. Your face changed to one of confusion and bewilderment as the backpack has nothing inside of it except for an empty, black, void.

“What the-” You’re suddenly cut off as your vision goes dark and a box similar to the one that showed your STATs appears in front of you. You, once again, decide not to question anything and look over the floating box.

As you inspect it, you notice that it looks familiar and it takes you a moment to recognize it, but when you do, you gasp. It’s your inventory boxes!

It’s not until you look at your STAT box do you realize how much of the truth Gaster was telling.

You don’t have any STATs. The box where your name is supposed to be just has a huge question mark in it and your LV, HP, ATK, DEF, EXP, and everything else except for the armor slot is completely blank.

You decide to click on the ITEM button first, and suddenly all the information in the right-most box is cleared out and replaced with different ITEMs in the backpack.

You gasp in awe at how many ITEMs are stored inside and decide to see what happens if you touch one of them by tapping the ‘Cooled Lunchbox’ words and then tapping USE.

You awe when the boxes start to fade out and the world starts to come back into view. When all the colors finally come back to you, in your hand is a black, fabric lunch box with a grey handle.

“Huh…That is all you say as you move the lunchbox around in your hands. After getting a good look at it you place it on the ground next to you and zip the backpack back up.

You’re reminded of your company when Frisk’s tiny hand taps you on the shoulder and you look up to them. They start signing again and Flowey begrudgingly translates, “IMe and Flowey are actually about to head back home, we’re already done with our picnic. I was wondering if you’d like to come with us.’ “

It’s not until after Flowey finishes translating does he realize what Frisk just asked. His head spins to Frisk, “Wh- Are you serious?! You’re gonna invite some random human stranger to our house?! Don’t you have any self-preservation skills?!?”

Frisk just shrugs with a smile that just screams mischief. Flowey scoffs loudly, “FINE! Just don’t come crying to me when they turn out to be a murderer.” He turns his head away and mutters to himself, “God you’re an idiot.”

You blink and chuckle at the two in amusement. “I mean… I don’t have anywhere else to go… so, sure. Why not?” You grab the lunchbox and backpack as you stand up and swing the backpack over your shoulder.

Turning to Frisk you motion to the picnic stuff and ask, “Do you need help packing that up?” Frisk shakes their head and places Flowey down on the ground to put the picnic stuff away.

They start by folding up the picnic blanket and then placing it in the bottom of the picnic basket. Then they pack all the food and drinks back in and close the basket. With a proud look on their face, Frisk picks up the basket with one arm and then picks Flowey’s pot back up.

You raise a brow at them and ask, “You ready to go?” They nod with a determined look and you jerk your head to the trail in front of the two of you. "Alright then kiddo, lead the way.”

And so, your adventure starts.

Chapter Text

It’s not until you’re halfway down the mountain do you realize just how long the trail is.

Your legs are aching and multiple times you have to take a water bottle from the lunchbox to keep from dehydrating. The sun beating down on your skin wasn’t helping either.

[Shockingly enough, the lunchbox was also part of the magic. As long as whatever item you needed was edible and reasonably sized to fit in a lunchbox, it was in there. (Even though reaching into it was like Mary Poppins' bag.)]

Completely oblivious to your suffering, Frisk trots confidently down the trail in front of you, not once losing speed or energy. How a 9-year-old could have so much physical endurance, you had no idea. Almost on the verge of passing out again, you stop to take another breather. Leaning over your legs with your hands on your knees, supporting you, you take deep, slow breaths.

Finally hearing your tired lungs gasp for air, Frisk stops walking and turns around. You can't see their expression from the position you're in, but they jog hurriedly back over to you and crouch in front of you so you're at face level with them. Frisk's face scrunches into concern while Flowey just looks at you in annoyance. You give Frisk a tired smile and a shaky thumbs up to reassure them you're (mostly) okay.

They don't seem to be fully convinced by that and they place Flowey down on the ground, along with the picnic basket, next to the two of you. Frisk then starts to sign to him rapidly, motioning to you every so often, while Flowey just nods along. While Frisk signs, you manage to catch your breath and comfortably sit on the grave trail, relaxing your legs in the process too.

Suddenly hungry, you reach in and pull your arm back out when you brush your hand against an apple and grab it from the magic, endless abyss that is your lunchbox. You take a few bites, relishing in the sweet, juicy flavor, and hum in contentment. Your throat and taste buds are both very satisfied that it's tasting something other than water and saliva. While you chew the apple bite in your mouth, you look around the trail.

