Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your speed-walk turns into a jog, and your light jogging turns into full of sprinting through puddles of water once the onslaught of rain rains down on you with no mercy. Three minutes of running and you finally make it home, a small house near the outskirts of Mt. Ebott, close to the same mountain monsters emerged from years ago.

You slam the door shut behind you and lock it, stripping off all your wet clothes and showering soon after. Once done, you seat yourself on your couch and watch ‘Breaking Good’ on your TV.  Enraptured by the way the main character makes medicinal candy for people struggling with life-threatening infections, like candylactosis (one where your neck gets longer due to not eating enough candy), you jump and throw yourself off the couch when you feel a hand on your shoulder. You strategically attack the fluffy rug beneath you with your face and wiggle around, struggling to get out of the blanket cocoon you sealed yourself in.

As you kick your feet you yell, “If you’re here to kill me you better do it before I get you first, fucker!”

Someone whistles and a deep voice sounds from behind you, chuckling, “that doesn’t sound like a good time-”

You fling the blanket onto him, he makes a sound of surprise before you jump onto the couch and throw yourself on top of him, wringing your hands around his throat. The blanket softens your hold but it only makes you try harder, using some kind of inner strength deep in your being you never knew you had. The blanket still covers his face, so you don’t know what he looks like, but you don’t care. An intruder is an intruder!

He kicks his legs behind you, grabs one of your wrists, and slaps a hard hand on your face, pushing your head into an uncomfortable angle. You keep your iron grip on his neck, “I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here!”

“khhg- ghhrkkk-”

“Better start talking before I choke you out!”

“ssgrk- qqkkrk-”

It dawns on you he probably can’t talk when being throttled by a super strong badass, so you release him, not before banging his head down on your wooden floor to confuse him a bit. You grab both of his bony wrists and hold them above his head, grabbing the blanket and pulling it off his face- skull. 

That’s a skull.

Skeleton.

There is a skeleton monster. In your home. 

He pants, blue sweat beading down his skull, and groans, “whew, really took my breath away. saw a light at the end of a tunnel n’ everything.”

“What. The hell-”

His grin turns sheepish, “my bad. didn’t know i’d spook ya so bad.”

You let go of his wrists and stare at him as he rubs the back of his head, eyelights shifting from your face to the side. 

“Why are you in my house- Actually, how’d you even get in-?” you have so many questions.

“i’m here on an important mission,” he states with a wince when his phalanges rub over a sore spot on the back of his skull.

“What-”

“our universe is in trouble,” he interrupts, pausing.

“What does this have to do-”

“it’s collapsing. whiiich is a bad thing,” he interrupts you again. You feel like he’s doing it on purpose. You wait for him to continue with an unmistakable look and movement of your head but he doesn’t, instead stares up at you, seemingly waiting for you to say something. 

You continue, “I still don’t know what-”

“-you’re the only one who can help me save the world.”

“ Don’t do that again.”

“noted.”

You stand up off of him and walk over to your front door, grabbing your bat that lays untouched beside it, “I want to know why you’re here. Not roleplay whatever alternate universe crap you’re talking about.”

You don’t know how dangerous he is, even if he’s a monster made of candy, spice, and everything nice… or whatever they say they’re made of.

“woah hey, no need to get bat-ty on me, eh?” he says nervously and scrambles up off the ground once he sees you walking towards him with the metal item.

Oh, this’ll be enjoyable.

He quickly backs away and goes around the couch, “we started off on the wrong base .” 

You rush after him and in return he runs, both of you round the living room. Now standing at opposite ends of the coffee table, his chest expands and shrinks with each fatigued breath. “i’m sure we can hit it off if we really get to know each OTHER-! ” 

You jump on top of the table and dash towards him, his voice rises in panic and he dodges you, running out of the living room and down the hallway, into your room, locking the door behind him. You skid to a stop and slam both hands on the door, hoping to scare him. Unbeknownst to you, he actually jumps at the sound. You attempt to calm your breathing and can’t help but laugh, this is actually kind of fun. 

You hear him mutter something about Pierus being better at this than he is. You don’t know what one of the two long-dead Greek individuals have to do with this but shrug it off. 

“You can’t hide in there forever,” you say sinisterly, purposely trying to frighten him. You’ve never been more entertained.

“we- heh - can’t talk about this?”

“…hehe..hehahah!” you laugh maniacally. “Talk… TALK!! You wanna talk… hmm okayyy let’s talk,” you say in a higher pitched voice and rattle the doorknob for good measure. You wish you could see his face right now, but his voice tells you all you need to know.

Sans sweat drops and holds the knob in place in case you somehow unlock it. He sure does feel like the luckiest person alive right now. He must be bathing in the good energy radiating from the heavens! The one person on this whole planet that can help him is a murderous maniac! He might as well kill himself at this point, seeing as the universe has it out for him no matter what he does!!

Want to live a happy life on the surface after hundreds of resets? Sure, but here’s the machine you abandoned years ago!

Want nothing to do with it? Too bad! Here, have multiversal issues!

Oh, you want some help with that?! Okay!! Here’s a human who can do it, but wants to KILL YOU!!!

He takes a deep breath, “i really am tellin' the truth.”

“About what?”

“the universe collapsin'.”

“Sure, and I've been taking my meds.”

“i get the feelin' you haven’t- ”

You slam on the door with a hand again, smiling wide in amusement and keeping your voice low, “Why’re you really here, huh? Money?”

“no. i’ve got enough gold, believe me.”

“Or did you see a lonely little human living on the outskirts of the city and thought you could get rid of them? Take the house for yourself?” You sound crazy, you’re even convincing yourself. 

When he goes off again and explains his little magical tale of multiverses and collapse-ations, you quietly make your way to the kitchen and find your room key. When you come back he’s still yapping.

“-that’s why you’re the only one who can help me. get it?”

Gently, you slide the key in the knob and speak loudly in case he hears the soft click of it, “Yeeeah, totally.”

He sighs, relieved, “great. that's..that’s good…”

You feel the doorknob shift, meaning he let his tight grip on it go. You turn the key and slam the door open. Not expecting it, he falls onto the ground and quickly attempts to push himself away from you. He can’t move fast enough, and you quickly straddle his midsection, trapping his hands between your legs. Your bat, now placed horizontally under his chin(?) and against his neck, you press down with minimum force.

He looks up at you with panicked, pinpricks of white light in his black eye sockets. You smile down at him, body trembling with held in laughter, “I’m going to dust you now.”

You slowly press down a bit more, though being careful as to not harm him, then you wait for a reaction. He squirms beneath you, trying as hard as he can to release his arms from your leg-grip, “i’m not lyin'-! everythin' I’ve said is true, i don’t know what else you want from me!”

You momentarily bask in his struggling before sighing and backing off, going over and sitting on your bed, “Okay.”

“…what..?”

You roll your eyes, “I said ‘okay .’ Meaning I’ll help you.”

The skeleton hesitantly stands, rubbing a hand on his vertebrae, and keeps his distance from you. You place the bat to your side and slap your hands on your thighs, staring at the most likely on magical drugs, role-playing, monster with an expectant gaze. From what you’ve seen, he won’t fight back with his fists any more than he can talk. 

Might as well indulge him in whatever delusional fantasy his non-existent mushroom brain made up. Not like you have anything better to do at the moment.

He studies your face and places his hands in his pockets, “ what . is wrong with ya.”

You raise a brow and rake your gaze across his form judgingly, “ Yoouu trespassed into my house. Probably through a window, too.”

You were right in that assumption. His boney cheeks light up in a bright blue. It’s the only thing giving away he feels embarrassed, seeing as his face is creepily, yet somewhat charmingly stuck in that grinning facade.

Charmingly? What the fuck?

“i admit, i messed up there,” he says sheepishly. “but ya… heh, ya chased me with a bat -”

You raise your hands in a shrug, “Imagine if a human broke into your house.”

He sighs, waving a hand around lazily, as if dismissing the topic of conversation as a whole. “alright, back to the issue at hand. i explained everythin' already, safe to assume ya weren’t listenin’.”

Oh, he’s a sassy roleplaying skeleton.

“ya were here when the barrier broke, yeah?” he asks, raising a brow bone.

When you nod he continues, “it’s more of a theory, yet it’s the only reasonable explanation i could come up with, out of hundreds of other hypotheses.”

Your eyebrows raise in amusement and surprise. He’s put a lot of thought into this scientific, thriller play. You’re partially impressed; even while on drugs, he knows his big words and long sentences well enough as to not slur or pause through them.

“when the barrier broke, all of the magic stuck inside was released. imagine it like a…nuclear explosion. radiation expandin’ everywhere, ‘cept instead of it being harmful toxins-”

“It’s harmful magic?”

“eeh, it ain’t harmful , just…” He sweats nervously. “you’vegotaveryhighdosageofmagicinyourbodyandsoul,” he blurts faster than the speed of light.

Your eyebrows lower and your eyes shift to the side, as if side-eyeing an imaginary camera. You look back at him, “Okay. Lemme pretend I understood that jumble of words.”

“ya… have magic. a lot. in your body n’ soul.” It looks as if it physically hurt him to tell you this. 

Or if he were constipated. But he’s a skeleton, so you’ll go with the former.

You laugh, “Pfft! Who’s your dealer? I need their number!”

He looks confused, “i… ya think i’m on somethin’?”

“Obviously. I'm sure you won’t even remember this tomorrow.”

He drags a hand down his face with an exhausted, half sigh-half groan, muttering to himself, “guess i‘ll have to show the human magic now. as if i wasn’t bein’ threatened a minute ago…”

His arm drops limply at his side and he stares at the floor for a moment, contemplating. He then looks up at you, body language screaming ‘defeated.’

“ever seen your soul?"

Chapter Text

You stare at his chest, completely stone-faced and silent.

His eyelights shift, and a bead of blue sweat slides down the side of his skull. “i- i know how it sounds, i really don’t mean it like that -”

You blink a couple of times, gazing back up at his face and scratching the back of your head, sounding confused. “What?”

His whole nervous demeanor changes within the second that one word escapes your mouth. His shoulders drop and he sighs, something akin to an exhausted nanny. “whaddya mean ‘what?’”

“Your clothes are dry,” you point out.

“yeah.”

“It’s been raining all day.”

His grin strains, dropping into a grimace. “yep.”

You lean back on your bed nonchalantly, holding yourself up by your hands. “After we roleplay,” you start, keeping your tone light as if speaking to a child. “You’re gonna show me where, and how, you got inside. ‘Kay?”

Seems like you’re gonna have to double-check every door and window before you go to bed from now on, plus search the web for security equipment. It’s kind of unnerving, not knowing how long he was in your house for. If he was human, or if you hadn’t ever read all those studies online about monsters being known for their kindness, you might’ve beaten him unconscious by now... Wow, that sounded horrific and violent. 

“ya don’t realize how serious this is,” he states, interrupting your train of thought. “we could all die. disappear. in a matter of milliseconds .”

“Riiiiiight,” you drawl, tone neutral. “Tell me what I need to do then, oh great Lord Skeleton Master!” You say in a high-pitched voice while batting your eyelashes at him with widened eyes.

He ignores you. “have ya ever been in an encounter?”

“No, but I know about them. Why, wanna get to know me better?” you ask seductively, wiggling your eyebrows.

“ya know what? i can't do this,” he mutters and lifts a hand out of his hoodie pocket, extending it towards you; then pulling on an invisible string. You immediately straighten in surprise, a bright orange soul pops out of your chest. Everything around you, except the skeleton and his own soul, disappears. Now surrounded by darkness, you blink down at the options in front of you.

*FIGHT     *ACT    *ITEM    *MERCY

You then read Sans’ flavored text. 

*feels like he’s having a bad time.

You could’ve sworn you’d heard in the past that it’s bad manners to start an encounter without asking first. Rude , sassy, role-playing, drugged skeleton. You doubt he started it to fight you if he’s been avoiding conflict this whole time. You hum to yourself, very curious and excited about how exactly this works, as you’ve never actually been in one before. 

You study your soul in interest, not very surprised at the fact that it’s orange, meaning bravery. You’ve seen pictures on the web of all soul colors, there isn’t much that’s not on the internet nowadays. You now realize most of the information you’ve learned about monsters was from scrolling on tweeter and clicking on interesting links.

Nothing feels different. An encounter isn’t as risqué as many humans at first thought, it’s either a way of fighting, getting to know each other better as friends, or flirting. Maybe even innocent magical fun. And currently, you’re doing none of these with the skeleton, so you’re slightly confused about why he started one in the first place.

You don’t particularly feel like fighting at the moment, the only item you have is a bat- no surprise there, and the MERCY option is gray. You decide on your only real option:  ACT.

*Check    *INTIMIDATE

Oooh, you’re going to have to contemplate this one. You put a fist up to your chin and think long and hard about which one you should pick. On the one hand, you get to know what his name and stats are, but on the other… you get to see him get all jittery and on edge. At that last thought you feel a grin threatening to break through the straight contemplative face you’re trying to keep.

You blow out a breath and imagine all of your teasing urges leaving your body along with it. This is serious, he’s told you he’s on an important mission! You chance a peek up at the monster, only to immediately look back down at the options, and then cover your eyes. Everywhere you look, there’s mess with him! written all over in red ink. How can he start an encounter and expect you not to take such an opportunity!?

You decide to eeny-meeny-miney-moe it with your eyes closed and press what was chosen by the gods.

*Check

You are disappointed.

Sans   1 ATK   1 DEF.

*Is telling the truth.

*Hopes you believe him now.

You are now intrigued.

Your turn passes, and you're left with a lot to think about. Sans checks you back, and you both end the encounter soon after. Your souls are flung back into place, you rub at your chest, feeling an odd heaviness weigh you down. The sensation only grows, expanding across your body; making you raw and sensitive to the air surrounding you.

This isn’t how you’re supposed to feel. You shouldn’t have this uncomfortable reaction after an encounter, you trust your gut (and the many online forms you’ve read,) on this one. 

“i can’t believe i just did that.”

You glare at him, all of your somewhat amused mood gone, now replaced with anger. Ignoring the weight, you stand from your bed, leaving the bat behind to grip at his hoodie and pull him towards your face threateningly. “What the fuck did you just do to me.”

He holds his hand up in surrender, leaning his head back in surprise, “i promise i’ll explain. as long as ya actually listen and take me seriously.” You release him with a push and cross your arms, urging him to get on with it, ignoring the shivers racking your body.

With an audible grumble, he straightens his hoodie out. “as i said, when the barrier broke, all of the magic inside was released. but, you took most of the blast, since ya were the only human living so close to the mountain…” He trails off, scratching his boney cheek. “well, at the time at least.”

You grit your teeth, attempting to stand tall, but the tremors are getting too strong. “So, you’re saying I have magic ?” You huff disbelievingly. “I think I would’ve noticed if I could turn people into frogs or dildos after all these years.”

His flavored text after your Check flashes in your mind. Those things don’t lie. It’s an encounter with your literal soul , it’s the culmination of your being, and you can’t hide anything if a Check is done on it.

“it’s because the magic was dormant. i… awakened it with the encounter. imagine your soul sealed inside a jar. and that jar is underwater, but the water is magic. i opened that jar, and now all the ‘water’ is flooding in.”

You put a hand on your forehead, it’s warmer than before, and the shakiness has gotten worse. 

“are… shit, i didn’t think this far- ya uh, your soul doesn’t know how to swim yet,” he says quickly as he reluctantly pushes you back and sits you down on your bed. “it might seem like it’s drownin’, but it’s not. it’s a large amount of energy and you need to- here, lay down.” He tries to set you on your back with a hand on your shoulder.

Your pride has already been shot down a peg or two, so you attempt to pry his hand off of you with a glower. “I’m fine, stop touching me.”

He doesn’t let go, in fact, he dares to put his other hand on your opposite shoulder, and grip tighter. “i’m just tryna help ya-”

“Help by getting off my ass!” you snap, forcefully shoving him back and away from you. A sharp throb of pain strikes your chest again and you gasp, clawing at your shirt as if that’ll somehow ease the ache. “ You did this, turn it off or something! Seal the jar!” you yell with a grimace.

