Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The six souls are dead. Everybody knows that.

Nobody talks about them. Toriel mourns (or Asgore), she sometimes tells the ones who stay the tales of their predecessors. Once or twice, she will tell Sans. Sans tends to be more inclined to keep his promises then. If you know that the kid in front of you could be dead if they didn’t kill, you tend to be a bit more likely to spare them.

Sometimes those who kill them will mourn, if it’s not all Asgore. Asgore always mourns. Usually in silence. Toriel does as well, but it never does seem to help. If Undyne, or whoever it is that killed them,  makes it to the surface, to peace, it haunts them. It haunts them forever. To claim the soul of one who was so young, and just as much a person as M. K. or Frisk.Best to leave the killing to the royals.

Occasionally the impact of falling will do it without the intervention of a monster. Not very often. It might be quick, but it’s not very dramatic. The Underground tends slightly towards drama. And sometimes the souls disappear before someone can collect them. Even the unkind worlds don’t like that. Best to pad the landing surface.

The children are dead. Best to remember that.

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Sometimes Chara is alive. Sometimes it’s Frisk. (It’s usually Frisk.) Sometimes it’s someone else, usually after. We don’t talk about those timelines. They’re not pretty things.

Chara and Frisk. Frisk and Chara. They go in circles, weaving together. But they don’t get too messed up. Well, maybe once or twice. But they are always significant.

The rest of the fallen children, though? They don’t circle. They mix. Not always in rainbow order. Never the same kid twice, either. Although you'ld never know it, unless you bother asking the caretaker of the ruins. Whoever they may be.

Sometimes they’re not even children. None of them, or some of them, or most of them. They usually are, though. The only ones who get down there are those that fall through a hole on an abandoned mountain, and those tend to be… of a certain group. Maybe two.

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Being a disembodied soul isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

In the kinder worlds, they can talk to each other. They mourn their deaths, plead revenge, tell stories. They learn to fill the silence, and contemplate their fate. Silently. Usually. Just because the worlds are kind to a couple of souls, doesn’t mean they aren’t dark. Doesn’t mean the souls haven’t twisted long before they stumble underground. Not too much, though. They are still children. Children tend to keep some innocence, even when most of it is gone.

In the slightly less kind ones, (or the infinitely more kind ones) the souls aren’t alive after death, in their little jars. Maybe they wake up when they merge with a monster's soul. Maybe they don’t.

In the unkind ones, they can’t talk to each other. Isolated. Sentient. Never a good combination. They are mad when Flowey uses them, can’t be tethered to life as easily as having their soul stuffed inside a flower. For them, to be released is a mercy. The only one they will get. Unless the ruler decides to use the power to go to war with the surface. They’re not complaining by that point, though.

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Nobody talks about the children. The dead children whose souls are used to break the barrier. They are the undergrounds secret shame, for every helpful adviser tells the leader that no one will forgive a community of nightmares (and goats) for the murder of six children. Except when they do. It’s a bit confusing. Let’s just say that if there isn't a helpful human around, the monsters would probably be better off underground.

But everybody knows those children are dead. Well, most of them. The kids don’t know. Some stories aren’t told until you’re older. The meaning of sacrifice, no matter how they twist the tale, isn’t for toddlers. And everyone knows monsters are made of kindness. Until they’re not. Until they are something sour and bitter and bloody.

But that isn’t our story. Our story is about dead children. Which apparently can happen anywhere.

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The mostly dead children cheer or despair through the genoicide. They sometimes wanted to see all the monsters dead, at one point. Before they saw that they all had families. That they were people just like the children, and their families. Observing usually makes them kinder.

They weren’t all kind to the monsters. They were lost. Sometimes being lost and alone and scared and attacked makes you lash out. They tend to regret it, but there’s no going back. And justice has been served.

They usually tend to get a bit of bitter satisfaction about seeing their killers dead. Just a bit. No one likes it when Asgore kills himself. Except the ones who took the tales of sacrifice to heart. Those ones could use an adult. They’re unlikely to find one.