Random weeds and vines line both sides of the path, and random trees are also scattered throughout the mountain. The trail below you is made up of pebbles, dirt (obviously), and leaves. Some of the trees bend over the trail and you thank the lord that you had decided to stop in a shady area.

You turn your head back to the apple to take another bite when you see Frisk and Flowey both suddenly turn their heads toward you. You raise a brow at the two of them and blink in confusion, “What?”

Flowey just looks at you and then back at Frisk with a skeptical look, “You think it’ll work?” Frisk gives Flowey a side glance and then gives a quick nod as they smirk at him. Flower’s head bobs to the side (as if he were shrugging), “Whatever you say, Frisk.”

You, still confused, look back and forth between the two of them in bewilderment, “Okay, what is going on?” Frisk straightens their back and signs to you, very confident in whatever they’re saying.

“Do you trust me?” Flowey translates, and for a second you think it’s him who's asking the question, but when you go to look at him, he’s staring at Frisk. You turn your attention back to Frisk and tilt your head, “Uhh, yeah? Sure, I guess.”

Frisk smiles and turns to you. "They're gonna pull out your soul," Flowey says as they hold their hand out in the air, palm facing you. You feel your center of gravity change and stumble forward a bit as a glow emits from your chest. "Woah, what the—," you mumble as your SOUL appears in front of you. The sun's glare reflects off of your SOUL, turning it into a sun catcher as its colors shine on the ground, a mix of blue, orange, and yellow.

A small black and white box appears in front of your soul, facing away from you. Frisk tilts their head as they read it and then as quickly as they pull it out, it's gone. They crouch to pick up Flowey in his pot and the picnic basket. Once they’ve got the two comfortably situated in their arms again, Frisk reaches the hand that isn’t holding Flowey’s flower pot, out to you.

Somewhat understanding now, you quickly toss the half-eaten apple back into the lunchbox and zip it back up. You hook the lunchbox over your shoulder and stand back up to grab Frisk’s hand. At first, you forget about your new height of 6’1” and are thrown off a bit, but quickly adapt to it and reach your hand out to grab Frisks.

Once you do, Frisk looks up at you and smirks cheekily, face filled with an emotion that you can’t pinpoint right this second, but doesn’t mean anything good.

Your suspicions prove to be correct as the world around you starts to lose its color. You don’t let go of Frisk’s hand, but your eyes widen in surprise and your head turns every which way as you watch the world start to dissolve (2D wise) into a blank canvas.

As the world completely disappears, a big, white box suddenly appears in the corner of your left eye, and you swing your head around to face it. To your left is a 2D, black, text box (just like your inventory boxes, but wider) bigger than even you.

You whoah in awe at the sheer size of it.

The box is blank at first, but then the text starts to fill in, each letter announced with an Undertale sound effect that you don’t know the name of.

A… save box. A literal save box. You gape like a fish and furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Anything is possible when you’re a part of fanfiction. Your eyes are so wide, they look like they’re about to pop out of your head. You just stand there, staring in absolute shock at the box, frozen in place.

"This," they say and you turn to them in shock, "is the only place I can speak freely." They turn to you, red eyes looking deep into your own. "The only place where I am not controlled by the actions or decisions of the PLAYER. Where I can be myself, Frisk." They're self-aware, you think to yourself. Behind them, you can make out a vague shape of a shadow following Frisk's moments. Chara?

When you finally snap out of your stupor you notice the pixelated, red heart floating next to the Load option. "What— you— where are we?" You clench your hands into fists by your side, feeling uneasy. "This," they smirk as the shadow behind them becomes more visible, "is void." You step back, confused and uncomfortable. This is a new situation, I don't think any fanfiction could've prepared me for this…

As the Load option is chosen, the previous text is quickly erased and replaced with a list of places and times. A glowing heart moves down the list until it gets to an item titled; Ebott City - Bus Stop. As the item is chosen, the world around you starts to dissolve as it did before, but this time it morphed into a typical bus stop.

Everything around you is frozen in time, people, plants, pets, everything. It's completely silent and all you hear is the ringing in your ears. "Frisk…," you start, peering around, "what's going on?" They hold a hand up and countdown from three. After they put all their fingers down, everything resumes and you shrink back at the sudden amount of sounds.

