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#Hint: He's not looking at Frisk

plasma-studios · 2 months

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On Mercy (ao3: x)

The Council has been at war with the Emperor (more colloquially known as the King of Nightmares) for a long, long time. After defeat after defeat, they find themselves with no option but to request help from his fabled twin.

However, Dream will not help them for free; he locks eyes with Cross, and decides he wants him in exchange for the war victory. It is an easy choice to make.

But Cross is terribly apprehensive, because he his loyalty is not to the Council, but to Nightmare as a spy, and Dream is Nightmare's mortal enemy. Moreover he suspects Dream chose him knowing this, wanting information about his twin; and the issue is, Nightmare is absolutely unforgiving of traitors.

But he cannot offend Dream, for he too is an Immortal and God. He cannot forget that both Dream and Nightmare is dangerous, that any wrong move will end in his demise or worse.

(He forgets, however, that he himself is mortal.)

[OR: A Empire/Kingdoms UTMV AU, where Cross is caught between the crossfire of Immortal/Gods! Dreamtale Twins and some involvement with God!Errorink too.]

Inspired by love, in fire and blood by cicer

Chapter 1: a deal is struck

The tides would shift soon, they told themselves. Each day’s fresh defeats were a necessary evil, soon the tides would shift and they would have their victories. This war would be theirs to win.

That was the belief of the dreamers among them. Those who held onto their hopes even as they buried their comrades day after day.

Then there were the defeated, the broken. Those who had given up their hopes for a better life and fought to survive. Sometimes they just gave up and let the ocean take them, or the earth. It would be a kinder fate than joining his army of the dead.

Even with all the Kingdoms of the World allied together, his Empire overshadowed them all. Even in their Council, even with Kings and Queens and Dukes and Countesses they all seemed to have some grasp on the truth. Some awareness of their position, of defeat after defeat.

Cross watched them debate, then argue, then lament. They were losing, they all knew it. He knew it too. Even as a lowly soldier (it was what he was best at) he knew it, saw it in the numbers they were losing and the grim lines in their faces. He didn’t say anything, however, and lowered his head as they discussed troops and strategy.

As if he’d heard nary a word of the King of Nightmares.

There were rumours about him. He went by other names, too. The Cruel Prince, once. The Boy of the Night. There were rumours that he was a God, some that he was an immortal. (The Moon Immortal, they called him.) Some that he was just a regular mortal drunk on power. But what mortal lived for centuries?

The Council, at least in part, suspected his immortality. Perhaps even Godhood. But they did not want to, because their hopes of success were already dismal.

But there were stories that brought them impossible hopes. Stories about his twin, the Light to his Darkness. Stories, not rumours, for the twin was so little known about him and far less about his twin. At one point the numbers had climbed too high and someone bravely made the suggestion. Could we reach out to his twin for help? First, it had been a casual remark. But slowly it made its way into the official discussion, its feasibility and possibility debated alongside strategy and supply. Not happily debated, of course, for the implication was that they had no other choice. But Cross, again, remained silent as they worked out the finer details. First, they worked out how they’d contact him in the first place; a letter, perhaps, but it would need to be published everywhere to get his attention. That meant that it couldn’t contain anything sensitive, but they could work around that.

A few sessions later (and a couple lost battles) the letter was drafted. Soon after, published world wide. Hours later, they got their response. Though they would not discover it till the morning after. His reply had been burned into the walls of their Council Chambers.

To the Council:I hear you. I agree that my brother has been excessive in his terror; I also agree that you cannot win this war without me. It is not a matter of your weakness, but rather his strength. It’s time my brother is stopped.

However, I will not do it for free. On the Summer Solstice I shall attend your Council to discuss our terms. I sincerely hope we’ll find an agreeable compromise then.- The Sun Immortal.

At this the Council was entirely silent. There was only the sound of breathing, then gasping, and slowly they erupted. Insolence and arrogance bounced across the room: “What hubris!” “Is it hubris if he’s an Immortal?” And, of course, the confirmation of immortality. Though that was somehow the least shocking tidbit.

The writing was oddly neat for having been burned in, Cross noted. Then how long till the Summer Solstice? and what can we offer him?; of course they hadn’t been so optimistic to assume he would help them free of charge, but faced with the confirmation they suddenly found it difficult to discern what an Immortal would want in exchange. Gold and jewellery seemed like rewards for the living, for the mortal; would such material rewards be accepted?

What if he wanted land, instead? A crown, a Kingdom? What, then? They spent more time debating their terms than drafting the letter. But they had to come to a conclusion soon, as Asgore reminded them: the Summer Solstice was a mere three days away.

Finally they voted, and it was decided. They would ask him what he wanted in return first, and work from there. Surely if he was taking the time to discuss with them, he did want the deal to go through, and if he wanted it to succeed, he would not ask for something impossible. Surely?

However, they still prepared for all the options thought up in their hours of discussion. Rubies, sapphires and emeralds polished and stored away in trunks with gold and silver coins beneath them; carefully stored crowns with freshly gilded gold and polished jewels; cloaks and clothing made out of silk or laced with furs, etc.

Even obscure recipes were brought out, like boiled gold soup and silver ingot bites. The food once regarded as the highest cuisine, only for the wealthiest. Not anymore, of course, but nonetheless.

Finally, the preparations made not in official Council discussion but covert exchanges to prepare a variety of beauties. Some fair-skinned, some not. Some freckled, some not. Some muscled, some not. Some more compliant, some more recalcitrant, some more aggressive.

We don’t know his tastes, and there was an undercurrent of humour in it, even. It would not be the first time someone demanded people for their war efforts.

It was a little extreme. Even Nightmare’s tastes were… ah, somewhat sane. But Cross didn’t know the Sun Immortal, so perhaps his tastes were indeed less sane. Nonetheless the day of the Summer Solstice arrived like the sun rising for each day.

Now the Council would be arriving earlier today for fear of missing the Immortal’s visit, but though they’d arrived at their predetermined time (just after dawn) there was already someone there. A stranger in light silks, asleep in one of the chairs. Arms folded, head dipped, sleeping quietly.

His breathing was quiet, but it was still there, and in the silence of their held breaths they heard it clearer than their own. No sooner had the first of them stepped over the threshold, however, did the stranger’s eyes flutter open. “Ah, good morning.” His voice was clear and light; like a drink of water in the desert. “I assume you’re the Council?” There was a silence, before CORE Frisk responded, “Yes. I assume you’re the Sun Immortal?” At that, a sweet chuckle. Still so light, sweeter than honeycomb. “Officially, yes; but just call me Dream.” At that, whispers again: but they were quickly silenced by a look from Undyne. The Council had tentatively started filling in, all the while Dream was looking at them rather curiously, a hint of amusement in his gaze yet any mocking absent from it. Just like how an adult would look at a child. Like an immortal gazing upon mortals?

Cross was familiar with that sort of look.

Dream got to his feet and tilted his head. “I’m assuming I wasn’t so fortunate to choose my seat on a guess?” “Unfortunately not, but we’ll show you to your seat?” CORE Frisk had taken a tentative step forward when he raised his hand abruptly— lazily? “No need.” He reached over and grabbed the shoulder of the nearest Guard. “You.” He smiled. “Show me to my seat.” The poor Monster was so very stiff as he led the Sun Immortal to his seat; a cushioned, grand thing, positioned in the centre of the rows of seats wrapping around it in a circle.

Cross made sure he wasn’t scrunching his eyebrows. Wouldn’t that be obvious that it was his, a seat in the middle? And once again that sweet, clear laughter. “Oh, that’s— aha .” His fist crumpled over his teeth and mouth. “It’s just— ah, it’s almost as if I’m on trial.” He pulled his hand away from his mouth. “So, terms! What will you offer me?” And Cross swore his golden eyes, though still agleam, sharpened.

Dream had not taken his seat.

“What would an esteemed Immortal such as yourself prefer?” Asgore’s tone had found the cadences of officiality, of usual Palace affairs or even mundane Council business. Still, it seemed to interest the Immortal (Dream, was it?) as he looked to him intently. “Such as I?” He laughed again, but this time it wasn’t as sweet. “Unfortunately, I don’t know what I want. It’s up to you to make a good offer, Your Majesty.”

In the Immortal’s mouth, the title was like dust. But to his credit Asgore maintained his composure and answered. “I suppose I should start off with the simplest offer. Coin? Jewels?” And it was evident that he did not think Dream would accept this offer. And he was right, Dream only raised an eyebrow. “I can find jewels anywhere. Coin even more so. What else do you have?” And then the silks, the cloth. He was as unimpressed with the offer as with the first, but strangely, Cross noticed from his place against the wall, not an inkling of disappointment lined his face. Still he let them offer more, and more. Offer after offer was raised with the speed of bullet fire, flying across the space as they desperately tried to appease the Sun Immortal.

Silently, Dream raised his palm. It seemed his patience had reached its limit.

“And what if I said I want people?” Immediately the tension in the room thickened. Looks were exchanged, confused blue on repulsed green, yellow irritation on pink curiosity. CORE Frisk observed Dream quietly, but did not speak up. Dream smiled a tiny small smile.

“Well, Esteemed Immortal,” Duke Isre murmured hesitantly. "If it would please you, you may have your pick of the courtesans of my court.”

“And mine, of course!” Another hurried to protest. “The courtesans of Sere are known for their allure—” “Oh?” Dream’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “Tell me more.” Then there were a dozen, more than a dozen, speaking at once; all so eager to grasp at the Immortal’s interest.

But that wasn’t a sparkle. Cross swallowed the sigh into his throat. It was a gleam: the gleam of amusement, of sardonicism. Dream was not interested in them, not truly.

But their offers of concubines and courtesans only continued, each one more outlandish than the first. Blue eyes like sea sapphires. Gold hair like threaded gold. Skin as smooth as a babe’s. Teeth like mermaid pearls. He had to force his eyes not to roll. Somewhere in him, however, there was the smallest shred of pity. Of irritation. If the Council failed to negotiate terms, they would lose their last hope. They were making too many mistakes; mistakes that were obvious in hindsight, but not so much in the doing; mistakes that were his job to report back to Nightmare to be exploited.

He did pity them, somewhat. He couldn’t just stand around and not see how much the common people were suffering. Starving children and cold corpses. Empty homes and unburied bodies.

But the Council was full of Kings and Queens, Dukes and Duchesses. People who’d never lived a day of hardship in their lives. People who, only a century ago or two, would’ve been delighting in tasteless gold delicacies while the people starved of famine. The generals and soldiers, he was annoyed less by. They were competent, at least. But they still could not fight a God, certainly not Nightmare. It was their deaths he felt more guilt over.

“Dream,” CORE Frisk suddenly cut in. “You haven’t accepted any of our offers. May I ask what they lack?”

Dream locked eyes with CORE Frisk. To their credit. CORE Frisk stayed unflinching. There was a moment of quiet, of tension.