Sometimes Frisk’s bitterness bleeds into the souls. Sometimes they go a bit crazy. It doesn’t do that much to those isolated. There’s not much more to do. The souls who can talk try their best to stave off the madness, singing and joking and hoping, but it doesn’t always work. Souls outside of bodies are susceptible to giant forces of hate. 

At least they have the jars.

Pacifist rounds are subject to smiles and screaming. They like watching people get their happily ever afters, but they are jealous and. And then they are dead. Truely dead. Heaven or hell or purgatory or a bigger abyss is waiting.

Neutral routes generally inspire comments along the lines of “Fair enough,” “That’s when I got killed,” “Leave them alone,” or “Why are you doing that?”

Being dead sometimes makes them able to remember the resets. Sometimes it doesn’t. Most of them are a bit jealous of that power. They all seem to want to be alive.

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Everyone in the underground knows the children are dead. Which is why the Froggit manning the Multiveral Registry desk nearly had a heart attack when a girl in red and orange stripes peeked over the counter, and declared that her name was Lillian, and that she was Alphys’s little sister.

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Okay, fine. He didn't almost have a heart attack. Monsters are made of magic, not organs. Happy now?

But if he could have? He probably would have.

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That was the day the multiverse (or the charted corners of this one) learned that sometimes the kids survived. Sometimes they stayed in the ruins. Sometimes they got adopted by Sans and Papyrus. Sometimes they survived to Asgore and talked him down. Heck, sometimes Asgore decided that there was a better way to do this then killing children.

Asgore and Toriel usually don’t end up adopting any of the fallen children for a while. The loss is a fresh thing. Especially if they don’t break so abruptly. But the children are a source of hope to the underground, so they are fine. And monsters tend to live longer. They can wait a couple more decades for freedom.

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Bravery souls don’t have the best chance of surviving. Bravery is a useful virtue, but not for backing down. Not for staying alive. No matter when they fall.

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Justice souls have just about the worst chance of surviving, because if attacking with intent to kill is considered justification for murder, you are going to end up with a lot of dust on your hands.

Scared children who don’t share a moral code with the world around them don’t usually survive.

At least they will usually take Asgore’s souls, if offered. If they’re not the first. They are better off coming before the blood of children taints the Underground. They will not forgive so easily.

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Kindness souls are good at living. Most monsters only need a bit of kindness, and not all of them come from places they want to return to. And some of them will just give up.

That is if you can talk them out of dying to free them monsters. It’s easier if they show up early.

Like I said, keep the stories of sacrifice for those that understand.

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Patience souls are okay at surviving as well. They also have a tendency to wait for long periods of time to escape if they are in an unfavorable situation. Combine that with good dodging and they can do pretty well at getting somewhere and not dying. And not being powered by something that gets you in trouble constantly is always useful

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Integrity is self sustained. They are a personal virtue, so they aren’t certainly one thing or the other. That makes them better at surviving. But it all depends on who they are. They are who they are with the entirety of their being, so there are no half-measures. 

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Perseverance souls are hard. They will not give up, if they wish to return to the surface, and they aren’t determined enough to keep from dying. They will not do something as dumb as die, though. They will find ways around it. And they can sometimes preserve their way out of a few things that should have killed them.

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Of course, if there are children already alive in the underground, then it’s much more likely for the kids to survive. There is already a place for them somewhere. Even if that place is in the ruins. It’s always better if all the humans are alive. Chara is determined, though, so it doesn’t crop up as often as it should.

Or if the first human made peace with Asgore. Those ones are always good. Everybody is happy, and Asgore doesn’t have blood on his hands.

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But if you kill a monster?

You're dead.

No matter what peace you make, or how many humans have fallen before you, murderers will find no peace in the underground.

Except for the monsters.

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How do they end up down there?