He puts a fist up to his skull, grin straining and eyelights shrinking. “i can’t! the jar’s opened permanently!” He glances over you and around the roon, then he starts backing away. “i’ll be right back.” That’s the last thing he says before he rushes out the door, leaving you to yell after him in dismay. 

Fuck ! You should’ve just called the cops! 

You take deep, careful breaths, not unlike someone about to give birth, and wipe the considerable amount of sweat off your forehead. He just left you here. Having no idea if he’s coming back, you shakily stand from your seated position and drag yourself out of your room, into the kitchen. You make sure to loudly curse him out in the minuscule chance he’s still around to hear and search for ibuprofen to help with what you know is a fever. 

Swallowing a pill with some water, you’re unsure whether or not you should drink some cough syrup as well. In the end, you shrug, taking a small dosage straight out of the bottle. You make your way towards the front door, seeing it unlocked-

The poor door slams open, a much taller skeleton stands before you in a gray and white cat onesie . He even has cat paws and slippers on to match. He smiles brightly at you, pawed hand outstretched on the door beside him. “HELLO!”

Sans stands behind him, expression stuck in that grinning poker face, yet the way his sweating almost rivals your fever-induced one, gives away how he feels.

He came back. With another person.

Greaaat.  

Hunched, panting, and with a fever hotter than the sun, you don’t have the energy to adjust your facial muscles into something pleasant. “…Hi.”

His face drops once he’s gotten a good look at you and he, not unlike the shorter one, puts his paws on your shoulders, turns you around, and manhandles you back into your room. 

“OH NO, THIS WON’T DO! YOU NEED TO TAKE IT SLOW AND LAY DOWN. MINIMUM STRESS FOR THE SOUL AND MIND IS RECOMMENDED!” he says along the way, as if reading off an instructional guide, and completely ignoring your aggressive attempts to push back while stating you can walk yourself there.

He picks you up, you shout in surprise and kick your legs but he quickly places you on your bed before you can do any real damage. He grabs your blanket, rolling you around and trapping you in the covers. “ONE BLANKET, SHOULDN'T OVER DO IT,” he mutters to himself and takes off his cat paws, placing a skeletal hand on your forehead. 

Just like your pride, all your attempts at petty defiance are quickly shot down. You mentally bow down to the universe, thankful the embarrassed heat on your face can be taken as just the fever. 

“Who even are you!” you say loudly as you snuggle deeper into the comforts of your bed, feeling exhausted.

He’d been going in and out of your room, as soon as you spoke he entered again, a bottle of water and an unrecognizable wet rag in hand. Where did he even find that?

“SORRY, I NEVER INTRODUCED MYSELF,” he apologizes and places the cold, moist rag on your forehead. “I’M PAPYRUS, SANS IS MY BROTHER.”

Greaaat.

The whole time you’ve been glaring at him, hoping to make him at least slightly intimidated. You doubt your bedridden form would help much in that aspect.

Sans had brought in one of your dining room chairs, he’s currently seated in the corner, snoring . There’s no way you’ll let him have peace after what he’s just done to you! As you stare at his slumped figure, you suck in a breath, and just as you’re about to scream bloody murder for the pleasure of seeing him jump, your lips are pinched. 

Pinched!!

You look up at Papyrus, brows furrowed at the complete and utter audacity of the skeleton. “I WOULDN'T RECOMMEND SPEAKING FOR MUCH LONGER, IT COULD STRAIN YOUR SOUL. YOU SHOULD REST.”

Your eyes narrow, he just politely and matter-of-factly told you to shut the fuck up. You release the held breath through your nose, and he lets your lips go with a beaming grin practically saying ‘Thank You Very Much!’ He goes off again to do god-knows-what. There’s no way you’re going to sleep with two strangers in your home, let alone someone who broke in started an encounter, and gave you a fever. Papyrus is just audacious. It annoys you. 

Only minutes after that thought, you’d fallen asleep with a grouchy-looking face, completely forgetting the fact that you’d wanted to ask if Sans had at least locked the window he opened to enter. 

Chapter Text

You blink awake and your dream fades away, leaving you confused and exhausted. You sigh loudly and turn on your side, fully expecting to fall into the depths of sleep again.

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath then tense, cracking an eye open. It all comes rushing back to you.

Who you now remember to be Papyrus, is entirely knocked out beside you on a chair, head leaned back and loudly snoring.

You can hear Sans lightly snoring from beside the door, meaning he was still sleeping on your dining chair from yesterday.

You sit up, and the rag originally on your forehead flops off to the side, crispy-dry. You blink once or twice, putting the back of your hand to your head. You feel normal. You put both hands on your cheeks, dragging them down and feeling your jaw. You should have a fever… 

You side-eye Papyrus, then glance at Sans, watching as both of their torsos shrink and expand with each fake breath.

You slowly make your way off your bed, rolling your eyes good-naturedly at the cat paws on the desk beside your bed. You pad over to your door that’s thankfully open, and amble towards the kitchen. Small boxes are strewn across the island, and your suspicious self quickly picks one up to read.

‘MTT’S QUICK SOAKER-UPPER! No more of that icky excess magic getting stuck in uncomfortable areas! Dry off after a workout or a hot day! It can even be used to clean spills! This soft, thick fabric absorbs GALLONS! Yes, GALLONS of liquid magic! Just one cup of water and a-’

That must’ve been the wet rag that Papyrus put on your forehead last night. You move on to the next box, it’s unopened.

‘Heat suppressants’

Your eyes widen and you glance toward the hall. Your face feels hot in the embarrassment of just reading the package, as if you had to teach kids about the birds and the bees or something.

There’s no one there, thankfully.  You turn the small packet around to make sure they’re what you think they are. Turns out it is.

Why would he bring this!? Should you just throw it away? No, he’ll notice if it's gone. Is he in heat? Okay, calm down. You take a deep breath and straighten up. 

You’re an adult, and heats are a normal occurrence for some monsters. It’s kind of like periods for humans.

One of the brothers is taking suppressants for a reason, so you’ll just never bring it up. Ever. In case he’s embarrassed about it, of course.

You gently place the box back in its place with a pat, you’ll just ignore it. 

“did ya just-?”

You startle and turn towards the voice, throwing the packet at Sans along the way.

It slaps him on the face, the pills inside rattle and the sound echoes across the silent kitchen.

You both stand there in shock, his brow bones raise and his grin widens. 

“You snuck up on me,” you blurt out, crossing your arms defensively.

He shrugs and picks the small package up with magic, apparently too lazy to perform any kind of physical activity unless he’s being chased.

He takes a look at it and then glances at you, his shoulders bouncing in silent laughter.

You turn your back to him and open the fridge, busying yourself as to ignore the shame flooding your system at his mocking laughter.

He wasn’t laughing yesterday when he was scared shitless, you think to yourself.

“feelin’ better?” he asks hesitantly, taking a seat on top of the island behind you, completely ignoring the stools.

You grab a bottle of water and a tub of butter, shutting the fridge door with your foot.

“Make yourself at home,” you mutter exasperatedly, purposefully loud enough for him to hear.

“No fever or magical powers here.” You shrug, your hungry mood showing as you aggressively remove the twist tie used to seal the new bag of bread on the counter.

He nods, leaning back and holding himself upright with his hands. His legs dangle off the island, and his slippered feet are nowhere close to touching the floor.

“good. ‘n ya ain’t seen a trace of magic ‘cause ya don’t know how to use it. once my bro’s awake he’ll help ya learn.”

As he spoke you put two slices of bread in the toaster and slid the lever down to start the heating process.

You take a sip of water and glance at him. You lower your eyelids and gradually inch closer to him until you’re in between his spread legs, an imaginary smile slowly spreading across your in-brain face.

As you predicted he gets nervous, his eyelights shrink the tiniest bit, repeatedly shifting from your eyes down to your lips and he leans away from you.

You notice the way his ribs elevate as if he’d taken a deep breath of anticipation.

“w-what’re you-”

Your inner smile turns gleeful as you lean to the side, reaching behind him for the heat suppressants, and instantly back away.

You circle around and place the packet on the counter.

“Want toast?” you ask, taking the now lightly toasted bread on a plate to butter.

“Oh wait, it’s not magic-infused.” You shrug in a ‘what can ya do?’ fashion.

You hear a thump and you peek back, catching a flash of blue rounding the corner toward the hall. A grin finally makes its way onto your face.

*

Papyrus had conveniently woken up right when you’d finished your small breakfast.

‘AMAZING! YOU’RE ALREADY UP AND BETTER!’ He’d exclaimed, with his hands on the sides of his face, similar to ‘The Scream’ painting from the 1800s, just more cheerful.

You’d asked him about the rag, just to double check, to which he explained it seemed to have absorbed most of the excess magic your soul was brimming with.

You decided not to question him about the heat suppressants, you'll only engage in that discussion if he brings it up first, which would hopefully be never.

Why would he bring it up in the first place anyway? 

You’d brought up your earlier conversation with Sans about him teaching you magic, and Papyrus was all but ready to engage in a fight with you.

You'd immediately put a stop to it, telling him ‘We’re not sparring in my fucking kitchen.’

You had allowed him to pick out some clothes from your wardrobe, so he wouldn’t dirty his onesie, and you will say, his choice of clothing is different .

Either way, nothing would fit him properly, with him being so tall and lanky there isn’t exactly customizable clothing in your drawers.

Now in your empty backyard, you're hunched a few feet away from the taller skeleton.

Before the fight began, he’d explained what you two were about to do wasn't exactly an ‘encounter.’ Instead, it's called ‘faux bout,’ something royal guards do to train with each other without the pause in between each turn.

Each party has to want to initiate a faux bout for it to start.

‘Each party?’ you'd asked, to which he responded a faux bout can have two to fifteen people in a fight, never more.

It's impossible to drag an unwilling soul into such a thing, it being a free-for-all fight and all.

The only reason monsters can initiate an encounter with an unwilling being is because the latter will always have the option to flee or show mercy after the first turn.

Once he'd told you about each of his abilities and what they do, your soul popped out of your chest and the faux bout had started.

“I don't think this is helping!” you huff, bent forward with your hands on your knees.

“Y’know-” you straighten and take a few more breaths. “-no one's really explained what exactly it is I have to do to help you guys.”

Papyrus gasps dramatically, putting a hand up to his head.

“I’D COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN! SORRY!!”

His apology sounds sincere, but the way he instantly extends his hand out and a barrage of white, blue, and orange bones rush toward you, has you thinking he might’ve wanted you to lower your guard so he could make your death a swift one. 

You jump, freeze, and dash toward each attack. Sometimes the bones would graze you, others, you'd full-on get hit, but nothing hurt more than your bruised ego. 

“BUT, THAT’S MY BROTHER'S JOB. I HAVE BEEN GIFTED WITH GREAT INTELLECT,” he continues the earlier conversation and nods proudly, leaving the sentence unfinished.

You jog in place as five orange bones glide through you and fan your face with the neck of your shirt, waiting for him to go on. He does not.

“But…?” you urge on, feeling a spark of deja vu.

He's just like his brother, but instead of purposely interrupting you, he waits for you to egg him on. 

He sighs, as if the following words coming out of his teeth cause him great sorrow, and puts a hand on his popped-out hip.

“HE KNOWS MORE ABOUT THIS ISSUE THAN I.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatic antics. You'll have to ask Sans later, then.

“By the way, how is all this supposed to help me use magic and not just ruin my yard?”

You wave your hand around, signaling towards the originally-grass-now-turned-to-nothing-but-dirt. Deep gashes of every size litter the area and there’s no flower in sight, it's completely demolished. 

“IF I TELL YOU IT WON’T WORK AS WELL!” He shrugs cheerfully, ignoring the part about your backyard.

You almost drag a hand down your face out of frustration.

You’ve been at it for half an hour, this is nothing but an intense workout and you don’t even know what it is they need you to do in the first place.

You glance down at your soul, then back up at him, his white, inverted soul floats brilliantly outside of his chest. 

One of Papyrus’s abilities allows him to make your soul a deep blue, which lowers your center of gravity and allows you to jump three times higher than an average human.

It's helped you exponentially, but the number of times you've jumped today has you feeling a minuscule amount of soreness compared to what you’ll be feeling tomorrow.  

You dig the heel of your shoe into the dirt, feeling rather uninterested in this sparring match.

More like a dodging match, your mind utters. By now all of his bone attacks are patterns you've learned to dodge, surely he’ll do something different?

You notice your untied shoelaces and hold up a hand, signaling him to pause for a moment.

A harsh shadow envelopes your form, and your brain automatically supplies it must be a cloud blanketing the sun, but when a loud buzzing builds, you hesitate to even peek up.

You find enough courage to drag your eyes up from your shoe, glancing at Papyrus's shoeless feet, booty shorts, then bright pink crop top, to finally land on his elated yet cocky expression. 

“Papyrus.”

“YES?”

“There's a gigantic skull behind you.”

“ISN’T HE HANDSOME?” he states rather than asks.

The skull , unlike any other you've ever seen, has teeth similar to Papyrus’s, long and straight.

Its eye sockets are wide and circular, inside the sockets are big, round, white eyelights, giving it a cute look, like a cat. But this thing is no cute cat.

The buzzing becomes louder and its teeth separate, inside its dark mouth is a ball of white light, it grows in size just as the sound increases in volume.

“I’D SUGGEST YOU MOVE.”

Without warning the creature shoots a laser beam towards you.

You fall back in surprise, scrambling around to find your footing, and when you do, you start running.

It follows your trail as if an invisible target was placed on your back, or an animal would chase its prey. Once you've made it to the end of your yard the laser thankfully sputters out, seemingly out of energy.

It begins powering up once again, the sound being something hard to forget. Your chest heaves in panic and you turn to watch the creature stare you down five feet away, the ball of light already halfway to its laser size. 

Having nowhere to go, your mind goes blank and your body moves without thinking.

The buzz heightens to its peak, and you jump at it, leaving nothing but dust in your wake. Papyrus’s boost helps you reach the floating creature, and just as it's about to release the deadly laser you swing both your fists down with all your might.

The skull disappears in a cloud of sparkling glitter as you bonk it right on its forehead. When you lower to the ground, you allow yourself to give into the weakness at your knees, feeling faint. 

Your soul is back in your chest and your body shakes with the type of adrenaline you’d get when being chased by a murderer. In the middle of the night. In an enclosed grocery store.

“YOU DID IT!!” your almost-murderer hollers, jogging towards you.

You hold up a finger and shut your eyes just as he stops in front of you with his hands on his hip bones. 

“I need a moment.”

While your mind continually screams ‘What the fuck!!’ the newly labeled murder suspect squats down to your…well, he’s not exactly to your level but he doesn't seem to mind.

“WASN’T THAT A BLAST?” 

You could’ve sworn you’d seen his expression turn smug and heard him laugh to himself quietly, but when you blink it's gone. Must be your mind playing tricks on you.

“What the hell was that and why did you just,” you make some kind of messy explosion gesture with your hands.

“Dump that on me without letting me know earlier??”

He sighs in a manner that screams ‘Oh you and your ridiculous questions.’ He seems to do that a lot, you notice.

“IT WOULDN'T HAVE WORKED IF YOU KNEW BEFORE HAND. ” 

There it is again, the smug expression-! 

“Oh.” Your train of thought abruptly ends as you gawk at your arms and hands, watching as a faint orange-glowing aura surrounds them. Like the color of your soul.

The shine isn’t blinding, and it’s only outlining, not covering. You twist and turn your limbs, bringing a hand up to your face and lowering it repeatedly.

A disbelieving scoff escapes you and you slowly begin to laugh, only to then descend into full-on cackling. You’re like a knock-off Joker, gradually plummeting into a pit of madness.

“IT WASN’T THAT FUNNY,” Papyrus says nervously.

You calm down just enough to shake your head with a crazed smile.

“No, no-  I mean yes. Just- I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You wave off still chuckling, having not paid attention to what he said. “Holy shit, this is unbelievable.”

He squints at you in a suspicious manner, putting a hand under his chin and studying your arms.

Are you the only one seeing those lines that just appeared, working as cartoonish brows on him, or-? 

“YOUR MAGIC IS ENHANCEMENT-BASED, VERY USEFUL!” He beams, putting a hand on your shoulder in a friendly pat.