Cross realised Dream was no longer smiling. “Since you’ve asked, CORE, I’m more than willing to oblige. You see,” He gestured vaguely around him. “I believe I never said anything about wanting someone to warm my bed.”

He turned his eye upon the one who had gotten the ball rolling.

“You know, I’m beginning to rethink this,” He said casually. “Maybe we aren’t suited for an alliance after all.” There was a dead silence. And then there was nary a sound, save for CORE Frisk: “I’m sorry for any offence caused, Dream,” They began. “May I ask why?”

There was sharp laughter, in the silence. Not a single eye wasn’t upon the Immortal, and Cross unconsciously noted CORE Frisk too was on their feet. “You want me to answer to you?” Like a violin string drawn taut, like the lightning striking the earth, backs straightened and sharp, fearful gazes were exchanged. “A little pretentious, don’t you think?” His eye was on CORE Frisk. The string, taut and tauter. CORE Frisk opened their mouth, but no words came out.

Too taut and now the ripped alliance between them. Dream still looked unbothered under the fearful and indignant glares of the Council.

“May I ask what it is that you want?” CORE Frisk tried, ever the meditator. “Or even just what you don’t want.” Dream looked into the rows and rows of people. Slowly, he turned his gaze down the row.

“I’m beginning to think,” He said softly. “That you don’t have what I want."

Well, that was it, then. There was relief of having finally bitten the bullet. Dream wasn’t going to help the Council after all. Nightmare would be happy to hear that, right? Momentarily his eyebrows almost scrunched together.

It would be difficult to get news to him, especially news of this nature. He’d have to wait till Dust came by to pass the news: it was always risking making contact on his own.

A pity, though. CORE Frisk’s face was blank, but they must’ve been disappointed. They weren’t as bad as the rest, really. But CORE Frisk was one person and the rest (whom he had little pity for) always outweighed them.

A pity, but a small amount of it only. CORE Frisk was blank, but probably carefully blank.

Dream locked eyes with him.

“You.”

Cross stilled. Those golden eyes, bright and alert, were on him now.

“Come here.” His outreached hand was curved, fingers beckoning. Cross did not move for the first few seconds. His eyes were on Cross’; no mocking, no amusement: there was nothing Cross could recognise.

Then, slowly, he took his first step. Then another. Then another. All the while the quiet had been broken but quiet exhales, gasps, confused rustling and carefully blank faces almost faltering.

Soon he was before Dream. A smile was pulling at his teeth. “Ah, may I ask for your name, sir?” Cross felt the welt of saliva in his throat. “Cross, Esteemed Immortal.” Dream smiled indulgently, and reached for his chin. His breath was in his throat; then, ever Cross’ saviour, CORE Frisk interrupted. “May I ask what the Esteemed Immortal wants of this Guard?” “A Guard, huh?” There was interest in his eyes, but his hand still did not let go. “I see. I don’t suppose he’s a recent one?”

On instinct, most of the Council turned to Undyne, but she was looking to CORE Frisk with a sigh in her throat. “He was recruited by CORE, not me.” “He was not raised to be a Guard,” CORE Frisk said delicately, as it was the custom. “But he was enough strong and clever to be one, and I happened upon him a few years ago. I beg your Esteemed Immortals forgiveness for any caused offence on his behalf.”

A light laugh, through the hall. Suddenly the weighted air lightened and Cross could breathe again when the hand withdrew from his chin. “No no, no offence at all. I’ve merely found my answer to your question, CORE Frisk.” Just slightly, they tilted their head with the air of curiosity. “You have?”

There was ice in Cross’ stomach.

“I shall help you in your war. By next month you will regain your frontlines,” He said casually. “You may reveal my part in it, or you may not. This I have no concern about. But in exchange,” And his eyes turned on Cross.

Fuck.

“Will you come with me?” And his voice was so soft, so sweet. It was so different from Nightmare’s, yet exactly the same air of persuasion.

Cross’s words were in his stomach; weighing heavily.

“May I clarify your intentions, Esteemed Immortal?” CORE Frisk carefully asked.

In turn, Dream sighed. “Why does everyone here insist on calling me that? Have I not said to call me Dream?”

“May we clarify your intentions, Dream?” The voice was just as dry.

“Isn’t it obvious? If he’ll have me,” He turned to him slightly. Cross steeled himself. “I’ll have him.”

Undyne frowned. “He is not a pig for sale. Courtesans, maybe,” And the look she sent the Court was no less disdainful than Dream’s earlier words, “Because it’s their job. But Cross is one of the Guard, not a cow to be bartered away to be a bed-warmer.” At cow, Cross almost flinched. God, that comedic timing was terrible and hilarious at the same time. Dream turned his gaze onto Undyne, who did not flinch, but subtly drew back. “I believe I have made myself clear,” He said quietly. “For him, I shall help you with your war. Without him, you die and your Kingdoms turn to dust. Simple as.”

There was a very clear swear in Cross’ head, confusion tenfold as he looked to CORE Frisk (he could do that, it would be in-character for what they knew him as) but there was conflict and no more in their gaze.

“CORE, perhaps— perhaps it would be best. If the Immortal wants him, in exchange for victory…” The voice trailed over. Dream’s gaze was still on CORE Frisk, waiting.

Abruptly Cross became aware of the eyes on him. The knowing gazes, the knowing eyes. Cross felt his face warm.

“No.” CORE Frisk finally spoke, firm. “No, he is not a pig for sale. Jewels and gold, I can offer you. Land and palaces, yes. Silks and furs, yes. But I will not barter you a person who has yet to say anything on the matter.”

“But I did not ask you.” Once again his words held the air of spelling out something incredibly obvious. “I asked you, Cross.”

And once again Cross found himself at a loss of what to do when his gaze was upon him once more. “Will you come with me? For the war?” Well, I’m actually on the other side of it, Cross thought anxiously. But he kept his voice steady (or as steady as it should be for someone about to be sent away) and spoke to CORE Frisk. “CORE, if I agree, will— will it stop the war?” CORE Frisk held his gaze for a second more. “Yes, but… but it’s still your choice.”

Ha. No it wasn’t. He could feel the weight of a thousand eyes, of expectation, weighing on his very bones. It seemed Dream knew it too.

Dream and CORE Frisk exchanged a strange look.

Cross opened his mouth, little choice left. “Then I accept. I will go with you, and you will help—” He almost said them . “ Us, win the war.” He only hoped Nightmare would not see it as traitorous.

Dream smiled brightly. “That was easy, wasn’t it?” He pulled a ring off his finger (and it was then Cross noticed the rings on his fingers, gold but the gold not of solid ingots but of the gold of sunlight) and gently took hold of Cross’ hand. He stiffened almost immediately, but Dream said nothing of it as he slid the ring on.

Onto his ring finger.

Well, a very public engagement.

“A gift,” Dream explained. “I will pay your family the rest of the dowry the next time I visit.”

The words stuck in Cross’ throat. “I don’t have a family.”

Because family did not seem like the right word for, ah, Nightmare’s right hand men.

Dream blinked slowly. “Oh?” But he did not soften. “Nonetheless, I’ll come by soon.”

Cross, almost imperceptibly, nodded. It was all Dream needed, it seemed. With a rustle of silk, a gleam of light, he was gone.

And Cross was alone in the middle, a thousand eyes upon him.

“Is there anything else?” Undyne said sharply. Angrily, almost. Cross kept his gaze on the floor. He would not know how to act if he locked gazes with anyone else. There was a silence. But Undyne did not speak again. Still there were a thousand gazes on him.

Cross feet turned and he left the Council chambers though it was against protocol. He knew no one would blame him for it; there would be no point, and far too risky to lay a hand on an Immortal’s betrothed.

Just before he passed the doors, however, he had faintly registered that the burned-in words on the walls were gone.

Cross prayed that Dust would come by soon, so they’d hear the news from Cross’ own mouth and not rumours spreading quicker than wildfire. Not Horror, the hole in his skull too recognizable, and certainly not Killer with his messy dripping eyes. Dust was always the one sent by Nightmare. So Cross left the windows unlocked, staying awake for hours at a time. But, it seemed his prayers did not hold that much weight at all. If ever. Dust did not come the next day, nor the one after. He had the feeling something was going on behind the scenes, why else would an Immortal choose a random Guard? But he could not confirm his suspicions, for there was no one to talk to. No one came for him.

#dream sans #cross sans #utmv #utmv fic #utmv fanfiction #utmv fanfic #core frisk #cream ship #wanna know why Dream chose Cross? here's a hint:#look at Cross' inner monologue when Dream alluded to no longer wanting an alliance #it's not particularly negative is it?#(and how would they look to Dream #if there was one single person in the whole room whose emotions were reacting so differently?)#and Dream came there specifically looking for someone. Cross doesn't know that's him #but next chapter soon he will #also pls remember this is from Cross' perspective and Dream is exaggerating himself #the cream here is CONSENUAL i swear

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obscuretobyfox · 2 months

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On October 29, 2012, a user on starmen.net by the name of "MrTenda" would create a shitpost thread talking about an Earthbound ROM hack he's creating called "UnderBound"..

Scrolling down a bit, you may see a familiar face! That's right, It's Toby Fox!! This is, as far as I can tell, the first look at Undertale EVER posted on the internet.

It seems Frisk originally had black hair, and there were no hints as to Flowey's evil nature.. Toby also mentions Flowey is a reincarnation of "FACE" which was a character mentioned in the original post, but also draws similarities to the NES Godzilla Creepypasta's "FACE", which inspired some of Flowey's looks.

(A direct comparison of sprites) Toby Fox citing Flowey as a "reincarnation" here is also brilliant (but likely unintentional) foreshadowing!!

#toby fox #toby fox facts #undertale fact #undertale

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serawritesthings · 9 months

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AS FAR AS DREAMS GO

Pairing | Arthur Morgan x fem! reader Summary | While Arthur found sanction in his dreams, you would fret about them every night. While he longed for the sweet caress of your hands, you were unknowing, fooled by his stoic facade as your dreams only brought you nightmares. Tags | Angsty, Arthur Morgan pining for the reader, hinting at smut, intimacy, two idiots clearly in love, some sadness ensues Word Count | 10.3k A/N | Hello, lovelies! It's my second-ever fanfic; I hope you like it! Also, I got carried away, so it’s quite long (sorry)… It's loosely based on the mission with Uncle when you rob a wagon, but I have my spin on it. It’ll work more with the story this way. If you want, it can fit in with my recent fanfic about Arthur, but maybe set earlier in their “relationship.” ;D THANKS FOR READING!♡ Part two

Arthur felt you in his sleep last night.