Well, sometimes they get lost on camping trips. Horribly, horribly lost. They fall down a hole that they didn’t see, and end up plummeting towards a bed of flowers.

Sometimes they are abandoned at the foot of the mountain and take shelter in a cave, and get a bit too close to the edge.

Sometimes they run away from homes that aren’t filled with love and tumble down.

Sometimes they are sacrificed.

And sometimes, a child that is tired of life will remember that there is a mountain that no one ever comes back from, and jumps.

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When they are alive, they are cooks, and dancers, and doctors, and members of a royal guard which has a purpose other than hunting down humans. They are scientists and teachers, and shop owners and everything they wish to be.

When they are dead, they are hope. Hope to a people with little. But if they grew old and died in the underground, people talk about them. They honor their life. They tell stories about that human, their neighbor, their sister, their son, their partner. They are the hope of an underground. And they didn’t even have to kill for it.

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It is hard to bear witness to these happily ever afters for those who never got them for their fallen children. The caretakers of the ruins, who lost child after child after child seeing these human children who look so similar to their own, and yet so different. Sometimes they call them by the wrong names, and apologize over and over again. 

It is hard for the rulers, too. To see children who look like the ones they killed, alive and running all over. To know that they could have saved the children and everything would have been just the same. Maybe better.

It is hard to be reminded of the fact that you killed a child, or that you never held up a hand to stop it, even if you didn’t do it yourself. To be reminded that you stood idly by.

It is hard to be told why the man that looks like your father stares at you with horror in his eyes. That he killed someone who looks like you. Who could have very well been you. If you weren’t lucky. Because, as it turns out, you were very, very lucky.

At least the Frisks and Charas of the world have more kind humans. Even the ones whose souls are flavored justice. There aren’t too many of those, though. Like I said. Justice is hard to come by when you stumble into the home of people sealed within a jar. Well, the sort of justice that children tend to understand. And they are children.

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The dead children do not often have the chance to comment. But sometimes someone from a world that does not need to be evacuated, where the monsters are still down Underground will tell the souls about it. Usually the ruler, or a child. They are the ones that remember about the dead children.

The souls' reactions are… mixed. Usually more bitter if it is the ruler. “Boy, wow. We could have been better off if you didn’t kill us all? Gee, big surprise.” Or they break down, and they look on. Sadness and hope and anger and exhaustion. When it is a child, they wonder if this is the first time that the child ever saw them as people Sometimes this is the first time they ever see the child as a person. Especially if the viewing range is limited. But it usually isn’t, and they are usually kind. Sometimes the child comes back. Sometimes they talk. Sometimes they carry out a strange friendship-like thing. The souls find this strange, but not unwelcome. Usually.

They dream more clearly of what they could have been.

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Sometimes the souls make it out. They kill Asgore, or take the soul when offered.

Sometimes they tell the other humans what happened. They usually get therapy, either for the stress of what happened or for imagining a world beneath a mountain, or for jumping off. Sometimes more than one. 

Sometimes the souls try to set the underground free. This, of course, requires the sacrifice of human lives, so they do not often follow up on it. Sometimes Justice will. Only to those deserving, of course, and they tend to do better in the world above then the one below. 

Not very often, though. Most wish to forget about the Underground. About the nightmares and the monsters, and the people that had died before them and the monsters that could be destroyed easily with the guns the policemen carry. Heaven knows that some of them have killing intent enough.

Sometimes they are alive to see the monsters rise, but without Asgore? Usually not.

No one wants the burden of killing humans, and without a leader who made a bitter choice because of bitter circumstances, they usually seem to take a bit longer. A couple more lifetimes.

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The souls are upset, usually, at the fact that the Underground seems to have forgotten that they are dead children.

Of course, being the hope for an entire place full of people far kinder than any they knew appeals to some of them, but not all of them. Some of them were happy at home. Some of them do not like being sacrificed. Some of them would prefer to be remembered as children. Some of them do not like that the next phase of the plan is “Murder all the humans” and aren’t sure if humanity could survive, or know the monsters, the ones they kind of like, would all die. Some of them fall into an underground where kindness is harder to come by.