Suddenly his smile drops, his expression darkening into one stricken with horror and his voice changes into something spooky.

“But It Can Be Dangerous If You Cannot Control It.” 

You both stare at each other for a while, your face staying in its natural state as he stares at you with wide, terrified sockets.

He then goes back to grinning at you, as if he hadn’t just been possessed by some sort of evil entity.

You realized a moment too late that the glimmering magic was also on your legs, the color had dimmed during your staring contest and disappeared soon after. 

“Alright.” You pat the hand on your shoulder and stand, dusting yourself off.

You make your way back to your house, avoiding the extra deep gashes on the ground. Wouldn’t want a sprained ankle.

*

“How did this start in the first place? I need the whole story, I barely have bits and pieces. Something about this world disintegrating and me being the only one able to help you save it with my newly acquired powers,” you wiggle your fingers at Sans. 

This sounded a lot like a particular Marbel movie…

Sans nods from his spot on the couch in front of you. He hasn’t made eye contact with you since you’ve entered the house.

Who knew out of everything, you reaching behind him for something would make him shy?

“an abandoned machine originally used for scientific purposes back in the underground malfunctioned, causin’ it to turn on a week ago. i went ‘n checked it out, ‘cause it wasn't exactly quiet in its activation, ‘n found eight fragment soul pieces belongin’ to eight different monsters.”

Your brows furrow in thought, finding it hard to believe, yet here you are with magic.

“That can’t be... The souls should’ve dusted by now?”

You look between them both, noticing the way Papyrus also appears to be awaiting an answer to the question, crossing his arms over his borrowed crop top.

You might just let him have it since it's not even yours, you'd found it in your clothes after leaving a laundromat.

Despite his body language remaining lax, Sans’s jaw tenses.

“i was able to catch ‘em in time,” he answers ominously.

You raise a brow when he doesn't continue to explain how, but carelessly shrug it off, witnessing the way Papyrus bores holes into his brother's head. He’s not smiling anymore. 

“WE… I’D APPRECIATE A LITTLE MORE HONESTY, SANS.”

Bottled-up family drama joins the fight!

Sans’s eyelights guiltily flicker as he gazes at his brother.

He stops himself from speaking when he remembers you’re there, listening, but in the end, he gives up, his body sagging into the cushions.

“soul holders.”

At Papyrus’s horrified look, you raise a brow at Sans, hoping he’ll explain. 

“they’re glass containers made of pure fire magic, ‘n they can keep souls for...”

He bobs his head, estimating. “a millennia or more inside without ‘em disappearing.”

“You mean to tell me there were eight of these soul-holding containers right beside you at the time you found the eight half-souls?” you ask disbelievingly, rubbing the tiredness out of your eyes. 

“look pal, in the end, i saved ‘em. so how’zabout we discuss the important issues at hand,” he grits out passive-aggressively, finally meeting your eyes.

You raise both hands up in defense and shake your head in disappointment.

“Alright, whatever. Who do the souls belong to? Oh wait, my bad, is that not an important fact I need to know?” you remark sarcastically.

“the souls are from different universes.”

He stares at you intensely, gauging your reaction no doubt.  

You sigh, face sinking into your hands. Of course. when he’d said ‘our universe’ it meant there must be others out there too.

At this point, you’ll believe dinosaurs still exist. Never mind, dinosaur monsters do, so technically-? 

You peek at him through your fingers, not wanting to know the answer to your next question, yet you can’t find it in yourself to not ask.

“How does this affect our universe?”

“explanation cut short; if we can’t find the soul owners and bring ‘em here in time, our universe’ll be stretched until it snaps.”

At your expression, he takes it upon himself to clarify. Definitely was not the look on Papyrus’s face threatening him with no ketchup for a year that had him put in some actual effort.

“back to metaphors.” Sans sighs, seizing one of the three dirty dishes on your coffee table, a blue cup.

“let’s say this cup is our universe, and inside it, there’s a piece of metal. the metal bein’ the souls, by the way.” 

He places the cup on the middle of the table and then grabs the other two dishes, a white mug and a pink mug.

“these two mugs are two other universes, and inside of both, are very powerful magnets, aka the soul owners.” 

He places the white mug to the left of the blue cup and the pink one to the right side of it.

“both magnets attract the piece of metal, but can’t get to it unless it’s by sheer force. so they pull ‘n pull until-”

He knocks the blue cup over.

“i can’t split it in two, but you get the gist of it. our universe will be shredded, especially if it's eight other universes pullin’ at it.”

He watches as understanding dawns on you, a tension he relates to has you straightening on the cushions.

You nod, realizing the seriousness of the matter, and suck in a breath. You hope they don’t take your next question too badly.

“I know it sounds… cruel, but couldn’t you have avoided a lot of trouble if you just let the souls dust?” 

Papyrus lets out a small gasp and you cringe, yeah, you sort of expected that.

Sans lifts a hand before Papyrus can say something along the lines of ‘HOW COULD YOU SAY SUCH A THING!’ and scratches at his skull.

“can’t say i didn’t think about it,” he admits shamefully.

“but i can’t just do that to them. they’re all alive, and if i let half of their souls dust, killin’ ‘em in the process, what kind of— monster would i be?” 

You avoid Papyrus’s disapproving eyelights and purse your lips.

“That was a shitty suggestion, sorry.”

“no skin off my nose.” His grin stretches and you see him momentarily glance at his brother.

“SANS!! YOU AND YOUR AWFUL TIMING!” Papyrus yells, crossing his arms and frowning.

You’re surprised at his outburst, and you keep yourself from smiling in amusement. You aimlessly scratch at the fabric of your couch in thought.

“So, now that I know why, what is it I need to do to help?” 

Chapter Text

You stare at Sans, slowly blinking with your mouth agape as if your brain disintegrated right then and there. He grimaces, and you realize It’s the first big emotion you’ve seen him physically emit this whole talk. 

“IT’S! NOT THAT DANGEROUS-?” Papyrus pipes up, attempting to soothe your… You can’t even explain what you’re feeling right now?? 

“You need to work on your lying tech,” you mutter, never breaking eye contact with Sans to glance his brother's way. “When I said I’d help I was kidding, by the way.” You half joke, laying back on the couch and shutting your eyes. If you keep still and slow your breathing, they’ll think you’re dead and leave. You wouldn’t mind the universe snapping in half.

Right now.

At this moment..

Aaaany second now…

“it might be a bit dangerous, but ya won’t die ,” he says the word in such a baffled manner as if you’re crazy to even suggest it; think of it, even. He scoffs right after, waving a hand.

You stay silent with your eyes shut. Your body is slack and your mouth opens when you untensed your jaw, even an eye is half open. You’ve given in to the ‘fake death’ urge. 

“…SANS?” Papyrus says urgently, sounding concerned over your well-being. “IS- OH, NEVERMIND. YOUR EYE IS TWITCHING. PHEW, NOT DEAD.” You can imagine Papyrus wiping nonexistent sweat from his forehead as he said that.

Damn you, ventilation!! You give up and wipe at your watering eye. “I just needed to be dead for a couple of seconds. Refresh my mind. So, you need me to bring the owners of the half-souls here,” you recount from Sans’ explanation.

“…if i could do it myself, i would. but i can’t.” There he goes again, acting all ominous and mysterious. 

Having not moved from your lying position, you gesture in Papyrus’ direction while staring up at the roof. “He can’t do it?”

“no.” His tone was harsh; almost angry.

“But I can because I have magic. The thing you guys are made of.” It sounds like he just doesn’t want to risk his or his brother's life, and wants you, a stranger with whom he has no emotional connection, to do the dangerous work. Unconvinced is one of the many things you feel right now.

“ONE HUMAN SOUL IS STRONGER THAN HUNDREDS OF MONSTER ONES. IMAGINE A MAGE’S,” Papyrus informs happily, completely comfortable with the silent topic brought up.

“Even if I don’t die, wouldn’t the monster I'm trying to bring over dust in the process?”

“a monster wouldn’t withstand the trip over, but a trip back is quicker as long as they’re with you since you’re originally from this universe. as long as you hold onto ‘em while bringin’ ‘em over, they won't dust.” He seems to know a lot about this subject, even if he claims it was a spontaneous thing. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“it’s common knowledge in my field.”

You click your tongue in slight annoyance, Mysterious ass…

You’re already halfway through with this shit, all you need to do is bring some monsters over. No problem. You don’t know how the multiverse works in real life, you know of it in a fictional sense, so you’ll go off of that. If you die… Well, no one will miss you since the whole world will be gone soon after. You hum to yourself, taking a moment to give your final answer. The brothers rise in anticipation with bated breaths.

“Naaahh.”

Sans stiffens. “you. what?”

“Don’t feel like it anymore.” You shrug nonchalantly. 

“YOU’RE FIBBING,” Papyrus accuses, baffled. 

“Too much work. It’s not like we’ll remember if we die since we’ll be dead and all.”

“BUT THEN WE WON’T BE ALIVE, WHICH IS SOMETHING I VERY MUCH WANT TO BE-”

“-bro,” Sans pipes up, now realizing this is a personality trait of yours, an annoying one at that. His attempt is ignored, Papyrus continues and tries his hardest to convince you.

“Maybe I’ll do it if you give me your cat onesie,” you announce in wonder.

“WELL…” He hesitates. 

Now you feel mean. But then you remember he was kind of an asshole during the sparring match.

“OKAY.” He agrees, hastily runs down the hall into your room, and quickly returns before an annoyed Sans can say a word to you. He places the set on the coffee table. “HERE YOU GO.”

You sit up and inspect it, a finger on your chin as you squint. “Hm. Is that a dirt stain I see? From my, no-longer-a-grassy-yard, but a now a dirt -yard?” 

Papyrus sweats, standing stiffly in front of your TV. “APOLOGIES, CHEF!” He yells, a true Hell’s Kitchen competitor.

You pause and look up at him, he’s completely serious about it. You stand and turn your back to him with your arms crossed. “I can’t even look at you right now. You should know better than to- to-” You suck in a breath, making it seem like it’s in anger, rather than to calm your escaping snickers. “-Bring me filthy clothing!”

You feel his brother's glare on your side. You side-eye him, and make an ugly face, baring your teeth at him. He visibly falters for a split second, and his reaction is enough for you to break character.

“Alright, I give up.” You laugh and turn back around, throwing yourself back onto your cushions. “I was kidding, Papyrus. You can keep it.”

His body completely deflates in relief. “THANK GOODNESS! I REALLY DO LIKE THAT ONESIE SET!”

“Also-” You snicker. “-Chef?” 

“ISN’T IT A RESPECTFUL TERM?”

You nod and point at him in agreement because how could you’ve forgotten? He'll find out one way or another, but you won’t be the one telling him. If Sans hasn’t said anything, why should you? The thought of him calling strangers on the street ‘chef’ is hilarious.

“respectful terms aside.” The afore-thought-of skeleton butts in. “you’ll do it?” he asks you, hopeful.

You’re about to say yes, but as you look him over… A grin pulls at your lips.

“Maybe. If you give me your jacket.”

*

All eight half-souls are separated and inside their own soul holder. “This is the wildest thing ever…” you mutter as you study the fragments. They’re all different sizes; you wouldn’t want to be the owner of the biggest one, that’s for sure.

It’s like each one has their own cute little home. Similar to a fish inside a tank. Would the souls immediately dust if you opened the container? Probably. A bit of color would stop the sight from being so depressing, though. Maybe some stickers… That’s actually a really insensitive and weird thought, what the fuck-

“no backin’ out now, samson,” Sans jokes from his spot near his basement entrance. Sitting on a rickety office chair, he focuses on a monitor in front of him, clicking away at the keyboard and mouse.

“Bible jokes. You’re hilarious.” Your tone is bland. You think of the man he mentioned, only bits and pieces come to the forefront of your mind. “I’ll have you know, he wasn’t a mage with enhancement powers. So your joke isn’t even good,” you retort, glancing back to make sure he’s not looking.

“his god gave ‘em enhanced strength. i think that counts as enhanced powers?” He peeks around the computer screen with a raised brow bone and grin, silently communicating how smug he feels after that statement. 

You back away from the souls with a swift twirl, making it seem like you were not about to curiously tap on the glass. “Ooohh,” you mock in a deeper voice with both hands up, looking around the basement. “What’re you, a theologist?”

He shrugs, getting back to work. “can’t say I know ‘em all, but human religions are interestin’.”

“…Whatever. Still wasn’t a mage.” Is your only response since you begrudgingly admit he got you there. 

You think you hear him whisper something along the lines of “ neither were you,” but ignore it. You don’t have a good enough comeback in mind at the moment. Unless you call him a creepy window trespasser… oh yeah, that’s good. He got embarrassed the last time you called him out, and that was by accident. You’ll save that one for later. 

You cross your hands behind your back and grip his jacket’s cuffs to keep yourself from touching anything. Sans had looked odd without it, but once you all arrived at his house he had an actual closet full of duplicates. “You aren’t even funny,” you quietly mumble under your breath.

“you say somethin’?” He sounds distracted.

“I said your basement’s so crumby,” you state loudly, kicking the small cement crumbs around. A bit of dust surfaces. “You do know what a broom is, right?”

He doesn’t answer since he’s focused on whatever science thing he’s currently doing. Or he doesn’t care. You’ll pretend it’s the former.

You hum in interest as you look over the one and only machine that started this whole mess in the first place. It's a cylinder, almost touching the roof in length, and wide enough for you to fit inside with space to spare. It’s like those pods you’d see in an alien movie, or somewhere you’d be cloned. The glass door seems to be sealed tight, and you really hope you don’t have to get inside it.

There are tubes and wires attached to the top and back, tangled together in a way only the creator could decipher. Some of the wires attach to the wall, and extend around the basement, stopping once it’s plugged in somewhere. There are no buttons, nor is there a control panel in sight. Heh, you know some machinery terms. Thanks, Six Days at Fredricks.

The entrance door opens and heavy footsteps descend the stairs. “I WASN’T SURE HOW LONG THIS WOULD TAKE, SO I MADE SANDWICHES.”

At the mention of food your stomach gurgles and you hurriedly skip your way over to the desk Papyrus sets the dishes on.

“Didn’t even realize I was hungry, thanks. They’re all the same?” you ask, gesturing towards the three sandwiches. When he confirms, you purposely grab the plate closest to Sans, all the while ‘accidentally’ moving the other two farther from him. Punishment for being a smart-ass earlier. 

“thanks bro,” Sans utters, captivated by the screen in front of him. It’s as if he died doing office work in his previous life, only to be reincarnated as a monster zombie who can’t stop working and typing away at a keyboard.

Papyrus sighs and sits on the desk corner with his sandwich, back facing you while staring at the wall. Did you just hear a bit of annoyance from that exhale? You raise a brow at the tallest while chewing, glancing between the two. In different circumstances, you wouldn’t really care.

You still don’t, but…

Your shoulders droop and you roll your eyes, leaning forward to push the side of Sans’ skull with a finger. His entranced state wears off and he pulls away from you. When he meets your gaze, you gesture towards his brother with widened eyes, as well as his untouched plate. 

He realizes quickly, rolling over to the corner and snatching it up, humming as he chews. “thanks bro.” You wince at the repetition. It’s like he said it on instinct earlier. Papyrus apparently notices as well, and gives Sans a stink eye. “ dough-nt get sour on me, my loaf and appreciation for you is always risin’ .”

You drag a free hand down your face in horror. Bread puns? They’re absolutely awful, awful-ler than awful.

Papyrus appears to think the same, though he finds them somewhat amusing as he visibly perks up. He turns to Sans, only to pause and shift his skull to the side, staring at the computer screen with furrowed brow bones.

“ARE YOU PLAYING LEAGUE OF LEGENDS??”

Sans jumps and attempts to roll his office chair back towards the computer. “no.” He’s stopped by a skeletal hand on his shoulder.

“OH MY GOD, YOU ARE!"

You speed walk around the table because you need to see this, but Sans thinks quickly, stretching his leg out and slamming a socked foot on the keyboard. Luckily, you catch a glimpse of a LoL loading screen before the tab is closed.

You let out a disbelieving, loud laugh, pointing at the screen and then at Sans. “Holy shit, the science skeleton plays League!” 