He remembered the caress of your fingers on his icy skin, leaving scorching traces of blazing fire in its wake as your hearts collided and molded into his deepest longing. Like a strange mirror, it portrayed you as you always were: tender and loving, fiery but forgiving. But it wasn’t you; instead, it was a thought of you. Like when walking down the street and catching a glance of a person that seemed familiar, but with another look, was someone else entirely. Only in his dream-filled sleep could he allow himself the sweet torture of your presence, for in those moments, he didn’t have to think of the consequences his thoughts would bring. His dreams of you overtook his mind, whether he was willing or not. For in his mind, you had carved a path so profound that it would be etched into his senses until his last breath, clouding his sanity, never again being able to differentiate dreams from reality.

Oh, how you held him in your embrace. It made him long for the sun to disappear under the horizon once more when the warm springs of light found him in the chilly dawn. He could still feel traces of your touch in the short period between sleep and consciousness. For a brief moment, it made him question whether it was a dream or if his deepest desire had come true. You were his.

But he would wake up and find that the warmth he held in his hands had dissipated, like hot ash falling between his fingers, making Arthur attempt to dig up what remained of you from the ground. He was left aching with no relief, cold and shuddering in the chilly morning, standing over the remains of your ghost. It was like his heart had been burned with it, only coming alive once more when you returned to him at midnight.

But for you, dreams had trouble finding you at night, if they even found you at all. You could never escape reality to find sanction in the warm blanket of imagination. When dreams did reach you, memories replaced fantasy and washed over like cold, freezing water. You would fret and worry, tossing around wishing you could melt into the sheets and float to where you could become someone else. There was a time when the dreams would bring you solace, whether it was a conjecture of old memories or what your younger self would conjure up. But that was a long time ago, and you find that the older you get, those dreams drift further away. So, you had nowhere to escape, nothing to ease the hardship that daytime brought. So, sleeping is just a blink of an eye nowadays to make the night pass faster.

After a sleepless night, you sat by a tree overlooking the vast landscape. It’s quiet between the trees this morning. It brought a sense of calm to the otherwise quite hectic place. Although chilly, the wind carried a frisk waft, clearing your head. You enjoyed these mornings and often found yourself awake before the others. It’s a habit you picked up through the years, though a younger you would complain about having to rise that early in the morning. It felt like the world was entirely your own. It is even calmer in times like this, where the residents consist mainly of women when the men are out. It brought a sense of comfort to you, for they were the ones that had been kind and welcoming to you. Unfortunately, your time alone didn’t last long, for you have learned that people rose relatively early here. But the time you did get for yourself gave you a chance to ponder the time that had passed up until now.

Sean, a peculiar man, had recently been brought back from being held captive by bounty hunters soon to be transported up the Upper Montana River to a federal prison. You had immensely worried for him, finding his presence over the last few months to lighten your sometimes rather gloomy mood with his ridiculous shenanigans. Some had been unsure if going back for him posed as a good idea, but the thought of leaving him behind saddened you and many others. Somehow, you had managed to convince Arthur to lend a hand, with considerable help from Javier You knew Arthur cared for Sean, even though he’d probably rather die before admitting it.

When you first got wrapped up with these people, you admit that Arthur scared the living daylight out of you. There was a certain air around him that exuded strength and authority, never stopping short of resorting to violence. You were no stranger to what kind of man he was, what they were; neither were you of their business, but you were apprehensive of them more often than not. The womenfolk had told you countless times that Arthur could be immensely ruthless when needed and had done things that would leave your blood running cold. And you didn’t doubt them. Behind those calculating eyes and quiet demeanor lay a long life of violence and hardship. You were sure of it.

That’s why you felt stuck when it came to him. Despite all this, he was a kind man. However, he didn’t speak much when it concerned you. More so, he worked hard, and you rarely spotted him in camp. Freezing your guts out in those mountains was the longest time you had seen his face consistently. You couldn’t do more than respect him, and although apprehensive around him, you had found yourself doing it less because of his dangerous aura and more because he made chills run down your back and a warmth spread in your stomach like wildfire when he set his eyes on you. It wasn’t a fire that spread fast, destroying everything in its path and bringing misery. Instead, a fire dispersed like slow poison, mingling with your blood as it flowed through your body, claiming you bit by bit until you surrendered to its ever-so-prolonged heat.

“I heard you begged for the boys to come get me!” Time had flown by quickly, and soon, you heard the clanking of pots and the sound of steel against the wood. Sean had suddenly spoke up as he neared you, his Irish accent lacing his words heavily. Although you had missed him and didn’t want to leave him to an insufferable fate, you hadn’t forgotten his teasing. He knew very well he was exaggerating, but he wouldn’t let go of the chance to bury you in his flamboyant personality.

“That’s quite the exaggeration, Sean.” A small smile spread on your lips. “Don’t make me regret standing in favor of your return.” A snort left the red-headed man at your words. Pursing your lips, you put your gaze on him as he stood beside your seated form with his arms crossed, gazing out onto the open landscape of Horseshoe Overlook.

“Ah, how I missed ya big words and harmless threats.” You could hear a few snickers at his statement from the people gathering around the campfire. A blush covered your cheeks. You had a reputation for sounding smart sometimes, and people did not stop at anything to tease you, especially the man in front of you.

“Did ya miss me?” A cheeky grin grew on his punchable face as he raised his eyebrows, expectantly leaning closer to you.

A scoff left your lips, but you didn’t have time to answer him as the sound of hooves drew near. A certain dread always filled you at the sound. Even though you knew it most likely was someone returning to camp, you could never be too sure what state they would be in. You often worked alongside Ms. Grimshaw to help when someone got hurt, having extensive knowledge of tending to wounds and other bodily harm. It worried you, for the possibility of not being able to help someone would someday appear. Like that poor man, Davey. Luckily, you had managed to take care of Marston well enough. But he did look awful these days with that scar adorning his face; there was no denying that.

You and Sean looked up as the horses raced through the path among the trees that led to your whereabouts. You could see Dutch among them, with Arthur and Hosea. Scowls were apparent on their faces as their loud voices broke the solitude in the air, seeming to argue viciously about something.

“What’s that about?” You questioned the man beside you. “God knows, but I’d stay outta it if I were you.” He gave you a knowing look and slouched away to bother someone else. Your curiosity was piqued, but you let it be for now, raising to help Mary-Beth wash some foul shirts she was struggling with—damned Reverend.

The day continued, mindless chatter filling the space between you and the girls as you worked under Ms. Grimshaw’s sharp, watchful eyes. She had been in a terrible mood today, so her reign was relentless.

“Do you think she would be mad if we threw the clothes from the cliff edge?” A grumpy Tilly spoke up, her hands relentless as she scrubbed the fabric that never seemed to get cleaner. Sadly, it only became filthier the more she worked on it. Karen laughed as she raised her eyebrows, a mocking expression on her face. “Oh no, that won’t do for great Ms. Grimshaw. She would probably throw you right along with it.” Their laughter cut through the air, contagious as you smiled at their exchange, glancing up to see if Ms. Grimshaw had her eyes on you. But instead, your eyes found a pair of blue ones staring at you when you looked up—the brief moment left you unsure where to put your gaze after the contact broke.

You cleared your throat as you spoke quietly. “Grimshaw means well.” They groaned at you, rolling their eyes. “Sure, Miss Righteous.” They laughed again as you joined them. Before you could hinder yourself, your eyes gazed up at Arthur again, finding him staring at you again; a particular fervency lay deep within them. However, he directed his eyes away from you hastily, like you caught him doing something he shouldn’t have. Seemingly tense, the man grabs a match from his pocket, lighting its phosphorus tip from his booth’s worn leather soles. When he took a drag, he peeked at you again, his head bowed, hiding under his worn hat.

Dutch and Hosea were in a heated discussion, with Arthur listening in languidly. It probably related to what had transpired before they returned to camp. Although more collected now, there was still a tension in the air. By your observations, they were the “three main men” around here. They had been holding together most of their lives, naturally giving them authority over the gang. When they talked, you listened. Simple as that.

You touched your face discreetly, wondering if you had gotten soot from tending the fire on your cheeks again. What else could be the reason for Arthur’s stare? How embarrassing that would be. He made you somewhat uncertain already; you couldn’t possibly handle his mocking adding to that.

“I wonder what they’re talking about?” The question you asked left the girls perking their heads up and gazing at you before following your gaze, looking at the men arguing. “Yeah, it seems pretty serious,” Mary-Beth said, curious about their exchange. They had been going at it for quite a while now as evening drew closer. You observed them with intrigue. That’s when Hosea’s eyes planted on you, beckoning you over with his finger. He looked cunning as he settled leisurely in his chair, content. You gazed questingly at the girls as they shrugged their shoulders, looking as confused as you.

Dusting off your skirt, you rose from the small barrel you used as a makeshift chair and approached the men. You gave them an unsure smile, still confused, wondering what they could want to bring you into their apparent disagreement.

“Well, we have a perfect actress with us, gentlemen. I’m sure she could charm our seemingly formidable friends.” Hosea patted your arms as your feet shifted under you when he spoke up. What could they possibly be talking about? Dutch was gazing at you indescribably as Arthur stared at the table. His arms crossed, not meeting your gaze.

“Well, her damsel in distress act has saved us before.” A low chuckle left Dutch as he drummed his fingers on the wooden table.

“May I ask what you’re talking about?” As the question left you, you could see Arthur raise his head to watch you. His expression was blank, but his eyes seemed sullen, the smoke from his cigarette filling the air as he took a drag.

“Uncle’s received a tip of a supply wagon passing through carrying a payroll, lookin’ to be unguarded. They want you to help us.” His voice was quiet as he observed you, his accent thick. You had helped them on some jobs before, although only smaller ones since you weren’t as acquainted with the work as the others. You mainly had accompanied Hosea on his schemes, finding that both of you had quite the same proficiency in depicting a role. Although you had taken up some theatrics when you were a small child, you had never imagined you would use them to deceive people. You found Hosea to be a spiritful figure despite his age. When thinking about it, he reminded you immensely of your father. He was too stubborn to let himself grow old, and his spark for living and refusal to take on the habits of an older man made him seem immortal to you. But he wasn’t, which became evident to you the older you had gotten.

“Of course, if I can be of help.” You offered them a small smile, surprised they decided on you, not someone else. It didn’t seem scary for you; you would, of course, be accompanied. And they knew what they were doing, which had become apparent to you since they always managed to get out of trouble. Compared to some of the things they did, stealing from a wagon seemed mild. And with Arthur accompanying, you knew you would feel completely safe.

“S’not a good idea.” The words that left Arthur made you furrow your brows. What could be the reason for his doubt? Some parts of you understood that you might not be as proficient as the other women, but as you mentioned, playing the damsel in distress was right up your alley. And you already felt as if you were a burden around here.

He avoided your offended look as he continued, pointing his finger at Hosea. “I ain’t lettin’ h-anyone get hurt just cause Uncle got told a tip from some sad, half-witted lowlife! Now, I ain’t against looking up the lead, but we handle it without the theatrics an’ all, Hosea.”