Nobody really seems to think of humans as people, which grates on the ones who  weren’t thought of as people before, because of the way that they looked, or acted, or whatever it was that made people so strange about them.

But they are usually hope, so it’s better than it could be. They could be despair. Like Chara usually is. Or Frisk. Or the angel of death. Although I suppose the angel of death does get to survive.

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The dead children often have dust on their hands.

This is first because there is no mercy in the underground for those with dust on their hands, and second because everything is either trying to murder you, or apears to be. And though you can talk your way out of combat, most of the time, these things are trying to kill you. And you only have one life. Usually.

Most people’s first response to being stabbed isn’t to joke. Running is a reasonable option, but not one made of persistence will likely pursue. Too bad common sense is not a common trait of human souls. And madness that leads to murder is not the rarest of ailme

Although not all things can be fixed with common sense, and not everything can be run from. Stay in the ruins, if you are not prepared to die, if there is no peace declared. It is where you will be safe. Well, mostly safe. Accidents can happen anywhere.

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Sometimes they talk to the flower. Usually they yell at the flower. Or the demonic tem doll. It varies. Given that the strange creature (usually a flower) likes to spend it’s time becoming a god and murdering monsters, their cooperation is… somewhat limited. Like I said. Murder isn’t a good way to make friends, especially with souls who can only see the stories of those you killed play out and talk to each other. And if they can remember? They watch you do it again and again, and again. And if they can’t? They watch  you bring about true death for those they care about. They do not know any better.

Sometimes they talk to the child. That is hard. The child never does seem to be there for very long. But he is, and then he is gone, and they are gone. 

Sometimes they talk to the ruler. If they do not remember what the flower did, they hate this one worst of all. For even if they did not kill the children, they were the ones who put the law in place, and the rulers will not often leave the business of death to others. They do not like the war that was promised and they do not like seeing the monsters killed, and they do not like Frisk or Chara’s soul among them, and they do not like how easily the humans cut the monsters down, and they do not like being freed among the dust of the people that they know care about each other.

If there is another ruler after, they do not tend to like that one much better. Because they arise after Asgore’s death, and having a dead king, and absorbing all the human souls doesn’t ever seem to be a good thing. I mean, sometimes the exiled monarch will be a wait for the last human to live their life, die, absorb all the souls and then break the barrier.  But that is unlikely. It is a simple happy ending. And those are not common in places that run on drama.

Sometimes Sans absorbs their souls. That… never does seem to work out well.

Happily endings for the souls are possible, if not likely. They never seem to be the main concern. And release is fine enough for the dead. Even if they never really did get to live.

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Sometimes the souls are reincarnated or shoved into new bodies or something of the sort. Because of Gaster or some other, stranger entity. Sometimes they want to get revenge. Sometimes they just want to go home, or track down their descendants, their grandnieces, and cousins, and whoever is left. Sometimes they want to stay with the monsters.

It tends to be a bit awkward, with Asgore. Because you know, the murder. Sometimes it’s not murder, though. Which makes everything a bit easier. Harder for everybody else, of course, but a bit easier for the children. You can give your soul away, of course. Although they are usually not all freely given. Not all those who wander are lost, and not all those that tumble down cliffs find having an (apparently) vital organ ripped from their body, (or corpse) even if they didn’t fall down completely accidentally. And Toriel (or Asgore, as the case may be) is just so nice, and even if they are bound by duty or family to move on, they get a bit of hope from it. Usually. And if you have hope, it is significantly harder to give up your soul, unless, of course, you are bound by something that is a part of you. Justice for these kind monsters. Kindness, to give them a chance that was ripped away from them by humans who are awfully close to them, so it is their duty now. And not every virtue will slide so seamlessly into place with sacrifice, so they are killed. Not always kindly, though usually. The rulers don’t tend to be overly unkind to children. Even the ones who have a thick coating of dust on their weapons.