Sweat beads down his skull and a bit of blue dusts his cheekbones. “i don’t even know what that is.” 

“Said the lying skeleton.”

You notice Papyrus still has a hand on his shoulder, and you finish your sandwich in one mouthful. You snatch the keyboard away so quickly it takes him a moment to register, and when it does, Sans absolutely freaks . He tries to fling himself off the chair towards you, but Papyrus’ hold on him tightens in surprise, giving you the advantage of time.

“Oooh, what’re you hiding in here, huh!?” you bellow out through the bread in your mouth, a sadistic sort of smirk on your face. You press on the Windows key and click on files.

“nothin'!” he yells out desperately.

As soon as you hover over ‘Pictures,’ he tackles you onto the ground. With a manic laugh, you hug him close to your body and roll, leaving him under you.

Watching the whole thing is Papyrus, hands hovering and not knowing what to do. He gives up rather quickly. “I FORGOT TO BRING DRINKS!” Footsteps are heard sprinting back upstairs.

You hurry up off of Sans towards the table, only for your ankle to be caught and pulled on. Falling onto the ground with nothing but a new bruise on your arm, you swallow and cackle. “Bet you’re hiding some freaky shit if you’re fighting this hard!”

He sounds breathless as he grunts to stand. “there’s no freaky nothin’”

He steps over you and gets a hand on the mouse. You grip the bottom of his basketball shorts and yank them down. He lets out an indignant yelp and immediately goes to pull them back on, even if he has, what technically are, a second pair of shorts on as underwear. He struggles when you keep them down under your foot once you’re standing, leaning over him to double-click on the picture file.

He freezes, still hunched down and gripping at his pants pooled around his feet. Even from above you can see the blue glow from his face. 

“Ho. lee. shit.”

“heh..heheheh,” he chuckles in relief at your defeated groan.

“You’re so lucky.” You back away from him, allowing him to pull his shorts up once he’s released the pc’s power plug. The black screen showcases your own reflection of disappointment. You side-eye him as you make your way back around the table, doing the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture with a hand.

Once straightened, he’s beaming with relief and smugness before the look slowly drops, as something dawns on him. Before you can question the small-eyelighted look he rushes to plug the pc back in.

“i was uploadin’ some files!” He curses, impatience shining through as the computer powers back on. You give a half grimace in response, not really knowing what to say. 

I’m sorry for your loss. No, you’re not at a funeral. Damn, that’s crazy. No, it would sound too indifferent. Aw, shucks. The hell?

“Oh.” Is all you utter out. You can’t tell if it’s worse, or better than the previous suggestions. 

“it’ll take another day to re-upload. guess the first trip will be delayed.” He sighs in irritation, rubbing at his temples.

“It was today?” You were not informed you would’ve been AU hopping today .

He eyes you. “yeah, we gotta do this as soon as we can.” 

Your brows furrow and you stick your hands into his jacket’s pockets, is that a lollipop? “I don’t even know how to use my magic properly.”

“you’ve got another day anyway, might as well train.” He shrugs. “i wasn’t plannin’ on sending ya without somethin’ to protect you in some way. ya don’t gotta worry about that.”

“I’VE BROUGHT BEVERAGES!!”

Chapter Text

After some hours of doing puzzles to entertain yourself with Papyrus later, you let out a curse when you go to stand from the ground, legs feeling sore- er.

Witnessing from above as the focused skeleton searches intently for a puzzle piece on the ground to finish the two thousand-piece Paris image, you decide on getting something to drink.

You slip on your flip-flops and flick at the back of his skull in jest, only to get no reaction. 

If he’s always this focused on things he wants to get done, you’d love to see him at a sip and paint.

He switched out his borrowed clothes for something more comfortable, sweatpants and a cropped shirt with a design that’s probably homemade.

You make it to the kitchen quickly since it’s beside the living room and rummage through multiple cupboards in search of a cup. 

You’ll have to speak with Sans about the AU hopping tomorrow, since you need more time to do… everything, really.

Not only that, but you don’t know where you’re going, or how exactly you’ll bring over the soul owners. While you have magic, you don’t know how to use it properly, plus you’re in pain and have a hard time speed walking, but you won’t tell him that last part unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Most of all, how would you come back from said AU?

So many questions with no answers. He said he’d ‘give you something’ to help keep you safe, which makes you wonder how dangerous this whole thing is, but dismiss the thought for now.

You need to have a long talk with that intruder.

You would do it right now if it weren’t for the fact that he mercilessly kicked you and Papyrus out of the basement.

Maybe not mercilessly, but it’s close enough when he said ‘i needa finish somethin’, how’zabout you let my bro show you some of his puzzles?’

Yeah, totally, you’d thought bitterly, Finish yourself with League of Legends NSFW fanart. 

You kept your mouth shut for once and instead flipped his back off aggressively while Papyrus had you follow him upstairs for some ‘FUN BRAIN ACTIVATING GAMES. BUT I DON’T HAVE A BRAIN, SO I GUESS IT WOULD BE MIND-ACTIVATING. EVERYTHING ACTIVATES, I SUPPOSE!’

It’s been quite a while since then, and you’ve found out a little about them both from Papyrus and his big mouth.

Like Frisk, who you recognize as the releaser of monsters, Undyne, Asgore, and Asgore’s Clone ??? The second to last character you recognize as the only monster currently in prison for the admittance of several murders.

There’s a person named Alphys, who’s the royal scientist and somewhat of an acquaintance since she’s Undyne’s wife, plus Monster Kid, but MK for short. 

Papyrus spoke pleasantly of them all, especially Asgore, which had you stumped since he’s a child murderer.

When you’d brought it up the skeleton said he had no idea about it until way after, and once he did, he tried his best to help Frisk out so that they wouldn’t fall to ‘UNDY- AHEM, ASGORE’S HANDS’ the same way those poor kids had before them.

The King is apparently a kind man, who obviously had his faults and regretted it since he turned himself in, but his guilt won’t clean his hands of their blood. 

After all that, Papyrus believes Asgore can become a better monster, even though he doesn’t particularly like him for what he did.

You might feel differently but leave him to it; you don’t know the King personally so you don’t have much to go off of except things you’ve heard. 

“YOU SURE ARE THIRSTY.”

You jump, the hand pouring water into your cup jostling and spilling more liquid onto the floor.

“My bad,” you apologize and hastily place everything down on the counter in search of a paper towel, stepping over the spreading water puddle on the ground. 

“IT’S FINE, HERE.”

He hands you a rag, and you wonder for a moment where he got it from as you throw it over the spill. 

“DISTRACTED?” he asks with a tilt of his head, sitting on a stool in front of the small island countertop and cupping his chin with both hands with his elbows on the hard surface.

If he were lying down, you bet your life he would be swinging his legs back and forth behind him.

You glance up at him before moving the soaking piece of cloth around with your foot.

“Yeah. Was wondering whether I should bust into the basement.”

He twirls from left to right on the spinnable stool, arching his back. It looks like he’s shaking his butt, or whatever it is skeletons have. Butt bones. 

“I DON’T THINK THAT’S A GOOD IDEA, WE’VE HAD TO REPLACE SO MANY DOORS ALREADY…!”

You gesture to yourself with a questioning look. “You think I could break down a door?”

“YOU’RE AN ENHANCER.”

You shrug, staring at the sopping-wet rag and not wanting to touch it. “I forgor.”

“FORGOT?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

You pass an incredulous look his way and pinch the rag, shivering in disgust, and lift it in front of Papyrus’s face, not knowing where to put it. It feels so gross.

“BUT YOU DIDN’T,” he states quizzically, pointing towards a bin.

You throw it in as fast as you can, washing your hands soon after even if it was a rag with water.

Yeah, clean your hands of water with water. That makes sense.

Shaking your wet hands in the sink, you sigh with a shake of your head. “Alright buddy, we might have to find you an audiologist.”

“AUDI-WHAT-WHAT?”

“Short explanation: Doctor for hearing.”

“BUT I HEARD YOU FINE??”

“I don’t know about that…”

“I?? WHAT???”

“knock knock,” the shorter skeleton suddenly voices from the living room. 

So he’s finally done jorkin it…

You whisper-yell to Papyrus, “Shit, our opp is here, go attack him for his horrific crimes of subjecting us to his overrated and cringe jokes!”

“I WILL NOT!?” Papyrus responds, confused beyond comprehension over the last two minutes.

You sigh, already mourning the loss of half your brain capacity, knowing it'll dissipate completely once you hear Sans’s full joke.

You give Papyrus a pleading look, but he keeps his gaze upwards, faking innocence. 

Begrudgingly, you respond, “…Who’s there?”

“water.”

You cover your face with your hands and unleash a loud sob. 

“Don't make me go on, please,” you plead with either brother, because if you continue you might just destroy this building. 

No one responds, so your next words escape you at a speed even Turbo the snail could never beat.

“Water who?” 

Before you can hear his reply, you cover your ears, exclaiming ‘LALALALA ’ for about fifteen seconds. Plus an extra five just in case he's speaking real slow.

As he appears, exhausted and banging his forehead against the island beside Papyrus, you unclog your ears.

The urge to ask what inappropriate sites he’s been looking up crosses your mind, just to embarrass him, but you forcefully clamp your lips shut, trapping the words inside.

Maybe it's best to keep your mouth under lock and key for now. Mouth jail? Mayhaps. Plus, you would seem like the weirdo for asking.

He sighs. “welp.”

You shoot him a quizzical glance as he remains face-down on the table. “What?”

He exhales louder. “existential crisis.”

Uh-oh spaghetti-o. Should you try to reassure him that everything will be alright? You barely know this guy; maybe it's his brother's responsibility to cheer him up.

You take a deliberate, noisy sip of your water, stealing a glance over the rim at Papyrus, hoping he'll offer some words of encouragement. But all you hear is the sound of your drinking, filling the silence.

Setting the cup down, you give it a moment, hoping for some response. 

"...Yeeep," you trail off awkwardly after the silence stretches on a bit too long.

“anyway,” Sans begins, dismissing his earlier down trodden attitude and straightening. The middle of his forehead has a gray spot.

“i made somethin’ for ya.”

“Me?” you ask, glancing around and pointing at yourself. “Do you make stuff for strangers as a hobby?”

The white circles in his sockets drag across your form, his mannerisms portraying exasperation.

“you’re a special case,” he states dryly.

“The only special case I see here is the one you’ll have for breaking and entering,” you respond in monotone, half joking. 

He lifts his hands up in surrender and turns around, shuffling away.

“c’mon.”

*

When Sans booted you and Papyrus out of the basement, turns out he wasn't just gooning around.

He was crafting this contraption wrapped around your wrist. Now, sitting between the two of them in that very basement, you plop your elbow on the desk with an incredulous sigh, wondering if you've stumbled into some bizarre science experiment. This is some acid trip.

"You're seriously saying that this—" You dramatically raise your arm, causing the cheap, metal bracelet to slide down as if it's embarrassed to be seen.

"—Is what's yanking me back from an alternate universe?"

"IT DOES SEEM RATHER… RIDICULOUS," Papyrus chimes in, eyeing the metallic contraption with a skeptical bone-brow raise.

This DIY gizmo is flirting dangerously with the territory of 'tin foil hat designed to thwart mind-controlling government broadcasts.'

“it’s not a different world -” 

"Alright, vocab virtuoso," you shoot back, "Alternate universe."

"yeah, and i'm not even gonna bother explainin’, 'cause let's face it, it's like trynna teach calculus to a cat."

You narrow your eyes, trying not to take offense, though deep down, you know there's probably some truth to it.

But seriously, he might as well be slapping a 'Dunce' hat on your head. You exchange a side-glance with Papyrus, who's giving you the subtlest warning look.

Don't stir the spaghetti pot, he silently pleads, and you begrudgingly comply with an exaggerated eye roll, deciding instead to poke at the bracelet while mentally kicking yourself for not asking the obvious question ages ago.

“Who even are the ones I have to find? Do you know what they look like?”

Sans shrugs. “two skeleton monsters from each au,” he states nonchalantly.

“...Do they look like you?”

He shuffles through some papers on his desk, grabbing a handful and pretending to read them with a furrowed bone-brow.

You think he knows how suspicious all of this sounds, that’s why he hadn’t told you until now. He got all butt hurt when you asked about the soul holders, too. 

“Sans.”

He hums to himself, scratching at the side of his skull in thought, mumbling about one scientific circumference not matching the other.

“The paper’s blank.”

He sighs dramatically, as if you've just rudely interrupted an intense study session.

"newsflash, wise guy, I'm conductin’ groundbreakin’ research here."

You snatch the so-called 'important research' paper from his hands and tear it to shreds, flinging the destroyed pieces right into his face.

“Why’re you so secretiv-” 

Sans stops you abruptly, pressing a finger to your lips.

He shushes you loudly, his finger roughly moving and pulling your lips around, stretching your skin in odd ways.

He lets out a small chuckle when he pulls your upper lip down, muttering, “makes ya look like a vegetoid…” 

He persists with his audible shushing for a good twenty seconds, never pausing the motion of his finger on your mouth.

In a state of paralyzed shock, you only start to react when his bone nearly enters your nose.

His grin widens slightly before you snap at his finger with your teeth, making him retract it quickly.

You shoot him a pointed look. "Don't tempt me."

Sans responds with an awkward throat-clearing sound and goes back to shuffling through paperwork.

“CAN YOU TWO NOT? I FEEL LIKE A THIRD WHEEL WATCHING TWO PEOPLE MAKE TERRIBLE ATTEMPTS AT FLIRTING.”

You huff an amused breath. “You’d know if I was flirting. Sans, on the other hand… yeah, he could use a good VooTube tutorial.”

“AGREED.”

“bro, please…”

“WHAT? HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY!”

You give a sage nod, mentally preparing to use this juicy info as future teasing weaponry.

"Absolutely, Papyrus! So, spill, how many romantic entanglements has Sans managed to dodge?"

"I BELIEVE HE'S ONLY BEEN IN A COMMITTED RELATIONSHIP WITH KETCHUP."

“paps…”

“Really?”

"YES, BELIEVE IT OR NOT, SLEEPING  ANYWHERE AT ANY TIME WITH KETCHUP SMUDGES ON YOUR TEETH ISN'T EXACTLY A MAGNET FOR ADMIRERS. SHOCKING, I KNOW!"

Sans lowers his head into his arms on the desk and groans, presumably in shame…? Embarrassment? You’re not too sure.

Papyrus seems all too willing to air out all of Sans’s dirty laundry, and you’re unsure whether it’s because it’s you asking, or he just snitches out everything to anyone . Honestly, you hope it’s the latter.

“you guys are awful…”

"You're stuck with him 'cause he's your bro, and me 'cause I'm your future savior."

Sans visibly cringes. “…don’t say it like that.”

"Well, well, well, that's not how you address your divine entity. Seems I’ll have to punish you now.” 

“PLEASE STOP.”

You shrug with raised arms. "By the way, I don't think I'm up for AU hopping tomorrow. Isn't it too soon for that?"

You can't help but ponder your lack of magical prowess. It's not like you're some seasoned wizard capable of effortlessly activating and using your powers.

You were thinking of sticking to more mundane activities while you practice—like, you know, ripping up Sans's precious ‘research’ papers and browsing through his computer when he’s not around.

“sorry, but it’s gotta be as soon as possible,” Sans says, his tone tinged with a hint of pity.

“we’re on the clock here, even doin’ it tomorrow is pushin’ it.”

Your expression turns sour, and you glance down at the bracelet adorning your wrist. 

“I better be getting something out of this,” you mutter bitterly.

“You break into my house, unleash magic from my soul, tell me alternate universes are real, then want to send me over somewhere that’s probably dangerous. I’m confused about everything right now.”

“i...really am sorry bud,” he apologizes sincerely.

“it was sudden, y’know? i didn’t wanna bring anyone into this mess unless i absolutely had to. and as it turns out, i had to because i can’t do it myself. if i could i would.”

“Sure,” you state neutrally, not knowing how to feel exactly.

“But you will give me anything I ask for after this, right? C’mon, I’m literally saving the world.”

“maybe.”