You were about to speak up, but Dutch did before you could. “It would give you the advantage to have someone stop the wagon; that way, you have the man unguarded and on the ground.” He gave you a look-over. You leaned slightly away from his calculating gaze, his squinting eyes examining you.

“Yeah, that’ll do; let Uncle prove his worth this time. Bring Bill and Charles with ya.” With that said, he stood up from his chair and nodded at you with a beaming grin, and sauntered off. Wonder what Molly saw in him. Often, you found him to lean towards arrogancy, the way he let everyone else do his dirty work. But they all seemed to listen to him, which meant what he did gave some positive outcome.

“Trust me, Arthur, she’ll do good. And she might make up for your dumbness.” As Hosea’s chuckling figure slowly disappeared, you gazed curiously at Arthur, who was scoffing, staring after the man.

“I know how to handle myself, Arthur. And I know you know that too.”

“Sure.” He dragged out the word, voice mirroring his now grumpy mood.

“So?” You raised your eyebrows. He gave you a questioning look. “What’s the matter?” You asked.

He let out a long breath. “It ain’t safe. A random tip could be risky. It probably means someone else heard ’bout it, too, if the man was willing to give up the information. Likewise, it could be a setup. We don’t know, do we?” You leaned on the table before him, placing your hand to stead his bouncing knee. You knew what he meant. But every mission was risky, especially these days when you had law coming at you from what appeared to be every direction. Despite this, you had to do it to survive, and you wanted to show them you were capable.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to find out.” Your voice was mild, an undertone of understanding lacing your words. Even if it were Uncle’s idea, it would fall on Arthur either way if things went wrong, as it always did. And you knew he cared, even though he never showed it. Or think he didn’t show it.

He was about to speak, but a loud voice broke through your conversation. “Gotten over me that fast, has she? Already moving on to the gang’s grouch? I’m hurt. Here I walked around thinkin’ you missed me!” You gave Arthur a last look, squeezing his knee to gaze at Sean as he dramatically held his hands to his heart. Laughing at his antics, you stood up. “I’m not sure anyone missed you when you were gone, right Arthur?” You strolled off with the Irish man following you, not noticing the wistful, prolonged stare the blue-eyed man had set on you since you touched his knee with your delicate hand, the feeling of your skin leaving a fire trail he couldn’t douse.

“That’s it, Ada.” The grey coat of the Andulasian was silky under your palm as you graced her sun-warmed coat, giving her a carrot you stole from Pearson’s wagon as you distracted him with your mindless chatter the following evening. Her ears perked up at your soft voice, munching. She nickered contentedly as her mane blew under the frisk breeze that wafted around you.

“You know, you should’ve settled for a faster horse instead of an Andalusian. She’ll slow you down.” A gruff voice broke out in the otherwise calm spot as the sound of spurs clanking was accompanied by heavy footsteps. You looked up at the man, noting how he leaned lazily against the empty hitching post and put his hands on his belt. It surprised you, it did. He didn’t usually instigate a conversation with you.

“She’s fast enough, my Ada. And she’s family now, so.” You voiced your thoughts softly, hearing his statement from many others when Arthur, Dutch, and Micha returned to the desolated mining town with two horses and a crying Sadie up in Colter. The horse piqued your interest when you set your eyes on her, and Arthur kindly let you keep her for the time being, planning on selling her when they got the chance. Your disagreement was apparent, and not putting up much of a fight; he let you keep her. Hosea, too, opposed it when he saw the mare, but your stubbornness made him laugh. I’ll let you figure it out on your own then, he had told you.

“Well, at least we’ll know you’re safe if you get attacked by a snake.” A low chuckle left Arthur, still finding you’re choice of a companion foolish.

“Oh, are you making jokes now?” You looked at him as he straightened and strode towards you. “Cause if you are, it’s not very funny.” You backed away slightly, not used to him being so close. He put his gloved hand on Ada’s soft coat and patted her softly. A waft of smoke reached your nose as he stood next to you, coupled with the smell of a man who did hard labor. But amidst that, there was something else, something warmer and manlier. “Well, she’s real pretty, that’s for sure.” His gaze went down to you before he directed his gaze, fastening the tie strap you didn’t secure well enough.

You rarely saw Arthur with his hat off, his hair usually peaking out from under the well-worn leather. But he didn’t wear it this morning, and you wondered why. It blew softly in the wind, a slight beard adorning his face. It fit him well, adding to his roguish appearance. He was pretty handsome.

You didn’t realize you were observing him as he focused on your not-so-good job putting on the saddle. He didn’t seem as on edge as usual, the constant frown gone and replaced with a serene expression. Arthur didn’t look as frightening this way when he was relaxed, although his advantage in height and bulky form made up for it.

“Be careful today, yeah?” He gave you a curt nod when you replied that you would, walking over to his horse. You saw Charles walking in your direction, greeting you with a smile when he got close.

“We should head off as soon as possible; I’m worried we might miss the wagon.” His voice was calm, as it tended to be often. Sometimes, it felt like Charles was a shadow as he kept quiet, primarily to himself. He rarely got into trouble and handled things with a clear mind. You could but only like him, finding his solitude comforting and much like your own.

When Bill and Uncle appeared, you hoisted yourself into the saddle, giving Ada a soft pat before setting her in motion. Uncle had told you it was just up the road from camp, near the crossroads where an old, ruined church remained. “You ride first and hitch up the horse in the trees behind the church. We will stop near the crossroads to look for the wagon passing through as you get them to stop and get down on the ground.” Arthur said calmly, pointedly looking at you.

As you rode off, Arthur stared after you as you disappeared between the trees. The worry had settled in his stomach when Hosea brought up the idea for you to tag along. He wasn’t opposed to you doing your share in the gang, but bringing you on such a spontaneous mission made him uneasy.

“She’ll be fine, Arthur, and we’ll have our eyes on her the whole time.” Charles’s hushed voice dragged him out of his thoughts as he secured his gun on the saddle. Even though Charles seemed calm, a slight worry still tainted his words.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just…”

“I understand.” They sat in their saddles, heading out after Uncle’s lead.

“You know, after this, you will realize how much I do for this gang. Looking up this lead has not been an easy feat, gentlemen.” He looked proud in his seat, bringing his hands up like he already had secured the money. “Sure, Uncle, drinking and talking to some bum who just might be lying to you is exactly what this gang needs right now.” Uncle just scoffed at Arthur.

“You know, you should be nicer to me, Arthur, and you will be after you realize this will bring us a well-deserved fortune.”

“Yeah? And what are you going to spend it on? More booze?”

The church where you said goodbye to Ada was no short of run-down. Missing planks, bottles with an unnamed liquid inside, and cigarettes everywhere made you wonder what kind of people sought shelter here. You didn’t have trouble finding it because it wasn’t too far from camp like you were told. Trying not to think about leaving Ada in such an environment, you wandered towards the road you were told they would pass through.

‘

You hid behind a tree, shielding you from anyone coming down the path. You hoped Uncle was correct; otherwise, things could go south fast. No stranger would let a hurt woman linger on the road; likewise, they wouldn’t let her stumble to the seat with a hurt leg, meaning you would get the driver on the ground. Simple but effective. You only hoped Uncle had been correct, that this would be easy.

Taking Karen’s advice to loosen a few buttons on your shirt, you revealed some of your cleavage. Make him more willing, quoting her words. The skin now exposed glows in the sunlight from the light layer of sweat coating your skin from the heat. You smile to yourself. This’ll do just fine. You run your hands on the ground to dirty up your skirt like you had been crawling in the dirt. You didn’t want to think about how hard it would be to get it out of the fabric since you likely had to clean it.

Peaking up from the tree, you could spot Arthur, Uncle, Bill, and Charles from a distance, gazing upon your spot as masks adorned their faces. Who were they trying to fool? They looked ominous where they sat on their horses. God, if the driver got the slightest look at them, he would run the other way, and the operation would be over. You felt your hands grow clammy at the suspense as your shoulders tensed, sitting on the ground as you leaned against the tree.

You took your face in your hands, massaging your temple. “Okay, wagon approaches; I frantically run out from the woods, screaming at the driver to help. He stops and steps down on the ground to ask me what’s going on, hopefully worried. I tell him I’m getting chased by a maniac, and the others will handle the rest.” You breathed out as your heart beat wildly, voicing your plan aloud. “Easy peasy, right?”

That’s when you heard it, the crunch of the wheels rolling in the ground in the distance growing louder. Taking a deep breath, you ruffled your hair slightly and leaped out from the tree, running towards the road like satan himself was after you.

“Mister, please!” Your voice shrieked out, startling the man. With an exasperated expression, you stumbled down after tripping on your skirt, getting dirtier from the mud covering the path. Holding your hand on your leg, you gazed up at the men above you who looked at you alarmed. His face was adorned with small eyes and wrinkles that depicted his old age as he had to squint to see you. It made you question why such an old man drove a fortune alone but pushed the thoughts away. “You have to help me!”

“Miss, what’s happened to ya?” Immediately, he slowed the horses, stepping down from the wagon to inspect the predicament before him. He looked friendly, just like his tone was kind, and worry filled his eyes as he jogged towards you. Kind, but foolish.

“Some men trailed me, oh some god-awful men trailed me, and when I cut through the woods with my horse, she freaked out and bucked me off!” Panic settled in your voice as you looked pleadingly at the man holding your shoulder. “Please, mister, my leg hurts awfully bad; I think it’s broken.” Tears filled your voice, choking up the words leaving your mouth. His hands found your shoulders as he kneeled. “Come here, Miss. We’ll get you home, yeah?” You nodded at him with pleading eyes.

The air around you was calm, and the wind blew softly, contrasting your shrill voice in the early morning as he helped you stand up. With your weight on his shoulders, he didn’t even have the time to turn around before the cold metal of a pistol met the back of his head.

The pistol cocked. Frozen beside you, the hands supporting you grew still as the blood on his face drained, eyes staring into yours like he could see Arthur behind him in the reflection of your eyes.

“Let’s not do that. Why don’t you step away from the woman and throw your gun on the ground?” Arthur’s cold but calm demeanor frightened even you, looking different from the man you were used to. “Real slow now.” His eyes found yours, staring from under his hat as he spoke. A chill went down your spine, now understanding why he had a reputation for coming off as frightening. Behind him, Charles was rummaging through the wagon as Uncle and Bill stood behind him on their horses, acting as lookouts as their rifles were pointed at the man beside you.

“Listen, I work for Kerosene and Tar, Leviticus Cornwall, alright?” His voice was shaking, but he still tried to scare the men. Bold. You could hear Bill curse in the distance, the name familiar to them. Judging from their reaction, it wasn’t good news, and the anxiety rose in you like wildfire again as you tried to get away from the man holding you, his presence now suffocating.