Yeah. Some of them killed. Some of them killed and killed and killed, until a large portion of the Ruins, or Snowdin, or wherever they were were nothing but dust in the wind. Some of them were mad. Some of them though that the monsters could all die, for they are the villains in your story books. Some of them just killed those that would kill them, for justice will leave casualties. Some of them struck out of fear and desperation and bone deep weariness of everybody trying to kill you. Some of them regret it. Some of them kill, because it is either kill or die, and they kill, but do not unnecessarily turn others to dust. Never does seem to be much concern to the families of the deceased, but it helps the children some. The families will get their shot, anyway.

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The multiverse does not know how to handle the fallen children, but Frisk started with kindness, and honesty, and the rest have followed. They agree that the murder of the souls is a crime, (usually) but given the state of Asgore, they don’t tend to Impose too harsh punishments. They do, however, have a mandated reading guide, and aside from the darker universes, who usually need a lot more help then a packet of  titled “Why humans are people: How to stand up against the murder of childern” and other such things.

It is not often that a monster will actively fight the king. The ones that think of humans as people mostly fought in the war. Other than the ones who knew Chara. But they trust the king to do what’s right, even if it doesn't make sense. Or maybe they’re just scared. Or bored. Or tired. Or they find it simpler to steep in hate then find the truth. Or they will put the barest amount of effort into talking to the king, but no more. But it will not help the dead children, no matter what happens. And for a species reliant on hope, not getting to freedom, not getting the chance, standing in the way of that chance, is enough to make monsters fall down. But they are not trapped anymore, and that was not the right choice, because look at these monsters. Look at this happiness. It could have been yours, if you had tried a bit harder, fought harder. Listened to the lady at the inn, who took in a human child, and was killed by the next one. Maybe that child wouldn’t have killed her if most of the population of the underground wasn't intent on murder? Maybe the child she took in for the few weeks before the royal guard figured out what a human was would have protected her. Maybe it all would have stayed the same. Who knows. At least it would spice up the genocide runs for the killers.

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Even though murder is common, genocide isn’t. Toriel is sweet. Most children won’t kill her. The monsters of the ruins are not so awful. Except Vegetoids. Anyway, Papyrus is sweet. And it can’t be genocide if you are killed before completing it. Most of them haven’t the heart for it anyway. And there are always forces that interfere. Well, not always. But it’s pretty normal. Even if they don’t do very much. Or even what they can. They tend to like to leave Frisk with the decision of how the world will go. Which means that the humans are usually dead, and the Underground is almost never empty. Almost. Be careful in dusty caves, will you? There is no telling what tragedy has occurred.

Anyway, it takes a special sort of madness, or conviction to decide to kill everyone. A sort of… determination if you will. Perseverance just isn’t quite the same. Not quite intense enough. Integry? Maybe. But what part of you demands every life taken?

Who would just start with genocide? Perhaps a scared child. But not often.

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It is a strange sight, to see the fallen children leaping and playing and dancing and reading to an outsider. But it is a welcome one, usually. And even if it isn’t? Well, I don’t believe that they care what you think. They have found a happily ever after. And they are not letting go.

Chapter Text

The multiverse is a collection  of aus that found each other, somehow, and began to talk and trade and swap stories. When the first universe got to the surface, monsters flocked. Some of them just go for short jaunts to see the stars before it’s time. Some of them stay. The ones who go for short jaunts often find themself confused when the world they reside in is rather different. Not everything is steampunk and mages, you know. Although the worlds from the beginning tend to be mostly similar.

Then they stumbled upon a place that was nothing but surface. It was good land for building, and there were so many anti-monster campaigns, and genocides, and it was empty, and they could see the sky, so they began to build. And reach out to new universes. There wasn’t much variation at first, like I said. Personalities shifted around a bit, Sans is still a scientist, everybody is more prone to violence, but monsters don’t dust often. Things like that. More variation as time went on. And soon they needed to open a registry. They still have Asgore in charge of naming things. It makes it feel like home.