"IF HE WON'T, I WILL! I DON'T FEEL LIKE BECOMING A SKELETON OF MY FORMER SELF," Papyrus interjects, with a dramatic flair that could rival Shakespeare.

“Ah, your jokes are so much funnier.”

"I KNOW!!" Papyrus exclaims, his enthusiasm bordering on manic, as if it's the most glaringly obvious truth that somehow eludes everyone else’s minds.

"Alright, Sans, enlighten me," you inquire, thrusting the mysterious bracelet toward his face.

"I mean, I'm no expert, but I don't see any 'press me' buttons here."

Sans snags your wrist, redirecting your hand away from his face with a pointed glance, then flips it over, exposing your palm. 

"see this?" Sans points out a minuscule square indentation etched into the metal, a detail you had completely overlooked.

Papyrus stands beside you, his curiosity piqued, hanging onto every word.

"once you’re physically holding both targets, you'll need to press down here for about two seconds," Sans explains, his tone matter-of-fact.

"That's... a lot less exciting than I hoped," you mutter, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

"How will I get there in the first place? Can you explain without me having to ask, dude? Honestly…”

“well it starts with that machine,” he gestures towards the alien sci-fi tube. “you’ll have to go inside it-”

Of course you do….

“-then i’ll send you to the au two fragment souls belong to. they've got this cosmic homin’ instinct, always gravitatin’ back to where they originated. that’s why we need to bring the other half here.”

“And taking the fragments back over there is out of the question?”

“would probably dust on the way; and if somehow you did get ‘em back, how would you reattach the souls?”

“I dunno man, I just got here.”

“exactly. now, goin’ over everything; i’ll send you over, you find two skeletons-”

"Do you happen to know their names? And how much time do I have to track them down?" you interject eagerly.

Sans heaves a sigh, clearly exasperated by the interruption, but reluctantly responds, "you don’t have a time limit, but i’d prefer as fast as possible, since y’know, death and all. as for their names…” Sans hesitates.

“sans and papyrus. ya might stumble upon them in a little town called snowdin. no guarantees. "

“...All of them are… Sans and Papyrus?” 

“...yea.”

Your and Papyrus' jaws practically hit the floor, and the taller of the two springs up from his seat, utterly flabbergasted.

"WAIT JUST A FLIPPIN' MINUTE!"

This is exactly what Sans wanted to avoid, but sooner or later he’d have to face the fact that you two would find out about everything. 

Chapter Text

The next morning greets you with a surprise: a shoulder that feels like it got into a wrestling match with the mattress.

It seems like your body decided to try some contortionist moves while you were asleep. But hey, at least your sore legs from yesterday are gone, though you don’t know how it happened so fast.

The skele-bros let you crash in one of their guest rooms since you're sticking around for today anyway, even if it’s not for long due to you having an appointment with an alternate universe.

So here you are, putting on a hand-me-down snow jacket even though you doubt you’ll need it, since Sans and Papyrus are insistent it snows underground.

They made you wear mittens, thick pants and boots, as if you were going to the Antarctic. Papyrus gifted you a mask to hide your human face, instructing you to keep your hoodie up to hide your head and the straps. 

It resembles an open mouth, having two separate sections connected by a black breathable fabric you can see through in the middle.

The top and bottom are ‘skin’ with many sharp teeth protruding from the edges. 

It basically looks like your face is just an open mouth.

“Okay,” you mutter, feeling a twinge of nervousness and fear grip your chest. 

Who wouldn’t be slightly afraid of this? 

"I just... get in there..." you mutter, eyeing the nightmarish tube suspiciously.

"You sure this won't kill and clone me or something?"

"it's safe, no clonin’ or aliens here, bud," Sans reassures you for the tenth time, tapping away at his computer.

He joins you, standing in front of the control panel connected to the machine beside you.

"PLEASE BE CAREFUL, FRIEND!" Papyrus's worried voice echoes from the basement entrance.

Earlier, Papyrus had cooked up a big breakfast for you, loading your plate with tasty morning foods.

Between bites, he explained more about your magic and how it could boost your strength and speed.

He admitted he didn't know much about humans, mostly drawing from his experiences with monsters.

He shared a story about someone named Ice Wolf, who used his enhancements to chuck giant ice blocks for a living, cooling off the Core underground.

You didn't quite get why hurling ice was a job, or what the core even was, but you didn’t ask, getting the gist of your abilities. 

You're still clueless on how to activate your powers deliberately, since the first time it happened was a panicked accident.

Despite wanting to keep it a secret, Sans eventually confessed that every monster you'd bring back would be another version of himself and Papyrus. Every single one. Four versions of these two…

Then there’s the living arrangements. The brothers only have two guest rooms and an extra bathroom.

It’ll be quite cramped with ten monsters living under this roof, so you compromised,  begrudgingly agreeing you’d let some stay at your place. If the AU monsters agreed, that is.

It’s only fair if you’re yanking them from their homes, right?

You mentally repeat the instruction Sans gave you; find a town called Snowdin and a two floored house.

That’s where they lived before, he’s assuming these other versions do as well.

If their barrier is broken you’ll be in a lot more trouble, it’ll be a thousand times harder to find the two skeleton monsters.

You gingerly step up and into the machine, the thump of your winter boots against the metal flooring echoing in your ears. 

It's been years since you've felt this kind of nervousness. Your life used to be as mundane as oatmeal—working from home, only emerging for the occasional concert or urgent errand.

Some might call you a homebody, while others would likely slap you with the label of ‘the recluse who inhabits the woods and never sets foot outside.’ 

But hey, you're all about comfort; binge-watching shows, conquering video game levels, and sketching away the hours are your bread and butter, with the occasional outing to catch a bargain ballet concert or whatever's affordable at the time. It’s entertaining.

You can barely feel the bracelet Sans made beneath the thick jacket's fabric when you place a hand in your pocket to double-check you have the water bottle and granola bar Papyrus gave you.

Once in position, you fan your face while studying the inside of the machine, thankful the mask is lifted on your head.

It’s getting kind of hot in this fit here…

“i’m usin’ the same coordinates as the ones here, you should be somewhere in the underground,” Sans states in a thought, flipping tiny switches on the metal slab full of buttons. 

“Okay.”

Your attempts to calm your fast beating heart aren’t working. Your head is buzzing.

With clenched fists and shut eyes, you muster up the courage to yell, “Do a countdown!”

Exclaiming ‘fuck’ repeatedly to steel yourself, you're afraid he won’t do as you instructed and might just send you without warning, you hold back the urge to just call it quits to go back home. 

“YOU HAVE THE SNACK I GAVE YOU?” Papyrus asks, his voice closer than before.

“Yes.”

“IS THE WATER COLD?”

The bottle was half frozen, he knows the answer, so why is he asking? You triple check, touching the dripping container deep in your pocket.

“Yes,” you answer a second time.

You feel him gently grab your other hand in a comforting manner.

“WHAT YOU ATE EARLIER, WASN’T IT TASTY?”

Your head feels lighter and the buzzing is gone. “Yeah, it was good. Could’ve used a bit more salt, though…”

“I’LL KEEP THAT IN MIND FOR NEXT TIME.”

You open your eyes and watch as Papyrus lets go of your hand while backing away, his body language screaming concern. You can’t quite read Sans.

The skeleton wearing a jacket similar to yours nods to himself.

“alright, it’s ready.”

He catches your eye and holds it with a grin.

“don’t bring back a halloween decoration and expect us to fall for it,” he jokes, one hand in his pocket while the other lies beside the transport button.

“I expect you to have good jokes by the time I get back.” You sigh in faux exhaustion.

“I’LL MAKE SURE HE GETS BETTER MATERIAL,” Papyrus promises, eyeing Sans threateningly.

“heh,” the clown lets out an audibly nervous chuckle. “i’ll press the button on the count of three, yeah?”

You swallow and nod as the glass door slowly traps you inside the tube. You can hear them muttering to each other in muffled voices.

Papyrus seems a lot more worried than you thought, even if you’re a stranger he met a little over a day ago.

“…one,” Sans starts the count-down you’d asked for, and it makes you all the more anxious. 

Your hands are a lot more sweaty than before… wait no, your whole body’s like a waterfall of sticky nervous liquid right now.

Are you melting? It feels like you’re melting.

“two…” 

You’re starting to regret this, massively . You open your mouth to yell out, PAUSE—!

“three.”

Your vision zaps shut like the power off of a TV and you disappear before the two skeleton’s sight.

Sans recalls telling you it was all a gamble, some things could be the same, others not so much.

He didn’t want to scare you too bad, so he might’ve forgotten to recount some things… Truthfully, he had no idea what he was doing. 

He could only hope the bracelet would actually work.

*

 "Ugh," you groan, feeling disoriented. "Shit, shit, shit..."

You blink and look around. You're lying on soft snow, pushing yourself up. Snow.

Glancing around, you realize you're in the place you’re supposed to be. The ceiling is rock, but it's bright, like a sunny day outside.

Pine trees surround you, growing… underground.

What the hell. Hearing about it was one thing, but seeing it is surreal. This place, though similar, feels totally different from the surface.

It's cold, but not freezing, which is odd for a snowy place.

Quickly getting up and brushing the snow off, you slip on your monster mask and hoodie. With a hopeful heart, you set off to find the town Sans mentioned, trudging through the woods.

After half an hour of fruitless wandering, fatigue begins to set in. Head down, you drag your feet until a looming shadow suddenly engulfs you.

Looking up, you spot a bridge spanning the gap between two cliffs. Finally, something!

You circle the cliffs, searching for a way up, but deflate a bit when you realize it's quite a distance away.

Looks like a long walk followed by a hike up the side... not exactly your forte.

Maybe you could...

You focus, closing your eyes and tensing up. Come on, activate, activate, activate. There should be an orange outline any moment now...

Peeking through your mask, you find no orange glow. Okay, you tell yourself, just need more time.

Closing your eyes again, you wait.

And wait..

And wait…

Nothing. Absolutely nothing happened. You let out a frustrated groan, stretching your arms up high in exasperation, probably looking ridiculous.

Temptation to press down on the bracelet and just return home, abandoning everything, tugs at you. Let the world perish, who cares!

You place your mittened hands on your head with a heavy sigh, kicking at the ground in defeat. Looks like it's going to be a hike, and not the enjoyable kind…

It’s still cold enough for you to feel it beneath your thick clothing, though not hypothermia inducing. 

It felt like an eternity, but you finally reach your destination. Somehow, following the direction your racing heart led you, you come upon a sign that reads 'Welcome to Snowdin!'

Under your mask, you're breathing heavily after that workout. Collapsing into the snow for a brief rest, limbs spread out, you're grateful for the water bottle Papyrus gave you. It really came in handy.

Behind you, someone exclaims, “Who’s there?!”

You jump off the ground, not knowing what to expect, before remembering you have a mask for a reason. You turn, stiff.

“Hi,” you direct awkwardly towards the humanoid dog a few steps away from you. 

He sports a black spiked collar and tank top, paired with dark brown pants that seem to have been torn at the seams, reaching down to his mid-calf.

His eyes glance from left to right, as if searching for you, despite you standing in front of him. 

He audibly sniffs the air and barks, “I don’t recognize your smell!”

“Uh,” you mumble in confusion, thinking of an excuse. “I’m…new,” you state before hastily adding, “To Snowdin, that is.” 

Nailed it.

“Yeah? Why don’t you show yourself, then! If you have nothing to hide…” His eyes narrow suspiciously, and you can tell he’s getting more frustrated by the second.

Your expression fades from confusion into one of befuddlement. Is he blind?

He’s glancing around as though he can see, he just can’t… see you? Waving a hand around, you falter and pause your movements when his eyes immediately snap on your form. 

He jumps, startled, then shouts, “Where’d you go?! I just saw you!”

You rock from side to side, testing. Top five weirdest moments of your life.

His eyes once again focus on you, and he accusingly points a paw your way.

“You’re fucking with me, and I don’t need another annoying kid in this town! Go back to where you came from, no one wants you here,” he growls, fangs bare.

Wiggling your body, you try your best to show how apologetic you feel in your body language, lifting your hands and waving them around while shaking your head. 

You don’t think it’s working very well. “No, no! I wasn’t, I didn’t know you couldn’t see me if I didn’t move.”

“Oh, now you think it’s funny to mock me?!” 

He takes a step forward as you take one back, and you're still as if you were doing the viral 2016 trend ‘mannequin challenge.’

You don’t want to kill him, hurt him maybe, but not kill. You just don’t know how much damage he can take before dusting.

Not only that, but you don’t wanna risk being thrown in jail, and fail the mission all at once. 

You glance around, ignoring the monster dog yelling threats of bodily harm while searching for you.

He’s closing in by your scent, and you’re attempting to think of a solution, but nothing comes to mind.

This is the entrance to Snowdin, you think, hurt him here and anyone could see… 

Could you just run? He appears to want a physical fight, craving one even, despite calling you kid.

A human or skeleton, sure you could beat, but a dog with sharp ass teeth…?

“Look man, I don’t want to fight,” you concede, still unmoving.

“Hmph, you’re just asking for a beating. Making fun of me like that,” he mutters sourly.

He’s an arm's length away, swinging his head around while sniffing. He’s still angry, and his teeth are on display threateningly.

Suddenly his nose is inches away from your own, and you panic as you shut your eyes, grabbing the sides of his head while scratching behind his ears. 

He’s going to bite your head off…!

But instead of pain, there's only a gentle tapping sound. You cautiously open one eye and look down.

His foot is rhythmically thumping against the snow, and his tail is wagging back and forth. When you look up at his face, you notice that the angry creases between his eyes and snout have vanished, replaced by a calm and pleasant expression.

“PAT, PAT, PAT, PAT, PAT!” he hollers while panting, eyes closed as he leans into your hands.

“Who’s… a good boy?” you state hesitantly.

A grumble escapes his throat and he cringes. “I like the pats, but I’m not into that…” 

“Yeeeah.” You cringe harder. “My bad.”

*

Ironically, his name is Doggo. The anthropomorphic dog had calmed down after you apologized for a second time, looking at you weirdly while he muttered to himself about you being a ‘major asshole.’ 

You’re not the one who immediately went and accused him of mocking while tensing for a fight, but okay . If anything, he’s the ass. 

He’d told you not to stay out too late, something about a curfew, and when you questioned him he admitted to being a royal sentry, already done with his shift.

You caught him mumbling about someone named Sans, and you knew you hit the jackpot.

“Sans?” you’d asked in faux annoyance. “That fucking guy and his dumb jokes…” 

You acted agitated while shuffling beside him into Snowdin as you side eyed him through the black fabric of your mask. You hoped you didn’t mess up.

“Right!?” He’d agreed enthusiastically. “Made me take two shifts today, the lazy fuck… If I see him at Grillby’s I’ll rip his fucking head off,” he growled then stiffened, as if caught red-handed with a paw in the treat jar.

“I mean–I’m joking. I wouldn’t actually do that to him.”

Here you are now, watching him gaze around with a bit more urgency, as if searching for someone. You hadn’t taken the threat seriously, and you couldn’t help but notice he back-tracked quite fast. 

You both pass a shop and an inn, each building boarded up with planks on the windows.

The only sign the places were open being the yellow light shining through the gaps. The once bright blue sky was slowly turning red, then a dark burgundy, each shade blending with the next.

The sight has you feeling like a future sacrifice for some cult full of blood drinking monsters. You studied each monster that walked by, and almost all of them had sharp teeth

“Haha, yeah,” you laughed his joke off, hoping to calm his suddenly frayed nerves. “So, you have no idea where he’s been…?”

He studied you and suddenly became suspicious. “No. Why?”

You mentally cursed, images of you shaking the monster beside you by the shoulders while yelling ‘WHERE IS THE BAG OF BONES?!’ appeared in your mind, but in reality you sighed.

You shuffled by a small house, noting the Christmas tree some feet away from you in the middle of the town, as well as the Grillby’s Doggo had mentioned.

“Honestly,” you began, thinking of a lie on the spot. “I’m an acquaintance of his from the city, knew ‘im when we were kids. Going to pay the annoying bastard a visit since I moved here.” 

There are so many ways this could go wrong, you could only hope he falls for it.

“Huh,” was Doggo’s answer. A sarcastic huff as he scratched at his neck. “Good luck with that,” he says, his last words to you. 