“Hey, step away from her old man.” Arthurs’s voice grew firmer as the words rumbled in his chest, pushing the gun tighter against his temple when the man grabbed your shoulders harder. When you turned your head towards the elderly man, he looked as frightened as you, shocked by how the situation had transpired.

“Hey, Arthur, I got the money!” Charle’s satisfied voice made you both look up, but as you did, the sight of horses charging towards you in the distance made your eyes widen. Your breath stuck in your throat at the picture, your pulse rising as you struggled to control your quivering palms.

“Aw, shit. Uncle!” Arthurs voiced his annoyance at the downturn of the situation as he hit the elderly man with his gun, his body falling limp beside you as he held his head in his hands. Shocked, you looked at his squirming body as he writhed on the ground. Before you could shake away the shock that nailed your feet shut, you felt a pair of arms shake your petrified form.

“Get your head straight girl!” Amidst the loud sound of hooves filling your ears from every direction, Arthur shouted at you as he grabbed the horn on the saddle and hopped onto his horse. Sitting tall, he placed his arms under yours so he could lift you. Now seated before him, the sudden motion made your head spin as the world around you stayed a constant blur.

“Bill! We’ll split up, make it harder for them to track us. You go with Charles and Uncle to the left, and we’ll go straight! Stay out of camp for awhile!” His shouting brought you back to reality, the sound of bullets heading towards you growing louder the clearer your head got. Bill shouted in agreement as he cursed loudly and took off hastily, rifle in his hands as the three escaped the scene. Making a clicking noise, Arthur urged the horse to move, the force pushing your body forward from the sudden speed. The severity of the situation dawned on you when you glanced back at the riders following you. Your heart beat heavily against your chest; the number of men chasing after you could only be likened to a whole army.

“There’s so many!” The wind wisped your hair around you as you flew through the country. You glanced back at Arthur. “Yeah, I know! But I think the others got the worst of it!” His statement did nothing to calm your racing nerves as bullets rushed past you. Boadicea’s muscles moved fervently under you as Arthur spurred her on. Fast didn’t seem like fast enough. The pace painted the world blurry as you

rode on for a long time, the skies beginning to turn dark.

After a long while following the road, Arthur steered off it and up a hill into a tightly grown forest. “I think we’re losing them!” Your voice flew in the air as the wind in your ears whistled when you looked back. Almost stumbling on a rock, you both flew forward as Arthur’s heavy weight fell on you momentarily. A choked sound left your throat as the air left you, and you heard him curse out a sorry behind you. Recovering quickly, Boadicea picked up the pace once again as you gazed behind you, trying to see if they had gained on you.

Why in the world were there so many? Maybe Arthur was right, and it was a setup. After a while, the sound of hooves slowly grew distant, the only noise being your heavy breaths intermingling as you felt the adrenalin still run through your veins.

“Shit, Arthur. What the hell was that?”

“That is why you don’t trust Uncle’s shit plans!” His voice was sharp like glass as he realized he was right like he usually was. “Foolish-minded fools, the lot of ’em!” He voiced his thoughts angrily. He was tense behind you, every move filled with a raging fury as he swiftly urged the horse forward.

“What do we do now?” You voiced your concerns worryingly. You had no idea where you were; the place was unfamiliar. It had grown chilly as the sun disappeared from the blue sky, the cold wind now apparent as the danger dissipated, and your body grew aware.

“We find somewhere to hide until the next morning; they’ll probably be out looking for us, seeing as they think we have their money.” You hoped the others were well, even though you weren’t entirely too happy with how things had transpired. If Arthur wasn’t lying, they got the worst of it. You wanted to voice your concerns but decided to keep it to yourself for the time being; not entirely too sure that’s what he wanted to hear right now.

“I know a place where we can hide. It’ll be cold, but we’ll be safe. For now.” Unbeknownst to you, he glanced down at your shivering form.

After a while, you could feel your breath calm down enough for you to relax slightly. Although you were still sitting up tensely, aware of the position you were in. Arthur was a big man, towering behind you, almost embracing you as his arms held the reigns at your sides. The warmth radiating from him was immense, and the softness of his scout jacket softened the impact of your back to his chest as the horse galloped. It did make you somewhat uncomfortable being that close to the man, but as time passed and the colder the air got, you found yourself sheepishly leaning backward to stop the chills running through your body. You hoped he wouldn’t mention it or, worse, push you away from him.

The top of your head only reached his jaw when you glanced up at him, leaning your head back slightly. He was focused on the road ahead; eyes squinted angrily as he still grumbled bitterly under his breath. The corners of your mouth raised slightly before you curled your lips under your teeth, turning to look forward. He really was a grump sometimes.

Leaning forward, you ran your fingers through Boadicea’s mane as you patted her neck to try to calm your nerves. “You know, I’ve never been good at riding horses, so thank god you’re with me. No coordination whatsoever.” You laughed, trying to distract yourself from being chased through the now-dark country. Even though you couldn’t see them anymore, they were probably still on your lead. “We should be lucky we didn’t end up in a ditch somewhere. When we stumbled over that rock, I thought we were don-”

“That’s the place over there.” His gruff voice interrupted your nervous blabbering.

Your head perked up at his mention. It wasn’t much to cheer for, run-down seeming like a compliment compared to this place. Although still standing, it looked like it would fall apart if someone as much as touched it. But it had a door, and the windows were barred, protecting it from the winds rummaging through the landscape. I guess that counts for something.

“You sure they won’t find us here?” A gust of smoke from the cold surrounded you when you spoke. Logically, if they had followed your direction, they would probably have gone rummaging through every abandoned house they encountered on the way. The only answer you got was a grunt, and you almost rolled your eyes at him. What splendid company you would have for the rest of the night. Although, he had been right about the whole ordeal, so it wasn’t hard for you to see where he came from. If your previous thought had been correct, all of this would fall on Arthur. With him being in higher authority in the gang, he also held more responsibility and had to make sure the plans went along smoothly.

As you approached the cabin hastily, he stopped the horse in a quick motion, the dirt flying in the air as it surrounded you both. Hopping down from the saddle, he patted Boadicea gently on the neck. “Come ‘ere.” His hands went around your waist as he hoisted you down from the tall animal, fingers squeezing subtly around your waist as he steadied you on the ground, avoiding your gaze.

“Why don’t you hitch her up by the door? I’ll have a quick look in the cabin.” As he pointed to Boadicea, you gave him a curt nod as you did what he asked. “Will she be alright out here all night?” You blurted out as you fastened the rope against one of the planks in the fence surrounding the cabin’s front porch. A distant reassurance from Arthur could be heard as he ensured you would be alone and undisturbed. Giving the animal one last pat, you stepped up the wooden stairs, wrapping your arms around you. Since the sun had disappeared from the sky, it was dark inside, and your eyes found it troubling to adapt since the moon didn’t light up the room.

The house was eerie. Furniture still adorned the chipped, wooden planks with thick dust covering the various surfaces. The air was cold, with the smell of wood mingling with the ever-so-slightly scent of moldy food left on the plates. It looked like the people that had been living here had just walked away during their dinner.

“I wonder who lived here.” you thought out loud. Your voice was barely a whisper like the people were still sleeping upstairs. Although muted by the carpet, the floorboards creaked when you stepped inside, the fabric now muddy from your shoes. Arthur was shaking the planks nailed to the windows from the inside, making sure they would stay in their place

“Come on. I’ll keep a lookout for a while, see if I can hear them passing by. Get some rest.” He pointed you toward a botched chair in the corner. It didn’t look like the most comfortable chair, but it would have to do for the night. Not that you had a choice anyway.

“Are you sure? I can accompany you if you want.” Your words grew warm at his selfness, looking at him with a prolonged gaze as he reached to take off his jacket. He held it towards you and, as he secured his hat, bowed his head as he headed out the door.

“Nah, get some rest, alright?” You were left in the darkness as the door closed, trembling from the shivers racking through you with the heavy jacket hanging from your grasp.

What the hell was he thinking? He daydreamed about you like he had every right to imagine you that way when you rode with him. Hell, you would probably spit in his face if you knew that most of his thoughts involved you. What a sad man you are, Arthur Morgan, thinking you could ever get your hands on her. Pure and warm, that’s what you were. You were too good. Your care extended further than his ever had, treating him like he deserved your kindness. Deserved you. He kept his distance from you, only speaking to you when necessary to try to make you understand that he wasn’t a good man—but being as close to you as he had during the ride shut off his brain entirely.

The guilt ran through him as he sat on the porch, leaning against the door. Being in the same space as you proved to be too much for him now, the smell of your hair still clouding his mind. Shit, it was impossible to keep you out of his mind. Raising from the coldness of the ground, he swept his hands over his face, leaning his arms to rest against the fence as he observed into the distance. The place was surrounded by trees, somewhat deep in the woods, quite far from the path. He hoped it was far enough, not wanting to put you in more danger than he already had.

Irritation was still running through him at the outcome of the situation. He knew this would happen. At least they got away with the money. But if Cornwall’s men managed to get ahold of Bill, Uncle, and Charles, it wouldn’t matter. He didn’t feel up for a rescue mission right now; they had far more complicated things to think about.

As you sat in the chair for a while, wrapped in the oversized jacket Arthur lent you, your eyes became familiar with your surroundings. Finally, you could breathe out, although the stress from the predicament you just got yourself into raced through your body, making it hard for you to rest. It was dark and cold, and you missed the comforts of falling asleep in your bedroll at the lookout, surrounded by the women’s quiet whispering. Although, you felt safe enough knowing Arthur was outside in case anyone would stumble upon you two.

There was a large table in the middle of the room where Arthur had placed his satchel and some benches adorning the walls by the stove. A fireplace was by one of the walls with various portraits perched on it, along with some candles and other trinkets. Yawning, you stepped up from the seat, wrapping the jacket tighter around you as you stepped towards the wall, examining the portraits. You wondered who they were as you ran your nimble fingers over the dusty surface, a stoic face now starting to show. You laughed slightly under your breath; the man looked downright horrified as the woman beside him smiled warmly. Was that his wife? You turned the frame, squinting so you could read the writing.

“Ms.Hevett with son, Mr.Hevett.” Hmm, they both appeared to be very old. Mamas-boy maybe? You giggled again, putting your hand over your mouth to dull the sound. Returning the portrait, you glanced around. Oh, maybe Arthur had a match to light the candle! Well, of course, he had a match; he smoked every chance he got.

You tiptoed towards the door as it creaked when you pushed it open quietly. You called out for Arthur gently, seeing him leaning on the fence. His head turned to yours, alarmed, looking behind you as his hand rested on the gun in his holster. “You alright?” The words flew out from his mouth as he tensed, walking towards you. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wondered if you have a match.” He looked at you for a moment, then furrowed his brows as he grabbed the edge of the door. “A match? Why? You don’t smoke.”

