Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 You close the door to your small room and sigh, making sure it’s locked. Its’ been a long day, week, year. And you’re done. Completely, hopelessly, irrevocably done. You’re done trying, done with college, done with being ignored, done with struggling to get out of bed in the morning, done with the voices, done with the Shadow, done with going through the motions, done with trudging through the pointlessness of existence.

 You barely feel like you existed most days.

 Tired hands pull a box out of your bag and open it, dismissing the instructions and warnings. You feel outside yourself as you slowly load the gun with a single bullet.

 You only needed one.

Do it.

 Vacant (e/c) eyes study the object in your lap, mind still reeling from how easy it was to buy a gun. Thanks, America.

Do it, and you'll finally be free.

 You place the frigid barrel against your temple, cock it, and pull the trigger.

 Done.

XxX

 Sans ran boney fingers over his face, smile strained as his eyelights took in the situation before him. Two edgy pairs of skeletal brothers that remarkably resembled him and Paps, nightmare versions of him and Paps, and then a version of him and Paps if their personalities were swapped.

 But wait, there’s more!

 A version of himself with color-stained bones, mismatched eyelights, and a paintbrush. And, lastly, himself if his bones were black and red with permanent blue tears streaming from red and yellow eyes.

 He hadn't been able to find his dad, but instead found the rest of these chucklefucks.

 “shi-“

 “SANS!”  Fourteen pairs of eyes shoot to the only door to the basement lab, from which came the sound of the voice and loud footsteps. “SANS, ARE YOU ALRI-“

 Papyrus appeared, wearing his handmade ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, wooden spoon in hand. He stopped in his tracks, took in the crowded basement full of familiar strangers, before turning around and closing the door behind him.

 The ink-splattered skeleton gave a ‘snrk’ before the door opened again, and Papyrus walks into the room, arms crossed. “SANS, WHILE I APPRECIATE THE FACT YOU’RE NOT BOONDOGGLING AS USUAL-“

 “Don’t you mean bone-doggling?” pipes up from somewhere in the room and was rewarded with a few chuckles, but Papyrus, to his credit, plows on valiantly.

“-CAN YOU PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME WHY THERE ARE MULTIPLE VERSIONS OF OURSELVES IN OUR BASEMENT?”

 Sans feels his sins crawling on his back sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. “h-hey, bro. i found dad, but, uh, the machine's fried.“

"NO WAY, I COULDN'T TELL." Papyrus gives his snarky retort. "WELL, IT HASN'T EXPLODED."

"don't jinx it, paps-"

The Machine gives another sputtering spark, smoke pouring from seeveral cracks. A Void opens up, there's a sound like gunfire, and a young adult human falls gracelessly out, obviously unconcious. And then it explodes. Twice.

 “NOT. A WORD. BROTHER.”

 With that, the room erupted.

XxX

 You were starting to wake up, head pounding.

 ‘Ugh… Who knew death would hurt so much…’

 Slowly, the white noise that filled your ears started to quiet and you could hear the plethora of voices arguing around you.

 ‘And so loud…’

 “-HUMANS ARE NOT TO BE TRUSTED-“

 “-I AGREE, WE SHOULD JUST KILL IT NOW-“

 “-buddy, we’re on the surface now, we don’t kill humans anymore-“

 “-WOWIE, WE’RE ON THE SURFACE?! PAPY-“

 ‘What the… is this some Undertale bullshit or-‘

 “INDEED, OTHER BROTHER! WE HAVE BEEN UP HERE FOR AWHILE NOW-“

 “Shouldn’t we all quiet down, what if the human wakes-“

 “IF IT DOES, I, THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS WILL BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT-“

 “hell yeah you will, boss-“

“NO, IT IS I, THE MALEVOLENT SANS THAT WILL DEFEAT THEM-“

 “right you are, m’lord-“

 “NO, THEY WILL BE DEFEATED BY ME AND MY FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI! NYEHEHE!!”

 You manage to unglue your eyelids, only for your cornea to be assaulted by the unforgiving fluorescent lightbulbs above you which does nothing for your headache, though it was slowly receding. A pained groan escapes your lips as your face scrunches. You continue groaning as you force yourself to roll over and stand up. You become the girl from the Grudge as you take in the crew of skeletons in front of you. Staring at you.

 This is some Undertale bullshit, indeed.

 They all just stare at you, and you stare back.

 Awkward silence quickly descends.

 Quick, break it!

 “Well, this is quite the, ah, skeleton crew isn’t it?” you say, dryly, snapping your fingers and giving them some finger guns.

 Sans- Classic, normal Sans- gives a soft snort.

 “that was pretty humerus, heh.”

 The awkward air is starting to dissipate. Puns are working! Good. Maybe this was some sort of weird thing before actual death?

 “No fibula?” You respond, grinning.

 “yeah, kid. you really know how to tickle our funny bone.” Papyrus, with an orange hoodie- it was Stretch. “no bones about it.”

 “HUMAN! STOP WITH YOUR HORRIFIC PUNNING!” Another Papyrus, but dressed in leather. Edge.

 “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get under your skin.” Half of the skeletons are now screeching in despair and/or rage, the others are cracking up. You, of course, are on a role. “Tibia honest, waking up in a room full of skeletons was not how I imagined death, but go figure, amiright?”

 All noise stops.

 “HUMAN…” Sans with a battle body- Blue was just as adorable as the fanfics always said he was. “WHY WOULD YOU BE DEAD?”

 Ah, fuck.

 “Well, Blue, y’see…” you shift uncomfortably. “A bullet to the head generally does that to ya.”

 “W-WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?” Blue, star-shaped eyelights gleamed up at you in excitement.

 “U-um… Blue?”

 He takes in a deep breath (‘do magic skeletons need oxygen?’ briefly flits across you mind), bones rattling in excitement. “DOES THAT MEAN WE’RE FRIENDS?” He turns to Stretch, glowing. “PAPY, I MADE A NEW FRIEND! ONE THAT IS A HUMAN!”

 “that’s great, bro.” Stretch says, eyeing you with suspicion. ”but i think we need to focus on the other thing she-“

 “They, please.” You interject out of habit.

 “…we need to focus on the other thing they said.”

 “I AGREE.” The shortest skeleton of the bunch, with a scarred face concurs. Raspberry. “SUCH AS, WHY WOULD SOMEONE SHOOT THEM?”

 “Oh, y’know….” You grin nervously. “Because they thought I deserved to die…?”

 “SO YOU ARE USED TO PEOPLE WANTING TO KILL YOU?” Edge speaks up, scowling and confused.

 “J-just one or two people in particular…” You need an out, somewhere, please. A deflection. Something. Anything. The smoking, charred remains of a big white machine was behind all these monsters grabs your attention. A plan begins to form.

 “HUMAN,” tallest Papyrus begins. Crooks, or as you preferred, Hickory. “WHY WOULD SOMEONE WANT YOU DEAD?”

 “Doesn’t everyone have someone that wants them dead?” You reply, eyes spotting a door. Plan = formed. “I mean, it’s pretty com- Oh my stars, what’s that?” You point dramatically at the broken machine. Everyone else turns towards where you’re pointing, and you make a break for the door, running as though the hounds of hell were nipping at your heels. You were almost out the door when you felt a tug in your chest, and suddenly you were hoisted up into the air, blue magic surrounding you.

 “tryin’ to give us the slip, huh, kid?” Sans asks, one eye lit up with blue flames, the other dark as the black void of space.

 “I mean, it was worth a shot.” You shrug.

 “this isn’t the time for puns, kiddo.” Edgy Sans –Red- cuts in, hands in his pockets.

 “I didn’t make a- oooooh.” Realization dawns on you, and you shrug again. “Oops. Too soon?”

 “yeah.”

 “Sorry. Guess it’s just in my bones- fuck, I can’t stop.”

 “WE’RE GETTING OFF TOPIC.” Papyrus cuts in. “HUMAN, WHY WOULD SOMEONE WANT TO KILL YOU?”

 “Uhm… Um…” Your eyes shoot from skeleton to skeleton, finally noticing the lone AU Sanses. “Uh… you gotta be at least a level five friend to unlock my tragic backstory?” You are leveled with many unimpressed stares. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you, but uh… Buddy, Sans, my dude, if I pinky promise not to run away again will you please put me down?”

 Both his eye sockets go black and you are let go to belly-flop painfully onto the cement floor.

 “Oof. Than-”

 “h o w d o y o u k n o w m y n a m e ?”

 Motherfucker. While you wanted to die, it was on your terms, dammit!

 “Hehe… I assume y’all are familiar with the multiverse theory?” You receive a few nods, and plow on. “First of all, congrats on proving it. Well, in my universe… I can’t sugar coat this so, uhh… you,” You point at Sans, “and you,” you move to point at Papyrus, “are from a videogame. “The rest of you are, basically, AU characters. Alternate Universes that fans of the game made.”

 These words are met with uncomfortable silence, and you just can’t stop now.

 “All’a y’all have a lot of fans, too, and were huge on the internet. People made up headcanons and wrote fanfiction and drew some pretty sick art. People even shipped themselves with y’all. Of course, humans are also very awful and decided that making up AUs where y’alls life goes to shit would be great, and there was porn. So much porn.” A look of horror and slight shame creeps onto your face. “Like, an insane amount of porn. You don’t understand how many times I’d just be scrolling through the tag on Tumblr-“you were never just scrolling. You looked that shit up. Filthy Sinner. ”-and I’d just see ecto-peni-“

 “O-0kay.” You’re finally cut off from your rambling by a heavily blushing Error. You look around, and discover that all of the skeletons are blushing. You take a deep breath.

 “So that’s how I know your name.” you finish.

 “H-humans Thought About Us Like That?” Blues voice was small, likely suffering from the onset of an existential crisis. “Why Would They?”

 “Humans are weird.” You shrug. “Also, since I just dropped a major bomb and don’t know how to shut up and I’m on a roll, the person who wanted me dead was me. It was me. I shot myself. Also, anybody got a smoke? My nerves are shot.”

 With no answer, you stand up and pat your pockets. To some joy, you feel your pack of cigarettes, lighter, and vape. “Hey, I’m gonna find my way outside for a smoke.” When that doesn’t garner a response, you look around for paper and a pen to scribble down where you were going, as well as an assurance that you won’t run away- ‘Not that I have anywhere to go, anyways’ – and cram it into Sans’ limp phalanges.

 Quiet footsteps pad up the stairs and land in a nicely lit hallway, which leads to an enormous living room on one side, and a proportionally large kitchen on the other.

 “Geez, why is their house so big?” you mutter to yourself, entering the kitchen. “Probably plot convenience.” You see ingredients all laid out for spaghetti, then look out to the covered porch. The sun was just setting, lighting up the sky in bright pinks and oranges, edged by enormous trees. You sit down on the wooden steps leading out into the garden and light up a cigarette. Sometime during your second, you hear pots and pans clanking together as someone, probably Papyrus, starts to make dinner.

 Just as you’re lighting up a third, someone comes out to sit beside you.

 “so you really didn’t run away.” It was Sans, in all his slippered glory.

 “Not like I have anywhere to go,” you reply, exhaling another cloud of smoke. The two of you sit in silence for a while, just watching the sunset. The other skeletons also filter out onto the porch, a few exclaiming in wonder.

 For a second, you’re glad you weren’t dead.

 “Excuse me,” you snuff out the cigarette on the bottom of your shoe. “May I use the bathroom?”

 Sans hums in response. “second door on your left in the hallway.”

 “Thanks.” You stand an reenter the kitchen, cigarette butts in hand so that you can throw them away.

 Behind you, Sans sighs and turns to the others. “did you see what i saw?”

 A few of them nod. The him the human had called ‘Blue’ looked around questioningly.

 “SEE WHAT?”

 “well, bro… their HP,” the Papyrus with an orange hoodie starts- man, they really needed nicknames.

 “WHAT? WHAT’S WRONG WITH HER HP?” Nightmare Papyrus asks.

 “it’s... it’s point one.”

 (Y/N)

LV: 1

EXP: 5

HP: 0.1

*They’re done.

Chapter Text

XxX

 “HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?!” Swapped and edgy Sans asks.

 “it’s not… at least, it shouldn’t be,” Swapped Papyrus mutters.

  “I’v3 nev3r enc0untered anyth1ng l1ke it 1n 4ny 0ther 6imens1on…” glitchy Sans breaks in.

 “Neither have I…” Ink-splotched Sans responds.

 “it's hella strange…” red-Sans says. “wonder what their main soul trait is.”

 “It’s probably either Perseverance or Determination,” Ink-Sans responds.

 “WHAT… WHAT IF WE JUST ASKED?” Blue asks. “I MEAN, THEY’D PROBABLY KNOW.”

 Honestly, that… hadn’t occurred to them.

 “heh…” Swapped Paps chuckles. “my bro is the smartest.”

 “MWEH!”

 “we should probably make a list of all the questions…”

XxX

 Washing your hands, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Mascara is smudged under your eyes, and your eyeliner is fading at the corners, but your dark purple lipstick is still poppin’. Thanks, Black Moon Cosmetics. The thin layer of powder does next to nothing to disguise the deep bags under your eyes. (E/c) eyes stare back at you from under thick brows and behind light-purple frames, dull and tired, lenses so smudged you were surprised you could see out of them. Messy, short hair is what tops off dull skin.

 Your outfit, however, is cute.

 A long, dark (f/c) off-shoulder baggy sweater, with sleeves long enough to cover your hands and a large black paw print and the word ‘Paw-some’. On top of it is your favorite jean jacket, covered in various alien patches and fandom buttons, as well as some embroidery you’d done yourself. Black, ripped skinny jeans, with gray socks pulled over the ankles, and black combat boots. Around your neck are two tattoo chokers, one plain and one with an alien head charm. What can you say, aliens are pretty great. (And they definitely exist.)

With a sigh, you turn off the faucet and dry your hands on your pants. You make your way back to the kitchen and clear your throat to gain Papyrus’ attention.

 “U-um, hi,” you say awkwardly. “I’m (Y/n), sorry for randomly appearing in your basement.” You offer a hand, which he shakes enthusiastically.

 “IT’S NICE TO MEET YOU, HUMAN (Y/N)! I AM THE GREAT PAPYRUS, BUT… I SUPPOSE YOU ALREADY KNEW THAT…” he trails off awkwardly, sweating.

 “Well… tales of your great exploits have traveled across dimensions, which is exactly what someone as great as you deserves!” you finger gun at him with a grin. You loved this guy.

 “HMM… YOU ARE VERY RIGHT!” Papyrus nods wisely. “MIKS* (Y/N)! WOULD YOU LIKE TO HELP WITH DINNER?”

 “Y’know what, Paps,” your grin turns softer. “I’d love to.”

The skeleton puts you in charge of cooking the meat for the sauce. As you move it around to make sure it all gets evenly cooked, you ask. “Hey, do you have any paprika?”

 “PAPRIKA? WHY?” he looks at you curiously.

 “Well, whenever I made a meat sauce, I’d cook the meat with some paprika or Cajun seasoning to make it a little spicy. Sometimes, I’d even add both.” You smile fondly, remembering when you’d cook for yourself and just experiment with different spices.

 Papyrus opens the spice cupboard and pulls out two plastic containers and hands them to you. “FRIENDSHIP SPAGHETTI TASTES BETTER WHEN YOU COLLABORATE WITH NEW FRIENDS!”

 “That is so wise,” you respond in awe, slowly adding the spices as you stirred. Taking a clean spoon, you sample the meat. “Hmm… Paps, could you try this and tell me what you think?” You hold up the spoon towards him.

 Without thinking, when he turns towards you from the large saucepot full of water, you pop the spoon in his mouth yourself. Immediately, he turns a rather pleasant clementine color.

 “Oh shit, I’m so sorry!” you start to panic, fluttering around him nervously.

 “MIKS (Y/N)!” you snap to attention. “I SAY THAT REALLY IS QUITE GOOD! PERHAPS I SHOULD SPICE THE MEAT MORE OFTEN!”

 “Oh, goodness, thank you! And, uh, sorry about shoving the spoon in your mouth and everything…”

 “WORRY NOT, HUMAN! YOU WERE SIMPLY FILLED WITH EXCITEMENT OVER SHARING YOUR COOKING WITH A NEW FRIEND!” Papyrus smiles and pats your head, making you feel small. Which is ridiculous. You stand at about six feet tall, so you really shouldn’t be feeling short- or maybe you should. Papyrus stood at about six foot five, definitely about a head taller than you.

Y/N

+0.1 HP

TOTAL HP: 0.2

*They feel helpful again

 “It wasn’t too spicy?” you ask, turning back to nervously stirring the meat.

“NO, IT WILL GIVE A DELIGHTFUL NEW KICK.” He assures you, and you triumphantly dump the meat into the sauce before you both return to quiet companionship as you finish cooking spaghetti.

 “Oh, good. Sometimes I go overboard and make things too spicy.”

 Together, you set the table and set out drinks for everyone. “SAY, HUMAN,” you turn to Papyrus quizzically. “WHAT WOULD THESE ALTERNATE VERSIONS OF MY BROTHER LIKE TO DRINK?”