He swiveled to the side and entered the bar, leaving you alone in the middle of Snowdin without answers. 

You had every number right except for the last one on your lottery card. You didn’t hit the jackpot.

Ignoring the sneers thrown your way by passersby, you follow Doggo’s steps and peek into Grillby’s.

Doggo did say Sans frequents this place, maybe he’s here getting his head ripped off by the angry sentry.

Woah, that’s a lot of dogs , you think, watching them play…cards?

There’s a bunny, a plant with teeth that sort of looks like your mask, and a bartender made of green fire. No sight of Sans or Papyrus…

You quietly shut the door and continue through the snowy town, keeping an eye out for the building Sans, the Sans you know, had described. 

To your right, there’s yelling, and you glance over to catch a bunny woman punch a bear right in the nose. He groans in pain, falling to his knees while hunching over, and curses at her.

She harrumphs and struts away, pulling a smaller bunny along with a leash. 

The bear grovels in the snow and people pass him by, uncaring. 

What the fuck. This place is really weird. Everyone seems constantly angry, annoyed, or depressed. You shake your head and continue.

You shouldn’t get sidetracked, you won’t be here long.

You spot the house. Two floors with boarded windows like every other building in this town, along with Christmas lights and broken glass littering the ground.

There’s yelling somewhere in the distance behind you, and you ignore the fight between civilians.

Squaring your shoulders, you step up to the door and knock.

You hear a heavy thump and an annoyed voice yell, “WHO’S THERE?”

“Delivery,” you say, only to silently freak out after because you have no food in hand. 

“UGH!” There’s footsteps heading your way.

What the hell is wrong with you!? What are you going to tell him when he sees no food!

The door clicks, it’s being unlocked. 

Your head swivels around in search for a meal you know won’t be there before you give up and—

The door opens, revealing a very sharp Papyrus.

You didn’t think Papyrus could ever be intimidating unless he really tried, but here you are, intimidated by a version that probably isn’t trying.

Sharp cheekbones, teeth, even his eye sockets are sharp, thin, like a permanent cat eye with no lights inside. He has two scratches on his right socket. 

Red, oval-shaped glasses lay atop his nasal ridge and the color beneath his sockets are darkening, similar to bags when a human is severely sleep-deprived. 

A tight black dress fits his form, the bottom is fashionably ripped to shreds as though he fought a werewolf, and the fabric lengthens at his wrists, reminding you of a gothic, vampire witch.

Gray leg warmers adorn the bottom of his legs, while black socks cover his feet.

“HMPH, HOW MUCH?” he growls out, wallet open for cash.

He mutters to himself, “I TOLD THE IDIOT NOT TO MOVE, BUT THERE HE GOES. CALLING FOR FOOD WHEN I’M PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF MAKING MY AMAZING LASAGNA…”

You fist the granola bar in your mittened hand and shove it in his face, sweating under your mask.

“Sans told me to bring it to him personally, like usual.”

This Papyrus pinches the side of his glasses, dipping them along with his skull in a judgy glance. 

“WHO ARE YOU? I’VE NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE.”

“I recently moved here,” you lie. “But I’ve delivered here at least five times already.”

“…REALLY,” he states, tone bored. “DELIVERED… GRANOLA BARS.”

“Yeeeep, it’s a special,” you falter, struggle to find the words.

“chhh…imichanga. Flavor. With healing properties,” you add at the end, knowing he might not be in the best shape with a piece of his soul gone.

How is this Papyrus even standing?

“OF COURSE,” Spikey Papyrus groans. You see his socket twitch. He sidesteps, opening the door wider for you. “GO, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT.”

You enter, searching for a door that might lead to Sans’s room, seeing none downstairs. You slowly make your way up the creaky stairs.

You sense him watching your back with great intensity.

“Which door was it again?” you ask, feigning forgetfulness. 

You hear him huff, and he stomps up the stairs. When he passes you, the air whips past your face with how fast he’s moving, and you catch a whiff of his cinnamon cologne. 

That’s weird, why are you smelling him? Stop thinking!

He opens the door to other Sans’s room, and you walk in as if you’d done it many times over. 

“REMEMBER WHOSE PRESENCE YOU’RE IN,” he threatens, like he’s your God or something.

You ignore him. Does he think you'll try to murder his brother? With how violent the monsters here seem to be you don't doubt it. 

It’s really messy; like, borderline trash pit messy. It’s dark with the light off, but you can see clothes strewn across the floor in bundles, and trash everywhere.

You see a bin in the corner, balls of tissue and wrappers lie around it, despite it having no cover. He definitely won’t make the basketball team.

The picture frames on the walls are crooked and the one mirror he has is cracked to hell.

You look towards the back right corner, blinking in surprise at the royal-prince-type bed frame holding his bed. 

The bed with him in it. 

He’s asleep; you can only see the back of his skull as he’s laying on his nonexistent stomach.

You glance back at Spikey Papyrus, in which he just tiredly blinks at you in response.

You catch the side of his teeth lifting uncomfortably and the narrowing of his sockets. His sharp phalanges rub at his ribs. He’s in pain, you realize.

You quietly step towards the figure wrapped in a thick blanket, granola bar in hand. Now standing over him, you notice the corner of his sharp teeth. Of course.

“Uh, Papyrus,” you whisper, voice wavering in panic. “There’s dust—”

“WHAT!?” He’s beside you in a second, and you take the chance given to you.

You scoop your arm beneath Sans’s head, cradling his skull to your chest, then hook your other around Papyrus’s arm. You bring your hands to meet in the middle and dig under your jacket sleeve, pressing down on your escape route.

Before the transportation you could’ve sworn Spikey was about to punch you.

Chapter Text

Putting it simply: the escape was a mess. It was supposed to be easy, you think for the thousandth time. Grab the monster, press the button, let Sans explain the situation, and give them part of their souls back. But no, apparently not. 

When you’d appeared in the basement, tangled in panicking limbs, you immediately knew someone was going to get hurt. It was chaos. Not magical chaos, but a physical fight breaking out type of chaos. You were elbowed in the eye by someone, and you had to hold back tears as you cradled it on the ground, groaning in pain. You didn't have time to realize another person had appeared along with you.

Spikey took it upon himself to uppercut Doggo. How the hell is he here? Your Sans, who’d been anxiously waiting for you to return, had tried to keep the peace. Word of the week: tried.

Sharky, the name you’ve given your shorter kidnapped victim, seeing a skeleton so similar to himself, must've thought this was some kind of sick joke. He attacked Sans, flinging himself towards him and wildly throwing slaps and punches. 

Papyrus was waiting for you as well, and in a panic he threw the lookalike off of Sans, making Sharky hit his head against the cement wall. 

Spikey was fighting with Doggo, angrily exclaiming things like, “I KNEW YOU WERE JEALOUS. ALL OF YOU WILL BE PUNISHED HARSHLY FOR THIS!” or “YOU’RE AN INSULT TO THE ROYAL GUARD.”

Sharky, somehow not knocked out, noticed you, the weakest-looking ‘monster’ on the ground in pain and went for it. The next thing you know, there’s a skeleton on your back and the hard bone of his arm is under your chin. 

He has you in a choke hold, pulling you along with him and forcing your back in a painful arch. 

“thought you could just kill us, huh?” he muttered in your ear, voice sounding similar yet not to the Sans in front of you. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. Maybe it was the sound of you laughing while being choked that made him falter, or… it was definitely you laughing. 

Either way, you used all your strength to fling your torso forward, throwing him off. You rip the mask off, throwing it away while attempting to catch your breath and cupping your injured eye.

Sharky had zeroed in on your face, and you heard him growl out, “ human .”

“Yeah,” you sighed, feeling your heartbeat through your neck and fingertips. “Monster,” you hissed back with an equal amount of distaste.

You rushed forward on all fours and gripped at his little hard neck with one hand while sticking your other two fingers down his nose hole. You would’ve punched a fist down his eye socket if you weren’t worried you’d dust him from the pain. 

He was practically bedridden, more than half of his soul is likely gone, and an injury like that would be way too painful, you conclude. Could skeletons feel like they have a black eye?

He makes a choked sound bordering on a sob. It’s not because he’s actually being throttled, more so because of your digits residing in a hole of his they’re not supposed to be in. 

His claws alternate between scratching at the hand at his throat and the one at his nose, making you bleed. You gritted your teeth, every ounce of pain quickly being overtaken by anger.

Is this what you’ll have to deal with each time? All these injuries just because you were forced into a situation you never even had control over? You removed your fingers from his nose and reeled your arm back, fist clenched.

“You little—!!”

“i have your souls!” Sans exclaimed, and suddenly everything went quiet.

You froze abruptly and hastily released the skeleton beneath you, backing away. You almost did exactly what you were trying not to do in a rage. Chest heaving, you stand, staring down at Sharky with narrowed eyes. Spikey was holding a terrified Doggo up by the shirt, while Sharky lay on the ground in exhaustion. 

Sans gestured towards the many soul pieces inside separate glass containers, and Spikey immediately dropped the dog in shock.

In the end, you got a black eye, Sans a bruised nose, courtesy of Sharky punching him, and Papyrus was the only one who came out clean. The right side of Spikey’s face is darkening in color, while Doggo occasionally groans painfully, rubbing at his snout. Sharky might have a concussion, if skeletons can even get those, and he’s rubbing at his neck. Oops.

Sharky’s teeth are shark-like, referring to the name you mentally gave him, and he has one neon red eye-light in his right eye socket. You were surprised to see the gold tooth he’s got, only to then remember this Sans isn’t anything like your Sans. He looks bad, not a bad boy bad, but exhausted and on the verge of death bad. 

He sports a black T-shirt and yellow side-lined basketball shorts. He’s shoeless, his feet hidden beneath a pair of pink socks. The poor guy is in his pajamas. Light red drops of liquid glide down the side of his skull and his sharp teeth are pulled into a permanent grimace.

Releasing the souls and allowing them back into their owners was a quick fix. So fast, it’d make you wonder, that’s all? The world could possibly be destroyed by something that can be fixed just like that?  

You, Papyrus, and Doggo were removed from the basement while Sans helped them with the procedure, as you were told it was a private affair. Seated on the couch beside Papyrus, you picked at the hem of your shirt with occasional glances Doggo’s way. He’s pacing, and you notice every now and then a sharp claw twitches out of his paws. 

Aren’t retractable nails a cat thing?

After a tense moment, you ask Papyrus, “How long was I gone?”

“I Believe It Was Around An Hour,” he replies thoughtfully while staring at the black screen of his TV. “Why?”

“I’m curious about the differences between AU’s. I wasn’t sure if time passes the same way as it does here.”

“I Hadn’t Even Thought Of That,” he mutters quietly, sullenly. He hesitates, and for the first time, he doesn’t dare meet your gaze. “…How Long Was It For You?”

You study at his face, feeling a mix of emotions. Mostly anger, but you’ll deal with it later. When are you not angry in some way? 

You have to seal it down into an invisible box and ship it far, far away. How could you kidnap properly if you’re too busy huffing over stressful situations?

You pat a hand on his shoulder. “Same time. No worries there, I guess.” 

He exhales, and he’s noticeably relieved, ribs deflating. “I Knew It’d Work Out.”

Obviously not, but you’ll keep that thought to yourself. Doggo huffs and sniffs, his pacing around slowing down. He pokes around his face and flinches away from his paw once he presses on a sore area on the bridge of his snout. He growls, and it comes out high-pitched and pained.

You tap at Papyrus’s arm and gesture towards the dog with a tilt of your head. You’re not sure if you should approach him now that you’ve discovered their dislike for humans. He might just bite you this time, no matter how many scratches or head pats you deliver.

When the tall skeleton glances at you, he freezes, teeth separating slightly as he stares at your face in concern. Pursing your lips, you bring a hand up to your swollen eye, fingers hovering over the slight discoloration. Despite the pain, you’d completely forgotten. You cover it. Tomorrow it’ll surely look worse, you note, a bit upset.

“Some harm, no foul,” you shrug. “I’ll heal, but I don’t know about…” you trail off, quickly glancing at Doggo.

Papyrus’s hands tighten into fists, and he looks a lot more upset than you’ve ever seen him. He reaches up and gently shifts your hand away, down, and into his own. You almost swipe yours away, brows furrowed, but… you allow it. Stiffly. 

He brings his other hand over and places it above your bloody arm.

“I Can Try To Heal…” he mutters, concentrating. 

A dim green shines out through the gaps of his fingers and the stinging is gone. When he releases you and continues on to your second arm, you can’t help but stare in surprise. Your arms are clean of that skeleton's claw scars.

It’s when you look up and realize Papyrus is a lot closer than he should be, you mutter an awkward, “What are you doing?” while leaning back slightly.

His bony fingers trail the puffy skin of your eye, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. It didn’t hurt as much as it should, not like it usually would if you prodded at an injury like this one. 

He was healing it. Feeling even more awkward, you couldn’t help but suck in your lips. You just had to go on and say something, didn’t you? Here he is, doing something nice, and you ask ‘what are you doing?’ as if he was going to swoop in and make out with you. Great job. It’s not like he could anyway, he’s all teeth. 

He smiles at you, not exactly beaming, and maybe a little downtrodden. “Your Eye Wound Is Different From The Ones On Your Arms. I’m Not Well-Versed In Human Anatomy, So I Don’t Know Why It Didn’t Heal Fully,” he explains, and do you hear a hint of shame in his tone?

“It’s fine,” you reply quickly. “This is more of an internal thing, a bruise. The ones on my arms were broken skin. Maybe your healing only works on lacerations.”

You can tell the swelling of your eye has gone down, but it’s still a bit tender. You give him a tight smile and he nods back with a sigh. He stands from the couch and approaches Doggo, whispering something to him. Papyrus. Whispering. The tall skeleton makes a point to sway from side to side as he speaks to the half-blind monster.

Is it rude for you to not move? Slowly, you move your shoulders back and forth, and Doggo’s eyes snap towards you. His mouth lifts up, and his sharp teeth are unveiled aggressively in a dog-scowl. 

Oookay. You immediately sigh in exasperation and freeze. 

You don’t know how Sans did it, but when he came upstairs five minutes later you were gobsmacked. He saved you from awkwardly sitting around with Doggo in silence since, surprisingly, Papyrus also seemed at a loss for words after healing you two.

Sans had already filled the AU skeletons in while reattaching their souls, so while Sans explained how this all came to be to Doggo, it didn’t stop the three monsters from glaring at you with either hate or frustration. They act like it’s your fault they’re in this situation in the first place! 

You’re grateful you decided to stand beforehand. You don’t want to be between Spikey and Sharky on the couch any time soon.

You felt like you shouldn’t have been in the room while Doggo struggled to understand everything, he was shifting uneasily and twitching. The other two were just… Quiet. It feels like you’re witnessing the most vulnerable moment of their lives.

“I can go back, right?” Doggo asked, panicked and angry. “Why the fuck am I even here?! I have a family I take care of!”

“the trip back over would… probably kill you,” Sans explains hesitantly. 

Now that gets a reaction.

“WHAT!?” the spiky Papyrus yells, jumping from his seat and stomping towards Sans. Sharky glares a deadly one while Doggo growls and bares his teeth, sharp nails suddenly popping out.

Seeing this tall, intimidating Papyrus on his way to murder him, Sans blurts out, “we’re on the surface!”

Everyone pauses.

You think these AU monsters might just faint with how much new information is suddenly being thrown at them. How long till Sans runs out of info bombs to drop on incoming attackers? 

*

Now, you rub your face, careful with your bruised eye, exhaustion fogging up your brain. 

“I have to do that three more times,” you whisper, head in your hands as you sit at the edge of your borrowed bed in the skele-bro’s guest room.

Now everything’s gone to hell, who knows how many other monsters you’ll bring along with the AU skeletons. Sans thinks it might’ve been the fact that you touched Doggo, the emo canine leaving some kind of magic trace on your hands that attached him to you, so when you transported it slingshotted him along with you. 

This shouldn’t be your problem in the first place. But… it is. Because you’re the only one who can save the whole fucking galaxy. Apparently.

Also, didn’t Sans say monsters would dust if they came through to this universe without you holding onto them? That’s what he said, right? 