You glanced sheepishly at him now, realizing you might be bothering him. “Well, there’s a candle in there, and I just, I, would be more comfortable if it wasn’t so dark. That’s all.” He scoffed slightly at your words. “You supposed to be sleepin’; what does it matter if it’s dark?” He asked you in disbelief. You only pursed your lips, staring at him as the moonlight reflected on his face. A sigh left him as he beckoned you inside, giving one last glance around the outside of the cabin.

“This candle right here. If only we had some firewood, we could also warm the place. See, there’s a fireplace! I imagine the house was cozy when it wasn’t run-down.” You babbled as he followed behind you, reaching for a match in his bag. As he did at camp yesterday, he lights the match at the sole of his boot. Immediately, it casts the room in a warm blanket. It didn’t feel so eerily anymore, and the flame flickered around you softly.

He raised his brows as he spoke. “First, you want me to light this damned candle, and now you want me to go chop us up some wood?” He sounded more amused than his earlier cranky mood, but still, you looked at him unamused. “It was just an observation, alright?”

He chuckled lightly as he looked at you, observing you for a few seconds before speaking up. “You okay to sleep now?” His rough voice spoke the words as he motioned to leave again.

“Um, sure. Arthur, did you know a mother and her son had been living here? It said so on the portrait. I wonder what happened to them?” The words left you hurriedly, looking to say something to make him stay with you for a while longer. It was hard to explain, but you felt safer with him. In here. With you.

You pointed towards the portrait. He glanced at you shortly before stepping back into the room. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been here a few times.” His answer was short.

“Oh.”

The air was stuffy, and the tension grew thick as you looked at each other. Neither of you knew what to say since Arthur always seemed to get tongue-tied around you, and you were unsure of how to converse with him. You draped the jacket even closer, staring at the floorboards.

“Ya still cold?” He startled you slightly, your head perking up at his words. “Umm, yeah, a little, but the jacket’s helping… so.” He nodded at you, grabbing the belt with his hands, tightening his lips together, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked like he was expecting you to say something, waiting for the words to leave your mouth.

“Oh, sorry, you’re probably cold as well. Here you can have it back.” You stepped towards him, the jacket slipping off your shoulder.

“No, no. You take it, I’m used to it, alright?” His words were kind and selfless, and you felt terrible for not bringing your own jacket. Of course, he was cold; it was freezing in here. Knowing he cared enough for you to put your comfort before his own made your heart beat slightly faster.

Once again, he went to exit the door and leave you in the empty house, but the moment he opened it, the words left you before you could stop them.

“Will you stay in here?” It was silent as the raindrops started to fall outside, pattering on the roof as the tension grew suffocatingly thick. Glancing at you with his head bowed, he cleared his throat.

“It’s just I’ll feel safer with you in here. That’s all.” Feeling the need to explain your sudden outburst, you felt a blush rise at the humiliating situation. He probably thought you were childish, finding your words annoying and demanding.

Giving you a curt nod, he closed the door behind him, pushed one of the side tables against the door, and locked it.

“It won’t rain in, so don’t worry. Now,” He leaned back on the chair by the table in the middle of the room, putting one leg over his other to lean the ankle against it, taking his gun out of the holster and cleaning the dirty metal. “Get some sleep. We’ll set out in the morning.”

You listened to him this time and sat on the chair, bringing your legs up towards your chest as you closed your eyes. You knew it would. be hard for sleep to find you, but you still gave it a chance.

You were wrong; you were able to sleep. But it didn’t last you very long, for the cold had seeped through both skin and bones, leaving you with tremors running through your already shaking body. You could still hear the thunder in the distance and the heavy rain splattering against the wooden roof. You opened your eyes, finding another pair staring right at you. You felt your stomach turn, the display of emotions running deep in his eyes as he observed you. His legs were spread wide where he sat, keeping sight of both you and the door in case someone barged through. The flickering of the faint light hit his eyes, painting his otherwise blue eyes a darker tone. It felt like a dream.

“Alright, that’s enough.” A heavy sigh left the man as he stood up. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he walked over to you. Grabbing under your arms, he lifted you as he sat on the chair. Gently, he placed you on his lap, with your head resting on his neck and legs draped over his thighs.

“Jesus, woman, you’re freezing.” As he talked lowly, you could feel his voice rumble in his chest, the feeling soothing against you.

Oh, darn it, he was warm. How could he be so warm? No thoughts except warming your freezing frame made you wrap your arms around his waist, the thick jacket covering both of you. You felt his hands run over your arms, trying to warm you up as you moved against him, relishing in the heat from his body as you nuzzled your cheeks in the crook of his neck.

And finally, you fell asleep.

“Arthur.” Jolting awake, Arthur’s eyes widened in the candle-lit room. His whole body tensed up as he gazed down at you, alarmed.

Seemingly unhurt, a worried expression was on your beautiful face.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked you. Shushing him, you placed your hand on his bicep carefully.

“You were mumbling in your sleep. Is everything alright?” Your eyes were tired but warm as he blinked down at you, now noticing his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you towards him. “Yeah, ’m alright.” His words were low, choked at the sight of you staring this tenderly at him. This was a dream, he told himself.

As his arms relaxed around you slightly, you wrapped yours tighter around his neck. He was so suffocating, his scent surrounding you from every direction as you basked in its grasp. His eyes were intense, the now sullen look he always carried vulnerable, as the folds around his eyes evened out. It still felt like you were in a dream, and you longed for it never to end. Good dreams never found you, but now you had it in your hands as the comforting blanket cloaked around you like Arthur was wrapped around your scorching body.

No words were spoken as you gasped slightly, nimble hands stroking up his arms as the broadness stretched against his shirt. His cheek was warm when you placed your trembling fingers on his scruff, tracing small figures as you observed the scar on his jaw and the slight bend of his nose from getting it dislocated often. As you grazed his skin, your eyes never left him, even when he closed them to revel in your touch. Being this close to him was comforting; the contact was foreign to you but something you had longed for. Feeling wanted by him was what you wanted your dreams to turn into for the longest time. And it finally did.

The world around you grew quiet; only your breathing was audible as his chest moved under you, heavy intakes of breath raking through him. Letting your gaze fall to his lips, yours parted slightly. Through hazy eyes, you closed the small distance between you. A warm surge spread through you as his chapped lips met yours, his slight beard tickling your skin. A low moan escaped at the contact, and your heart burst at the seams, the fire flaring and oozing with each movement. You always wondered what pressing your lips against his would be like, his stoic character making it feel like your wishes were miles away. But now you knew, and it felt better than you imagined. His hands were still around your waist, holding you tightly as you felt all the excitement overflowing in your veins at his apparent contentment of your actions.

You snuggled into him, holding his cheeks and caressing them with your thumb. Slowly, you leaned your head back, feeling dizzy from the emotions clouding your brain. He followed you as you pulled away, almost as if you hauled him towards you like tied with a lasso. His breath warmed your skin as his lips were placed in the conjecture of your neck as he leaned against you. As you giggled slightly from the tickling sensation, he breathlessly chuckled as he left wet trails up to the space under your ear, caressing the small of your back with his large hands. His gloved hand against the fabric of your blouse felt enticing, your back arching due to his touch, your upper body now pressed flush against him. You held his head close as your hands were buried in his thick hair. His lips found yours again, shifting against you fervently as he moved with more vigor.

Of course, it was a dream, Arthur thought to himself. It bled into every nightly thought he has had of you now for the longest time. Your scent reached his nostrils. It was so sweet, so you. Small arms were wrapped around him, and your legs were now glued at either side of his thighs as your soft lips touched the skin under his ears in a silent kiss. Shivers wracked through his body as he ran his coarse hand alongside your waist, the soft woolen fabric hugging the curve of your waist tightly. Small gasps emitted from you as your hands ran up his stomach to his chest, planting small, tender packs against the slightly sunburnt skin, looking up at him through hooded eyes. Sinful, that’s how you looked.

He lifted you slightly, capturing your soft lips in his. The sweet caress of your skin against his felt divine, the wet noise of your tongues finding each other mingling with the sound of the rain outside. As the jacket slid down your shoulder, the man was left staring at the soft curve of your round breasts, revealed from the unbuttoned cotton of your blouse, the slight hardness of your nipples showing through the fabric.

“Arthur”

“Mmh.” He was too far gone now, but he kept assuring himself he was dreaming. You would have never put your hands on him if he wasn’t. He had noticed how you huddled closer to him from the cold when you rode on the horse, your figure nestling against his, curves snug against him. Did you do it on purpose? Were you aware of what you were doing to him? He was still trying to recover from what transpired in his head when you escaped the riders. No, not from the bullets seeking to pierce his flesh, but your bottom. Your soft, tantalizing rear. It had been flush against him as you leaned forward earlier, the round hips taunting him temptingly, almost as if they begged for his hands to caress the soft curves that stretched the fabric that covered it. Damned skirt. What he would have done to push it up your legs and reveal the tender flesh hidden beneath them. Your slit bare against the saddle’s leather as you squirmed, jiggling your cheeks like you were begging Arthur to give in to your desire. Shit. He shouldn’t have been thinking about you like that, not when you were right before him.

Leaning forward slightly, you ran your fingers through Boadicea’s mane as you patted her neck. You spoke, but the words that left your mouth turned into nonsense in his clouded head.

He had given you some nonsensical answer as he stared down at you through hazy eyes as your hips moved in sync with the horse’s motion, words flexed mindlessly out of his mouth as his restraint seemed non-existent. Your terms of cheerful disbelief grew distant as heat traveled through his body at his unholy thoughts, mouth too dry to give you a coherent answer. His hands moving on the reigns, trying to keep them from indulging your softness against him so he could feel the tremendous friction he was sure would send him straight to heaven. Christ, you riding on a horse should be illegal.

But now you were here, with him, and he had your soft body in his grasp. The tension from his earlier thoughts became apparent, his hands moving on their own as they familiarized themselves with your curves that felt so real. Too real.

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your button as he hastily lifts you. Automatically, your legs seek ahold of his waist, arms around his neck. He moved quickly over the floor as the lightning lit up the room from the cracks in the door, laying you down on the table and leaning down to cover your body with his. He was so close to you now, feeling every part of him press against you—every aspect.

Snap!

Frozen in place, wide eyes adorn your face from the sudden sound. Arthur was still above you as he sharpened his ears, finding it difficult to hear since the rain hit the ground loudly outside. The snap had been just outdoor, like someone stepping on a branch. Panicked, you tried to find a reasonable explanation: an animal, a branch falling, or maybe Boadicea had moved.

Slowly, Arthur raised his body from yours, leaving you flustered and scared on the table. With a frightened stare, you looked at him as he raised his finger to his mouth, slowly stepping away so the wooden planks wouldn’t creek. Leaning against the door’s side, his hand rested on his pistol. Stay still. His eyes told you to do as he said, and so you did. It’s not like you were able to anyway, your muscles petrified. They had found you. The worst outcome filled your mind; what would they do to you if they got the upper hand? Turn you in, or worse, put a bullet between your eyes?