“What the hell just happened?” You look at Frisk incredulously and they start signing in ASL again. “We LOADed, idiot.” Flowey glares at you and rolls his eyes. You stick your tongue out at him and roll your eyes also, “Meanie.” You look around, a million emotions and thoughts running through your head. "I—" You're cut off as a phone starts to ring and you pat your pockets, looking for your phone. Before you can find it, it stops and you spot Frisk with their phone up to their ear.

They make some faces while on the phone and then put them up to Flowey's ear. He leans into the speaker before making an offended expression and telling the other person off. "You—!! Threatening a child? God, I knew you were an asshole, but not this much you damn bag of bones! Jesus Christ, screw off, idiot!" Bag of bones? Now you're interested in the phone call conversation. "now listen here, w e e d —" The voice from the other end is very familiar and you stare at the ground intently to mask your fanning. They may be arguing, but his voice will always make you swoon. Those damn skeletons. You can't hear the rest of their sentences, but it isn't nice.

"We had an emergency and LOADed, it's not like they RESET!! For fuck sake, calm down. And GOODBYE!" Flowey headbutts the phone and hangs up. Frisk doesn't look phased at all and simply sets the phone in their back pocket. Flowey grumbles in annoyance and mutters curses under his breath. You whistle Innocently, totally not listening to their conversation.

You look around for something to change the topic with and notice the pretty landscape of the city around you. Bustling streets, nice shops, and—

“Is that a nice cream stand?” You point to a man standing behind a red and yellow cart wearing an apron and hat. He has a kind smile on and waves to everyone that passes by. Frisk looks over and nods. You gasp and spin your backpack around to grab your wallet. God knows if they take -̸̢̗̩̬̜̿̅-̴̩͒̌̿͆͊-̸̨̪̞̃-̸̞̟́ as cash, but you’re damn well gonna try.

Bringing up your inventory, you tap on the imaginary button for your wallet and a black, leather wallet appears in your hand. It’s pretty plain other than the pentagram seared into it. You open it up and take a few bills out before shoving it in your back pocket and turning to frisk. “You want anything?” You ask and they nod. You close your backpack up and throw it back over your shoulders as the three of you make your way over to the stand.

“Why hello! How can I help you today?” The guy waves to you and you wave back. “Two nice creams please!” You hand him the bills and he clicks open the register before handing you your change and the two popsicles. You hand one to Frisk and Flowey sneers at you. “HEY! What about me?!” You raise a brow at him as you unwrap your delicious treat, it tastes exactly like a creamsicle. “What about you?”

“You’re not gonna get me one!?” Flowey looks at you, offended. Frisk jostles him around and motions to the popsicle in their hand. “No! I don’t wanna share yours!” He isn’t able to finish his sentence because Frisk shoves it in his mouth to shut him up. You laugh and follow Frisk as they lead you down the road, assumingly towards their house.

A few blocks away, you spot a familiar restaurant and have to physically stop yourself from fangirling and running across the busy road to Grillby’s. You avert your gaze to not distract yourself further and shield your eyes from the beauty of the restaurant/bar. “You can visit some other time, Locket,” you whisper to yourself and keep up with Frisk.

After a little while you make it to a large and rich-looking apartment building. The doorman opens the door for Frisk and lets them through without a word but the moment you try to follow, he steps in front of you and blocks your way. Frisk notices this and comes back outside. They tap the man on his pants and start signing to him. He raises a brow silently, but steps to the side and allows the two of you to enter.

The inside is very expensive looking and you anxiously follow the child to the elevator. You step inside and they press the button for the 4th floor. “So uh… what’re we doing here?” You glance down to Flowey and Frisk while casually enjoying your ice cream. “This is where we live, duh.” Flowey smacks his lips and demands another taste of the popsicle. Frisk gives it to him and nods in agreement. You shrug, “Alrighty, whatever you say, kiddo.”

Frisk squeaks and you turn your head to them in confusion. “You alright, Frisk?” They nod and sign with their free hand. “Sorry bud, I’m not fluent in ASL, remember?” They sigh and groan. It was getting pretty annoying to be unable to tell what they were saying and you were about to ask again when you hear the elevator ding. “Oh, we’re here.”