 Taking his hand, you lead him back into the kitchen. “Well, one likes honey, another likes mustard, and one likes barbeque sauce… Then, of course, another likes ketchup just like Snas.” You both begin rooting around the cupboards as you talk.

 “SNAS?”

 “Yeah, it’s what I call your Sans sometimes because I personally find it hilarious.” You hold up a bottle of mustard in triumph. “One down, two to go!”

 “SO… IT’S HIS NICKNAME?” Papyrus asks, growing more excited when you nod. “OH OH, HUMAN (Y/N) DO YOU HAVE ONE FOR ME?!”

 “Heck yeah I do, my good dude. Your nickname is ‘Papaya’.”

 “THAT IS A WONDERFUL NICKNAME, HUMAN! NOW I MUST FIND ONE FOR YOU!”

 Together you find the rest of the required condiments for the humerus (hehe) skeletons, and the huge dining table is finally set, and dinner-time shenanigans could begin.

XxX

 Currently, most of the table was staring at you as you added more and more cayenne ground pepper onto your spaghetti. Finally done putting up with the staring, you glare.

 “What.”

 “kiddo… isn’t it hot enough?” Sans was sweating, eyelights staring nervously at the small mound of dark red powder sitting atop your spaghetti.

 “It’s not spicy enough until I’m sobbing.” You reply, finally satisfied with the amount you’ve put on. You stir it in and take a happy bite. “Want a bite?” you challenge the table at large, eyes glimmering with mischief. Sadly, no one took the bait.

 Damn.

 “so, kid, we’ve got some questions for you,” Sans begins.

 “Makes sense,” you nod. “Shoot.”

 “so, you called my bro ‘blue’ earlier… do you have nicknames for the rest of us?” Stretch asks.

 “Oh, yeah.” You survey the table and finally noticed the seating arrangements. “It’s convenient that y’all grouped together, that’ll make this easier. Well, starting from Blue, you’re Stretch.” Next up was Underfell, and you resort to pointing with your fork. “Sans there is ‘Red’- don’t judge me, I didn’t come up with these- then Paps is Edge."

 “WHY AM I CALLED EDGE?”

 “Because you look like an Edgelord that stole his parents credit card and bought out the stock at Hot Topic. Next.” Swapfell. “Sans, you’re Berry-“

 “WHY?” he interrupts. Pointedly, you look at his scarf- the color of raspberry juice stains. He doesn’t get it.

 “From what I’ve noticed, Sans’ are generally named after the color they’re associated with. You wear a color that looks like raspberry juice. Boom, your name is Berry. Now, your brother is-“

 “MUTT.” Again, Berry interrupts you.

 “Rus, actually,” you challenge.

 “I REFUSE TO CALL HIM THAT.”

 “Well, I refuse to call him something that comes off as so derogatory.”

 “SUBMIT TO ME OR BE KILLED!”

“I submit to no one!” You catch ‘you can’t threaten me with a good time’ before it leaves your throat. No suicide jokes at the table. “Death before dishonor!” You can’t remember what show that was from. Was it even from a show? You decide you don’t really care, you’re just being over dramatic right now. 

 “NO FIGHTING AT THE TABLE!!” Papyrus cuts in, and you feel the tension leave your shoulders ever so slightly.

 “Sorry, Papaya…” you mutter and sigh. “Fine.” You look at Berry. “Call him what you want, he’s your brother. Just know that I personally won’t be calling him that.” ‘Ugh, this is more tiring than I thought it would be.’ Next up was Horrortale bros. “Okay, next is you,” your fork points at Hickory, who’s been waiting excitedly for you to nickname him. “You’re Hickory, and your brother is Saint.”

 “why saint?” he asks, one good eyelight studying you carefully.

 “Oh, y’know,” a hand waves lazily through the air, accompanied by a shit-eating grin. “Because you’re holey.”

 It takes a second for everyone to comprehend the pun, but when they finally do, chaos reigns in the dining room.

 “HUMAN (Y/N) WHY???”

 You’re currently losing your shit, and therefore can’t answer. You hear someone hit the ground with loud guffaws- okay, make that several someones. Even when everyone else has calmed down, you’re still snorting into your spaghetti.

 In fact, you inhale some pepper through your nose.

 “Oh, godsdammit-“leaves your mouth and then you’re violently sneezing. You sneeze so violently, your forehead meets the wooden table with a resounding thunk. Slowly, you raise you head. “…Okay, so anyways-“

 “ARE YOU OKAY?” Blue asks you, star-shaped eyelights bright with worry.

 “Yeah, this happens a lot.” You shrug. “Once, I gave myself a black eye while sneezing because I kneed myself in the face. Another time, I broke my nose. Besides, I’m pretty hard headed.”

 “BUT YOU’RE BLEEDING!” he says, pointing to the cut on your head. You reach a hand up and prod it gently before inspecting your fingers. There wasn’t a lot of blood, so you weren’t worried.

 “Eh, it’ll stop on its own.” You wave off his worry and turn to the final two skeletons. “And y’all are Ink and Error. Okay, next question.”

 “… how are you still alive?” Sans looks at you like you’ve grown a second head.

 “Sheer spite and rage. Next question.”

 “no, i mean…” he sighs and runs a hand over the back of his skull. “you’re hp is point one- point two. how are you not dead? and what does it mean ‘you’re done’?”

 “Huh.” You shovel some more spaghetti into your mouth to give you more time to think of an answer. “Well, I don’t know how I’m still alive, but I know why my HP is so low. And when it says ‘done’, I know why it says that too. But… both those answers are… deeply personal, and I’d prefer to answer them when we all know each other better.” You try a weak smile. “I did say you have to be at least a level five friend to unlock my tragic backstory, right?”

 “fine, i can respect that… what’s your name, kid?”

 You snort, smile now more genuine. “That really should’ve been y’alls first question. I’m (Y/N), it’s weird to meet y’all.”

 Soon, everyone had finished eating and the dishes were whisked away by Papyrus. When you had gotten up to help, he placed a firm hand on your shoulder. “YOU’RE HEAD IS INJURED, MIKS (Y/N)! PLEASE STAY SEATED UNTIL WE CAN MAKE SURE YOU’RE OKAY!”

 “But I said I’m fine! It’s just a tiny scratch, I’ve had worse!” you protested, trying to stand back up.

 “I UNDERSTAND, BUT WITH YOUR HP SO LOW I DON’T WANT TO TAKE ANY CHANCES.” Papyrus pushes you back down into the chair and you huff, crossing your arms with a slight scowl.

 “Ugh, fine,” you relented, sagging back into your chair.

 In the meantime, you answered questions. No, I don’t know how I got here. No, I’m not familiar with theoretical or practical physics. Yes, my head still hurts. Scale of one to ten? About a two.

 At last, they exhaust all of their questions, and a few wander off to explore the house. At some point, Sans left the room and came back with a backpack in hand- your backpack. Inside was your laptop, its charger, your phone and its charger, your drawing tablet, sketchbook, and the charger for your vape. This didn’t count any of the stuff that was flattened at the bottom. ‘This is convenient.’ “Thanks, fam.” You immediately begin scrolling through your phone, seeing if the dimensional travel had done anything to it. You discover that any and every little thing that had anything to do with Undertale was completely gone.

 “Okay,” you start. “I have some questions of my own if y’all don’t mind answering them.”

 “shoot.” Says Sans, leaning back in his own chair.

 “Okay, uhh…” You lean forward in your seat, hands clasped in front of you with your elbows resting on the edge of the table. “what are big taboos in monster society? Like, what should I avoid doing so I don’t offend or make y’all uncomfortable?”

 “A HUMAN WITH MANNERS? ASTONISHING.” Edge mocks you from his seat, and you roll your eyes.

 “don’t stare.” Saint cuts in, still munching on a roll. You nod.

 “don’t pop or crack your bones in front of us its… it makes us… uncomfortable.” Stretch replies to you, cheeks tinted a rather warm amber.

 ‘Aww… how cute,’ you coo mentally. “Gotcha. No knuckle cracking or back popping around y’all. I won’t do it intentionally, it sometimes happens when I stand up or something, so I apologize in advance for that.”

 “Also, don’t walk around in only your socks without slippers or shoes on. They’re seen as very… intimate.” Ink can’t look you in the eye.

 “What about leg warmers?” you ask, tilting your head.

 “Leg… warmers?”

 “Yeah, they’re little cloth tubes I can slip on over pants or tights to keep my legs warm.” You explain.

 “I… don’t know. We’ll have to see.”Ink responds slowly, squinting quizzically at you.

  “Alright.” You nod again. “Are there any places I should avoid touching on y’all when I go in for a hug?”

 “YES.” You look at Edge expectantly. “DO NOT HUG US. AT ALL.”

 “OUR LOWER SPINES AND FLOATING RIBS! AND THE TOP OF OUR PELVIC BONE!” Blue cuts in eagerly.

 “Okay. So, final question.” You blush and avert your gaze from the skeletons around you to your hands. “D-do y’all… do y’all have h-heats?” You are very determinedly staring at your hands and only your hands, cheeks burning like the surface of the sun. You can very clearly feel every single gaze boring into your person, and you just want to shrivel up and die in embarrassment.

 “j-jeez, kid.” muttered Red.

 By now, your blush has descended to your neck and is making its way down your chest. “I-I’m sorry, it’s just, just that it was all over the internet, like people wouldn’t stop talking about y’alls fucking ecto-“

 “Y-y3s.” Again, a blushing Error is the one who cuts off your panicked rambling. About skele-dick. “W3 d0 h4ve h3ats. Ab0ut tw0 ev3ry ye4r, som3times more, 4nd th3y la2t betwe3n thr3e to eigh7 day2.”

 “Cool. Rad.” You bury your face in your hands, before peeking through your fingers at the room. Single-handedly, you had stopped every skeleton in their tracks and made them blush fiercely.

 Nice.

 Then Papyrus walk in, having finally finished the dishes. “HUMAN (Y/N)! I HAVE BROUGHT YOU FIRST AID!”

 “Thanks, Paps, but I don’t think I’ll need it,” you take your face out of your hands at last to look at him.

 “NONSENSE! BESIDES, FROM WHAT I UNDERSTAND, THIS’LL BE YOUR FIRST TIME TRYING MONSTER FOOD!”

 Now that had you perking up in curiosity. Papyrus handed you a brightly wrapped piece of candy, and without hesitation you popped it in your mouth. Oooh, it was strawberry flavored. You suck on it for a bit and then bite down. Hard. The resulting crunch had everyone snapping out of their daze. With slight tingles, your headache is gone and you feel a little livelier.

 “Whack.” You whisper in awe, staring at the bright wrapper left in your hand.

 “INDEED. SANS,” he turn to his brother. “CAN I SHOW THE HUMAN TO THEIR ROOM?”

 “go for it, bro.”

 “What? You actually want me to stay here?” you ask, surprised.

 “i mean, yeah, kid. you said it yourself, you don’t have anywhere else to go. besides,” Sans gives you a slow wink. “paps seems to like you, and so do i.”

 You know that blush that went away? Yeah, that one you had just a second ago? It’s back. With a vengeance.

 “O-oh geez.” Your face is once again buried in your hands. ”Oh geez.”

 “someone’s easily flustered. heh.” Red observes, chuckling. “interesting.”

 You make a strangled screeching noise and glare at him from behind your fingers. “You’re one to talk…” you pull your hands away and give him an over exaggerated, raunchy wink and smirked. “… Sugarskull~.”

 Now Red was the one with a vibrant red blush. He retreats back into his fluffy hood in embarrassment.

 “Aww, you look just like a lil’ cherry drop,” you coo adoringly to snickers around the room.

 “sh-shaddup.” Red mutters, hunching his shoulders. As an act of mercy, you do indeed decide to stop teasing him. For now.

 “Well, Paps, I’m ready when you are,” you turn to him and he leads you out of the dining room to a staircase on the other side of the living room.

 “YOU’RE ROOM IS UP IN THE ATTIC! I APOLOGIZE THAT YOU HAVE SUCH A CLIMB, BUT IT IS THE ONLY BEDROOM LEFT IN THE HOUSE THAT HAS A CONNECTED BATHROOM!” the stairway only goes up to the second floor, then you have to walk down a hallway to get the one that leads up the rest of the way. “FROM WHAT MY DEAR FRIEND FRISK SAYS, HUMANS NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM QUITE OFTEN! AT LEAST COMPARED TO MONSTERS, NYEHEHEH!”

 “Well, they’re not wrong,” you agree. When Papyrus opens the door to the attic, you gasp. “Ho-lee shit.” The room was huge, at least twice the size of your dorm room, with large windows on one side and huge, empty walls. The king-sized bed was pushed into a far corner, with generic white and gray striped sheets and a dove-gray comforter. There was a large black shag rug in the middle of the floor, and a writing desk shoved into the corner opposite to the bed. “This room is amazing! Thank you so much!” You give Papyrus a big hug.

 “NYEHEHEH! OF COURSE HUMAN!” He points to a door, close to the bed. “THE BATHROOM IS THROUGH THERE. WE ALREADY HAD SHAMPOO AND SUCH THINGS FROM FRISK COMING OVER, SO FEEL FREE TO USE THOSE FOR TONIGHT. TOMORROW, WE CAN GO SHOPPING FOR THE BRANDS YOU PREFER USING, AS WELL AS CLOTHES AND OTHER THINGS!”

 “Are… are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden…” you trail off uncertainly, rubbing your arm. Papyrus give you a soft smile.

 “OF COURSE, MIKS (Y/N)! THIS IS YOUR HOME NOW, AND I WANT YOU TO FEEL WELCOME!”

 You could start crying, you feel so grateful. You decide on hugging him tighter to hide your watery eyes. “Thanks, Papy.”

 “OF COURSE! I HAVE ALSO BROUGHT UP SOME CLOTHES FOR YOU TO WEAR AFTER YOUR SHOWER.” He also squeezes you tighter, and even lifts you up and spins you around. “GOODNIGHT. YOU HAVE HAD A LONG DAY TODAY, AND I WANT YOU TO FEEL REFRESHED TOMORROW FOR OUR SHOPPING EXTRAVAGANZA!” With that, the sweetheart leaves and shuts the door gently. Finally, you succumb to tears.

 Y/N

 +0.8 HP

TOTAL HP: 1

*They feel hopeful

Chapter Text

XxX

 For the first time in a long while, you wake up feeling refreshed. Groaning, you scrub your face tiredly and stretch your arms behind your head. A few satisfying pops come from your back, and you hum in appreciation.

 You stumble out of bed and take care of the urgent business that was your bladder. Then, you crack open a window and sit on the ledge of it to have a smoke so that the scent wouldn’t linger too much in your room. Thankfully, there was no screen that you needed to pop out. With that done, you brush your teeth and hair and brush your hair out of the way so that you could do your makeup.

 After your shower last night, you had emptied out your backpack to see what all had traveled with you. In addition to the other stuff you’d found, there was also your makeup bag, a pair of ripped black fishnet tights, dark-wash high-waisted ripped short shorts, a black faux-leather choker with spikes and a ring attached to the front, a fresh pair of undies and some black and gray striped socks, some dark-colored scrunchies, deodorant, and dollar-store perfume. Oh, and your wallet and back-up medications. Gods, this was all so convenient.

 You plunk your makeup bag down in front of one of the windows. Because you went to bed early last night, you were waking up with the sun. It was just now peeking out from behind the trees as you applied your powder foundation. You contoured and drew on your brows thickly, licking the angle brush to add a few flicks of hair to the beginning of each brow. Then, you did your lazy version of a smoky eye- on a fluffy blender brush, you smear dark red all over your eyelid to above your crease and underneath your waterline. With that same brush, you pick up a deep purple and blend it into your crease. Finally, with a wet packer brush, you pat glittery maroon to your lid.

 Finishing your eyes with some black kohl and wings sharp enough to cut a bitch, you brush off fallout and apply highlighter. As the last step, you apply that same dark purple lipstick from yesterday to your lips and check out your reflection in a compact mirror.

 “Bitchin’.”

 Humming and hawing over what to do with your hair, you decide on space buns. Yeah, your hair was short, but it was long enough to do that. Probably. With some hairspray scrounged from the bathroom and a few tries, you do indeed have two space buns sitting atop your head. As an added decoration, you carefully place a scrunchie around each- one was a plum purple, the other burgundy. With another groan, you stand back up from the floor and pop your back again, punching your arms and kicking your legs to pop those joints too. Then, you bend over to touch your toes. Holding that for a few second, you straighten up and finally start getting dressed.

 First goes the bra, then the deodorant. Then the fishnets, black turtle neck shirt Papyrus had given you last night that was a little too big for you (as you preferred), French-tucked into the shorts. You slid the black belt with patterned with bright purple skulls through the loops and clicked it closed. Then was the striped socks and your boots, and the collar-like choker replaced your other necklaces. When you see your reflection, you frown slightly. Yeah, you were all for the goth-punk aesthetic, but this was a little monochromatic. To fix this, your jean jacket is also slipped on. Another look in the mirror, some last minute crimping and-

 Perfect.