The loud noise of the door slamming open made you shoot your eyes toward it, finding Arthur standing in the doorway with his pistol pointed out into the dark.

“Aw, shit.” His throaty voice was laced with disbelief, making you lift your head from the table. Your laugh filled the space as the back of your head hit the table with a loud clang, eyes squeezed shut from the sight in front of you. It had seemed like Boadicea had found a friend, the stallion standing still from the sudden intrusion and ran away in haste. “C’mon, get outta here!” The surprised man cursed after the horse, beckoning it out as your hands found your face. The adrenaline still racing through you made your hands shake as the hilarity of the situation made you speechless. Placing your hand on your racing heart, you sat up as the old cutlery clinked underneath you, hearing Arthur’s loud, angry steps hit the porch steps.

Standing before you, he sighed at your amusement, but you could see a slight smile worm its way underneath his frown. Although it quickly disappeared as he gazed at you before him. Right.

What in the world were you thinking? Now clear-minded, the intimacy you had shared entered your mind. Shame rose in you as your cheeks blazed, taking ahold of your blouse to cover your exposed state.

“Um…” You didn’t have the chance to finish the sentence before he cut you off. Hastily, he grabbed his rifle on the table and the pouch in harsh movements, making sure not to touch you before he went towards the door with big steps.

“It’s soon morning. Stay here until then; we’ll leave in a while.”

After the door slammed shut, the quietness was deafening. Now alone, you could see the slightest bit of light entering the cracks in the walls, but it didn’t ease the heaviness in your chest. It hadn’t been a dream, you thought to yourself. Every minute had been actual: his coarse hands, desperate lips, and body heat. If you closed your eyes and focused enough, you could still feel the traces of fingers over your clothing as his smell reached your nose once again, like he had united with the ghosts of this house and now haunted you. Taunting you. Why had he reacted so yet touched you so fiercely? You felt a pang in your chest at the thought, not understanding.

Opening your eyes, you buttoned your blouse in shame and put your hands on your cheeks as you lifted yourself off the table. It was still chilly in the room but not as bad as the night before. Mindlessly, you wandered over the space, sat in the chair where Arthurs’s jacket lay, and brought your knees up to your chest, hugging it tight with your arms. The blissful moment you had together faded, the warm touches dimmed into cold, malicious blows to your heart as the hope of finally having a pleasant dream vanished, the moment turning into an all too familiar nightmare.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption smut #red dead smut #smut #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan blurb #blurb #imagine #xreader #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption x reader

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under-lore · 7 months

Note

Toby Fox once made a post saying that he didn't want to sell merch of Chara because it would trivialize what they meant in game and the message they carry, do you have any idea what he could have meant by this?

Well, obviously this topic is inherently speculative so take it with a grain of salt, but there still exists some room to try and analyse it nonetheless.

Here is the post in question :

First, he uses "i" in the first sentence, and then "Because".

This immediately tells us that Toby Fox personally is the one that is opposing merchandise of Chara being made, and that all the things which will come afterwards are about what he was intending to do with them as a character in Undertale and why that makes the idea of Chara merch bothersome to him.

This isn't the only time Toby has shown to be picky about Chara-related content. For example, he has only openly promoted fan content containing Chara once since the game was released (and they were not the main focus of it) whilst the rest of the cast is seen quite often.

In general, Toby is quite dodgy when it comes to the first fallen human as a character. Sometimes even acting as if they didn't exist.

But as the mail also repeats, that isn't because Toby doesn't care about Chara, but rather because he does care about their character. Like how Toby actually went ahead and personally intervened to change Chara's Tarot card (Along with removing the Gaster one entirely), even if those weren't even official merch anyways. He does care about how they're being portrayed at least.

Okay, so next is our main puzzle piece.

The reason why he doesn't want Chara merch is because Toby considers that merchandise of Chara would have to portray them in a way that does not allow to properly represent what Chara stands for in-game, and thus fail to convey the message that they were intended to carry.

To rephrase this, he considers that if he were to make Chara merch, then "merch Chara" would be incapable of portraying correctly what he actually intended "in-game Chara" to be, and thus miss out on a significant portion of their character & what could be taken from it.

So he would rather not have merch at all rather than to have merch that misses the point of who "in-game" Chara was intended to be.

Since the only direct hint we have about this is that what Toby meant couldn't have been portrayed with merch properly, then the only way to obtain more insight into what he meant exactly is to go about it the other way and to ask which pieces of Chara's character merch could have portrayed and work backwards.

A prime example of what could have been done for Chara merch would be content similar to the Tarot card mentioned earlier.

As that card shows, it is far from difficult to make designs that capture most of the concepts and themes that are explicit-genocide-route-dialogue-specific & are said by or associated to the character.

To cite only a few that can be seen from this card, life & deat & killing, power, demonic parallels, the number 9, the absolute, statistics, consequences, souls, knives, nothingness,...

(Side note : The person who made the Tarot card actually did not even know about the name "Chara" at the time, they weren't really a fan of the game and mostly went along with their first impression of the genocide route & the fanon of the time.)

Aside from perhaps their relationship with the player, there is frankly nothing about the direct Chara appearance at the end of genocide & the heavily Chara influenced flavor text of the end of the route that cannot be easily shown through merch. (Just look at all the fan content over the years)

And considering the way Toby acts merch-wise with Frisk and with Kris respectively, we can be pretty confident that their relationship with the player is not the reason that Chara merch is being blocked either.

So with that, we can be pretty much sure that what he meant wasn't about the explicit-genocide-route-only parts of in-game Chara.

Aside from the genocide route, the only other direct appearances of Chara are that of pre-death Chara. Between their fall into the underground and their death after the failure of the plan.

While we don't have clear cut examples like the Tarot card here, we do still run into the same problems.

The game implies a lot of things about pre-death Chara in many different ways. But all of those details or personality traits are either not much of a problem to portray or are also shared with other characters who do have merch made of them, meaning they can't be it either. (Its usually Undyne)

Not to mention that, when it comes to pre-death Chara, the game itself does show us some sepia artworks of Chara & The Dreemurrs. Like this one for example :

If properly representing those character traits of pre-death Chara was truly what this was all about, then why not simply make merch out of a colored version of that image if nothing else ?

It's in the game, right ? So surely it can't possibly be misrepresenting the game...

A trivialisation means to downplay something or to reduce it to something simpler.

If both pre-death Chara and genocide route-Chara & what the game shows about them could be represented with merch like any other character, but that Toby considers that doing so would still be missing out on an important part of Chara's character & their message, then the only conclusion would seem to be that Toby is not refering to any of the direct appearances of Chara in the game at all, but rather to another seemingly very important side of Chara that isn't shown directly in-game, and couldn't be through merch either.

While those could still be accurate in theory by themselves, making merch of Chara like this sepia art or the Tarot card would still be trivializing them in Toby's mind in the sense that it would be limiting Chara to only those things, and thus exclude that core part of their character from "merch Chara". Something that Toby refuses to do.

So our situation would seem to be : There is more to Chara than just what we are told about pre-death Chara and genocide route Chara. However, this part of Chara's character cannot be properly shown with merch yet is too important to ignore in Toby's mind.

There is one last thing we can say about what this part might be, though.

Toby seems quite insistant on the fact that this particular part of them was absolutely key to understanding what was Chara's role as a character in the game, and to understanding the message that he was trying to convey through this character.

A character's role & message can be conveyed through their story, through their actions, and through their mentality.

As we've seen earlier that this part of Chara was not an explicit appearance, the "actions" part is either minor enough to miss, or absent.

So it would seem we can be somewhat confident that this piece of Chara's character that Toby is worried about also either adds more implicit parts to Chara's story or gives important insight on their mentality (or both).

That would make Toby's core reason for not wanting to make merch of Chara be less about Chara's character itself and more about what the player is to understand from the way he constructed their character, which would match up with his words about it being "something that cannot be bought in a store", too.

Anddd... As far as purely impartial analysis goes, i think that's pretty much all that you can deduce, unless i've forgotten about something.

If you want my personal opinion on it, though, i would have to say that using NarraChara theory would be a really elegant way to fill up all those blanks.

Considering that the theory, if true, would constitute 90% of Chara's character & be absolutely crucial to understanding the character's mentality and the way they think or behave in different situations or routes, that would certainly make it key to understanding Toby's intent with the character relative to their message or what they would stand for.

I can also hardly see plausible alternatives. Considering that pre-fall Chara and post-game Chara are pretty dry wells in that regard and genocide Chara's words about when they were "brought back to life", the only moments left timeline-wise for this key part of Chara's character to happen would be during neutral/pacifist routes or during the part of the genocide route that weren't already brought up earlier. That would make it seem like a pretty natural answer.

But more importantly, anything to do with the NarraChara part of their character (if the theory was intended) literally couldn't be properly represented through merch.

Because, unlike the common fanon portrayal of it which exists for that same reason, NarraChara according to in-game flavor text wouldn't be a ghostly figure floating around Frisk, but rather a foreign entity sharing their body and their mind. Which is a crucial part to both how NarraChara would work in-world and to the morality-wise implications of it.

Of course, that didn't prevent some fans from sweeping that under the rug anyways, even though it misses one of the most important points of the character they're trying to represent.

That might just be why Toby would rather just not.

How would you make merch of that ? You would just be making merch of Frisk instead... Let alone portraying correctly such a complex character. It just wouldn't work. This is a pretty common problem for media with bodysharing characters, those mechanics and all the implications that follow genuinely just cannot be "sold in stores."

They are a purely psychological experience.

#undertale #chara #chara undertale #undertale chara #toby fox #narrachara #Also toby has already shown to like bodysharing dynamics in the past too

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fushitism · 25 days

Text

the chemistry in my brain is altered in unspeakable ways whenever i think about Sans.

JUST WHO EXACTLY IS THIS GUY

its so easy, almost too easy, not to take him seriously and its exactly why his character can often be, well, i wouldn't say overlooked, this guy's pretty popular, but his traits tend to be.... diluted?? simplified??? for lack of better words..?

like yeah, he likes ketchup. yeah, he's laid-back n "lazy". yeah, he's a punny guy. yeah, he goes above n beyond for his brother's happiness... but what else?

do we even know much about papyrus? that guy's whole deal deserves a whole separate post!