And then they stumble across Horrortale. Yeah. ‘Nuff said. They start trying to take in places like that. It is mostly frequencies and such, and they aren’t sure if it has any effect on it, but as they deviate they get wilder and stranger. So that answers that question. Moving back to the subject at hand. Monsters are made of hope and light and magic. Until they aren’t anymore. Just magic. But the ones full of happiness are filled with horror at these developments. They convine (while feeding the monsters, of course, they aren’t evil). They decide that even though these monsters have done terrible things, they were in a terrible situation so they get food and therapy, and magic stabilizers (this is for later, when the worlds are twisted so much that most of them are barely humanoid,and the monsters can not be brought back by conversations and good food), and more therapy, and they get jobs, on the council, or as farmers, or teachers, perhaps even to the strange human children that carry objects that are almost familiar, or as therapists, Because they need more therapists, and it is good to have someone who understands what happened.

They run out of space in the timeline. The empty one, with the capitol and the farms, and the sky. So they find another one. This one is on the surface, but it is not so pretty as the last one. That is fine, they can send the scientists and such to fix the problems while they build. They find many more, for there are a lot of worlds in need of help.

Not every person is so easily dealt with. Asgore tends not to get prosecuted for murder, unless it is bloody and awful, and unwarrented. He (or she) does, occasionally get arrested for the whole “KILL or BE KILLED” state of the underground. It is not always jail time they are punished with, but those that have imposed a state of death and murder and dustings are not given a polite reminder to stop doing that. They have to change. Or they can rot in the remnants of their timeline.

These timelines are destroyed by chance, or investigation, or random coincidence. There is no destroyer native. Nor creator. No Dream or Nightmare. Just tales floating through space and time. Well, some of them appear to be stuck in time. Ah, well. In any case, it is a strange multiverse to stumble across. They have heard of the creator and destroyer and all the rest, of course, but that is from people just as lost as you are, because falling out of your multiverse is quite an accomplishment. They find you faintly hilarious and ask you lots of questions about these gods.

They think that there is a multiverse spanning cult. Or religion, because as a Frisk pointed out, cults are just small religions. They have not met any of these figures, and the stories are ridiculous. Of course some of them think that all of these people must be telling the truth, but not all of them. There are many papers about it, because they do not get travelers very often, and they always seem to be very busy. Too busy to read the papers and answer various questions. And they don’t really want to get wrapped up in whatever exactly is going on over there, where people destroy universes without a care. Or an elaborate prank, because they all seem to be Sans somehow, and when questioned on this they seem to be surprised that anybody else knows about the universe but a Sans, and that these people just appear to be living in another timeline? Because it’s better than the one they used to be in? And it’s not a featureless void? And there aren’t any… complications? (The last bit gave the Alyphys who heard it had nightmares for weeks, from the implications.) Because, as any Papyrus that happens to be a responsible younger sibling knows, Sans will not be hindered by things so foolish as the laws of space and time in an attempt to prank someone. And fooling the multiverse would be a truly elaborate prank.

There are travelers, of course. Sanses and Frisks who like to tour. Or the lost ones. One of the Frisks did almost all pacifist runs, but did so many, trying to find the secrets (and not wanting to return home) that Sans went mad, and tossed them into the Core. This might not be the first time Sans has done that. In any case, they are lost now, no real form, so they take refuge in the Frisks of the multiverse for short periods of time, flickering from one to the other. It is always a bit surprising when your child starts acting as though she has never met you in her life. Or like she has read about a version of you that is different. So, so different. Your new child is here for a couple of weeks, strange and off and uncomfortable, but not so far off, but there is a sad world weariness they conceal behind smiles and joy, and you do not understand what is going on, and then the one that you knew is back, severely annoyed at the fact that somebody stole their body. AGAIN. At least the duration was significantly reduced from last time. And the body count.