You hop off the moment the doors open and frisk beelines to a door with the number 428 on it. They knock on the door and you hear some shuffling from the other side. You hear a kind voice come from the other side and footsteps near the door. That must be Toriel, you assume and smile. There are some clicks as she unlocks the door and makes a sound of surprise as she sees you and Frisk.

“My child? Why are you back so soon? And who is this?” She eyes you warily and you awkwardly wave. Frisk signs to Toriel and her suspicious look turns into one of shock and joy. "Oh my! I had no idea!" She looks at you and holds her hand out for you to grab, "It's such a pleasure to meet you! We were beginning to think Frisk didn't have any family at all! My name is Toriel."

Wait... what? Family? Did Frisk tell her you're related to them?

“I apologize for my late appearance, but after your appearance, I was buried under a mountain of paperwork and had no energy left for anything,” you introduce yourself, “I'm a lawyer and you wouldn't believe how many cases I had to deal with, but now that I’m here, I hope to rekindle my relationship with Frisk.” Who the fuck is talking? It's not you. Those aren't your words.

...Star??? 

“Oh, how wonderful!" She shakes hands with you and Frisk throws you a smirk as they pass by her and enter the apartment. She beckons you inside and you follow her, closing the door behind you. Toriel motions for you to sit down and you take a seat on the nearby couch, placing your backpack on the ground. 

“So, tell me about your journey,” she states while smiling and brings over a plate of tea. "Well... if you couldn't tell, I'm their uncle. My sister and her husband wanted nothing to do with Frisk so I took them in. Although I guess I should've watched them more closely because one moment they're wandering off into the forest and the next they've freed a whole civilization! Not that you shouldn't have been." Seriously, who the fuck is talking for you??? wHAT KINDA SORCERY IS THIS?!? HELLO??

"I'm just glad that the two of you found each other. I've been searching everywhere,” Toriel continues as she takes a seat across from you, “After we surfaced, my main priority was to find their family in hopes of reuniting them after so long of being separated."

You hesitate a little and stare at the floor, unsure of how to react. All these odd thoughts are running through your head. Do you tell her about what happened? Tell her that they didn't have parents or do you keep it to yourself and hope they don't notice? Oh god, do you tell her or not? It's not like you're sure. For all you know, they do and you're just making it more awkward.

Toriel senses your stress and offers you a cup of tea. "Here, drink it, it'll help you sort all your thoughts." You take the cup from her hands and inhale the smell. It smells like honey but with a twinge of vanilla. You cautiously take a sip and sigh at the taste. It's kind of odd, but a good odd. Maybe a little too sweet, but still good. You don't think you'll ever get used to how tea tastes, but it's alright.

The two of you just sit in calm silence, the clock ticking in the background as you take turns sipping from your cups. After a few moments, Frisk comes back into the room without Flowey and you question it. "Where'd you put your friend?" You ask and Frisk points to a door that you assume is a bedroom. You nod in understanding and finish off your tea. "That was delicious, thank you, Toriel." She hums and smiles as she places her cup down, half finished.

"If I knew we'd have guests, I'd have made more!" She teases and covers her snout with a hand as she laughs. "I a-tea-ciate you being here, I’ve been waiting for oolong for this kind of opportuni-tea!!" She snorts loudly at her puns and you join in, god this woman is a riot. The both of you giggle at her horrid puns.

“You have to admit these puns are top quali-tea.” You snicker and lean back against the couch. In the corner of your eye, you catch the clock. '12:34 PM' reads and you hum, time traveling is really interesting. Suddenly, a phone rings and Toriel jumps up from her seat to answer it. She makes her way into the kitchen and is out of earshot. You purse your lips and give Frisk a strange look.

"So… uncle, huh?"

They shuffle and give you an awkward smile. They start to sign but then remember you don't know ASL so they grab a nearby whiteboard and start scribbling. They turn it to you and you read it.

It was the quickest thing I could come up with, what else was I supposed to tell her?

You hum in thought but agree. There wasn't anything else to say. They turn the board back around and erase it before writing on it again. Plus, now you have somewhere to stay. Wait— how'd they know you're homeless? You voice that exact thought and they kick their feet as they write a reply. A little birdy told me… The vague answer, but ok. You can probably guess who anyways. 