 Grabbing your phone and wallet, you plod down the stairs and back to the kitchen. Knowing Papyrus, you’d all probably be leaving early, so you expected him (or someone) to already be making breakfast. However, there was no one there. Finally, you check the time on your phone.

 7:45 a.m.

 Jesus Christ. You didn’t think it was that early. You shrug, not really caring. Someone would probably be on their way down at some point, and now you could get started on breakfast… or was that too forward of you? Like, you just got there, is it really ok to go messing around the kitchen? Your grumbling stomach says yes, your anxiety says no.

…

 Grumbling stomach wins out. Besides, you wanted to wear that ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron Papyrus had on last night.

 Washing some potatoes, you cut them into cubes and throw them in a shallow pan with olive oil and the meat that didn’t make it into the spaghetti sauce. As an afterthought, you also throw in some cayenne pepper and salt. With that heating up, you dig out a mixing bowl and the ingredients for pancakes, as well as a rather nice griddle. While mixing up the batter, the thought occurs to you to also make some eggs.

 ‘Cheesy scrambled eggs would be easiest for a large group…’

 Rooting around in the fridge, you fins two dozen eggs but no pre-shredded cheese. With a sigh, you grab a block of Monterey Jack and cheddar each, a cheese grater, and a cutting board.

 ‘I sure am making a mess…’

 While the pancake are cooking and you’re grating the cheese, it strikes you how quiet the house is, and that makes you uncomfortable. Sliding your phone out of your pocket, you open iTunes and click shuffle on your 70s-90s playlist. Some of the songs weren’t from that time period, but they were close enough that you didn’t care. Killer Queen comes on, and you bob along to the beat. Song after song played, and you slowly become more and more hyped for the day out.

 Just as the coffee was finishing up, and you were moving the steaming eggs into a large bowl, when a gaggle of skeletons walked into the kitchen.

 “MIKS (Y/N)!” Papyrus’ jubilant voice bounds through the kitchen. “YOU DID NOT NEED TO MAKE BREAKFAST, THOUGH IT IS MOST CERTAINLY APPRECIATED!”

 “I was awake,” you respond, turning down your music so that everyone could more easily hold a conversation. “So I decided to surprise y’all. Also, I was hungry.”

 Berry has walked over to the still-cooking potatoes and is eyeing them critically. “THE HEAT IS NOT UP HIGH ENOUGH.” Before he can turn the dial on the stove up, however, you gently bump him out of the way with your hip.

 “No, its fine as it is,” you test them with a fork- crisp on the outside, soft in the middle. Perfect. “In fact, they’re done. Thanks.” These, too, are dumped into a serving bowl, which is placed next to the eggs. Gently, you bump Edge out from in front of the oven, which he was studying. You receive an angry grumble for your efforts. “’Scuse me.” You don’t bother with an oven mitt when you bring the pancakes out of it, the temperature on its lowest setting to keep them warm but not dry them out.

 You turn the griddle off after removing the last batch of pancakes (you made a lot of batter), and open the microwave to remove the maple syrup. Again, gently, you bat Blue’s hands away from trying to grab one, ignoring the pout he aimed at you. “No eating until everyone’s down here. Hickory, could you help me bring everything out to the table?”

 “OF COURSE, HUMAN!” he responds brightly, taking the platters of food to the dining table. You grab some mugs.

 “Does anyone here drink coffee?”

XxX

 Again, the skeletons are staring at you as you as you add tabasco sauce to your eggs and potatoes. To fuck with them, you add it to your coffee too.

 “jeez, kid.” Sans is once again looking at you nervously.

 Making full eye-contact, you take a swig of the tabasco-infused coffee in your hand. Huh, that was actually pretty good. You take another drag from the mug, still maintaining eye-contact.

 “Sup?”  

 Everyone turns back to their food. A silence descends on the table as everyone eats.

 “sooo… (y/n)… does the offer still stand?” You look at Red in confusion, and he gestures to the apron you’re still wearing. Ah. Your cheeks tint pink.

 “BROTHER,” Edge starts angrily.

 “Sure,” you respond nonchalantly, cutting him off while adding more tabasco sauce to your food. “But I’m not standing up to give it to you.”

 “OH OH, MIKS (Y/N)! CAN I ALSO ‘KISS THE COOK’?” Blue asks in excitement.

 “Yeah.”

 “can… we all kiss the cook?” Russ looks at you curiously as you take another bite.

 “Yeah.” Finally, you turn to your pancakes and douse them in syrup. “I don’t say this often for fear of ruining my feared reputation and sounding like a total hippie, but share the love.”

 “YOU… HAVE A FEARSOME REPUTATION?” Berry looks at you, confused. You seemed so… soft and squishy and kind.

 “Back home, yeah,” you respond, cutting off another piece. “I learned early on that humans are assholes, so in order to avoid contact with them as much as possible, I made them scared of me. Worked, too.” You look up. “What?”

 “Didn’t you have any friends?” Ink asks.

 “Not at college, no. All my friends went to different schools, and the people at mine were mega-assholes.”

 “WEREN’T YOU… LONELY?” Hickory asks, looking almost sad.

 “Not necessarily,” you’ve now polished off the pancakes, and you down the rest of your spicy coffee. “Well, yeah, I was pretty lonely but it’s nothing I’m not used to. ‘Sides, I’ve never really gotten along with other people my age, so it doesn’t bother me.” Looking down at the dregs left in your mug, you wonder if you should get more.

 You catch more than one skeleton looking at you with pity, and you grimace. With another look down at the empty mug, you sigh.

 Yeah, you decide. More would be nice.

 That look they were aiming at you. The pity. You didn’t like it.

 ‘No’… your eyes turn cold, contemplative. Dark.

 You really hated that look.

 Y/N

 -0.5 HP

 TOTAL HP---------

 ERROR

 ‘Enough with that shit, they don’t know… Get a hold of yourself.’

 HP: 1

You take the rest of the scalding-hot coffee and drink it straight from the pot. With the pain comes the vague impression of actually existing that almost makes the pain seem worth it.

 “… That was dumb.”

 You set your mug into the mostly-empty dishwasher, grab a glass of water, and return to the table. You relax when they’ve turned to a different topic of conversation, and you let their voices wash over you.

 “our car isn’t big enough for everybody, so we called some of our friends to help out,” Sans was explaining. “of course, when they get here, there’ll be explanations and introductions.”

 “so, who all is coming?” Saint asks lazily, helping himself to another serving of eggs and potatoes. Damn, this was good fucking food. He had half a mind to snatch you up for himself if you kept cooking like this.

 “DON’T WORRY, THEY’RE ALL VERY NICE! THERE’S UNDYNE, ALPHYS, ASGORE, TORIEL, AND FRISK! UNFORTUNATELY, FLOWEY DIDN'T WANT TO JOIN US.” Papyrus replies enthusiastically.

 “frisk?” three low voices ask, and you decide you should cut in before things got messy.

 “Y’alls Chara,” you say to Stretch and Russ, and they relax. To Saint…. You’re not sure what to say. In his timeline, Frisk had gone on a neutral run and brought about starvation to the underground. This was complicated…

 Hickory placed a comforting hand on his brothers’ shoulder, worried. Sans… Saint couldn’t remember a lot thanks to the hole in his skull, but he remembered Frisk. He reaches a hand up to his ruined eye socket and tugs once, twice, three times. On the third time, a small sliver of bone came off of it and turned to dust. Hickory’s hand squeezes on his shoulder briefly.

 You watch this happen, then go and find the jar of Monster Candy you saw earlier. You push one into Saints’ hand. “That’s a bad habit you’ve got.” You say quietly, leaning against the table next to him. Around you, the others are still discussing the shopping trip you’d all be making that day.

 “what do you know?” he mutters mutinously, but eats the candy anyways.

 “Not a lot,” you admit with a small smile. “But I do know a few things about bad habits; I’ve got a few of them myself.”

 “smoking?”

 “Among others.” You’re silent for a moment before you continue. “I know what went down in your timeline.” You take in their wary faces and give a reassuring smile. “Just so you know, I don’t really care, and I won’t tell anyone either. Y’all don’t gotta do that anymore, I’ll make sure you’re well fed.” You grin. “I love cooking for people, especially when they eat so much of it.”

 ‘They’re an angel,’ Runs through both Hickory and Saints’ minds as they look at you.

 “You did like it… right?” when you trail off uncertainly, they both snap to attention.

 “IT WAS DELICIOUS, MIKS (Y/N)!”

 “i could eat it everyday and never get tired of it.”

 “INDEED!”

 “Oh, you’d get tired of it eventually,” you deflect, but your voice is flush with pride. “But thank you! Now go on, eat up. You’ve still got food on your plate!” With that, you rub both their skulls affectionately (it was a bit difficult to reach Hickory, but you managed) and start bringing dishes into the kitchen. You stop.

 ‘Geez, it’s like I’m at work or something…’ You look over to the gaggle of skeletons. “Hey, when y’all are done, could you put your dishes in the washer? It’s open.”

 When you hear a few murmurs of assent, you start your way back up to your room.

 “MIKS (Y/N)!”

 Turning around, you see Blue approaching you, stopping about two feet away. He seemed nervous.

 “Yeah, Blue? What’s up?”

 “I WOULD, UM… I Would Like To Kiss The Cook Now, If That’s Alright…” his voice got quieter, his face a bright blue. ‘Awww!’

 “Sure!” You bend over slightly to make your cheek easier to reach; he was about five inches shorter than you. He shuffles closer before pressing his teeth to your cheek shyly, and you kiss his in turn, causing him to flush even harder. “You’re so cute,” you coo and hug him to your chest in a tight squeeze.

 “Th-thank You, Miks (Y/n)…” he says into your chest, hugging back. After a few seconds, you let go.

 “I’ll see you later, okay? I’m just gonna chill in my room for a bit before the others get here,” with that, you walk back to your room, leaving Blue flustered. You crank the window back open and light up again, watching the smoke disappear in the early-morning light.

 A knock comes from the door.

 “hey, kid.” Sans. “you decent?”

 “Not morally,” you joke. “But, yes, I’m still dressed. Come on in.”

 Sans opens the door and plods over to you, leaning on the wall next to the window. For a while, the two of you exist in silence.

 “So, did you need something, or didja just miss my pretty face?” you chuckle, sending him a wink. He laughs.

 “perhaps a bit of both,” he shoots back, and you snort, causing smoke to come out your nose. “just wanted to make sure you’re settling in ok.” He takes in the sparse room while you answer.

 “I think I am? It hasn’t even been a full day yet, but I’m getting along great with Paps so far. I don’t think that my being in a different dimension has quite clicked yet, to be honest.” You stuff out the cigarette on the bottom of your shoe. “But I think I’ll be fine. Speaking of being fine, I have some medications I take to keep me functioning, could we figure out a way for me to get refills?”

 “sure. how many days left do you have?”

 You walk over to the bathroom and look at your pill bottles. “I have… about a week left.”

 “we can get you a refill by then, sure.”

 “Wait… I need a prescription first, and I don’t think any doctor is going to give me one without, y’know, health insurance or a birth certificate.” You deflate a little bit.

 “don’t worry about it, (y/n). gimme the names and dosages, i’ll take care of it.” He looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to list them off.

 “Are you sure? They’re… pretty expensive.” You hesitate.

 “don’t worry about it.” Sans repeats.

 You sigh. “Okay, fine.” You list them all off, and he’s procured a prescription pad out of nowhere and he’s writing it all down. “Holy shit. You’re a doctor?”

 “of sorts,” he winks at you.

 “That just makes me nervous.”

 Sans just chuckles. “by the way, tori and everyone will be here in about thirty minutes. thought you’d like to know.”

 “Yeah. Thanks, Sans.” Then the skeleton is walking out the door. “Wait.”

 “what’s up, kid?”

 You give him a big hug. “I mean it, Sans. Thank you.” You’re tempted to lift him off his feet and spin him around, but refrain from doing so. Perhaps later.

 “hey, kid, no need to make a big deal outta it.” He says, but hugs you back all the same.

 When he pulls back, his cheeks are dusted a light blue, and it’s adorable. You’re about to comment when there’s a loud crashing noise from downstairs- impressive, considering how far away you are from it all.

 “WHATS UP, PUNKS?!”

 Undyne has entered, and your gay soul started singing.

Chapter Text

XxX

 “hey, kid, what’s-“

 You don’t give Sans a chance to finish as you race out of your room and down the stairs. You’re on the first floor landing when you trip over your shoelaces (when did they get untied?) and take an epic tumble down the last flight, getting spit out in the living room. Using the momentum from the fall, you roll to your feet and stick the landing (heh)!

 “jesus christ, (y/n), are you okay?!” Sans had apparently seen you take a tumble, and had done nothing to help. Prick.

 “Yes.” You nod. “And I definitely meant to fall down the stairs just now. Totally. Yes.”

 “Dude, that entrance was fucking metal.” Undyne, the Queer Queen^TM  of your life, was standing proudly in the living room. Alphys was sitting on the couch, mouth open. Skeletons were staring at you from all angles.

 “YOU STUCK THE LANDING!”

 You finger gun. “Thanks, Papaya. Learned from the best.”

 “ME?!” he has his hands to his face, sockets sparkling.

 “…Actually, I was gonna say anime, but that works too!” You turn to the pretty fish lady and extend a hand. “Hey, I’m (Y/n)!”

 Instead of a handshake, she gives a sick high-five that leaves your hand stinging. “I’m Undyne, and don’t you forget it punk!”

 “How could I? You look like you could yeet me outta the country without breaking a sweat.”

 “MUTT,” Berry looks at Russ. “WHAT DOES ‘YEET’ MEAN?”

 Russ shrugs, and you rush over, phone open to YouTube. “This!” You show them the video while bent over the back of the couch.

 “does this mean you’re an ‘empty bitch’?” Russ asks.

 “The emptiest!” you chirp happily.

 He notices the necklace you’re wearing and tugs a bit on the ring.

 “now, who do you belong to, darlin’?” Russ’ grin is a bit lecherous. Okay, a lot lecherous.

 “Uhhmmm… Me, bitch.” You respond, nonplussed, before the fact that you’re basically wearing a dog collar dawns upon you. ‘Gods, I’m dumb.’

 Russ gives another, stronger tug, and you tip over to face plant onto the couch. With a bit of a kick, you roll over the back of the couch and land on the floor with a thump and a bruised ass. And some rather loud back-popping.

 “Sorry, y’all.”

 “CAN YOU NOT?” Edge yells at you, furious red blush spread across his cheeks.

 “I can’t always help it when my bones pop, leave me alone!” You retort. “Plus, I think it’s actually kinda healthy for humans; it keeps the bones in places and depending on what you pop it can even help your muscles… at least that’s what my chiropractor told me… I think…” your voice wanders off with your thoughts. “But I will try harder not to do things that’ll make my bones pop.”

 “ACCEPTABLE. BUT ONLY BARELY.”

 That’s probably the best you’re gonna get, honestly. You shrug.

 “A’ight.” You turn to Alphys and reach out a hand (which was still stinging, by the way), and introduce yourself.

 “I’m Al-Alphys. I-it’s nice t-to me-et you,” she stutters out, giving your hand a light shake.

 “You too!” You look around the living room from your comfy spot on the floor. “So, uhh… how’d everyone like breakfast?”

 “IT… WAS PASSABLE,” Edge seems unwilling to compliment you, but also unwilling to lie about it. That was some #HighPraise coming from him.

 “Aww, thanks,” you send him a genuine smile, and he blushes again. CRITICAL HIT!

 “D-DO NOT THINK YOUR HUMAN WILES WILL EARN YOU HIGHER PRAISES FROM ME.” He crosses his arms and turn away from you with a huff. Man, what a tsundere.

 “It was… a smile?” you are confusion.

 “well, sweetheart, i’ll just say you’ll make me a great house-spouse one day,” Red send you a wink, and you roll your eyes so hard they hurt. You hear bone hitting bone, an “OW!”, and when you look back, it seems Edge has slapped Red upside the head. Nice.

 “It was very enjoyable, little bird.” Ink compliments you, and you realize how deep his voice is. Oh geez, you were weak to deep voices. “I look forward to your cooking in the future.” Oh geez, a genuine compliment! In an intensely attractive voice! Critical hit!

 You’re blushing.

 “I SAID IT BEFORE, MIKS (Y/N), BUT I WILL SAY IT AGAIN! YOUR COOKING IS ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS!” Hickory is an absolute dear.

 “yeah. what he said,” Saint mutters lazily, looking intensely at you with his one good eye light.

 “BROTHER! YOU SHOULD GIVE THE HUMAN A BETTER COMPLIMENT!”

 “but bro, you took the words right outta my mouth. ‘sides, i already told them earlier that i liked it.” Hickory throws his hands in the air in exasperation at his brothers’ reply.

 Oh geez, you’re blushing a little heavily now.

