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The Great Asriel Dreemurr, all of five years old, was up past his bedtime.
He’d regret it tomorrow, when he was struggling not to fall asleep in class, but Mom was the teacher, so she’d let him doze off during recess. It wasn’t like he had to worry about doing bad in class anyway; The Great Asriel Dreemurr had never done anything bad in his life. At least, nothing anyone could be mad at him about. Everyone, especially Mom, told him so. He was just too cute and lovable for that.
But there were more important things to think about right now. Things which resulted in him crawling out of bed and pressing his long, floppy ears against the wall, listening very hard until he could hear Mom and Dad discussing the baby.
December Holiday, his arch-nemesis, insisted that babies were the product of satanic rituals, which every adult in Hometown was keeping secret. She learned it from a forbidden tape she swiped from the school storage, which she called “se X ed” (the X stood for satanism). Asriel could now proudly declare that she was wrong, because he now knew the truth: babies could be bought from the store, just like anything else. (of course, then she’d shift the goalposts and start talking about the secret satanic baby production factories, but he could still be smug knowing that he was right and she was wrong and that was that.)
This baby was broken though. It didn’t even have fur or anything. When something was broken, you could always take it back to the store and yell at the store people loudly until they replaced it with a new one. Asriel was glad he wasn’t broken. If he didn’t have his white fur and sweet eyes and long, floppy ears, no-one would love him so much! Mom and Dad had been talking about the baby for hours, which was dumb because Asriel didn’t think it was that complicated. They could just get a new baby.
He leaned in closer, confident that any minute now, they were going to stop arguing and both agree it was just broken.
Muffled arguing met his ears. Nope, they were still going strong.
“Togore will be a great name for the boy. Just think about it, Tori…”
“I have thought about it,” came Mom’s stern voice, “and I will not allow our son to be named Togore.”
“Well, we named Asriel the same way. Look at how he turned out!”
“Yes, because we decided to name him “Asriel”! Think about how he will be treated by his peers! He has enough to deal with already, being what he is.”
“Ah…” Asriel could hear Dad’s sheepish laugh. “Well, shouldn’t we give him a good Monster name, then? Togore’s a perfectly good Monster name.”
“He will be bullied his entire life if we name him that,” hissed Mom. “Do you not think he would benefit from something more… normal?”
More of Dad’s awkward stumbling. “Well, what’s normal then, Tori? We can’t just give the boy a Human name. He’ll be laughed at.”
“He is a Human, Asgore,” said Mom sternly.
“That we chose to adopt,” said Dad softly. “I’m just saying, we gotta think about where he’s being raised, not just what he is.”
“Perhaps you are right,” came Mom’s voice a moment later, also softer. “I shall do some more research in the library tomorrow. I have been checking out books based on Mr. Boom’s recommendations. I suppose we cannot expect for him to be completely like Asriel.”
As the voices quieted down, and began talking about other things Asriel was much less interested in, he clambered into bed and laid down, his thoughts dancing around what he had just overheard.
Of course the baby would never be like him. No-one was quite like The Great Asriel Dreemurr.
“You’re so stupid,” said December during their truce, otherwise known as recess.
Whack. A rock hit a nearby tree, leaving a dent in the bark. There were dents in Dess’ bat too, which was not meant to be used for hitting rocks into things but hey, she’d only smashed one window so far and it was the old storage room, so no-one had noticed yet. Her backwards baseball cap hung low, draped over her messy black hair which she’d pulled the bows out of.
“Am not,” Asriel huffed. He lounged next to her pile of stones, pretending to read a book so he could further pretend he wasn’t paying attention.
“Are too.” Whack. Another stone hit the tree. “If the stores are selling babies, it’s ‘cause they’re buying from the SATANIC baby pro-duct-ion factories.”
“You’re just mad ‘cause you’re wrong,” Asriel scoffed, turning his nose up. “Face it. There’s no satanic rituals. You can just buy them.”
“Then why’s there no baby section at the store?” Dess asked, her face screwing up. “Huh?” she pointed her bat at him. “YOU face it. It’s satanism! They’re making thousands of babies, every night! And the leftover ones get made into like, lettuce. And pencils.”
“And bats?” Asriel asked skeptically.
“Yeah,” said Dess with a crooked smile, tossing another rock in her hand. “Satanic bats.”
Thwack. The bark was beginning to deeply consider a divorce from the rest of the tree.
“Well I learned they sell babies at a special store,” said Asriel. “It’s called an ‘adoption center’. They had to go all the way to Ebott.”
“That’s just so no-one knows they do satanism,” Dess said. “If they just made babies like people used to, then maybe yours wouldn’t be broken.”
“How’d they used to make them?” Asriel asked.
“I’m not telling you that,” scoffed Dess, which Asriel decided meant she didn’t know either.
“Anyway, my parents are doing satanism too,” she added, tossing another rock. Thwack.
“Yours also bought a baby?” Asriel asked, putting the book down and sitting forward. This he was interested in.
“Not bought. They’ve been doing rituals for months,” said Dess, grabbing another rock. “But now they’re doing it at the hos-pital.” A pause before she swung. Asriel saw her glance at him out of the corner of her eye. “They’re gettin’ home today,” she offered. “If you wanna see what a not-broken satanic baby looks like.”
“Sure,” said Asriel. “I’ll come. Just ‘cause I wanna see your baby’s stupid face.”