They erase their reply and Toriel comes back into the room. "Sorry about that, my ex-husband called…" She scratches her cheek with her paw as she chuckles, embarrassed. "No worries, me and Frisk were just chatting." She clasps her hands together as she jokes, "About good things I hope!" You nod, "of course, and we were also talking about living arrangements." Frisk jumps up and signs rapidly to their mother and she motions for them to slow down. They make the signs again and she purses her lips in thought.

"Frisk, my dear, we don't have enough room here and I don't think they'd want to move to a new apartment so soon." Frisk's face drops into a pout as they cross their arms. Toriel tries to placate the teen, "but I do recall Sans mentioning he has space?" Sans? Oh HELL yeah, roommates!! Hopefully, this isn't an anti-harem, or is it? Fuck it, it's worth the risk.

You see Frisk brighten back up and jump onto Toriel for a hug. She hugs them and then sets them back down as they turn to you. Toriel turns to you as she relays Frisks' question, "Frisk was asking if you could stay with us for a while, but unfortunately we don't have enough room. Frisk's other uncle, Sans, owns a large home along with his cousins and I believe they're currently looking for a roommate."

OKAY, PLAY STUPID LOCKET, PLAY STUPID. DON'T LET THEM KNOW YOU KNOW SANS.

"Who's Frisk?"

FUCK— NOT THAT STUPID— 

Your face lights up in a blush and you groan as you slap your face. Toriel lets out a hearty laugh with occasional snorts at your silliness and Frisk snickers from behind their hand. "Oh you are just too funny, you and Sans will get along well.”

Clearing your throat, you reply. "I— ahem would have to meet this Sans guy, but I don't see why not." Toriel nods and Frisk pumps their fist in the air, overjoyed. You roll your eyes but smile, Frisk is so strange in person. You hum, "Ah, Toriel? Do you have a bathroom?" She nods and points down the hallway behind her, "First door on the left!" You get up and make your way down the hallway to relieve yourself.

You make it to the bathroom and lock the door behind you. You walk over to the toilet and empty your bladder, fucking finally. You flush and wash your hands. As you scrub off all the dirt and grime from outside, you find yourself staring into the mirror above the sink. Today is… or has been, crazy, you think to yourself as you shake your hands off and turn off the sink. You wipe your hands on the towel nearby and sigh. Staring into your heterochromatic eyes, you take in your new appearance.

Just as Star said, bleach blonde, tan skin, piercings, and a damn good-looking smile. You laugh to yourself as you make silly faces in the mirror. And then come the more serious thoughts. There's no getting back, you run your fingers through your hair, this is my life now. This is all I have… I wonder where the real me is. In school? At home? Relaxing on my bed? In the bathroom like I am now reading this on the toilet? God only knows.

Yet, despite everything, all the crazy things so far, and your change in looks, it's still you.

Chapter Text

As you step out of the bathroom, the lingering scent of cinnamon and butterscotch fills your senses. The soft hum of activity in the apartment greets you—Frisk and Flowey are still engaged in their antics in the living room while Toriel moves about the kitchen, a familiar warmth in her expression as she catches sight of you.

"Ah, Locket, I was just about to make some tea," she offers with a gentle smile. "Would you like a cup?"

You nod, feeling a bit more at ease now that you’ve settled into the Dreemurr home. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

Toriel busies herself at the counter, selecting a tea blend with an aroma that reminds you of honey and chamomile. As the kettle begins to heat, she motions toward the couch. "Please, sit. I would love to get to know you better."

You comply, settling into the cushions as she soon joins you, pouring the steaming tea into delicate cups. The warmth seeps into your fingers as you take a sip, savoring the sweet yet slightly earthy taste.

Toriel folds her hands in her lap, studying you with curiosity. "Frisk mentioned you are a lawyer. That is quite the noble profession."

You chuckle dryly, shaking your head. "It’s… something, alright. Lately, most of my cases have involved the legal complications surrounding the monsters coming to the surface."

Toriel’s expression softens, her gaze thoughtful. "I can only imagine how difficult such transitions must be. Laws were not made with us in mind."

You nod, running a hand through your hair. "Exactly. There’s no precedent for this, so everything is being debated from the ground up. Residency laws, employment rights, and even basic citizenship recognition. I spend most of my time arguing with bureaucrats who refuse to acknowledge that monsters deserve the same rights as humans."

Toriel sighs, her ears drooping slightly. "It is heartbreaking to hear that so many still refuse to see reason. We have come so far… yet the road ahead is still long."