Too many questions, too many lies.

The living arrangements are screwed if you bring along an extra monster every time you come back, but you’ll deal with that when the time comes.

Sharky and Spikey have new nicknames now, they looked genuinely offended when you suggested your own, but whatever. According to the two, Edge and Red are 100% better. They seemed on the brink of being dead x3, honestly. But when they sat outside, studying everything around them made them somewhat livelier. Bittersweet, in a way.

For Doggo, Sans had suggested Dawg-ger in an attempt to lighten the mood, but it was like he hadn’t even spoken. Everyone ignored him. The dog monster decided he’d rather go outside than speak to anyone any longer, so he walked out the front door. 

You’d say the news of them not being able to go back home hit him the hardest, as he, in his own words, had a partner and his parents to take care of. 

Edge’s threatening mask had crumbled and he was obviously devastated, while Red sat there and continued to sweat with a grimacing poker face. You saw his eyelight shrink. You remember that happening to Sans when you’d threatened to dust him the first day you met him. It must mean he was afraid. 

You feel horrible. You snatched these monsters from their home, and they can’t go back. Doggo has a family, and the skeletons must have friends they care about, right? You just ruined many innocent lives while attempting to save millions of others. 

I’m a bad person, you realize as you lay back on the bed and stare at the roof. Sure, I didn’t mean to, but I still did? That means I’m an awful person, doesn’t it?

No, a voice, your own mental one whispers angrily. You’re not a bad person. Sans is the one who started this, why should you feel the guilt he’s supposed to be carrying? But fuck, now you feel guilty about wanting him to suffer the same way you are. It’s just a shitty situation for everyone involved.

You groan, covering your face with both hands. You’d taken a shower earlier, and the unfamiliar scent of a stranger's soap makes you feel sick. 

If you don’t do this, those AU versions without their souls would probably be incapacitated for the rest of their lives and you’d soon be dead along with the other millions of people on this planet. But if you do bring them over, they get their magic back, and the world doesn’t implode. They’ll just lose every single person they’ve ever cared about and never see them again.

All this stress won’t do you any good, so you finally decide to grab it all and shove it in a mental jar, sealing it forever. You’ll let the skeleton brothers deal with the new monsters for now. It’s time for a nap.

Chapter Text

“Huh…” You gently pick around your eye as you stare at yourself in the mirror. No odd discoloration or pain, looks just as it had before you ever got elbowed. Papyrus’s healing must’ve worked, it just took a good night's rest. 

You slept through the evening and night. Quite the nap. While you brush your teeth, your mind wanders to Red, Edge and Doggo, and Sans and Papyrus. You hope those three are settling in fine, but you severely doubt that. 

You’d be surprised if they ever left their new rooms at all, if they even agreed to stay in them, that is. They know the situation, and sooner or later they’ll have to accept it. In this case, it will be later, and you don’t blame them.

Spitting out the foam, you rinse your mouth and toothbrush. You make your way out of the bathroom and pass the living room, noticing the blankets and pillows strewn about. 

In the kitchen, Papyrus is currently at the stove, working on something that smells delicious. Ugh, you’re starving but not. 

“…Hey,” you greet him, unable to find it in yourself to sound cheerful. You sit at the island, on the same stool the skeleton in front of you had sat on two days ago. 

It’s been four days since Sans broke into your home and unleashed all this stress on you, but it feels like an eternity. Yesterday you traveled between universes. Totally normal stuff.

“GOOOOOD MORNING!” Papyrus exclaims, flashing a grin that could light up the darkest dungeon. He’s wielding a sizzling pan like a true chef warrior. With a flourish, he flips a pancake high into the air, catching it effortlessly like a pro juggler, or maybe just a skeleton with some serious breakfast skills.

He glances at you, clearly expecting a standing ovation. You can see the ‘praise me’ thought bubble hovering over his head. 

It would be embarrassing to just stare at him with a blank expression, so you give him an impressed raise of your eyebrows. “Now that’s talent.”

You avoid looking at the pancake graveyard scattered across the floor and the corner of the island, where a dozen failed flips lie. 

“RIGHT?” he preens, striking a pose like a culinary superhero. He turns back to the stove, picking up a spatula and waving it around. “ALTHOUGH THESE PANCAKES ARE RATHER JUMPY. DO ALL HUMAN DISHES DO THAT?”

“…Jumpy,” you repeat slowly, trying to process how pancakes could possibly have legs to move. 

You can’t help but chuckle. Maybe they’re just trying to avoid getting burned to death. You’re beginning to think Papyrus might be onto a whole new breakfast phenomenon.

“YES! AS YOU CAN SEE—” he gestures towards the germ-filled attempts across the kitchen. “—THEY MAY OR MAY NOT BE INTIMIDATED BY MY CULINARY PROWESS.” 

“Definitely,” you supply easily. “So hey, did anything else happen after I fell asleep yesterday? With the new guys?”

Papyrus stacks the cooked pancake at the top of a pancake tower beside him you hadn’t even noticed. There has to be at least thirty—

“THEY REMAINED OUTSIDE UNTIL SUNSET. SANS AND I REFRAINED FROM DISTURBING THEM. EVEN FROM A DISTANCE IT FELT LIKE A DEEPLY TOUCHING MOMENT,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion. He knows how it feels.

They lost their previous lives, and in return, they were given freedom of the surface. Would they deem it worth it? Will any of the others? 

“SANS WENT AHEAD AND CHECKED ON HIS BASEMENT STUFF WHILE I SHOWED OUR GUESTS THEIR ROOM. THEY WERE NOT HAPPY WITH THE ARRANGEMENTS.”

You notice him straighten, as though he were stretching an ache from his back.

“BUT IN THE END THEY RELENTED WITH A COMPROMISE. DOGGO WILL BE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH IN THE LIVING ROOM.”

“Compromise?”

“W-WELL,” he stutters. “IT WAS MORE LIKE EDGE BEGAN YELLING THREATS OF VIOLENCE TOWARDS DOGGO.”

Your eyes snap toward the direction of Edge and Red’s bedroom. You can’t see through walls, so it’s not like you’re actually looking at it, but knowing that a violent guy is living here… You’re worried what you’ll do if he dares to even send an insult your way. 

The thought causes a pulse of fury to surge through your veins. You take a deep breath. You’re getting mad over a scenario that hasn’t even happened yet.

You saw the mess left behind on the couch, Doggo couldn’t care less about leaving a good impression on his hosts. 

“Where is Doggo anyway? Don’t tell me you scared him away with all these jumping pancakes…”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

You glance at the clock ticking on the wall reading: 7:13 a.m. “What about Sans?” 

“ASLEEP, NO DOUBT. I WAS JUST ABOUT TO GO WAKE HIM UP. WOULD YOU MIND DRAGGING HIM OVER HERE?”

You hop off the stool and walk over to steal one of the pancakes off of the tower, only to immediately hiss and blow on your fingers. “Fuck , how are they so hot? You cook one at a time!” 

“IT’S A SECRET!!!”

Rolling your eyes and retracting your steps back through the living room and into the hallway, you stop at the very last door on your left. 

When he so graciously gifted you his jacket out of the kindness of his non-existent heart, he mumbled about having ‘like twenty more back at home anyway’.

You obviously needed to see proof. Little did you know he had a closet full of them, literally. Sure was a lot more than just twenty.

You knock three times and wait for a response. You know this guy won’t wake up from a few thumps on wood, but you’re a decent person.

“If you don’t open the door I’ll bust it down,” you sing, keeping your voice low. Well, you’re decent sometimes. If Red and Edge are sleeping, you don’t want to disturb them.

Receiving no response, you purse your lips, comparing the pros and cons of actually destroying his door. You ultimately decide it's best if you stick to turning the door knob. Cracking it open, you cover your eyes with a hand. 

“Better be decent, buddy,” you call out. You stand there, waiting. Nothing. You peek through your fingers and find an empty room, the silent whooshing of a trash-nado filling the deafening silence.

Nothing changed here, it's not like he’s the cleaning type anyway. Paper towels are scattered around his mattress on the floor, and socks are everywhere. 

What’s new is his sheets being bundled up, and hanging from the fan on his roof in the middle of his room like a disco ball. It flies in circles, over and over, and it’s almost hypnotizing.

What’s really new is the white Chow Chow staring at you from its place lying on top of Sans’s dresser. You didn’t know they had a dog. The fluffy thing is dressed up like a whipped cream bottle . The top of its head is holding a big red cap and the sides of its body have the ‘Weddi Whip’ logo on it. 

It’s September. But you suppose there’s no harm in dressing up your pup in a costume for the fun of it. It does look pretty cute.

“Hi cutie,” you baby talk, lowering down and placing your hands on your knees. “You are just so adorable holy shit. C’mere, c’mere.” 

It closes its eyes and huffs a long breath. 

“Hm, you’re just like your owner, you lazy fuck,” you say happily in the cutest voice you can. At least you assume Sans is the owner since the dog is in his room. 

“Unless Papyrus is your owner,” you correct merrily. “Then you’re still a lazy fuck who's been infected by Sans.”

You wave goodbye at the cloud of an animal as if it could see you and back away, shutting the door in front of you. 

Your back bumps against something. You don’t turn around, instead opting to slowly reach your hand back to feel whatever is behind you. It’s hard. You shift your hand around. 

“Thaaat’s a vertebra,” you say awkwardly, immediately pulling your hand away. You have a feeling you know who it is, and you don’t like it.

“What’s my best choice of action here?” you mutter aloud.

A deep voice ‘humph’s’ close against your back. “FACING ME WHEN I'M SPEAKING TO YOU.”

“Got it.” You turn, your nose inches away from the skeleton's chest. 

You look up and meet Edge’s dark sockets, blinking at him with a small, stiff wave. “Hi.”

The graying bruise on the side of his skull is darker, and his eyeglasses are gone. He’s still wearing the tight gothic dress, and you feel bad that he no longer has his own wardrobe anymore. 

Did Papyrus not heal him, or did he not allow him to?

The shadow beneath his eye sockets is still prominent, if anything he looks a lot more exhausted than he did without half of his soul.

“HELLO,” he replies dryly. Tiredly. “I WANTED TO SPEAK WITH YOU.” 

He turns his head down the hallway, the faint clanking of dishes filtering through the kitchen and into the living room. “PRIVATELY.”

You study him suspiciously, eyes flickering between his own non-existent ones. Papyrus said he was yelling threats of violence, and you remember Doggo’s first reaction to you speaking of Red was insinuating that he wanted to kill him. In his universe, you saw a monster randomly get punched, and no one batted an eye. 

Edge was threatening ‘punishment’ for the kidnapping when you returned and had no qualms in beating the shit out, and maybe even killing Doggo. Neither did his brother with you. 

You cross your arms, shrugging. “I think this is as private as it’ll get for now.”

He backs away slightly, and you get the feeling he gives your form a once over. He crosses his own arms, tutting once in annoyance. He looks like an exhausted single mother of five kids. 

“I Just Wanted To—Hm.” He stops himself and hesitates, shifting his stance. “Let You Know That Despite You Being Human, I Will Not Murder You.”

You raise a brow. This is unexpected.

“Neither Will My Brother.”

You clear your throat, eyes glancing around for a moment in surprise. “Uhm. Thanks?” 

He sighs, exasperated, and raises a hand to his temple, leaning his head into it. 

“The… Sans,” he grits out, cringing. “Of This Universe Told Us About You. And Your Kind. And Some Rules Of The Surface.”

In any other context you’d be laughing at him saying ‘your kind’, or maybe even slightly offended, but you can tell this guy is trying his best, so you just smile in amusement and nod instead. Until you remember you have magic.

“What exactly did he say about me?” you ask casually, leaning against Sans’s door behind you. 

“That None Of This Is In Any Way Your Fault. Apparently You’re Just As Much Of A Dupe As We Are For Agreeing To Do This. Not That I Know Why A Weakling Like You Would Comply.”

You doubt Sans called you a dupe, but you’ll let it pass. But him calling you weak? This man is looking to get his ass beat. He doesn’t know you can use magic, which is advantageous if he has any ill will. At least Sans thinks once in a blue moon since he didn’t inform them.

“By the way, how’s your brother? I regret hurting him yesterday.” You tilt your head, gazing at him in concern. 

You do want to know the guy’s okay, but maybe you should’ve waited for a better chance to ask. Your temper gets the best of you.

“He’s Fine,” he replies quickly, scowling at you. Or is that just his resting face?

You nod, a small weight you hadn’t realized existed lifting from your chest. “That’s good… Papyrus—”

He straightens, only to realize you mean the one cooking, and sighs in irritation. 

“—made pancakes for breakfast. You should take him some, might help with the healing.”

Edge just stares at you for a moment and his brow bones furrow, as if he were attempting to solve an impossible puzzle. 

“I Will… Get Him What He Needs,” he supplies uncouthly. His sockets narrow slightly. “What Is Your Relationship With Those Two?”

“Sans and Papyrus?” 

“Obviously.”

You hadn’t thought about it. But in a way, you’re all still strangers to each other. You’ve only known them for four days, and Sans hasn’t been the bestest of people to talk to. Papyrus is… he’s fine, you infer. But you wouldn’t consider him a friend just yet, you're just on friendly terms.

“I don’t know. I’m just helping them out with this.”

“Hm.” Suddenly he’s walking away, towards his room. You notice his door is across from yours. 

Edge is weird, you conclude. A bit withdrawn, but it’s not like you’re the most outgoing person in the world. This was unexpected, you thought he’d yell at you about ruining his life or something. But you have a feeling you’ll get just that from Doggo one day.

“…Edge,” you call out in a low voice, in case Red is asleep.

He pauses, one foot halfway through the entrance, and looks at you sluggishly.

“I’m sorry. For, you know. This.” You gesture around gracelessly. 

He blinks slowly as if he were struggling to keep his sockets open. He gives you a nod, whispering, “You’re… Not So Bad For A Human, I Suppose. 

The door clicks shut behind him and you’re left alone in the long hallway. That went well, you think to yourself with a small smile. 

Wait a minute... These skeletons can blink?

*

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” you mumble over your cup of water then take a sip. 

Sans sits beside you at the dining table, the stack of pancakes in front of him practically drowning in syrup. He hasn’t even touched them yet, keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets. 

“oh, dog? yeah, she’s our dog.”

His wording confuses you, and you reply slowly, “Yes…the dog. Do you have another one, or something?” 

“it’s just dog. no other dog.”

A fork clatters against a plate, and Doggo stands, pushing his chair back with a loud screech on the tile. He shoots a glare at Sans before striding out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

“looks like someone’s the life of the party.”

You shake your head, pushing your empty plate away. Papyrus is gone, he said he had some ‘super secret fixing duty’ or something along those lines. 

You wish he was here; he's a good referee. You would also appreciate it if he taught you how to activate your magic rather than do whatever he’s doing.

“You can’t exactly blame him for it, you know that.” This conversation is starting to sound like a married couple speaking of their disrespectful child.

“i don’t,” he assures you. He shuts his sockets with a shrug and leans down to place his forehead on the dining table. “had a talk with him this mornin’ up on the mountain—”

That’s why you couldn’t find him and didn’t see Doggo earlier.

“—he’s still comin’ to terms with bein’ around you.”

That makes you recoil slightly, blinking at him. “Me? It looked like he was a lot more pissed at you.”

“eh,” he mumbles. “same thing.”

You place your chin on your palm, tapping your fingers against the wood. Your gaze slides over his skull, down his neck, and over that gray and blue jacket of his. You let out a tired sigh, despite waking up not too long ago. 

“No, not ‘same thing,’” you mock him. “You had also said I couldn’t bring back another monster with me,” you accuse, whispering.

“…i know.”

You straighten and point a finger at him, temper rising. “You don’t know,” you grit out, volume rising. “You also said you would give me ‘protection’, yet I didn’t receive anything yesterday for the trip, and I was too distracted to notice.” 

“i know,” he repeats quietly.

You throw your hands up in the air, flailing them wildly. You can’t hold back from yelling, “That’s the issue, Sans! It seems to me like you don’t know shit!!”

There’s a distinct clack behind the two of you, and you turn, frozen with your hands above your hand. You meet Edge’s gaze and he looks just as surprised as you do. Slowly, he backs away from the living room, disappearing around the corner and back into the hallway.