“Yours is stupider.” Dess blew a raspberry, then swung her bat.
Thwack.
Their truce could extend for a little longer.
“Why does mine have to be the broken one?” Asriel stared at Dess’ baby, arms folded. This baby was an almost-fine baby, which didn’t look like Asriel but looked almost like Dess did. Its ears weren't large but at least it had fur, which meant it 90% worked anyway.
“That’s what happens when you buy a baby from the store,” Dess said, making Asriel glower. Next to Dess’ baby was Asriel’s baby, in all its gangly, furless glory. For some reason, Mom and Dad still hadn’t returned it. Both of them were asleep.
“No-one bought any babies,” said Dess’ Mom wearily, wheeling in through the living room of Dess’ large house. “And none of them are broken.” She looked very tired, and was currently on her way to the kitchen, where Dess’ Dad and Asriel’s Mom were cooking something.
“Azzy’s mom did,” said Dess loudly, pointing to Asriel.
“No, honey,” said Dess’ mom. “She adopted.”
“That’s just satanism!”
Dess’ Mom gave her a weird look, before wheeling off.
“See?” Dess groaned. “They’re in on it!”
“What’s your baby’s name?” asked Asriel as he plopped on the couch, looking at the two of them sleeping in a crib together.
“It’s “Noelle”, if you must know,” said Dess. “That’s french for christmas.”
Asriel looked at her. “Why is everyone in your family named after christmas?”
“Because we’re the HOLIDAYS? Duh?”
“That’s lame.”
“Well at least I’M not named after dreaming,” scoffed Dess. “Do you count goats, Dreemurr?”
“I—“ Asriel huffed, folding his arms and turning his nose up. “We’re named after an ancient king.”
“Yeah?” Dess leaned back on the couch, planting her hooves on the edge of the crib. “What’s your baby’s name?”
“Mom and Dad didn’t pick one yet,” said Asriel. “They just keep fighting over it.”
“Really?” asks Dess, her face twisting into a rare look of genuine surprise. “Mom just decided what mine’s was. Dad didn’t even argue.”
“Well your mom is scary,” said Asriel.
“Pfft,” laughed Dess. “Mom isn’t scary. She’s just mean.”
“And I’ll be meaner if you two don’t wash up for dinner,” came a voice from behind them. Both Asriel and Dess both jumped and shrieked as Dess’ Mom stuck her head over the couch in between them.
“Do not scare them too much, Carol,” said Asriel’s mom, walking over to pick up her own baby. Still, she sent Asriel a pointed glare that spoke volumes where words didn’t. Asriel quickly hopped off the couch and ran off to the bathroom to wash up.
Crack. The cleanly-cracked eggs flew into the bowl with the force of a rocket. Flour practically teleported into the bowl an instant later from how quickly it was thrown.
“I cannot believe your father is so careless,” growled Asriel’s mom, punching the dough into the counter. Asriel, flopped over the table, watched the baby who should have been named “Christopher” swipe for a jingling snowflake hanging over its bouncer.
“Chris-to-pher. The name is not that hard to remember! I even spelled it for him! And still—” Asriel watched a stray spark of fire flicker from Mom’s snout as she unleashed her stress into the dough “—he cannot get it right!”
The dough flew into the bowl like a volleyball, sending it rattling across the counter. Mom practically throttled it in plastic wrap and then sent it clattering against the back of the fridge like a frisbee. SLAM. The fridge door shut.
“Kris!” she growled. “What sort of a name is Kris?”
“Can’t you just change it, Mom?” Asriel asked, head sideways against the table.
“We will have to drive to Ebott again,” said Mom, laying out the ingredients for apple pie filling. “And fill out the paperwork. And I will have to accompany him this time, because clearly your father cannot be trusted to do the simplest thing correctly!”
Asriel frowned as Mom set about to chopping the apples for filling.
“I think Kris is an okay name,” he said to himself.
Jingle. Kris swiped for the swinging snowflake again, dark eyes watching it go back and forth. A broken name for a strange, broken baby, but that no longer bothered Asriel. No matter how broken or satanic, he was starting to like that he had his own baby. Only one other of his classmates could say that.
“You can have mine too,” said Dess during another one of their truces. This time, she was skipping stones across the lake. Most of them were sinking. “All it does is cry and stink and puke.”
“I don’t think Mom wants two babies,” said Asriel, who delicately skipped a stone across the water. It bounced five times before it sunk. Dess scoffed, grabbed a giant stick, and hurled it into the water. It splashed as it went down. She folded her arms, satisfied.
“Well you don’t have to let our Moms know,” said Dess, like it should be obvious. “Just, like, raise it on your own. Like a secret baby.”
“Won’t your mom go looking for the baby?” Asriel said.
“I’ll tell her it ran off into the woods and got eaten by wolves,” Dess proudly proclaimed.
“It can’t run,” Asriel pointed out. “It can’t even walk.”
Dess scowled. “I’m gonna find a way to get rid of it somehow,” she said, kicking something into the lake. “It’s ruining my cool vibes.”
“’S fine for me,” Asriel shrugged.
“Yeah, cause you weren’t ever cool.”
“Cooler than you,” Asriel said with a lopsided grin, skipping another perfect stone. Dess’ face turned beet-red with frustration.
“Shut up,” she huffed, and walked away, arms folded.
But from the way her tail twitched when she talked about it, Asriel knew she thought having her own baby was about as cool as he did.