You take another sip of tea, letting the warmth soothe the frustration building in your chest. "I do what I can, but progress is slow. The hardest part is breaking through centuries of fear and prejudice. Some people still see monsters as threats, no matter how much evidence we provide to the contrary."

Toriel watches you with quiet understanding, her motherly presence offering a surprising sense of comfort. "Change often comes slowly, my dear, but it does come. And you are helping pave the way for a better future. That is something to be proud of."

You let out a small breath, offering her a grateful smile. "Thanks, Toriel. I guess I just needed to hear that."

She chuckles, patting your hand lightly. "Anytime, Locket. Now, would you care for another cup? I believe we have much more to talk about."

The conversation stretches on, shifting from legal battles to lighter topics—your past experiences, funny courtroom stories, and even some of Toriel’s old lessons from teaching. The afternoon sun filters through the windows, casting the room in a golden glow, as a newfound sense of belonging settles over you.

As the afternoon drifts into the evening, Frisk excitedly tugs on your sleeve, pulling you toward the living room. They set up a small whiteboard and begin attempting to teach you ASL. The lessons start simply—greetings, basic phrases, and simple questions. Flowey watches from his pot, muttering complaints but occasionally snickering at your struggles.

The evening rolls on with laughter and games, Frisk occasionally challenging you to rounds of charades to reinforce your learning. Before long, the delicious aroma of dinner fills the apartment, signaling Toriel’s cooking. A hearty meal is shared around the table, and as the final dish is cleared, the grand finale of the night arrives—a perfectly baked cinnamon-butterscotch pie, its golden crust practically glowing under the kitchen light.

Once everyone has had their fill, Toriel shoos Frisk and Flowey off to bed. After making sure they’ve settled in, she turns her attention to unfolding the pullout couch in the living room. As she arranges the blankets, she glances at you with a soft but serious expression.

"Locket… if you don’t mind me asking," she begins, her voice gentle but firm, "why did you not reach out much earlier? I understand not coming to meet us because you were so busy, but... did you not want to meet your... uhm... nibling I think the term is?"

You hesitate, shifting slightly as you process her words. The weight of the question settles heavily on you, and you exhale slowly. "It's... complicated," you admit, staring down at your hands. "At first, I didn’t even know where Frisk was. And by the time I did… I wasn’t sure if I should interfere."

Toriel listens patiently, her eyes never leaving yours. "Interfere? With what, my dear?"

You let out a quiet laugh, though there’s little humor in it. "Their story. Everything they went through in the Underground… shaped them into who they are. I worried that stepping in after everything was said and done would feel… intrusive. Like I didn’t belong."

Toriel reaches over, placing a warm hand over yours. "Family is never an intrusion, Locket. No matter how much time has passed, Frisk deserves to know they are loved, and you deserve to have a place with them."

Her words strike something deep within you. A tightness forms in your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there. "I want to be here for them now," you say softly. "If they’ll have me."

Toriel’s eyes glisten with warmth as she squeezes your hand. "Then stay. Be part of their life. That is all any of us can ask for."

A comfortable silence settles between you, the weight of unspoken regrets beginning to ease. You take another deep breath, feeling lighter than you have in a long time.

Toriel pats your hand one last time before standing. "Get some rest, my dear. We’ll talk more in the morning."

You nod, watching as she makes her way toward her bedroom, leaving you alone in the quiet living room. Laying back on the pullout couch, you stare at the ceiling, your mind still turning.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you need to be.

The scent of something warm and sweet fills the air, nudging you from the depths of sleep. Groggily, you blink your eyes open, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling for a moment before remembering where you are. The Dreemurr home. A rare sense of comfort settles over you as you stretch and sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

The smell is unmistakable—freshly baked goods. You chuckle to yourself, noting that Toriel certainly has a habit of making home-baked treats often. The scent alone is enough to make your stomach rumble, urging you out of bed.

Dragging yourself toward the kitchen, you find Toriel standing by the stove, humming softly as she flips a pancake onto a plate stacked high with golden-brown goodness. She turns as you enter, her warm smile greeting you like the morning sun. "Good morning, Locket. I hope you slept well. Breakfast is nearly ready."

You nod, settling into a chair at the table. "Morning, Toriel. Yeah, I did. Thanks. It smells amazing in here."