 “IT COULD’VE USED SOME OF MY COOKING EXPERTISE,” Berry’s voice from behind surprised you, and you jump slightly. “BUT IT WAS DECENT.”

 More #HighPraise from a tsundere! Or would Berry be a himedere…? Questions, questions…

 “Thanks, man.”

 “i didn’t have to make it, so it was alright,” Russ gives you the laziest answer you’ve ever goddamn heard, and you smack his shins lightly.

 “Lazy bones.” Your response makes him chuckle, and you only hit him again.

 “harder, daddy.” Russ says behind you, and you lose your shit.

 “MUTT-“Berry starts angrily, but you’re laughing too hard for him to be heard clearly. What a feat.

 “Jesus fucking Christ-“you choke out. Red and Saint were also heartily laughing around you. It takes time for you to calm down, and even when you do you’re still chuckling quietly.

 “WELL, I THOUGHT THE FOOD WAS WONDERFUL!” Blue cuts in exuberantly. “I LOVED THE PANCAKES, THOSE WERE MY FAVORITE! VERY SOFT AND FLUFFY!”

 “Well, that’s good to know,” you smile at him. “I’ll be sure to make them again.”

 “THE HUMAN ALSO GIVES GREAT HUGS! THEY ARE ALSO SOFT AND FLUFFY!”

 You’re getting so much #HighPraise today, oh goodness…

 “MIKS (Y/N)! MAY I ALSO HAVE A HUG?” Papyrus looks at you beseechingly and you open your arms.

 “Heck yeah, dude. C’mere.” The Pure Boy^TM immediately tackles you into a hug that you return enthusiastically, chuckling.

 “I ALSO WANT TO HUG THE HUMAN!” Hickory jumps into the hug pile, and it’s only thanks to the couch behind you that you don’t end up with your back on the floor. “THEY REALLY ARE SOFT, BUT I WOULDN’T CALL THEM FLUFFY. HMMM….” He trails off in thought.

 “SQUISHY?” Papyrus says in your other ear.

 With a lapful of excited skellies combined with earlier praises, your face is as pink as a stereotypical preppy girls’ bedroom, but it also warmed your heart in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

 Was this what it was like to feel alive (without pain or reckless stunts)?

 Y/N

 + 1 HP

 TOTAL HP: 2

 *The hollow feeling slightly fades

 “Y’all come to me whenever you want a hug, ok?” you rub the back of their skulls. “That goes for everyone in this house. I love hugs.” ‘I’m touch starved and am in need of near constant physical contact just to feel like I actually exist and this isn’t a simulation.’

 You decide not to let that last part slip.

 You don’t expect to have another skeleton launch themselves at you to join the impromptu cuddle puddle, but you really should’ve. Blue wriggles himself to be sat directly on your lap, Hickory and Papyrus being pushed to sit on either side of you, arms still around your torso.

 “I-it’s just like an anime!” Alphys exclaims from the couch, heavily blushing.

 “Huh.” Surprisingly, the thought hadn’t occurred to you. You’re from a different dimension, surrounded by attractive people also from other dimensions, and living in a house with them. Personally, you’d peg it as a dating sim, but to each their own. “I’d always thought that if I were an anime protagonist, my life would turn out more like a supernatural or horror anime not… slice of life? Comedy?”

 “No, it’s like a reverse-harem anime! Like Ouran High School Host Club!” the science lizard replies, stutter completely gone. At that, you have to laugh, bouncing shoulders dislodging the skulls placed there.

 “What, and I’m the hero who’s oblivious to everyone else falling for me? That’s hilarious,” you fan your face and look up, trying not to let your tears make your eyeliner run. “Honestly, I’m nothin’ someone’d wanna end up with. Trust me, I know from experience.”

 Everyone’s looking at you, but you don’t notice. What a harem protagonist.

 “That’s exactly what the protagonist in a harem anime would say!” Undyne insists, backing up her girlfriend.

 “But I’m not bland like most’a those characters! I maintain the fact that I’d be in a horror or supernatural anime.” You protest, finally loosely wrapping your arms around the bundle of joy in your lap.

 “hey, are you sayin’ we’re not scary?” Red asks.

 “’Course not.” You reply, nonplussed. “Y’all are dorks.”

 “I PROTEST!”

 “AS DO I, HUMAN!” Edge and Berry are furious that you don’t find them horrifying, apparently. You can’t really look at Berry, so you deadpan Edge instead. Your dead eyes look directly into his, which are alight with rage. (E/c) eyes don’t blink, face blank as you stare down the red eyelights in front of you. Edge starts to look nervous even as he continues to glower at you.

 Finally, he breaks eye contact. You smirk victoriously.

 “… why?”

 “Why what?” you ask. Blue was really great to hug, you discover. He was small(er that you), warm, and soft, to your great surprise. How could bones be soft? Magic, probably.

 “Why aren’t you scared of us?” Ink asks, head tilted to the side.

 ‘Because I’m dead inside and all emotions I feel are but a hollow imitation of the real thing.’ You shrug. “Humanity’s worse.”

 “WHY DOES A HUMAN HATE THEIR OWN RACE SO MUCH?” Berry asks from behind you, and there’s a round of agreement from the others.

 “Who’d know the human race better than a human?” you answer with a question. “I mean, yeah, we’re not all bad, but my experiences have mostly been pretty shit.” You feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. Your eighteen years have done a number on you.

 Before they can ask any more questions, there’s a knock on the door. When Sans had opened the door, in came Toriel, Asgore, and Frisk was holding Flowey.

 “Good morning, Sans, Papyrus,” Toriels’ voice is soft and motherly but authoritative. “I admit, when you called last night and asked if we were free, I was worried. Is everything alright?”

 “yeah, tori. come on in, and i’ll explain.”

 When the royal family walks in, they all stop short at the sight of the many skeletons they suddenly find themselves in the midst of.

 “Sans,” Toriel looked hard at Sans, who started sweating. “What did you do?”

 “heh, funny story, tori…” Sans shuffled his slippered feet. “i was, uh, tryin’ to find my dad last night, and well, uh…” he sweeps a hand to the room at large. “they appeared.” He finishes lamely.

 You wave from your spot on the floor. “Hello.”

XxX

 Introductions and light scoldings are now over, and it was time to figure out the car situation. Papyrus’ convertible could fit five, including himself, Undyne and Alphys could fit another three, Toriel could fit eight total in her mom-mobile, and Asgore could fit another three in his truck.

 You’d been planning on riding with Papyrus, but when you saw the motorcycle in the garage next to his bright red convertible, you practically drooled. It was beautiful, a shining dark navy blue shell paired with sexy black leather seats and a good windshield too.

 “Oh my gods, that’s beautiful,” you gush, staring lovingly at the beautiful piece of machinery.

 “OH, THAT’S SANS’,” Papyrus informs you. “HE’S PUT A LOT OF WORK INTO IT, THOUGH HE BARELY DRIVES IT.”

 You tear your gaze away from the motorcycle, barely, and pin Sans with a stare. “Can I drive it?”

 “wh-what?”

 “Can I drive your motorcycle?” you ask again. “I swear I know how to drive one, I have a license and everything!” You even go fishing for your wallet and pull it out to show him. “See?” You see his hesitation, and you understand. But you haven’t driven one of these babies in months, and it was gnawing at you to ride again. “Please? I’ve been able to drive one since I was fourteen. I’ll take good care of her! Promise!” You know you sound like a little kid, but don’t care.

 Sans sighs. “fine.” He floats the keys over to you from their hook on the wall. “be careful.”

 “I will! Thank you!” you snatch the keys from the air and go back to salivating over the bike. It was… kinda creepy, to be honest. “Can you text me the address for the mall?” You’d gotten everyone’s phone numbers earlier.

 When your phone dings in your pocket, you open it up and start the routing. You ignite the engine, and the motorcycle smoothly purrs to life beneath you. You place the phone in a nice spot where you can easily and safely see it while driving. Your grin turns absolutely giddy as you plug your phone into the aux cord and look for a good playlist.

 As the garage door opens, you’re still looking for a good playlist to listen to. The map said the mall was between thirty and forty-five minutes away, so you look for one that doesn’t really tell a story. You grin when you find the perfect one.

 As soon as Slayers “Raining Blood” starts playing through the speakers, you crank them and drive out of the garage, already far behind the others.

 Not for long.

 When the guitar starts, you’re just behind the ones in the back. But as the singing starts, you rev the engine and shoot to the front of the pack, even popping a wheelie as you pass Papyrus’ car, Sans in the passenger seat, with Red, Edge, and Berry in the back. Sans is staring at you, nervous. His sockets are dark.

 Nothing like thrash metal to start out a long drive.

 “YEEEEE-HAAAW!” you holler out exuberantly, laughing. You turn the music up even more as the front tire touched ground once again. You loved driving on country roads to an insane degree. At the first intersection, there’s no stop sign but you do slow down enough to make sure that you can make the turn safely. You’re a true speed demon until you enter the city, where you slow down to make sure you don’t cause any wrecks. Still, you make it the trip in just over twenty minutes.

 Naturally, you make it to the mall before anyone else, so you find a place to park before walking on adrenaline-induced shaking legs to the main entrance where everyone said they’d meet. You lean on the wall outside and light up as you wait. Your hair was ruined, and you’d lost a scrunchie on the drive over, but you shrug it off, taking the remaining bobby-pins and scrunchie from your hair before shaking it out. It falls messily around your face, but when you check your phone camera, it’s in a cute way, so you’re good with it.

 While you’re waiting in the shadows like a creep (the sun is a deadly laser), you see your new housemates begin congregating on the plaza in front of ‘MTT Mall’. They had yet to notice you, but others had noticed them, and weren’t too happy with them being there.

 “Just what we need, more freaks.” Mutters a young woman, probably around your age. She’s right in front of you.

 “These monsters are ruining our society, they should go back underground-“her friend is just starting his rant when you decide to cut in.

 Casually, you prop your elbow on his shoulder and lean, towering over him by a good few inches. “Are you aware you sound like a Nazi?” You take utter delight in the way the couple jumps. Before either of them can stutter out anything intelligent, you continue. “At the very least, you sound hella racist and ignorant. Don’t you know what good they’ve done for humanity technologically?” You flick the ashes off the end of the cigarette carelessly, some of them landing on the woman’s sweater. “Monsters are literally made of magic, mercy, and compassion, while you’re just made of shit. Personally, I think they’re a leg up from humanity.” You take a few steps to go join your motley crew when a hand wraps around your wrist.

 “N-necrophiliac!” the woman gasps. “Dirty monster fucker!” Her sharp nails dig through the fabric of your shirt and into your skin. Cool. “Witch!”

 ‘Two outta three ain’t bad...’ “Hey, could you let go?” you give them both a dead-eyed stare. “I’m trying to enjoy my day, unlike you.”

 The woman refuses, and man looks about ready to punch you. “Monsters are a plague on society!”

 “You do realize what mall you’re at, right?” you ask, head tilted to the side. At this point, the nails had punctured your skin. Great. “Or is it because Mettaton looks the ‘most human’ when compared to the others that came to the surface?” From their silence, you can tell you’re right. But you still have some words to say, and there’s no stopping you now. You don’t have a filter anymore.

 “Now, listen up,” you grip them both by their collars and lift them up. “I’m here to have a nice day out shopping with my friends, and you two are going to leave us, and all other monsters alone, got it? Otherwise,” you lean in close to their faces, smoke flowing out of her nose. Your smile is wide, eyes narrow. “I might just have to get violent, and I don’t wanna do that, do you?” The cigarette is dangerously close to burning the cheek of the man.

 They both shake their heads.

 “Wonderful.” You drop them and turn to join your group.

 “what th’ hell’re they doing?” Red’s gruff question brought attention to (Y/n), who seemed to be chatting it up with a couple of other humans.

 “IT LOOKS LIKE THEY ARE MAKING NEW FRIENDS!” Blue looks excited at the prospect.

 You have a humorless grin on your face that’s edging on manic as you hoist the other humans up a few inches.

 “i doubt that’s what’s happenin’, bro,” Stretch raises a brow-bone as you make your way back over to them. “who was that?”

 “Oh,” you look over your shoulder. “Just a couple’a shitheads, heh.” Something flashes in your eyes, your SOUL lets out a single note, and-

 SPLAT!

 The two monsterphobes now have literal bird shit on their heads, thanks to a couple of pigeons. An ugly snort escapes you as you watch them freak out, accidentally smearing the feces in their hair. “That’s unfortunate.”

 (Y/N)

 + 5 EXP

 TOTAL EXP: 10

 LV INCREASE

 LV: 2

 “…it sure is, kid.”

XxX

 “So!” you’re all currently in the middle of the mall. “Should we all split up, or…?”

 Large groups do not do well in department stores.

 “MIKS (Y/N), THAT IS A WONDERFUL IDEA! WE SHALL DIVIDE AND CONQUER THIS SHOPPING TRIP!” Papyrus is nodding enthusiastically. “SINCE IT’S YOUR IDEA, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO START WITH? THOSE WHO ALSO NEED THE SAME THING CAN JOIN!”

 “Underwear.” You say bluntly. “And that’s something I’d prefer to buy alone.”

 “eyyy, c’mon sweetheart,” Red says, sliding in. “don’t you want a, uh, second opinion?”

 “Alone, I said.” You sidestep the skeleton. “I’m a grown adult, I know what I like.”

 I also need new underwear! Frisk signs, immediately latching onto your arm.

 “… Frisk can come.” You decide. “Non-binaries only.”

 Hashtag bonding!

 “Yes. Hashtag bonding.”

 “SINCE IT’S SOMETHING TO INTIMATE, I UNDERSTAND! HERE,” Papyrus takes out his wallet and hands you a credit card. “USE THIS TO BUY WHATEVER YOU NEED! DO NOT WORRY ABOUT PRICE!”

 “Are you sure?” you don’t take the card.

 “OF COURSE! YOU ARE BUILDING YOUR LIFE FROM THE GROUND UP, AND I KNOW THAT THAT CAN BE EXPENSIVE!”

 “Oh geez, alright,” you hesitantly palm the card. “I’ll text you when I’m done?”

 You can’t hear his answer as Frisk tugs you through the crowds towards MTT's Secret.

Chapter Text

XxX

            Upon reaching the store, you can’t help but be in awe. There was underwear and lingerie for all body types, all sorts of materials used, there were binders, garter belts- everything you’d ever wanted to find in a lingerie store was laid out before you. Frisk tugs you towards an employee to get you sized, and then you were swept into a curtained off dressing room to try everything on.

            Surprisingly quickly, you find everything that was necessary- binders, bras, boxers, briefs, panties- and now you were searching for things that weren’t necessary, per say, more so just things you liked having.

 Currently, you were comparing garter belts.

            “Hey, Frisk?” you call over your shoulder, and they appear a few racks over. “Could you come help me for a sec?”

            When they’d shuffled next to you, you explained your dilemma.

 “Okay, so these two are basically the same,” you start. “But this one is more expensive for some reason, and I’m honestly confused.”

            Oh, that one has magic so that it’ll immediately clip on to the stockings and won’t slip down when you’re wearing it! They reply. Why? Are you buying this with a special skeleton in mind? Frisks’ smirk was coy as they stared up at you and fluttered their lashes.

            “W-what? No!” you protest, blushing. “I just like wearing stuff like this, okay? It makes me feel… nice…” mumbling, you find your size in the magical garter belts and go back to try them on. There was a slight hum as you slide it on over your thighs, and the clothing made minor adjustments by itself once situated. In your mind’s eye, you could see them holding up all manner of socks and stockings as you casually posed in front of the mirror. You decide to snap a few photos on your phone, and when you look back at them you can’t help but smile.

 Y/N

 +1 HP

            TOTAL HP: 3

            *They feel pretty

XxX

            After the two of you check out, one big bag each, you pass by Hot Topic. You exchange glances, and walk right on in. Giddily, you grab belts and shirts and pants and skirts and dresses and accessories. You almost choke when you finally check out, but that’s before the discounts hit and you can breathe a little easier.

            Thank the gods for Hot Topics near-constant sales and promotions.

            As you’re exiting the store, you bump into Red and Edge.

            Literally.

            “hey there, sweetheart-“

 “WATCH YOURSELF, HUMAN-“

 In your surprise, you let go of both your bags, and the MTT Secret one falls on its side, a few articles of clothing spilling out. Including the garter belts.

            “Sonuva-“Dramatically, you fall on top of the bag in an attempt to hide your rather, ah, intriguing purchase.

            “damn, didn’t think you’d be falling for me already,” Red cracks a joke as you hurriedly shove everything back in the bag. Instead of verbally responding, your hand shoots out to smack his shin. “harder, daddy~”  

            “BROTHER,” Edge says warningly. “KEEP YOUR FILTHY JOKES TO YOURSELF.”

 “y-yeah, you got it boss,” Red sweats lightly, nervous.

            Finally, you stand up, bags now gripped more firmly. “Sorry about that, y’all.” You dip your head in apology. “How’s the shopping going?” You see a few shopping bags in Edge’s hand-

 Are those fucking Armani?