There are the normal ones too, of course. People who go on adventures in different, dangerous locations. People who go on vacation in different safe locations. People who go on vacation in different, very dangerous locations.  People who wander the multiverse in search of a place that feels like home, after their universe was destroyed. It is a range.

There are names, too. No one could come up with enough nicknames for everyone to have their own, and they weren’t very different in the beginning. So they have last names, based on their world. Not many monsters have last names. They are a surface thing, for the king and queen, so the humans are more comfortable. They have nicknames too, of course, but it is not so universal, and you can hear mothers yelling after their children “Monster Kid Winterlake, you get back here right now.” Monsters have a talent for poetry. Except the king. 

Chapter Text

Sometimes Frisk is in possession of the ability to reset. Sometimes it is Chara. Sometimes both of them can do it, which usually seems to happen only when one of them is a ghost. Sometimes it is all the humans, who are close enough for the consolidated magic of the underground to mix with the determination in their souls. This has interesting effects on the humans outside, given that the monsters tend to stick together most often, whether through community or the surface authorities. Sometimes only the ones with souls determination-red can reset, which is only as dangerous as determination is common. 1 out of 7? Very.
On rare occasions, everyone can remember. Nothing seems to change but forms. Papyrus never does give up on you. And toriel will give you a couple more shots. Sans is a bit less crazy. Everybody else is a bit more philosophical, and therefore mad. Undyne won’t give up. Unless nothing comes of my predictions. The multiverse is infinite. Everything is always true, every time, and always false. Maybe you can even have a happy ending with dust on your hands. (We haven’t discovered it yet, though, so I’m going with no.) But dust has a tendency to add up. Especially here.
Usually Sans remembers. Some determination thing, from experiments or being human once, who knows. Or both. Sometimes he gets little flashes and pieces the rest together. Sometimes he remembers everything. Usually some chaos is wreaked by the flower, or various flower substitutes, that he ends up stopping. Or at least tampering with plans. Sans needs to get his practice in somehow. Or whoever's on weedkiller duty.
Sometimes the Riverperson remembers. The same way the Riverperson remembers anything, in prose and poetry and riddles. Which is probably better than most peoples’ given their reputation. Or it could be nothing at all. But you know, the ones who speak in rhymes and hints have powers beyond the ordinary. It at least has a smaller chance of affecting much, given the Riverperson’s other forms of knowledge. Some are stranger than the timelines.
Sometimes other people remember. This has the chance to kick off something that looks a bit like a swap, given that knowledge of timelines rarely has a positive effect on a person's motivation. With that removed, or added, who knows what could happen? Perhaps even a fondness for… bad jokes.
Usually Frisk remembers. Of course they do. They’re the one who’s doing all this, right? Right?
Alright, maybe not quite.
Sometimes Chara remembers, especially if they’re in control. Or an annoyed observer/narrator. They tend to remember genocide most strongly, even if they aren’t the one in control. Especially if they aren’t the one in control. That is when they make an appearance, and then they go on to ruin everything else. Determination is pretty powerful. If they are in the driver's seat and not making peace, it doesn’t mean good things for the monsters. They are a bitter one. Or they make all the peace, or die and don’t pop back up. They’ve done it once before, they will do it again, if they think it right.
Sometimes the souls remember. This does not have positive effects on their mental health, but it hasn’t been stellar in a while. If ever.
Sometimes the player remembers. Whoever they are. Whatever they’ve done. Whatever bloody, murderous chaos they’ve wreaked on the world. Whatever peace they’ve made. It does not matter, beyond the playing of a game. They could not remember every moment, but they will remember what they can, and analyze it and write their stories in the dust they’ve shed. And altogether? It is a lot of dust. But that is enough speculation on unknowable things. Leave Player alone, please. You don’t want to bother them.