She chuckles as she pours tea into two cups. "Thank you, dear. Would you mind knocking on Frisk’s door to see if they’re up?"

You sigh, but comply, standing and making your way to their bedroom door. Giving it a few light taps, you wait. The silence stretches on for a second before Flowey’s unmistakably irritated voice rings out from inside. "Bug off!"

You raise a brow, amused. "Toriel’s making breakfast. You sure you wanna miss out?"

There’s some rustling before a soft ow! Sounds, followed by a huff from Flowey. "Alright, alright, I get it! No need to pinch me!" His grumbling continues, but you hear Frisk moving, so you take that as your cue to return to the kitchen.

Toriel has already set out plates by the time you sit back down. "Are they on their way?" she asks as she places a fresh stack of pancakes in front of you.

"Yeah. Flowey wasn’t exactly thrilled about the wake-up call, though," you say with a smirk, grabbing the syrup.

Toriel laughs softly, shaking her head. "That sounds about right."

As she sets a cup of tea in front of you, she clears her throat gently. "After breakfast, I was thinking we could take you back to your apartment before we head out. We’d love for you to meet more of Frisk’s monster family."

A cold pit of panic settles in your stomach. Your apartment. Right. You totally… remember your address.

The mention of your apartment jolts you into a sudden, overwhelming awareness of your current situation. You blink, trying to steady your racing heart as the knot in your stomach tightens. You know you’re supposed to remember your address, but the panic surging through you is undeniable.

Toriel notices the shift in your expression, her eyes softening with concern. "Locket, is something wrong?" she asks gently, her voice full of warmth and care.

You swallow hard, forcing a calmness you don’t feel. "It's nothing. Just… I haven’t exactly been… on top of things recently. The apartment’s fine, I just…" You trail off, unsure how to explain the discomfort. "I might need a moment."

Toriel nods understandingly, not pressing any further. "Take all the time you need, dear. There’s no rush." She offers a small smile and starts to pour more tea, her presence offering an anchor as your thoughts race.

The room falls into a quiet, comforting rhythm again, and though your mind still spins, you try to center yourself. The sense of belonging that had started to settle in last night has yet to fully take hold. But in Toriel’s home, perhaps—just perhaps—it could.

You take a slow, steadying breath, the calming influence of Toriel’s kindness grounding you. As she finishes pouring the tea, you muster up the courage to speak. “I think I just need a little time to get back into the swing of things. I’ve been a bit… disoriented, but everything’s fine.” You offer a reassuring smile, even though you know it’s not entirely true. “The address is 1457 Maplewood Avenue. It’s a small place, but it works for now.”

Toriel studies you for a moment before nodding with understanding. "Maplewood Avenue, you say? I’m sure it’s lovely. We’ll make sure to get you back there in no time."

As Frisk emerges from their room, still wiping sleep from their eyes, you feel a momentary rush of relief—at least now you can focus on getting through the day. They walk into the kitchen, stretching and yawning, with Flowey begrudgingly trailing behind them, still looking disgruntled from being woken up.

"Morning, Locket," Frisk greets you with a sleepy smile, plopping down at the table and immediately reaching for a pancake.

“Morning,” you reply, trying to hide your lingering anxiety. You can’t help but notice how effortless it is for Frisk to slip back into the familiarity of family moments—something you’re still learning to navigate.

Toriel, ever the gracious host, slides a fresh plate of pancakes in front of Frisk. "I trust you both slept well?"

Frisk nods while stuffing their face, and Flowey, begrudgingly, picks up his plate, muttering something about how he’ll never forgive you for the wake-up call. But even he can’t resist the deliciousness of Toriel’s cooking, so he keeps munching in silence.

Once breakfast is finished and the dishes are cleared, Toriel motions for you all to get ready. "Let’s get you back to your apartment, Locket. I think we’ll have time for a pleasant visit with the others afterward."

As the four of you pile into the car, you try to breathe easy. The car ride is surprisingly quiet, the sounds of the engine humming and Toriel’s soft humming make the air feel lighter. Frisk chatters with Flowey, but you focus on the route as it starts to feel familiar. Soon, the gentle curve of the road leads you into the area where your apartment is located.

As the car comes to a slow stop, you glance over at Toriel, offering her a small, somewhat nervous smile. “Thanks for the ride,” you say softly. “It’s, uh… it’s not much, but it’s home.”