            “Are those fucking Armani?” you echo Frisk, mind boggling at the thought of the prices their suits normally ran. You wanted to cry for someone’s bank account.

 Probably Sans’.

 “YES,” Edge answers. “THEY WERE THE ONLY STORE SO FAR THAT MET MY STANDARDS.”

 “Well, your standards are fucking expensive,” you’re shaking. “What all did you buy?”

             “THE ESSENTIALS.”

 “Okay, I’m gonna leave because those bags look very full and thinking about the price is making me cry,” you mutter, dragging Frisk away to Charlotte Rousse to go look at shoes—what, they have good prices and they last a long time.

XxX

            Hey, it’s almost time for lunch; should we head to the food court and try to meet up with the others? Frisk asks after the two of you are done at Charlotte Rousse. You were good on boots and heels now, but you still needed sneakers.

            “Maybe after one more store? I’m almost done with shoes and I’d like to get that checked off.”

            They shrug, and you enter Journeys to look over their converse selection. All black high tops are a must, a pair in (f/c), some vans with flowers on them-

 “Holy fuck.”

 Before you is the most wonderful shoe to ever grace mankind. The style! The grace! The unparalleled genius on their invention! You quickly find your size and preferred colors and try them on.

            They fit, they look baller, and you feel awesome.

 Y/N

 +1 HP

 TOTAL HP: 4

 *They’re #ready to cruise

 Thank god for Heelys.

            “Frisk, oh my gods, you have to get a matching pair.”

 Twinsies?

 “Hell yeah, my dude. Twinsies forever.” They got a pair that matched their blue and purple sweater, while yours were (f/c) with black soles and laces, and stars along the sides in various shades of (f/c). After the two of you check out, you sit down on a bench outside the store and start putting them on.

            Are we really gonna stunt on them like this? Frisk asks, grin mischievous.

            “You know we have to do it to ‘em.” Your own grin matches theirs. “Are you ready to roll?”

 Hell yeah.

            It took you both a bit of practice (gaining looks whenever you fell), but you two did manage to master them, soon zooming your way to the food court.

 “’Sup, y’all,” you drawl when you spot your group close to the food court, one hand waving while the other holds your bags. Thank the gods for magic, honestly, because all the bags shrank to half their original size and weight when you left each store, making it easier to carry them all.

            “oh my god,” Sans chuckles at the sight of you and Frisk.

            “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING?” Berry asks, looking confused and disgusted and… envious?

 “Only the best shoes to ever grace man-and-monster kind!” you exclaim.

            With an innovative but simple design, these shoes are great for all ages! Frisk continues.

            “The wheeled sensations that are sweeping the nation!”

 The beautiful, glorious-

            “Heely’s!!” you both finish with over-excited and kinda shitty jazz hands, but your exuberance makes it seem like you actually threw glitter. Immediately after, you both start posing like idiots- Frisk stands like Lucky Luciano while you yourself are squatting with your hands pressed together as if in prayer.

 “YOU BOTH LOOK LIKE IDIOTS,” Edge comments.

            “You’re just jealous of our COOL and HIP style,” you say, standing up. “Anyways, who’s hungry? I feel like eating at least and entire herd of cattle.”

XxX

            Your group finds a few tables close together after getting food, and wasn’t that an ordeal you don’t want to revisit. You end up getting your usual from Whataburger and sitting at a table with Frisk, Toriel and Asgore.

            “From what I remember, you are also from another universe, one where we, monsters, don’t exist?” Toriel asks as you start to dig in.

 “Oh yeah,” you say after swallowing. “Y’all are in a video game that actually helped me through a tough period of life, others too.”

 “That’s wonderful! I’m glad that we had a positive influence on others’ lives.” She swirls her paper cup in her large hand- paw? “So, what did you do?”

 “Oh, I was in college, freshman year.” It makes you uncomfortable to talk about, but you continue anyways, fortifying with a swig of Dr Pepper before continuing. “I was a music and communications major with a minor in philosophy and ethics.”

 “So I take it you can play an instrument of some sort?”

            “A few, actually! I can play piano and guitar really well, and was starting to pick up the hurdy gurdy too. I also sing a li’l bit.”

            “I’d love to hear you play some day! Were your studies going well?” she inquires, eyes alight with curiosity.

            “Not… really.” You scowl slightly in memory. “Some shit happened and I was considering dropping out because I couldn’t handle the stress.”

            “My dear, I’m sure you could’ve pushed past it,” Asgore says gently.

            “I’ve heard that the first semester is the hardest, but it gets easier the longer you stay. I’m sure your parents said the same thing.”

            Any humor or patience you had left for the conversation fled your body as your scowl deepened before you forced your face to smooth into a more neutral look. You remember the agonizing loneliness, the effort it took to get out of bed, the pushy professors, and the overwhelming despair.

            Pain. Loneliness. Despair.

            Pain. Loneliness. Despair.

            Pain. Loneliness. Despair.

 Pain. Loneliness. Despair. Hurt. Anger. The rejection. The rejection, the rejection, the rejection, the rejectiontherejectiontherejectionthehurtthelonelinessthedespairtherejectionrejectionrejection –

 Y/N

-4 HP

TOTAL HP---

T̻͈͡O̭̖͍͍̩̞T̞̝̜̗͉͇̫A̲̖͎̜L͙̖͞ ͈̟͖H͇͎̬̮P̤̯̭͔-̜-̺̟-҉̝
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ERROR

            ‘They’re just offering comfort off of what they know of the situation. They didn’t mean to hurt you.’

HP: 4

            Still, that doesn’t mean you don’t feel nauseous with anger. Looking down at your lunch, you can’t find it within yourself to continue eating, even though you’d only had a few bites. Your stomach was giving a hard pass on any more food, however, so you turn to Saint and Hickory at an adjacent table and give the rest to them. “Here, guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought I was.”

            “you sure? you’ve barely eaten anything.” Saint looks at you with some concern.

            “Yeah. If I eat anymore right now I’ll just end up feeling sick.” Even more than you already do. “I’ll eat later.” You probably wouldn’t. Turning back to Toriel and Asgore, you manage to plaster on an incredibly fake smile. “I think I’m gonna go continue shopping, I’m almost done.”

            Wait, I’ll come with you- Frisk tries, but you cut them off.

 “I don’t want to rush you, its fine!” You stand up. “See you later!”

 With that, you abscond to the nearest restroom and throw up the meager few bites of food you’d had.

XxX

            After washing out your mouth and fixing your makeup, you buy a pack of gum before heading outside to smoke.

            ‘I really need to slow down on this shit,’ you grouse. ‘At this rate, I’ll get lung cancer. Think I’ll just stick to vaping now.’ On impulse, you pull out the half-empty pack of cigarettes and toss them into the nearby trash. ‘Fuckin yeet, binch.’

            Honestly, you were actually pretty much done with shopping for clothes and everything, all you had left to look for was stuff for your room, so you headed into Bed, Bath, and Beyond to find some bedsheets. What follows is a totally epic montage of you jumping on the display beds and rubbing your face into every comforter that caught your attention. Throw pillows and blankets were also added to the cart, and a corner pillow. And, naturally, you couldn’t walk past the stuffed animals without slamming a few (gently) into your cart. After grabbing some colored fairy lights and bath stuff, you finally check out, and now you’re… all done.

 You’ve been far too efficient all day, time for some buffoonery!

…

            You don’t have the energy for that, so instead you go buy a new journal, sketchbook and some nice pens and sit down at a coffee shop, bags at your feet. Taking the occasional sip of your coffee, you start a new self-portrait, as typical of you whenever you start a new sketchbook.

            After about a half hour, you’ve almost finished the sketching stage when you decide to give yourself a flower crown to add more visual interest. At some point during you’re drawing, Ink joins you at your table.

            “What’re you drawing?”

            You jumped, having not noticed him sit down beside you. “You gave me a good spook, bro.” You laugh slightly. “Uhh, it’s just a self-portrait. I normally start off a new sketchbook with one. It’s sorta the way I track my progress.”

            “That’s pretty neat!” he says, scooting his chair closer to yours. “What flowers are those?”

            That actually makes you pay attention to what you were drawing- your mind tended to wander while you drew simple things. “Oh, uhhh… those big ones are lilies, the bunchy ones are spikenard… I think those twigs are birch, then the spiky leaves are holly? Yeah, holly… and then the last ones are pa…patchouli.” Faltering at the end as you realize the symbolism of those plants you used.

            They were funeral flowers.

            You had given yourself a funeral wreathe.

            At least it was pretty.

            Fortunately, Ink was oblivious to the plummet of your mood. “Do you think you’re going to color it? It’s a little hard to pick out the detail as is.”

            “I was actually thinking the same thing,” you concur, glad to keep the talk away from emotions. “But I also want to keep the sketchy aspect of it, you know?  I just like the energy is brings to the otherwise static feeling.”

            “Yeah, yeah! Do you want to borrow some of my markers?”

            “Sure, thanks! Do you have them on you now?”

            “Just because I’m called ‘the Creator’ and am super artsy doesn’t mean I constantly carry around art supplies, you know.” Ink rolls his mismatched eyelights, and you tense, not meaning to offend him, before the skeleton cracks a smile. “But I do.” You chuckle a little, glad that he was only joking. It was hard for you to discern when others were being sarcastic if they weren’t being over the top about it.

            After presenting his markers to you, Ink pulls out his own sketchbook and starts do draw. Meanwhile, you google the plants to get their colors and make yourself a little color palette. You make a few adjustments to the sketch before going in with the colors. The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon like this, and you go through another two cocoa-coffees and a slice of fruity tea cake before getting a text to meet up with everyone at the front of the mall in fifteen minutes.

            Standing up, you stretch your arms above your head and groan, arching your back a little. That done, you throw away your trash and grab another drink before walking (well, you’re rolling) with Ink back to the entrance, doing some idle window shopping on the way.

            At last, the two of you reach the big red statue of Mettaton’s box form in the mall, and you’re among the first there. There’s Sans and Papyrus (you’re honestly a little surprised Sans is there already, but then think he probably took a shortcut), Edge, Error, and then the royal family.

            You should probably talk to them about earlier and act like a responsible adult.

            But you’re still angry, so no.

            However, just as you decide not to, they’re already walking over to you.

            Time to be an adult, you guess.

“I hope we didn’t offend you earlier, my child,” starts Toriels when they get to you, but you honestly don’t have the energy to be cordial right now.

“Well, y’did,” you say bluntly. “I understand that walking out on you was rude, and I apologize for that, but you also need to realize that you don’t have all the information about my situation, so I feel that you don’t really have a right to tell me how I should’ve handled the situation.”

The couple are just staring at you right now, so you press on.

“Either way, it’s out of my hands now considering I’m in a totally new dimension and I can say with certainty that I don’t have any plans to go back to college until I’m damned ready. Also, those things you said? About ‘the first semester being the hardest’ and to ‘just push through’ is all a bunch of crap I’ve heard a million times before that didn’t help my situation at all, and only made my stress even worse. I also understand that you’re just trying to be helpful, but it honestly felt to me that you were invalidating my emotions and mental health.”

“Th-that’s not what we were trying to do, I apologize,” Asgore picks up. “But we do have quite a bit of life experience-“

“There you go again, invalidating my feelings.” Your smile is humorless. “Did you know that when you say ‘but’ after a statement, it basically says to disregard said statement?”

“My child-“Toriel starts again, but you cut her off. The floodgates have opened, and nothing will force them to shut again until the reservoir has emptied.

“Another thing, I don’t like being referred to as a child. To you, I certainly am one, but y’all ain’t the only ones with ‘quite a bit of life experience’.” After a sip of your drink, you deflate and sigh. “Fuck, I’m sorry for going off like that, I… I’ve just been going through some pretty rough shit.”

“I understand,” placates Toriel. “I apologize for invalidating your feelings, bu- and we just want you to not regret dropping out, even though it’s technically no longer an option.”

“Thank you,” you’re relieved, you didn’t want to end this shopping trip on a sour note. “I forgive you. I just don’t think I’d regret putting my health before my studies, you know?”

“Of course,” she responds. “Would you be adverse to a hug, (Y/N)?”

“I’m always down for a hug,” barely leaves your mouth before you’re sandwiched between two boss monsters in a very warm and comforting hug, and you just melt into it. It’s been awhile since you’d had such a great hug, or even been hugged in general.

It was… nice.

You’re trying not to cry.

“Hey, what does a Scandinavian dog sound like?” you ask after being released.

“I don’t know, what?” Asgore replies, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

“Bjork.”

One beat.

Two.

Toriel lets out a hearty laugh, and Asgore also gives an appreciative chuckle. You smile, but still your anxiety keeps ahold of you like Devils Snare.

Y/N

+ 1 HP

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ERROR

‘Why do I feel that today is going to get worse?’

HP: 4

XxX

Back from the shopping trip, you’re climbing the stairs to your room to put down your bags of clothes, when a voice stops you.

 “hey, (y/n),” Sans calls from the couch. “can we talk for a sec?”

 ‘Oh geez,’ your anxiety rears its head as you walk back down to the living room. ‘He’s gonna yell at me for getting in a fight in public, or for spending so much- I tried sticking to the sale racks, but it’s so hard to find things that fit and I like-‘ Apologies were already building on your tongue when you’re finally face-to-face… uh, face-to-collarbone with Sans.

 “Listen, I’m sorry-“

            “is your soul okay?” Sans cuts you off and you blink down at him in confusion. “your hp’s been kinda wonky all day, kid. is everything okay or…?”

 “Well… I feel fine,” You mutter uncomfortably. The others are drawn into the living room from the kitchen, and now you two have an audience.

 “just to make sure, i could take a look-“

 “I’ll check it out myself,” now thoroughly uncomfortable, you start to back up.

 “do you even know how to pull out your soul?” Sans follows you step for step, sockets narrowed in question.

            “Well, I know how to see my soul,” you start to walk up the stairs backwards, still attempting to get away from Sans’ prying eye lights.

 “kid, i just wanna make sure you’re okay-“

            “Well, haven’t you thought that maybe I don’t want you to see my soul?” you ask hotly. “Like, Jesus, Sans, aren’t souls, like, super intimate?” Your words are sharp and your eyes are narrowed. “I mean, yeah, I like you, fam, but it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and you already wanna peek? Should I start wearing socks around the house? Sleeping in your bed? Oh, here’s an idea!” you’re snarling now, like a cornered animal- in a way, you are. You said no, and yet the skeleton persists. “How about you show me your soul? Why don’t you let me take a look at your most vulnerable spot?”

            Sans is shuffling uncomfortably, looking a little angry himself. “jeez, (y/n), no need to take it so personally-“ He cuts himself off, already knowing he’s misspoke. The regret on his face doesn’t stop the angry torrent of words from flooding out of your mouth.

 “Personally?” your voice is rising and your face is flushed with rage. “We’re talking about my fucking soul, Sans! Of course I’m going to take it personally!” You find your breathing exercises aren’t helping you feel calm, they just stoke the blaze in your chest. “Why can’t you just listen to me when I say I’ll handle it?! I know you don’t have ears, but you don’t seem to have a problem hearing me when I make jokes, do you?” You finally manage to reign yourself in. Slightly. Kind of. A little. Maybe.

 “… listen, kid, i’m sorry-“ Sans starts, but you honestly don’t have the patience or energy to listen to any awkward apologies right now.

            “Whatever.” With a sigh, you turn your back on him. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, y’all.”

            “Miks (Y/N), You Shouldn’t Skip Meals. You Didn’t Eat A Lot At Lunch-“ Papyrus tries to keep you downstairs, voice much quieter than usual.

            “I said goodnight.” You growl. “Besides, Papyrus, I doubt I’d be good company right now anyways.” Without waiting for a reply, you try not to stomp up to your room like a child (you fail), and close your door harder than needed. Tossing the bags to the floor, you decide to put away your clothes later as you dig out a bath bomb, a facemask, and some scented candles and retreat to the bathroom.

            While the tub is filling up, you decide to place some extra precautions around your room to ensure privacy. Yeah, Sans had knocked this morning, but that doesn’t stop him or the others from popping in unannounced. With your pocket knife, you let out a hiss as you cut open your arm, close to the elbow.

Just another scar to add to the multitudes you had already.

            You dab two fingers in the blood and begin to write runes above your door- normally, you’d use eggshell chalk mixed with your blood, but you didn’t have any of that right now.

            ‘I really need to rebuild my shadow box…’ you muse, finishing the last rune in the sequence. “A ‘dion cnapan-starra,” with that incantation, the runes give a glow before sinking into the wood. With that, your extra precautions are done and you can go enjoy your bath.

            The water was steaming and just this side of uncomfortable, swirled with pastel hues of purple, green, and blue. You’d just taken off the lavender sheet mask and the room was filled with the low light of the vanilla-scented candles and the clouds you’d been bellowing from your vape. With a final hit of the pink lemonade nicotine, you close your eyes and begin to meditate. You focus inwards, towards your soul, and begin to visualize the little floating heart.