You swerve back to Sans, lowering your arms. “Is there even a protection device at all? And the souls, why are they here in the first place? How do you know they belong to different versions of yourself? I have so many questions.”

He sighs. “i’ll be honest with ya.”

“It almost took me begging on my knees and kissing your feet to make it happen.”

He straightens, white eye-lights flickering to meet your own. “let’s not toe that line of thought.”

You circle a hand for him to continue, not in the mood for his jokes.

“i guess i’ll start from the beginning,” he starts, looking up at the roof whimsically. “i dont have anythin’ for ya. cuz i have no idea how any of this universe stuff works.”

You stare at him, awaiting a long speech but it doesn’t come. “Okayyy?” you continue, egging him on. Nothing but silence. 

Your eyes widen, and you feel completely confuzzled. “You’re fucking joking.”

“what a bold statement. wouldn’t you like to know? not that i know who joking is. i’m more of a dinner first type.”

“ Enough dodging the issue!” you snap, pointing at him. “You keeping things from me just makes things worse.”

“look, i’m sorry ‘aight? i am, i just—i thought it would help you. keep you from thinkin’ too hard about everythin’.”

“Help me?” you echo with a bitter laugh. “I just— ugh. ”

There’s more you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel, show him, so he can feel guilty. You want… you want to hurt him. Hurt him and make him lay awake at night thinking about what he’s done to those poor monsters. What he’ll make you do to the others. But is he even making you? This is your choice, isn’t it?

The words gather at your throat, yet you can’t find it in yourself to release them. You’re filled with embarrassment and shame by just the thought of showcasing your vulnerabilities to this stranger, who was the one who caused these feelings in the first place.

You want to claw at your face. You want to claw at his face. You want to yell and scream and just let go. But you will not. Because that’s not who you are. You’re not some pathetic, weak child who needs help. You’re strong, you’ve gotten through life just fine. You will get over it, and continue to do so. This won’t last forever.

“i’m going into this just as blind as you are.”

You glare at him. “You know damn well that’s bullshit. You literally sent me to an alternate universe, with specific coordinates! With a damn machine that shouldn’t even exist, and since it does, should be in the hands of the government! How can someone who doesn’t know what they're doing, do that?!”

Not to mention he did make a device for you, but it just brings you back instead of protecting you.

He shakes his head, and just before he blinks away, he mutters, “just… be ready for today, yea? don’t wear yourself out.”

You punch at the air and strangle the place where his neck once stood. You huff through your nose and let out a short, silent scream of frustration. You aggressively flip off his chair, and stare at it as you take in deep breaths to calm yourself. 

You stand from your seat and pick up the plates left behind by Doggo and the damned skeleton. Mysteriously enough, both are clean, devoid of any pancakes or syrup. They just vanished, and you hadn’t witnessed either of those monsters eat.

As you load the plates into the dishwasher, you leave one glaringly out with a big piece of paper reading: SANS’S PLATE DO NOT WASH. He’s pissed you right off, so you spread some syrup on it just so he’ll have something to clean. If he even cared enough to do so.

Every failed pancake from earlier is now chopped up and residing in a dog bowl tucked away in the corner you hadn’t noticed earlier. ‘Dog’ is written on it. No way they named their dog ‘dog’. That’s why Sans was speaking in riddles when you had asked.

You heat up two plates, each piled high with three pancakes and shiny utensils. You shove the syrup bottle into your pocket, and once at your destination, give Edge’s door a good kick with your foot.

He cracks it open, peeking out like a suspicious mole before swinging it wide. Behind him, a lump under the covers shifts slightly.

Your eyes flick back to meet his and you hand him the food. “Saw you wanted breakfast.”

He looks stunned, but his expression smooths over quickly. “Yes. I Thought It Best To Leave You Two Alone For A Moment While You… Talked.”

“And talk we did, brother,” you reply flatly. “Look, I’m going to AU hop again today, and depending how soon I make it back I might even have to do it twice in a row. I wanted to let you know in case you need anything.”

You want to get this whole ordeal over with, the sooner the better. But you also don’t. It’s like two pieces of you playing tug of war, and neither of them are winning.

“I Don’t Think—”

A raspy voice breaks through the sheets, groaning, “mustard.”

You watch Edge tilt his head back, as if he’s summoning the gods for strength. He takes a deep breath and looks down at you.

“Mustard,” he confirms dryly.

You squint, trying to process this. “As in the condiment?”

“Yes.”

Should you even ask why? “Okay, then.”

He nods gratefully as you hand him the food and syrup. He shuts the door with his arm, leaving you to ponder the greatest mystery of all. Red’s need for mustard.

Later on, you’d use your phone’s GPS and made your way back to your house. You have none of your belongings at the skeleton’s place, and you need your own things, not hand-me-downs. These guys are basically your neighbors, a few miles up the mountain from your home. 

When you arrived, your door was unlocked, though you don’t recall locking it in the first place. Stepping inside, you note nothing out of the ordinary. You click on your phone, checking the time. 11:20 a.m.

You have two hours left until you must return. Return to that house, and down into the basement where you’ll have to get in a tube like some human experiment.

You stroll into your room and pack a bag with two changes of clothes, electronics, and your toiletries. There's a lot those skeleton monsters don’t know about human hygiene. You will not be using a 3 in 1 soap again, not to mention it was a children’s bottle. You have a feeling Sans bought it cause he thought it was funny.

Backpack full, you zip it up and swing it on. When you tread through your living room you hear a faint noise out in your backyard, but shrug it off and continue. Probably a squirrel or something.

As much as you tried slowing your pace on your way back, it was only a matter of time before you had to enter that house again. 

You changed, better dressed for the snowy underground you will be transported to, and decided to take your backpack along with you. You found your fake monster mask and slipped it on.

The jacket you took from Sans lays somewhere in the guest room, discarded. You don’t want anything from him near you. You’re wearing your own clothes, jacket hood up to conceal your head. The hunting knife feels heavy on your belt, even if it doesn’t weigh much. You’re taking no chances anymore, receiving a black eye is the least of your worries now. 

You hear the short skeleton type something on his computer, then the squeak of his chair when he stands. 

“ready?”

Taking your rightful place within the confines of the teleporter, you keep your response brief and curt, merely uttering an unimpressed, “M-hm.”

Your heartbeat begins to quicken, each thump resonating in your chest, while a layer of sweat forms on your palms. 

The glass door gradually slides shut, sealing you into the capsule. You instinctively shut your eyes tight, releasing a shaky breath from your lungs, letting it escape slowly through your lips just as you feel the familiar sensation of weightlessness wash over you. 

For a moment, it’s as if you’re floating, weightless, but that serenity is abruptly shattered as gravity returns, and you crash back into reality.

“Oh…shit,” you mutter under your breath.

As the disorientation fades, you open your eyes, expecting to see the bright blue sky of your intended destination. Instead, you find yourself surrounded by darkness, the cave’s rocky ceiling looming above you. 

The atmosphere is eerily illuminated by shimmering blue crystals in the stone, twinkling like stars scattered across a night sky. As you survey the ground beneath your feet, your expectations drown away. 

Instead of a blanket of white snow, you’re met with a damp terrain decorated with grass that glows a faint blue hue and soil that is a deep shade of purple and blue.

You've only just arrived, and the situation is already spiraling downhill.

Chapter Text

The dark cave is wet and cold. You’re better dressed for the winter and this resembles as much, so that’s a plus. You'd be screwed if it were too hot. But there's no sun, and if there’s no sun there’s no way for your human self to live a long healthy life for more than a couple of years. Not that you’re planning on staying here any longer than you need to.

You note this isn’t just any cave, this shit’s magical. You can tell as much by the crystals, no feeble earth material emanates such a glow. Just like in Snowdin, the temperature doesn’t go below a certain point, and that point is just good enough for you to be slightly uncomfortable.

You trudge through brightened paths illuminated by purple crystals that activate when you touch them, the echoing of water dripping following along with you. Your boots make a muddy sound with each step, but you don’t slip.

Your eyes have already become accustomed to the change in brightness, but the black material of your mask makes it difficult to see. Everything but the cave walls are glowing, and eventually you find it in yourself to continue forward half blindly.

You can only go left or right, there’s a sign in front of you with scribbles for each direction you can’t interpret due to it being another language.

Each side curves then straightens, so you only notice differences in the grass; one side is tall, reaching over your head, and the other is short, just below your waist. Short means people must pass through a lot, right? Plus, right is always right… Hopefully.

You turn right, and just before crossing into the grassy land, a squeak has your foot freezing in place. You step back in confusion, blinking, but decide it was nothing and go to continue—but a high-pitched chirp interrupts you again, louder than before.

Not to be a basic horror protagonist, but you feel you have no other choice but to mutter out a “Hello? Is someone there?” as you glance around.

There aren’t many hiding places, everything is just rock or grass. Your hand closes on the handle of your knife. If only you knew how to activate your magic on command, then you wouldn’t have to go through such extreme measures just to feel a bit safer.

With one hand outstretched, you part the tall grass, carefully stepping forward. You pause, holding your breath, and just as you'd hoped, a sharp squeak sounds from nearby. Turning, you push aside the grass to find a small yellow bird staring up at you, its beady black eyes wide with curiosity.

"Heyy," you murmur through your mask with a small smile, hands resting on your knees. “Can you speak?”

It blinks at you with no response, unmoving. It’s a bit unsettling.

“Do you know where Snowdin is?” you try, a bit unsure. You don’t know where you are. What if Snowdin isn’t even a thing here…

“Chirp.”

“…Is that a yes?”

“Chirp.”

“Okay…” You'll assume it means yes.

“Lead the way…?”

And so the little bird does, hopping along through the grass quickly with you following close behind. It’s not long before you stumble upon a beautiful river, crystal blue waters gushing horizontally downstream harshly. The glowing liquid splits around the scattered rocks protruding from the surface, and you take a deep breath.

It’s wide, and even if it wasn’t, you don’t think you can pass through it without being swept away. The waters are so very fast and violent, adding on the fact that you can hear a waterfall roaring not too far off, it just solidifies your choice.

You’re not crossing this damn river…Unless.

You shut your eyes and focus, breathing in and out to calm your nerves. You feel your heartbeat thrumming in your chest, reverberating through your fingers and you imagine the orange glow of magic surrounding your body.

You peek an eye open, only to deflate when there’s nothing different. You look down at the small monster, a cold sweat breaking out and gliding down your cheek behind your mask.

“I don’t think that’s a safe journey.” You tilt your head towards the nightmare of a river.

With a small jump your way, the tiny thing stares at you. It almost looks like it’s judging you, if that’s even possible.

“Chirp.”

Then it starts flapping its barely noticeable wings.

It looks like it’s asking you for something, but you can’t tell what so you bend down and stick out your hand, palm up. Before it can climb onto you, you back away in panic, cursing at your forgetfulness. Straightening, you let out a nervous laugh.

“If you want me to pick you up, I can’t really do that,” you say. After a moment of hesitating in thought you settle with, “I have this—thing…uh, I can’t touch other monsters.”

The bird flaps its tiny wings again, as though it were irritated and gestures to your jacket.

“…I don’t understand—oh! Uhm.”

It stomps a tiny chicken foot into the dirt and starts flying upwards, meeting with you face-to-face. You take a step back, surprised. You didn’t think it could fly!

It begins making its way towards you.

“No, no,” you repeat, panicked, hands up and shuffling backwards.

It doesn’t listen, and suddenly you’re running through the tall grass like a headless chicken with a tiny yellow bird flying after you.

“STOP!!” you screech, lost in the maze of grass.

You can hear its fast flaps behind you, and the adrenaline of being chased down has you digging in deep for a speed you never thought you had.

You can’t believe you’re being chased by a bird that’s barely the size of your palm. You’re lost—your vision blurred as you run through the grass. That is, until you break through and fall into a body of water.

You accidentally inhale some of it as you flail around, chilled to the bone by the sudden freezing temperature. Thankfully it wasn’t a rushing river, more of a large pond.

You easily swim up to the surface, coughing and huffing out water from every face hole you own. You grip onto the edge of dark dirt, and squint through the soaked material of your mask to scan the area.

The bird’s nowhere to be seen.

You take a moment to catch your breath, making horrendously disgusting noises in order to clear the liquid from your throat and nose. You decide on swimming towards the opposite direction, there’s no fucking grass and you spot a glowing sign hung up on the cave wall.

What the hell is wrong with this place? Do all monsters just chase you here?

You finally escape the cold water but find no relief, you’re absolutely soaked and shivering. You debate on just leaving this universe to come back later, though you're unsure whether Sans can bring you back here.

Why else would he tell the others they can’t go home? Either you can’t come back twice, the monster would dust or something else he might not have told you. Your teeth chatter, and you rub your arms.

“Please give me something good,” you mutter like a casino addict when you reach the sign.

It’s also written in a different language. Because of course, why wouldn’t it be?! You spot a letter that resembles an ‘S’ and sprint with it, feeling hopeful it might mean Snowdin is this way.

Your socks squelch uncomfortably in your boots and your clothes feel heavier, but you pay it no mind and continue forward. You run and run until you reach the exit, into the snowy land you’ve been to once before. It’s bright and sunny, without an actual sun.

It’s even colder than the cave, but you ignore it and focus on your task. Your run has slowed to a trudge through the snow, and you fear you might die of hypothermia. You almost crumble to your knees and press on the bracelet in frustration.

The snow filled streets have a variety of monsters walking along it, a stark difference to the empty bioluminescent area you practically escaped.

It’s like a frosty plaza, similar to the first AU you traveled to, except this time the sky isn't blood red—so, you know, a definite upgrade. These monsters aren’t hitting each other or arguing, just strolling around happily.

No one looks at you oddly; in fact, they smile at you as though you’re each and every one of their best friends. A small mouse even squeaks a happy “Good day!” your way.

…You’re so cold. It feels like your fingers and toes will fall off any moment now. There’s the voice in your head; your own, that chants ‘please’ in repeat whilst you search for any sign of a skeleton.

You don’t want to die but hell, you’d rather go back to your universe and let the world implode than suffer another moment of borderline hypothermia here. At least you got Red his mustard if you’re going to die.

“Excuse m-me,” you chatter towards an unsuspecting cat monster who’s beside a building with a sign reading ‘Comeputer’.

He’s tending to a… burger stand. You don’t let yourself think too hard on why here of all places. His yellow uniform has a small name tag with ‘Burger Pants’ written in cursive on it.

“Hey! What can I do for you?” he says with a smile.

“Would you h-happen too know Sssans and Pa-Papyrus?”

He blinks at you, surprised. “You haven’t heard? It’s capital news at this point.”

Looking you up and down, he continues, “You’re from Waterfall? Maybe that’s why.”

You can’t help but notice how no one’s said anything about your shivering despite all the friendly looks. Is being cold not a thing here?

“Yeah,” you agree for the sake of it. “H-Heard what? What happened?”

“Well…” He shifts uncomfortably. “They both got a bad case of soul damage,” he whispers cautiously.

The topic must be taboo if he’s being so cagey about it despite it being ‘capital news’.

“Soul damage?” you murmur back in faux shock. You lean in closer, ducking your head in a secretive manner. “How b-bad are we talking?”

He grimaces, looking pained. “The King said it was nothing we should worry about but… there’s been rumors. Some say the brothers are missing a piece of their soul.”

You shake your head, breathing a “No…” in dismay. “And where are they n-now?”

“Last I heard, they’re holding up with the royal scientist.”

You nod, as if you know where that is. “Right, right. W-with the royal scientist in…” you trail off.

“Hotland,” he finishes, looking at you a bit oddly. As if you were a freak for not knowing such well known information.

“Hotland,” you repeat, suddenly struggling to keep your eyes open. Your head feels fuzzy.

You point the opposite way of the cave you came from, mentally crossing your fingers. “A-and that’ss like… that way, huh?”

“No,” he says slowly. “It’s that way.” He points towards the cave's direction.

“Where...did you say you were from?” he asks incredulously.

“I…” You stare at his name tag. Burger Pants, Burger Pants, Buger Pats. Bgr…ps…

…You’re out like a light.