Toriel returns the smile with a gentle nod, her warm eyes softening. “I’ll be here if you need anything, Locket. And here’s my number, just in case.” She hands you a small piece of paper with her contact details scrawled on it, her handwriting elegant. “Please, don’t hesitate to reach out if you need help or even just a chat.”

You take the paper gratefully, tucking it into your pocket as the door to the car opens. “I’ll be fine,” you assure her, trying to sound confident, even as the reality of the situation weighs on you. “I’ll call if I need anything. Thanks again.”

Toriel nods once more, her eyes filled with understanding. “Take care, dear.”

With a final wave, the car pulls away, leaving you standing outside your apartment complex. You stand there for a moment, feeling awkward and slightly out of place, but eventually, you take a breath and move toward the entrance.

The building seems even more run-down than you remember, the faded paint chipping off the walls and the windows grimy with neglect. The door to the building is just as unwelcoming as you remember it—rusty and a bit creaky. You approach it with a forced sense of confidence, but the moment you grab the handle, your stomach drops. It's locked.

“Wait…” you mutter under your breath, suddenly panicked. You pat down your pockets, expecting to feel the reassuring weight of your key—but there’s nothing. Your heart races as you realize you’ve forgotten it. The sinking feeling grows, and you step back, looking around for any sign of a solution. Did I seriously forget my key?

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. The last thing you want is to make a bad impression on your new "home." You glance through the windows, but the sight of the interior only makes things worse. The walls are crumbling, the floors care overed in dirt, and the air inside looks thick with dust and decay. It’s almost as if the building itself is rotting from the inside out.

You’re about to call Toriel to tell her that maybe you made a mistake when suddenly a voice echoes in your mind.

“It’s magic. All of it. The key you need is right under your nose. Under the mat, to be precise.”

Your confusion deepens, but you can’t ignore the feeling that something strange is happening. You look down at the welcome mat beneath your feet, and sure enough, there’s something different about it now. With an uncertain sigh, you crouch down and lift the mat. Beneath it, there’s a small, worn-out metal sign shaped like a welcome message, but you can feel the edges are loose.

You pull the sign up and, sure enough, hidden beneath it is a key—old and detailed, the metal showing signs of age but still solid. The moment your fingers curl around the key, something inside you clicks, and you feel the weight of it in your hand like it’s meant for you.

“Now, unlock the door. You’ll find what you need inside.”

Taking a deep breath, you walk up to the door and insert the key into the lock. As you turn the key, there’s a faint hum in the air, and just before you can process what’s happening, the door shudders, as if coming to life. The moment the lock clicks open, a symbol etched into the wood of the door lights up—a soft, glowing runic design that pulses like a heartbeat.

You step back in awe as the door swings open on its own, the hinges squeaking softly, revealing an entirely different world inside.

The rotting decay of the hallway vanishes, replaced by a beautifully furnished, warm home. The walls are freshly painted in soft, welcoming colors, the floors are gleaming wood, and the air smells fresh and inviting. The once-dilapidated building is now a cozy, well-maintained sanctuary, with rooms filled with soft lighting and welcoming furniture.

You blink in disbelief, unsure if this is a dream or if you’ve just stepped into another world entirely. But as the door remains open, inviting you in, you take a hesitant step forward.

“Welcome home, Locket. ”

Chapter Text

To any subscribers of my archive of our own account or to any of my fanfictions, I sincerely apologize for such a long hiatus. I know this is not the author's note that you wanted to see or that you were expecting another chapter update after so long, but I am here to happily announce that I have been signed up for a virtual school full time for my senior year, and that will hopefully give me more time to get back into these fandoms and my stories and continue writing them. I started all these fanfictions in middle school when I felt I had nothing else to do or no where else to be, and so I put my whole body into these stories to escape me from reality, but now that my reality is much better, and I'm much happier, I haven't been as focused on them as I used to be. Although I love the fandoms, communities, and their stories and want to create more, I have been so busy trying to get my life back together that I haven't written at all. A lot of these stories have errors or inconsistencies with writing that definitely portrays the writing of early teenager angsty-ness, so I'm hoping to rewrite my stories or do a lot of heavy editing. I cannot promise when the most recent update will be but, I know I love it so much that I will get back on it as soon as possible. 

Thank you, 

syst3m_0f_3rr0rs