            Before Undertale had come out, you’d had trouble visualizing your soul, but after the game had given you a simple shape to think about, it had suddenly become a lot easier to find.

            There’s a quiet, but startling pop, making your chest feel a little empty, and your eyes shoot open. In front of you, giving off a soft glow, was an off-kilter little heart. It was slowly spinning, leaning slightly too much to the left, and it was a little difficult to decipher what color it gave off. But you knew. It was a dark, desaturated purple.

            You had a soul of perseverance. If you looked closely, you could see an even smaller red heart inside of it, and small shimmers of green and yellow.

            With shaking hands, you take the battered soul into a gentle caress. Close to tears, you look hard into your soul- you’d never physically seen it before, and were honestly in awe. There were deep fissures and scars, some places looking as though they’d been crudely stitched together.

            However….

 It wasn’t as dark, as desolate, as you remembered- the purple was slightly brighter, the red happier, the yellow and green more eye-catching. A gentle thumb rubs the little heart fondly.

            Yeah, your soul was just fine.

Chapter Text

XxX

            Toss.

            Try to get comfortable.

            …

            Turn.

            Try to get comfortable.

            …

            Move pillows around.

            …

            Toss.

            Try to get com-

            Time to break the cycle.

            You roll over to pull your phone off the charger to check the time, and 12:30 AM shines down at you. With a groan, you close your eyes and try once again to fall asleep, but your stomach won’t let you as it lets out another grumble.

            “Fuuuuuck,” you moan. “I just wanna sleep off my feeeelingsss.”

            Indeed, in addition to your loud stomach, your goddamned anxiety hadn’t shut up since you’d gotten out of the bath long after the water had cooled. Fears that you would be kicked out, that they’d just rip out your soul under the guise of making sure you were okay and then shunning you because of how scarred and deformed it was ran rampant. You didn’t want to be alone anymore, no matter how much you said you were okay with it.

            You just can’t be alone anymore.

            You’d tried music, funny videos online, anime, but the voices just wouldn’t shut up. Manifested in a corner of your new room was The Shadow, the awful being that haunted your every step if you ever let your guard down for even a second. Even in the darkness, you could see them taunting you.

            “They’ll leave you alone again,” even with your headphones blasting music in your ears, you could hear The Shadows’ whispering. “And then you’ll have no one left but me.”

            You know you shouldn’t acknowledge them, your therapist said that only made your hallucination stronger, but you couldn’t help it. Something about them just begged response. “N-no… I’ll have myself, and that’s a lot.”

            “No it isn’t,” they whisper, suddenly much closer, at the foot of the bed. “You’re not very much, other than a disappointment.”

            “I have myself, and that’s a lot,” you repeat, hands covering your ears as though that would muffle the voices from inside your own head. “I have myself, and that’s a lot.”

            The Shadow laughs at you, and it’s akin to a million bugs scuttling over sand. “You’re delusional, my dear. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

            “Wh-what a-re you talking-g about?”

            “Do you really think that anybody in this house cares about you?” they shift around you in unnerving ways, seemingly glitching in and out of existence- but they don’t exist, so how can they glitch out of a state of being they don’t have? They’re just a hallucination, it’s all in your head. “You thought that before, and you were cast out. You trust too easily, (Y/N). I thought I taught you better.”

            “The only thing you ever taught me is to hurt myself!” you shout. “You pushed everyone away!”

            “Now that simply isn’t true, is it?” Shadow whispers, once again across the room from you. “You pushed everyone away, didn’t you? And they pushed back, didn’t they, and then you were all alone except for me. Me, the only friend that’s stayed with you for all these years.”

            “Yo-you’re not my friend,” close to tears. “Friends don’t hurt each other! A-and, you’re not the only one whose been with me all this time! There’s-“

            “Pain. Despair. Yes, they too have been with you as long as I. Your constant companions.”

            “Y-you forgot Hope.” Your whisper is barely audible, even to you, but of course The Shadow hears.

            “Hope?” they laugh uproariously. “Hope left you long before I ever met you!”

            “Shut u-up…” your voice is hoarse with pain. “Shut up! Hope is… is still here…”

            “Then where are they? Where is your beloved Hope?”

            “…What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?” your voice cracks.

            “Oh, you know… you know very well what you have to do…”

            “No… no, I don’t want to! You-“

            “Don’t you want peace, (Y/N)? Don’t you want me to leave you alone?” Your silence says everything. “Then do it, and I’ll leave.”

            Sobbing, you fumble for your pocket knife in the darkness- the Shadow hated the light, and would only harass you further if you turned on the lamp, no matter what you did.

Even this.

            Your hands are shaking as you roll up your sleeves, the moon peeking out from behind her clouds to bear witness to this gruesome scene. You hesitate with the blade pressed against the soft flesh of your arm, but The Shadow won’t stand for it.

            “Do it. Don’t you want to be left alone, (Y/N)?” they jeer. “Don’t you want me to leave?”

            “Y-ye-es,” you sob, tears falling freely. “B-but I-I don’t wa-nt-“

            “Do you want me to touch you, (Y/N)?” they ask, voice full of condescension. “Do you want my help?”

            “NO! N-no…” the blade presses harder into your arm, bead of blood balancing on its edge. “I don’t want your help, I want you to leave!”

            “Then do it!” they egg you on. “Do it! Do it do it do it do it do it-“

            With another heaving sob, you slice at your arm again and again to the tune of The Shadows’ taunts.

            “You know that’s not enough, (Y/N).”

            Switching hands, you don’t hesitate this time as you cut up your other arm. You’re in pain, but The Shadow is fading.

            “I’ll leave you alone for now, sweet (Y/N),” they promise. “But I’ll see you again soon.” And then they’re gone, but the grotesque form of Pain and the hunched over silhouette of Despair both seem to grow more resolute. They don’t often speak to you, but they hardly ever leave either. The Shadow was right, Pain and Despair are your constant companions.

            For a while, you just sob brokenly into the darkness as your new cuts slowly begin to scab. After a long time, your tears also begin to halt and you stumble out of bed and into the bathroom, cold tiles sending shocks to the soles of your feet. Flipping on the lights, you stare blankly at your reflection in the mirror, at your puffy (E/C) eyes and red-splotched (S/T) skin.

            Y/N

            -3 HP

            TOTAL HP: 1

            *Pain and Depair are your only friends

XxX

            Another hour passes, and another, and half of one more, until you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to do something. You had to eat. No more hunger strike out of spite or anger. With that decided, you pull on a pair of sleep shorts covered in moons and quietly pad down to the first floor, making your way to the kitchen.

            Not bothering to turn on the lights, you open the refrigerator door and begin rooting around for something to eat. You find some leftover pizza in Ziploc bags that you don’t remember seeing when you’d been making breakfast. Did they order pizza without you?

            ‘Those bitches…’ you grouse, pulling out some pepperoni and mushroom slices and inhaling them instantly. Sitting on the floor in front of the still open fridge door, you quickly eat every single slice in the gallon bag, drinking straight from a bottle of apple juice when you got thirsty. With your hunger sated, you could now go back to bed and probably even fall asleep, but you didn’t think you’d get any sleep at all tonight. Your hands were shaking from anxiety and you didn’t feel safe in the dark space of your room, so isolated from the rest of the house. Not right now.

            However, you now had a hankering for something sweet and a need to do something to burn off some nervous energy. So, to solve this problem, you decide to start baking some shit.  You pull out various ingredients from around the kitchen and look up a chocolate cookie recipe on google.

            And you fell into some sort of baking frenzy for the next two or so hours, not stopping at cookies but also trying your hand at berry-filled muffins and lemon scones. Just as the sun starts to rise, barely visible, and you were doing some final cleaning up when the sound of quiet hinges and shuffling footsteps makes you freeze.  The footsteps stop before shuffling in the direction of the kitchen, and you hastily roll down the long sleeves of your sleep shirt before continuing the scrubbing of the counter.

            Flour could be so difficult sometimes.

And if you were found, you were found. You were a resident in this house and had every right to use the kitchen. But…

What if they had decided at dinner to kick you out? What if they hated you and your personality and decided to hang you out to dry? What if-

“…(y/n)?”

Sans.

“Hey,” you say quietly, looking intently at the marble as you kept scrubbing, though by now the flour was gone and it was clean enough to eat off of. You were too scared to look up.

“what are you doing?” Sans moves further into the kitchen.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stutter out, quickly turning to the sink to wash off the rag, consequently also moving further away from the skeleton monster. “I’ll… I’ll just go get my things, yeah?”

“get your things- what the hell are you talking about?” Again he walks closer, level with the island in the middle of the room. You can’t turn to face him, even if you wanted to. You didn’t want to see the anger and revulsion in his eyes, or the sick enjoyment he got from telling you to get out-

But that wasn’t in his character, was it? He was loyal and kind and smart and funny. He wouldn’t kick you out for no reason… right?

“Aren’t you going to tell me to leave? I y-yelled at you.”

“kid, we had an argument where i was being too pushy, why would i kick you out for that?” Sans sounds incredulous, as though you had just spouted some of the dumbest shit he’d ever heard.

It’s quiet for a moment before you reply.

“…I’ve been kicked out for less.” You whisper, finally turning around to face him, tears once again falling from your eyes. He’s at your side in an instant, awkward and unsure of what to do or say, so he just rests a boney hand on your shoulder.

“welp… you’d have to do a lot more than argue with us to get kicked out, (y/n). like, a shit ton more.” Sans look up at you earnestly, signature lazy grim much softer, almost reassuring. “i don’t know what happened to you, and i don’t want you to tell me until you’re good and ready, but we won’t force you to move out unless you want to, and whoever forced you out is full of shit.”

You giggle through your tears and give a weak but genuine smile. “Thanks.”

“did you get any sleep?”

“No…”

“what a coincidence, neither did i.” the skeletons grin turns a little more shit-eating as he continues. “and those stairs look like too much work. i’m bone tired.”

You laugh again and wipe at your face with your sleeves. “Heh, me too. In fact, I’ve worked myself to the bone in this kitchen.”

Sans himself lets out a hearty chuckle. “wanna watch shitty t.v.?”

“Always,” your smile grows as he leads you to slump onto the couch in the living room. He turns on the television and changes the channel until he finds a mindless reality show. You let the words and colors watch over you until you finally begin to relax further into the plush cushions around you, and soon you’re falling into a doze.

Your sleep-heavy torso leans towards Sans until you’re practically laying on top of him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, and within minutes he’s laying down with your head on his ribs. Smiling in your sleep, you nuzzle closer to the monster and sigh happily when he uses his magic to set a blanket on top of the two of you, and he also begins to drift off to sleep.

Y/N

+ 5 HP

TOTAL HP: 6

*They feel secure

Chapter Text

            You and Sans aren’t noticed when the others start to come down for breakfast, still half asleep and groggy. It took Papyrus to see that the TV was still on to actually notice the two of you still asleep on the couch, but seeing the dried tear-tracks on your cheeks decides to stay quiet and let you two rest for a while longer.  The next half-hour is tired skeletons trickling downstairs to eat cooled muffins and scrambled eggs that Papyrus whipped up. Conversation is quiet, and a puddle of drool still spreading on Sans’ worn t-shirt. It’s a peaceful morning.

            As they finish breakfast, a few of the skeletons relax on chairs and the living room floor to also watch the terrible reality show re-runs, and miraculously left you two alone.

            “L’ng… live… th’ king,” you mutter, now wedged between the back of the couch and Sans. With one powerful push, you kick the poor skeleton off the couch and huddle further into the plush cushions, rest not interrupted by his squawk, his body hitting the floor, or the hearty laughter that filled the room. You were dead to the world, and nothing could rouse you.

            The skeleton tasked with waking you (Red), gave you a light shake, but no response. He shook you harder, but you just rolled over.

            “Oh, please,” Edge snapped, marching over and giving you a rough shake, and your head just lulled and you grumbled slightly. “HUMAN (Y/N), I DEMAND THAT YOU WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!”  There was a beat, then two, and your leg swung up in a graceful arc to get him right in the forehead. Edge stumbled back, stunned, before turning completely red. You were finally woken up when he, in an embarrassed rage, shoved you off the couch as well. Even then, you don’t yelp, just mutter something derogatory from where you had landed face-first into the shag carpet.

            “WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?”

            You rolled over onto your back and looked the angry skeleton right in the eye and said “I called you a cunt.” You then drag your sorry carcass into the kitchen to make some coffee, leaving a spluttering skeleton to be held back by his brother, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide his laughter.

XxX   

            “this is becoming a bad habit, (y/n),” Sans states as he once again catches you in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning. You look up from your cup of tea at him, under-eye bags darker than usual.

            “Pot, meet kettle,” you mutter, turning away from the accusing gaze and taking a small sip. Perfect. Sweet and mildly scalding.

            “i know i said i wouldn’t pry, but this is getting concerning, kid.” the skeleton seats himself across from you. “this is the fourth time in the past two weeks i’ve found you in the kitchen this late. are you even getting any sleep?”

            “I try,” your voice is hoarse from crying, once again. “Doesn’t last long. Nightmares keep waking me up, and then I don’t feel like sleeping anymore.”

            “… you seem to sleep okay on the couch with me. what’s that about?” Sans studies you as you fiddle with your rapidly cooling tea. Why couldn’t it ever stay hot for longer?

            “I guess I just sleep better with someone else. Dunno why.” You take another sip and consider reheating it in the microwave, but decide against it. It just didn’t taste the same afterwards. “It’s irritating though, isn’t it? Not just for me, but I know I keep kicking you and pushing you off the couch.”

            That gets Sans to chuckle a bit. “yeah. just lucky i’m so hard-headed, i guess.” The two of you then lapse into a contemplative silence, one where you finish your tea and make another cup. “… if you want, you could always sleep in my room… i guess.” You look up from the table and see his flushed face. He refuses to meet your astonished eyes. “j-just whenever y’can’t sleep from nightmares. sleeping is important for humans, right? don’t want you to keel over dead just ‘cause you’re not getting enough z’s.”

            “Are you sure?” your own face flushes from embarrassment. “I might still kick you off the bed… and I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

            “you’re always so hesitant to accept help,” Sans notes, eyelights studying you with interest now.

            “It’s because I’m used to everyone snatching it away right when I need it most.” Oops. You hadn’t meant to be quite so frank. You take a nervous sip of tea.

            Damn sleep deprivation.

            After a beat, you decide to divulge a little of your backstory. “I… I never knew my birth mom, I grew up in the system. When I turned eighteen, I looked her up and she was only fifteen when she had me, so I didn’t reach out. Didn’t want to remind her. I…” You took a bolstering gulp of tea, staring into the amber depths to avoid eye contact with Sans, who was paying you the utmost attention. Your hands were shaking. “She was sexually assaulted, and got pregnant. With me.” You pause, for a long while.

            “i’m hearin’ ya, but i don’t get the correlation,” the skeleton gently coaxes.

            “So, yeah… I grew up in foster care and was bounced between families for most of my life- well, after I turned ten, anyway. That’s when my mental illnesses really started to manifest and affecting my behavior and everyday life. I was kicked out soon after my… well, they just refused to help and support me when they saw how severe they could be, so I was passed on to the next family. And the next. And the next. ‘Oh yeah, we can definitely help them!’ they’d promise. Then I’d have an… episode and they’d say ‘This isn’t what we signed up for!’ and the cycle would start over.”

            Quiet once again falls on the kitchen.

            “But, you wanna know what hurts the most?” you ask your mostly empty mug. “Was the fact that several of the other kids had some of the same issues, having episodes as well… but I was never the one who got picked to stay.”

            Sans wraps a boney arm around your shoulder and gives you an awkward one-armed hug, but you smile all the same. The skeleton doesn’t know what to say for a bit, and birdsong begins to fill the silence before he speaks. “dunno what to say, fam.”

            “Few people do.” You tilt your head onto his shoulder. “This is nice, though. Thanks, Sans.”

            “no problem, (Y/N).”

Chapter Text

XxX

            “Hey, has anyone seen Error?” you ask one morning as you sip on your coffee.

            “i think he’s still down in the basement, working on the Machine.” Stretch says helpfully as he smothers another muffin in warm honey. “don’t think he even went to bed last night.”

            “Oh, geez…Again? He’s probably hungry then…” you mutter to yourself as you begin to pad around the kitchen, putting some eggs, toast, and a muffin on a plate, which then gets put on a large tray. Next is some butter, jelly, cream cheese- honestly, you didn’t know what he liked so you were trying to have a selection. Just as you were about to pour him a cup of coffee, however, Ink cuts in from behind you, causing you to jump. When did he enter the kitchen?

            “He prefers black teas.”

            “Oh, thank you,” you say, covering up your surprise rather well as you brew him some Earl Grey in the Keurig and go to put some cream and sugar on the tray as well- oh, right, they’re on the table. Fuck, was it gonna be heavy.

            Oh yeah, it was heavy as fuck, but you’d manage. You’d been a server ever since you were fifteen, after all. As you’re walking through the dining room, a few skeletons pause their eating to look up at you.

            “MIKS (Y/N), WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” Papyrus asks.

            “I’m just bringing Error some food. He seems like an introvert, so a big group’a people early in the morning probably isn’t his shtick.” You explain as you balance the tray on your hip to grab the sugar bowl and near-empty container of cream from the center of the table.

            “you got that, kid?” Sans asks, eyeing the tray almost warily as though he thought you’d drop it. After your wonderful trip (heh) down the stairs your first morning here, you didn’t blame him. “looks like it weighs a ton.”

            “a skele-ton,” Red finishes, and even you groan along with his brother (well, he screamed in rage, but same thing.).

            “Red, as much as I love your shenanigans and buffoonery,” you say over the despairing groans and hearty chuckles “that pun is overused and tired, man. You’re smart, come up with some new material.”

            “but that’d take effort,” he whines, laying on the table.

            “Well, then, I guess I’ll stop making my egg-cellent breakfasts every morning,” you threaten lightly as you walk down the hallway towards the stairs that lead to the basement.

            The dining room in once again filled with groans and laughter before your words had fully sunk in. “wait-“

            “WHAT?!”

            You were an agent of chaos that did not care for the destruction you left in your wake.

            Now, to descend the stairs without killing yourself or destroying your hard work.

            Knocking on the door to the workshop, you slowly open it. “Hey, I brought you breakfast.”

            Error was glaring at the Machine with such intensity that you were surprised it hadn’t burst into flames. Again.

            “Just set it on that table,” he says gruffly, waving one hand vaguely. You have to look for a second to find some free space, but you manage. When you see that Error hadn’t even shifted slightly, you frown.

            “You should eat, you’ve been at this all night.” You admonish him gently.

            “I’m not hungry.”

            With a huff, you turn back to the tray. “Do you take any cream or sugar?”

            “I- what?” Finally, the grumpy skeleton looks at you in confusion.

            “I brought you some tea. Do you take any cream or sugar in it?” you gesture to the tray.

            “… I’ll take it as is.” He mutters before looking back at the Machine, and you walk over to where he’s sitting propped up against a box, tea in one hand and your coffee in the other. You plop down a few feet away from him and slide him his mug.

            “It’s Earl Grey.”

            “… Thanks.”

            “Of course.” With that, you pull out your phone and scroll through Tumblr, nursing your coffee as the skeleton sips at his tea.

            “You used the Keurig?” he asks, and you hum an affirmation.

            “Do you prefer it made the traditional way?” you ask. He just gives a sharp nod and you hum again. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

            Time is passing, and now he’s shuffling through blue prints and muttering to himself. When you shift again to try and prevent your foot from falling asleep, Error snaps at you. “Why are you still here?”

            Taking it in stride, you shrug and put your phone down. “In case you wanted a distraction, or if you wanted to talk.”

            “Why?” Error is absolutely frustrated and confused, and it shows.

            “Well, sometimes a distraction or a break is helpful when you’re working on something difficult,” you shrug again, finishing off your coffee. “Or maybe just me asking dumb questions for answers I probably won’t understand so you can verbally review the basics in case something clicks.” You’re looking him in the eye as you talk, and he won’t admit to feeling uncomfortable because of it. “Why do you want to repair the Machine so badly?”

            “So I can get back to my life as it was before,” Error replies. “Out of this house full of idiots and away from him.” You don’t ask who he means. “… and so I can have my powers back.”

            “Dimension hopping?”

            “Yeah,” he sighs and runs a hand down his face, the sound of bone scraping bone making you squirm slightly, which he notices but doesn’t comment on. “It feels like something’s missing. Something important.”

            “Because something is,” you reply. “It’s something you’ve been able to do for eons, and now you’re suddenly unable to do it. I’m guessing its something akin to me losing the ability of sight or being able to walk, right?”

            “Something like that,” he agrees, though reluctantly. Silence once again swells between the two of you, and you can hear squabbling upstairs.

            “So, what’s being difficult?”

            “The pieces,” Error replies, his tone now more searching, losing some of its sharp edge. He hold up a strangely-shaped part. “This,” he says, “should be able to fit right there-“ he points to an open compartment in the Machine “-but for some reason, it’s either too small or too big, but according to the blueprints it should fit right fucking there.”

            “Have y’all asked the Papyrus-personalities to help? They love a good puzzle.”

            “Of course we have,” he says, annoyance once again on the up and up. “But none of them really know how the Machine works, much less have a good understanding of theoretical or practical physics.”

            “Gotcha,” you say, looking at the Machine with narrowed eyes. “Can you show me?”

            “What?”

            “Can you try to put that piece in?” you explain. “You said it’s either too big or too small, not that it’s only one of those things, so I’m just a bit confused as to how it can be both at once. It’s paradoxical.”

            “You’re… right.” Realization is dawning on upon his boney face. “It shouldn’t be possible, but we’re also having the same problem with a lot of other pieces.” He’s now getting excited with the progress. “There are also parts that seem to change shape, so even if a piece is the right size, it’s not the right shape.”

            You yourself are getting caught up in his excitement. “This Machine is supposed to be able to look into other dimensions-“

            “-and the multiverse theory could have different parts make the same Machine-“

            “-and the time-space continuum or whatever has been fucked with thanks to us all being here-“

            “Time space continuum? What are you talking about?” Your dumbassery has crashed the party and all festivities have curled up and died.

            “Dude, I know jack-shit about all of this. What about the fabric of reality, would that work?” You blush at your brain fart and try to defend yourself.

            “You’re a dumbass.” Error states.

            “I mean, you’re not wrong, but you were getting somewhere, so go back to that train of thought.”

            “Right… since the fabric of reality was ripped to get us all here, it would make sense that other things would be impacted by it,” he continues, and you just nod along instead of verbally contributing this time in case you derail him again. “But if it’s at random, then how to we fix the Machine?”

            “Maybe… maybe it needs to settle?” you say hesitantly, but when he just looks at you, waiting for more, you have to continue. “It’s been two weeks, right? But something this big needs time to, like, chill, right? Like, the hotter something is, the longer it needs to cool?” When Error just continues staring at you, you curl into yourself. “Sorry, it’s stupid-“

            “No, you might be onto something. We wait for the reaction to slow down enough for everything to stop morphing, and then we should be able to work on the Machine.” Error squints into the distance, as though formulas or some other academic shit is going through his head. “It makes sense.”

            Your shoulders relax, and you shoot him a small smile. “See? Sometimes dumb questions can lead to the answer.” You’re not sure, but you think Error smiles too, if only for a millisecond, and for some reason that gets you flustered, so you stand up and grab the tray of cooled food to hide it. “Now that we’ve got something, come eat or I swear I’m shoving these eggs down your throat.”

            Your joking threat does the trick, and Error starts to inhale the food as though he hadn’t eaten in days. As he eats, you glance at the Machine and bite your lower lip.

            If they successfully fix it, would they send you home?

Chapter Text

XxX

            Chilling in silence had become a common occurrence between you and Error that had migrated up to your room. You were lying in an existential daze while Error read a book (you think it was a finished copy of 120 Days of Sodom by Marquis de Sade, and you were tempted to borrow it), with dark vaporwave music playing in the background. It was after dinner (you had skipped again. You just weren’t hungry.), and it was already dark outside. Your attic bedroom was only lit by the strands of colored fairy lights that crisscrossed the peaked ceiling. Absently, you raised your vape to your lips and blew out a heavy cloud, causing your companion to fix his glare on you.

            “What the fuck, (Y/N)?”

            You almost don’t respond, the words taking too long to register in your brain. You turn your head and slowly blink your eyes, unfocused pupils landing on multicolored eyelights. When it finally sinks in, your mouth twists into a dazed frown, eyes still vacant. “Sorry…”

            “Are… you okay?” It’s clear that Error isn’t used to asking that question, but the tiny corner of your brain that wasn’t spiraling slowly appreciates the effort.

            You turn your face back to the ceiling and get lost in the colored lights again. “Jus’ an existential crisis. N’thing new.” You miss the concerned look that flashes across his face before he turned back to his book, and in turn you continue the never-ending descent. Watching the way that the smoke gathered and dissipated among the lights caught your absent attention, and so for another small eternity it’s just you sprawled out on your back on the bed, head hanging off the end, and Error was propped up against the side of your bed on the floor, a foot or two away.

            It was peaceful. Melancholic.

            Aesthetic, a corner of your mind supplied, and you slowly nod.

            Nothing really feels real right now.

            There’s a thudding of rapid footsteps, and suddenly your door slams open. There stands Papyrus, nearly vibrating in excitement. “MIKS (Y/N)! WOULD YOU-“ the tall skeleton looks down and also sees Error. “-OH, AND YOU AS WELL ERROR- WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN THE REST OF US IN A MOVIE NIGHT?”

            His entrance has jolted you back to reality- for now, at least- and now you’re scrambling to remember who the hell you are. “Y-yeah, sure. What movie are we watching?”

            “WE HAVEN’T DECIDED YET! WE WERE HOPING FOR YOUR INPUT!”

            “Oh, yeah. I’ll be down in a minute, what about you, man?” You direct this question to Error, who had merely looked up over the top of his book. He heaves a deep sigh before nodding his head sharply.

            “Might as well.”

            “SPLENDID!”

            “Sweet.”

            With that, one skeleton runs back downstairs, and you glance at the one left. “Wanna try and trick them into watching a horror movie?”

            A nigh-on evil grin spreads across the skeletons face, which is quickly mirrored on your own. “Hell. Yes.”

            “Hell yeah!” you cheer, doing a happy worm wiggle that nearly makes you fall off the bed. “If you wanna get that ball rolling, I’ll meet you downstairs?”

            “What about you?” he asks, standing up, his book now mysteriously gone.

            “The second I move I’ll sound like a human glow stick. And I gotta pee.”

            “R-r1ght.” He high tails it for the door, but you stop him.

            “Hold up, your voice hasn’t glitched in a hot second, what’s up? Are you okay?”

            “N0ne 0f your bus1ness!” you could’ve sworn that you saw a blush cross his cheeks before he slammed the door behind him, but that didn’t make sense. It was probably just the lighting.

            And you’d asked a personal question.

            Rolling off your bed, your bones snap, crackle, and pop just like you thought they would. As you wash your hands after you’d done the deed, you look into the mirror. Ugh.

            You look like shit, darling. The Shadow looms in a dark corner but you don’t flinch this time. You’ve grown used to it, yet again.

            “Don’t call me darling,” you sigh, drying your hands and changing from jeans into some sleep shorts and pulling on a pair of fluffy slippers to keep your toesies warm (and to hide your gross feet). You groan as you stretch and crack your back one more time, but the Shadow isn’t done quite yet.

            It’s smart of you to hang around the others as often as you do. Keeps me away, but it does hurt, darling.

            “Good thing I don’t live to please you.” You shoot a glare at it through the mirror and tie your hair up into a messy bun and take a quick look at yourself. Oversized Nightmare on Elm Street shirt that had sleeves long enough to cover part of your hands, moon-patterned shorts, and fuzzy black slippers topped off with messy (h/c) hair. You twist and turn, plucking at your hair and clothes before deciding that this is good enough. Checking over yourself one last time to make sure all your cuts were hidden, you make to head downstairs.

            But your mind is mine, isn’t it?

            “Maybe, but my soul’s all mine, Shadow, and you’ll have to rip it out of my cold, dead, eviscerated hands if you want it.” Finally, you leave, and your Shadow stays behind.

            I’ll look forward to the occasion.

            Your footsteps are quiet as you descend the stairs from the attic to the living room, from which raised voices came.

            “I SAY WE WATCH THE FIRST AVENGERS MOVIE!” said Papyrus, and this time you can tell he is vibrating in excitement because his bones are rattling. A precious boy.

            Blue shouts his agreement.

            “I THINK SCHINDLERS LIST SOUNDS GOOD,” says Edge, his low voice cutting through the noise. You, personally, are not down for that; you’re already depressed enough.

            Movie titles are being bounced back and forth with no sign forward, so you enter. “Actually,” you clasp your hands together in front of you. “What about The Blair Witch Project? It’s based on true events and is super cool! It’s actually one of my favorites.” You smile sweetly, your eyes shine, and you wiggle in anticipation, trying to entice the room of skeletons to unknowingly watch one of the best horror movies you’d ever seen.

            Being endearing was super effective! Critical hit!

            “Sounds good to me,” Error shrugs and claims an armchair for himself. Everyone quickly follows suit, figuring out how to watch the movie while you go to the kitchen to get snacks. Coming back with four big bowls of popcorn, you pass them out before realizing that there’s no more room on the couch and the chairs have all been claimed.

            Seeing your predicament, Russ peers at you from his lounging position on the floor. “yer more than welcome to sit on my lap, darlin’.” He grins up at you and you roll your eyes.

            “Maybe next time,” you do sit next to him, however, after grabbing some pillows and a blanket. Propping yourself up against the couch, you munch on some popcorn as you gaze at the bright TV screen. Blue plops down right next to you, and you wrap your blanket around him too.

            As the movie progresses, Blue presses up against you before eventually ending up in your lap, hiding behind your shared warm fabric shield. You wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his shoulder, glad to have a cuddle buddy. You’d seen The Blair Witch Project dozens of times, but it still managed to unnerve you. Not much, but a little.

            When the credits started rolling, everyone was frozen but you, giving a loud yawn.

            “THAT”S IT?!” yelled Berry furiously. “WHAT DOES THE WITCH EVEN LOOK LIKE?”

            “That’s the point,” you yawn again. “As soon as you can put a face to a horror, it becomes less scary. It becomes something tangible, something you can explain, something you can understand. The greatest fear is fear of the unknown. That’s one of the reasons it’s one of my favorite horror movies.”

            “I thought it was a documentary?” asked Ink, puzzled.

            “Nope, mockumentary-slash-found footage horror movie. Blair Witch is actually the movie that carved out a space for the found-footage sub-genre, even though it’s hardly the first, and it’s heavily inspired by the events of the Bell Witch haunting in the early eighteen-hundreds.” Rolling Blue, who was still frozen, off of your lap, you yawn one last time before heading up to bed.

            A couple hours later, you’re startled out of your slumber less stupor by a knock on the door. Tripping over blankets and stuffed animals, you open the door and see Blue, dressed in rocket-ship pajama pants and a dark gray t-shirt. His eye sockets are a little watery as you usher him into your room before softly closing the door.

            “I-I’m Sorry If I Woke You Up… The Movie Re-Really Shook Me Up…” he murmurs shamefully as he sits on your bed.

            “I’sfine,” you mumble, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

            “I-I Mean, It’s Just A Movie, It Shouldn’t Scare Me So Much-“

            “Hush,” you immediately stop that train of thought. “Everyone’s allowed to be scared, that’s what horror movies are s’pposed to do. That movie still scares me a little.”

            “Really?” he asks quietly, hopefully.

            “Mmhm. Are you gonna go back to your room, or do you want a sleepover in mine?”

            There’s little hesitation in Blue’s answer. “Sleepover.”

            You smile, and cast a subtle glare to the mocking form of the Shadow. "Sleepover it is, then."

Chapter Text

XxX

            Blue was rightly confused when he woke up, in an unfamiliar room on an unfamiliar bed with unfamiliar arms wrapped loosely around his chest. Warm breath hitting the back of his cranium made him turn, immediately blushing a bright blue when he saw your sleeping face on the pillow next to him.

            Like, right next to his face.

            At this distance (or lack thereof), the skeleton had full view of your tired skin, the deep bags under your eyes, worried-red chapped lips. That small pinch that was normally between your brows was gone, in fact your whole face was more relaxed than Blue had ever seen it. Belatedly, he realized you were always tense when you were awake, but hindsight is 20/20. Had any of the others noticed? He thought Papy might have, but the only time any of them had ever seen you asleep (as far as he knew) was that time on the couch, and even then you were twisted and tense. He couldn’t help but feel pleased that he got to see you this way, so at ease and pretty-

Pretty? Where did that come from? Were you even okay with being called pretty? He means, yes, objectively you were very pretty. Of course you are! All his friends are pretty!

His eye lights find themselves looking back at your lips, lightly parted in slumber, and remembers how they felt on his cheek bone on that first morning, how warm they were and how your lipstick left a slight sparkle he hadn’t realized was there until after the shopping trip. He starts to wonder what it’d feel like to kiss them himself-

            Blue popped out of his reverie when you shifted slightly, heaving a great, sleepy breath and tangling your legs with his in an unconscious effort to get even closer.

            He snapped his head around, away from you, with the silly notion of not wanting you to see his flustered face even though you were asleep. Bad Sans! How dare you think about kissing your very, very pretty housemate while they sleep! That’s just, just, wrong. You two were friends, and moreover, you couldn’t consent! But now that he couldn’t see you, he was hyper aware of the way you were flush against his back, head now tucked against his shoulder, and now he just didn’t want to leave- not that he did in the first place. This was… nice, and his soul thrummed with contentment at the thought of staying like this forever.

            B-because you two were friends!

            … Right?

            But Blue knew he should get up, he wanted to take a shower and be dressed for breakfast. However… Five more minutes couldn’t hurt, right…?

            Oh jeez, he was sounding like his brother. Slowly, so he wouldn’t wake you, he started to extract himself from the warm and cozy cocoon that was your arms- the bed sheets! He means the bed sheets! The skeleton thinks himself successful as he quietly tiptoes to the door.

            “Mmph…”

            He freezes.

            “Blue…?”

            He slowly turns around to look at you, propped up on one elbow while you rub sleep from your eye with your free sweater-covered hand. Your hair was messy and matted down on one side, having fallen out of the bun you’d put it into the night before, the early morning sun giving you a sweet halo. The skeleton is enraptured as you sit up fully with a sleepy pout pointed in his direction. “Didja sleep okay?” you ask, still rubbing at your eyes.

            “O-oh, Yes I Did. I’m Sorry I Woke You Up.” He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, and the bone-scraping-bone makes you cringe slightly.

            “I’ss fine, fam. Need to make breakfast anyways…” a brilliant thought strikes you, causing you to perk up a bit. “Wanna help me?”

            “What?”

            You almost jump out of bed in excitement, though your stiff legs protest. You grab Blue’s hands in your own and look down at him imploringly. “Wanna help me make breakfast? It’ll be fun! We can make blueberry pancakes!” you pause for a second, drawing back slightly. “I mean… if you want to. It’s cool if you don’t-“

            “I Love Y- I’d Love To!” Now he’s excited, totally ignoring the slip-up that definitely didn’t happen. What slip-up?

            “Hell yeah!” you cheer and give him a big hug, twirling him around. “Give me just a sec and we can go down!”

            You leave Blue in a bit of a daze as you grab something from the floor and run into the bathroom. In minutes you’re out, hair brushed and once again put up into a messy bun, also wearing a different pair of pants that looked familiar-

            “We match!”

            It takes the normally quick-minded skeleton a second to catch up, but catch up he does when he realizes that you also own a pair of rocket ship pajama pants. Seeing the giddy smile on your face paired with those twinkling eyes looking at him so excitedly from behind your glasses, he decides that maybe… maybe he can shower after breakfast.

            When Sans entered the kitchen early that morning, so early that the sun hadn’t even started to rise yet, for the unofficial but regular meeting the two of you had to see you not there, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. But he shouldn’t, right? It meant you were getting some much-needed sleep. (He decided to ignore the next feeling of disappointment when he realized you probably weren’t going to cuddle on the couch with him for a post-breakfast nap.) So there he sat at the kitchen table, nodding off into a mug of over-sweetened coffee, waiting for you to come down so you could talk while you made breakfast.

            “Sans?” Your voice was like music to his metaphorical ears, and he turned around to greet you. He was prepared for the sleep-ruffled clothes and messily-brushed hair and glasses ever-so-slightly askew, but he wasn’t prepared for the sight of his hyperactive other self to be peeking around your form at him inquisitively. “What are you doing up?”

            “why wouldn’t i be awake?” he responds without missing a beat, though internally he’s slightly reeling. When… why was Blue with you? Why were the two of you wearing matching pajamas? When did you two start looking like a couple-

            Nope. Brain, you’re going to stop right there.

            “Touché,” you smile at him affectionately as you come over to give him a hug.

            “Miks (Y/N), What Should I Do?” Blue asks uncertainly, having been almost banned from cooking the other day because of a mishap while making tacos.

            There was still glitter on the ceiling.

            “Oh, could you get all the ingredients out? There’s a recipe in my journal in the breakfast section, near the front.” As Blue flipped open the binder to look through your collection of recipes, you turn back to Sans and continue a bit more quietly as you sit next to him. “Did you have trouble sleeping?”

            “heh, nope. got down here just a bit before you two.”

            You raise a brow at him, disbelieving. With a pointed look at his congealed coffee, you speak again. “Yeah, right; I know you, Sans, at least a little bit. What’s up?”

            He grins and sweats; you did know him rather well by now. He decided on a half-truth. “i stayed up waiting for you.”

            The way your face melted in gentle affection, eyes going soft, shouldn’t have made him as happy as it did. “You don’t have to sacrifice your sleep just for me, y’know.”

            “just trying to be a good friend, kiddo.”

            “You’re not a good friend,” he feels his soul sink. “You’re a sans-sational one.”

            His soul quickly jack-knives into a steep ascent, and he doesn’t bother trying to hide his heart-shaped eye lights or bright cheeks when you turn to help Blue make food with a mischievous giggle. Minutes tick by as he refreshes his coffee in the microwave and nurses it while he watches you work your metaphorical magic in the kitchen. All was going well, until….

            “Oh my god, Blue, Blue! Stop!” you all but snatch the bowl of pancake batter away from your cooking partner and place it safely on the counter behind you, and more importantly, out of his reach. “It may be called batter, but that doesn’t mean you beat the shit out of it like you’re trying to take its lunch money!” Half the bowls contents had been splashed onto the short(ish) skeleton and the bit of counter around him.

            “It Has Lunch Money?”

            “No, Blue-“you sigh, using the ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron you were so fond of to wipe a splotch of batter off his face. “You need to be more controlled when baking. Here, watch.” You nestle the bowl in one elbow, beating the batter with more controlled movements. “Yes, you want to introduce air into it to make the pancakes nice and fluffy, but what’s the point of that if you get more batter on the floor than the griddle? Whisking like this also helps make sure that the flour is well-incorporated, because there’s nothing quite so annoying as a bundle of bland flour in an otherwise perfect pancake.”

            After you carefully coached Blue through another batch of pancakes, it was time to whip up some eggs and bacon, which went surprisingly well (thank goodness). Now, the two of you were chopping up some fruit for a zesty fruit salad, and the rest of the skeletons have congregated in the dining room. After setting the serving plates and bowls on the table, you give a big grin and say “Dig in!”

            As you were giving yourself some pancakes, Stretch looks at his brother. “by the by, bro, why were you helping (y/n) make breakfast? they normally wake up even before you.” You weren’t really paying attention, as you pick up your coffee to take a hearty gulp that lightly burned your tongue.

            “YES, I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHY THEY DIDN’T ASK ME.” Berry cuts in, glowering into his own drink, eye lights cutting between you and Blue.

            “OH, WE SLEPT TOGETHER!” was Blues chipper reply, and everyone that had the unfortunate experience of having something in their mouth started choking, but none to quite the extent as you. You barely manage to get a napkin to your mouth to avoid spraying everyone (and your hard work) with saliva-infused bean juice, fist hitting the table while you had an extensive coughing fit.

            “Why the fuck would you phrase it that way?” you say hoarsely, face beet-red and eyes watering.

            “WELL, WE DID.”

            “We had a sleepover, holy fucking shit on a stick, bro.” Yes, good. Hit them with that friend-inferring slang. “A sleepover.”

            Blue looks smug for a split second, but it’s quickly covered by an expression of complete innocence. Bitch. “AND WE SLEPT SIDE BY SIDE.”

            “Yes. Like friends. Because we are friends. Platonic ones. Who did not bump uglies.” You were very clearly uncomfortable at this point, hoping that someone would notice and save you.

            “you bein’ so adamant about it bein’ ‘platonic’ makes it seem pretty sus, sweetheart.” Red chuckles.

            Your hopes are dashed.

            You quickly snatch away the mustard (thank the gods for long-ass arms) (“hey! i was usin’ that-“) before turning to Saint. “If you drink all the mustard we have, I will make you a goddamn cake, or anything else you want, no matter how complex it is. Hell, I’ll make a nine-course meal just for you if you want, just drink all the fucking mustard.” Saint doesn’t even hesitate, he grabs the bottle you’d been holding out to him and starts guzzling it.

            Red starts sweating, looking between you and Saint. “c’mon now, sweets, don’t you think yer bein’ a lil hasty?”

            “Bold words from someone who just lost his condiment privileges for the rest of the day.”

            “that’s not fair-“

            “A week.”

            “y’can’t just do that-“

            “Oh, well, I think I just did.”

            “that’s fuckin’ bull-“

            “If I hear another goddamn protest leave your mandibles, it’ll be a month.” You narrow your eyes and jab your fork at him. “Don’t test me.”

            Red looks around the table for salvation. “boss, you ain’t gonna let them do that t’me, are ya? yer big bro?”

            Edge takes a long sip of coffee, considering. You don’t let him consider much longer.

            “We can make lasagna for dinner tonight.” It was your night, anyways. You’d have to go to the store, but that’s a small price to pay.

            “DEAL.” He puts down his coffee with finality. “YOU’VE LOST YOUR CONDIMENT PRIVELEDGES, BROTHER.” You give a victorious fist-pump. Red gives a small wail of despair.

            “I believe that’s what the humans call a ‘vibe check’!” Ink says happily to a round of laughter. There’s a small lull in conversation as everyone returns to their food. When Blue opens his mouth, you’re quick to cut him off.

            “If you say one more thing about our sleepover that implies anything but completely platonic feelings, you’re getting a vibe check too.”

            Blue closes his mouth with a click.

            Now, back to your pancakes. Looking at one of them, it was quite a bit bigger than the others, and you were struck with an absolutely brilliant idea. Quickly, you pile on some cheesy scrambled eggs, a few pieces of bacon, and some fruit salad. To finish off the sweet-and-savory breakfast taco, you drizzle on some maple syrup and a generous helping of canned whip cream. Before you can take a bite, however, the peanut gallery needed to make a few comments.

            “THAT LOOKS FUCKING DISGUSTING.” Berry scrunches his face at the sight of your fucking delicious food combination.

            “there’s no way you’re fitting that in your mouth,” Saint says, putting down the empty bottle of mustard and digging into his own food.

            “i’d like to see ‘em try,” Russ say lasciviously, sending you a roguish wink that you meet with a flat stare.

            “Are you challenging me?”

            “yeah,” Saint says with a devious smile. “if you can’t, you’ll only be cooking fer me and paps” he gestures to Hickory, who had been peacefully eating up until now (“DON’T ROPE ME INTO YOUR SHIT, BROTHER-“) “fer a week.”

            “Deal,” You say. “And if I can fit it into my mouth, you’re cooking for me.”

            The two brothers blink before Saint grins widely. “fuckin’ bet.” And you shake hands.

            The whole table watches with rapt attention as you raise the taco back up to your mouth, open it, and shove the whole fucking thing in. It takes some doing and pushing with your fingers, but you manage to fit the small mountain of food into your gullet. You hum happily as you chew and swallow, much to the awe and slight disgust of those watching, licking whipped cream and syrup from your fingers before taking a drink. Wiping any excess off with a fresh napkin, you give a demure grin and say “Surprise me.”

            If Saint had a heart, it would be beating and fit to burst- his soul was doing the same thing, either way. “anythin’ you want, munches.” He freezes just as you do, forkful of eggs forgotten as you look at each other.

            “Did… did you just call me ‘Munches’?” you ask in disbelief, voice low.

            “uh-“

            “I’ve never had a nickname before!” you could almost explode in happiness, squealing excitedly. “I love it!”

            Y/N

            + 4 HP

            TOTAL HP: 10

            *A nickname?! Hell yeah!

            Later that day, you were still in your pajamas and relaxing on the couch with a few of the skellies, watching a Nova special about space. Mindlessly munching on a bag of chisps, you feel the beginnings of existential dread emerge in your mind as you think about how small you are, how what you do, whenever you do it, doesn’t make a big impact. A small existence overlooked in such a big universe, barely a crumb of a crumb, no one would miss you if you were gone. You think of your friends back home. Was there a body, or were you just missing? Did your friends notice you were gone, and did they care?

            You doubted they missed you. You doubted your foster family, the ones kind enough to pay for your college, missed you. If anything, you imagined they were glad, someone less to worry about or spend money on. A useless person who’s only use was for others to look at and say “Hey, at least I’m not that.” Your only use was disappearing.

            Maybe you should just disappear. Would they notice?

            You doubted it. Your only use in this house is making breakfast every morning.

            Useless. Unwanted.

            Even your friends has drifted to friendly acquaintances at best, familiar strangers where you’d awkwardly avoid eye contact at worst.

            An unwanted friend, and an unwanted child.

            Just another burden for others to carry, so pathetic you couldn’t even carry your own weight.

            Pathetic. No one can love something pathetic, only pity it.

            Maybe you should just die, save everyone the trouble of pretending to care.

            So lost in depressing thoughts were you, you don’t notice the hour-long Nova program ending, and are only brought back to partial awareness by Sans shifting and poking the back of your head with a boney finger. “you good?”

            A reflexive, faux-content expression plasters itself across your face and you give him a gentle smile. “Yeah, just lost in thought.”

            “we were thinkin’a watchin’ somethin’ else, any ideas?” Red asks from his position lounging across the loveseat. Was it in your head, or did he sound… gruffer than usual? His eyes looked sharper, as though he were glaring at you.

            Taking a look at the time, you begin to get up. “Actually, I should probably get a grocery list together, I need a few things for dinner tonight and we’re running out of stuff.” You don’t wait for a response as you scurry as naturally as possible to the kitchen, hating the feeling of guilt in your gut. Maybe… maybe you were too harsh over breakfast? Did you act to familiar with them? It’s only been a few weeks… Finding a half-filled grocery list, you set about writing down the various things you were running low on, like fruits and veggies and snacks.  You glance back through the doorway to the living room and see Red with a bit of a scowl on his face. You whip your head back around before he can catch you staring, and write down mustard with the rest of the condiments.

            You don’t want anyone angry at you, if you can help it. They don’t need you to help finish the Machine like they need him.

            They don’t need you. You were disposable.

            Shaking your head, you look back over the list and frown. You’d never made lasagna before, but it was basically just spaghetti in cake form, right? So the majority of the ingredients would probably be the same, right? Just to double check, you google a few recipes on your phone.

            When you’re finally confident in the grocery list, you start looking around the house for Edge, imagining that he’d be back from his post-lunch run. You finally find him outside with the other Papyrus-personalities, where they seem to be in a heated discussion over… jogging routes?

            With a deep breath, you walk over the grass towards Edge. “Hey, I’m pretty sure I’ve written down everything we need for dinner, is there anything else you can think of?” you ask him quietly during a lull in the… conversation, handing over the list, which he looks over with a critical eye while the others continue talking about running routes, engrossed in the topic.

            “Everything Does Seem To Be In Order…” he trails off when he sees the condiments section, where mustard is written in your loopy print. “Why Is This On Here?”

            “Oh, uh, h-habit?” you grin uncertainly at him before man handling the conversation away from that topic. “When do you think you’ll be ready to go?” At his confused stare you blunder onwards. “Y’know, I thought we could get the shopping done together, thought it might be fun-“

            Edge clears this throat, a carmine blush splashed across his pointy cheeks. “I’m Afraid We Have Yet To Depart On Our Run, Human.”

            “And it’ll be time to start making dinner by the time y’all are done…” You could just run into town by yourself, but grocery shopping with someone else is more fun….

            “Ask Red To Take you,” Edge says with a sort of finality. “He Knows My Typical Ingredient Standards.”

            You don’t have it in you to argue or ask if you could take someone else, you just wanted to jump off a cliff right now.

            Damn anxiety.

            “Okay!” you say brightly instead as he and the others turn to leave. “Have fun!”

            You wait until the group had disappeared into the trees before reentering the house, willing your hands to stop shaking. Your mind kept flashing back to Red’s scowl from earlier, and you now dreaded going shopping.

Chapter Text

Hello everyone! I'm sorry, I know it's been a long time, over 3 years in fact. Life has been... difficult. This probably isn't the news you want, but Shot In The Dark is being discontinued. Good news, though! It's currently being rewritten, as I feel like my writing style has changed and matured quite a bit. I'm attempting to keep some of the humor this story has, but just considering the three chapters already written/worked on, it won't be as prevalent. I have no definite timeline for when it'll start getting posted, but hopefully within the next month after I finish/start a few more chapters.

There will be more character work, and a more... dramatic plot. I'm also going to set up a tumblr blog (whose name I won't be changing with the seasons) to allow for some more interaction, but more on that will be revealed when I post the rewrite.

This version, as the original concept, is still very dear to me and will remain up and readable, even as the rewrite gets published. I hope to see y'all at my next story, please keep an eye out!

Big love and big preesh for all comments, kudos, and subs!

As a treat, have an excerpt from the first chapter of Soul in Hiding

            “what do you mean you can’t find their Soul?” Sans asks, jogging up the stairs, attempting to keep up with his younger brother. He had ported home from the mall, leaving the others in the capable hands of Tori and Frisk as soon as he heard his brothers’ panicked voice. (He would have ported directly up there, but Papyrus hated when he did that in the house. It messed with the electricity.)

            “It’s What It Sounds Like, Brother!” Papyrus was taking the stairs three at a time. “They Should’ve Woken Up By Now Either Way, And-“ When he swings the attic door open, however, the human is sitting on the bed with their head in their hands.

            You look up when you hear the door open to hurried conversation and can’t help but flinch back when you see two skeletons in front of you.

            Was this some sort of… Undertale bullshit?