CAN WE PLEEAAASE RECALL HOW THIS PIECE OF LORE WAS CASUALLY (in true toby fox fashion) SENT TO OUR EMAILS ?? NEVER TO BE ELABORATED UPON EVER AGAIN

why'd sans have to pull a sock incident on us at a time like this </3

PAPYRUS DID NOT MEAN IT SO LITERALLY AND YOU KNOW THAT, SANS, YOU JUST WANTED TO BE A LITTLE SHIT!!!!!!

their life before snowdin.. oh what i'd give to hear all about it...

this got me thinking, though.

we know sans likely has an affinity for quantum physics, temporal complexities and astronomy (though the latter is irrelevant to the point i'll be making)

he can teleport for God's sake why are we so unfazed by that

aaaanywho,

so like his Workshop. the one with the broken machine, yeah. look at what toby's once said abt it

why would they (who i assume r alphys + sans ?) try so hard to fix it? it's not like its the CORE (the machine said to be the source of all power 4 the undergound)

what's so important about this rusty, clanky pile of scrap metal?

....

haha lol, remember this?

remember this (x2)?

there's an abstract them here, and its clear he's not talking abt papyrus, frisk or even the player if we were to try n reach so hard.

could it be he is refereing to those in the picture with him?

if so, they must really mean a lot to him

so let's get this straight:

- we know the skelebros were NEW additions to snowdin

- we know they had an OLD life, the picture at the workshop further proving sans also had a social circle, one beyond frisk's recognition which totally strikes me as odd, given this child has been ambushed by almost all monsters at that point

- sans knows about timelines. sans messes with time and space. it's heavily hinted sans has worked in quantum physics (the book[s] found at his place) and he apparently also has some abandoned, broken machine in his workshop (one of which he's presumably tinkered with)

- as a lost soul (but also in geno), sans demonstrates his intense defeatism and resignation saying this like,

.... is sans trying to go back somewhere? do the skelebros come from a different world? a grassy place? r the residents of said place related to the picture in any way? does sans miss them? were they family? friends? lovers?! whoooooooo!1!!1 when!!! where!!!!! what is going on, toby!!!! PLEASEHWHWUE

[inhale]

but you know what, this is fine. pssssh, we don't need any of these answered, haha! no waaay! because while the UT fandom's in up in flames about such matters, toby's probably out there drawing yet another sans x reigen art piece to dish out when we least expect it (please let it be on my biryhday please let it be on my birthd)

#undertale #toby fox #sans undertale #undertale sans #papyrus #papyrus undertale #undertale papyrus #im going crazy

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punsmaster69 · 29 days

Text

30/MAR/20XX

"frisk. look."

i open my cupped hands to show them a little frog.

"Little dude..."

"So cool."

they hold up theirs to show me a couple of worms.

"so cool."

"So cool."

"so cool."

"So cool."

"What are you two 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨??"

"yo."

flowey shrieks when i hold the frog up to him.

"lookin' at critters."

"Get that thing AWAY FROM ME!!"

"....."

he hissed as i moved it closer to him again.

"not a fan of frogs, then?"

"Not a fan of you putting-"

frisk immediately shoves the worms up to his face.

he rapidly wheels backwards.

"That's it. I'm leaving again. Go bother someone else."

me and frisk stare at each other for a moment.

we look around.

there's toriel, who's trying to teach undyne how to skip rocks on the water.

alphys and napstablook are sitting in the shade on a blanket.

mettaton is watching papyrus try to fill up a water gun while standing calf-deep in it.

we nod in agreement.

"....Papyrus."

"papyrus."

frisk shouts for him as we walk over.

"Hey! Papyrus!"

"?"

"HELLO HUMAN!!! HELLO SANS!!!"

"heya."

"c'mere."

"OKIE DOKIE! HERE, METTATON. MAYBE YOU CAN FIGURE OUT HOW TO WORK IT."

passing the water gun to mtt, papyrus wades through the water over to us.

"check this out."

simultaneously, me and frisk raise our cupped hands to indicate what i was talking about. he crouches in front of me and frisk.

"YES?"

they reveal the worms.

"OOOH!"

he removes a glove to lightly pet the wriggling creatures.

"UNDYNE DOESN'T LIKE WORMS, BUT I THINK THEY'RE CUTE!!"

"She doesn't?"

"NO. WORMS ARE 'PATHETIC SNAKES', SHE SAYS."

"Sounds like I've gotta go show her how cool worms are."

"WHAT WAS YOURS, SANS?"

upon opening my hands, the frog immediately jumps onto my brother.

there's a loud splash as he shouts in surprise and tumbles backwards.

undyne can be heard cackling from behind me.

toriel shouts over with concern.

"Is he alright?"

a bony thumbs-up rises from the water. not long after rises the upper half of the skeleton.

i watch tori signal the thumbs up to alphys and napsta as well.

"Do you need a hand, darling?"

he shakes his head as he stands up. papyrus sighs as he squeezes water out of his shirt.

"SANS, WHY WOU-"

water pours from his eyesockets when he leans forward to look at me. i barely dodge getting splashed.

". . ."

turning around, he makes sure to dump the rest of the water out; then rattling his bones for good measure.

"AHEM."

spinning to face me again.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, SANS? NOW I'M SOAKED!!"

"sorry."

"SIIIIGH."

"I'D CERTAINLY HAVE SPLASHED YOU BACK IF I WEREN'T SUCH A KIND AND FORGIVING INDIVIDUAL."

"𝘐'𝘮 not above it, though."

mettaton sprays me right in the face with the water gun.

"agh-"

putting my hands up to block the stream.

"hey. that's not nice."

"Neither was assault by frog."

"yeah."

"neither is this."

i push papyrus back into the water. an immediate "SANS!!!-" is shouted before being muffled.

"You're begging for it, now."

again, mettaton sprays the water gun. this time, i dodge the stream.

"can't keep attacking forever."

"you'll run out of water eventually."

"Urgh!"

he does, in fact, run out of water.

"see? there's nothing you can do now."

"might as well give up."

"....."

mettaton's defeated face cracks into a smirk.

a cold hand grabs my shoulder.

"I DON'T THINK SO, BROTHER."

i'm suddenly lifted off of my feet and suplexed backwards into the lake.

the conversation outside the water sounds muffled.

"What on Earth is happening over here?"

toriel speaks with a hint of concern, but mostly amusement.

undyne laughs.

"Sans just got OWNED."

"Dunked on, even!"

adds flowey.

"No hugs until you're dried off, darling."

"RIGHT. ANYONE BRING A TOWEL?"

"I have a... hand-fan?"

"CLOSE ENOUGH. THANK YOU, ALPHYS!"

"...He ever gonna get out of there?"

undyne's voice gets closer.

"Dude, did you drown him?"

"WORRY NOT, WE CAN'T DROWN LIKE YOU HUMANS CAN!"

alphys interjects.

"...You ARE aware that monsters can drown too, right?"

"WELL."

"NOT SKELETON MONSTERS!!!"

i'm lifted out of the water by undyne.

everyone watches water empty from my sockets the same way it did from papyrus'.

"..'sup."

"It is much like seeing a water fountain."

"ARE YOU DONE BEING A MENACE?"

"yeah."

"That was quite the ruckus."

papyrus sighs at tori's comment.

"ALL STARTED BECAUSE OF A FROG."

"THAT'S why you fell?!"

undyne snorted.

"...relatable.."

napstablook mumbles.

"I DIDN'T EXPECT IT TO JUMP AT ME!!!"

"man."

"that really came back and rib𝘣𝘪𝘵 me in the ass."

"................"

immediately, i got dropped back into the water with a 𝙨𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝.

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perlinnoisetexture · 2 years

Photo

ID: a four panel comic featuring flowey the flower done in ms paint. the only thing colored in is flowey with loose scribbles on his petals and stem, with a hint of yellow blush on his cheeks.

in the first panel, he is facing the ground with a sad look on his face. he is saying “Listen, Frisk, I get why you want me up there. But I’m just... not ready to face them. Not yet, not after everything i did to them. I know they don’t remember and they don’t hold it against me but...”

second panel: he looks forward with an angry expression as he shouts “Don’t you understand, that makes it worse?!? Nobody knows what I’m really like! Nobody can forgive me!”

third panel: flowey slumps over, defeated. he says “Nobody but you...”

fourth and final panel: frisk has entered the frame and they have sat down next to him, patting the side of his head reassuringly. as they smile, they say “I forgive you.” flowey, still looking sad but perhaps calmed pauses, then says “I know.” /end ID.

in which the only person who can’t forgive flowey is himself.

#undertale #flowey #frisk #safeutdr #requests #DONT TAG AS SHIP I WILL BLOCK YOU SO MUCH #not my cleanest work but the goal is expressions and dialog which i think i pulled through on? you be the judge i suppose

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mar64ds · 12 days

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It's crazy because i think papyrus is the one going to dark worlds in deltarune, but sans is the one the most connected to dark worlds in undertale. his door looking like a teleportation room, 'his room is like another world' and when you first enter it is almost identical to what happens when Susie and Kris in the school closet (until it's a joke, but the parallel was clear) and then of course the people he seems to miss the most are darkners (except Susie and Kris, maybe Noelle, Berdly and others are also there) because Frisk doesn't recognize their faces. Like obviously Sans will have a role in DR too, but all the hints are about Papyrus and well they come as a pair so if something happens to one of them it impacts the other too, but i wonder if Papyrus knows about dark worlds first because at this point it feels like he does

#deltaruneundertale

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theriverdraws · 2 years

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I know most people can agree the interpretation of "chara being a merciless killer and true villain of the no-mercy route" really damages their character and purpose etc, but I would also add that interpreting Chara as the player, or even interpreting Frisk as the player in some ways, also ruins the point of the ENTIRE GAME.

Undertale works in this meta story where YOUR actions matter, and YOU are in control. You can reset and go back AT ANY POINT in the no-mercy route, which really wouldn't be consistent if Chara was in control (no matter what their intentions are). Saying that the player isn't in control of their actions and putting the blame on "x" character really just damages the entire point of this route and themes. Chara says the player isn't the one in control because by that point there's nothing you can do anymore.

But you could beforehand. You and Chara are partners, they only reincarnated and chased power because of YOU and YOUR actions. And if you do the route again, they even recommend that YOU try something different, because they can't do that for you. Well, what if Chara and the player are the same person? I don't believe that works.

Even though they have the name you choose for them, they already have their own backstory and personality despite what we do. Naming them serves the purpose of the cool plot twist with the name, and also serves to validate Asriel/Flowey's projection which is my third point - Asriel/Flowey is projecting hard.

No they're never talking to Chara in the final battle in the pacifist route, they're talking to Frisk. Even when you've done the pacifist route and Flowey warns you to not reset anymore and says "let Frisk live their life, see you later Chara", if you keep checking with him to see what he's gonna say next, he realizes that he is not talking to Chara neither and his whole demeanor changes (or maybe that dialogue only appears after neutral routes where he lives, gonna check later). So, who is the player? Frisk? Well, yes but no.

Frisk is a self-insert to the player, their arc is the same as the player's in the genocide route (them losing their empathy). But they are their own character, it's literally one of the plot twists of the game when they reveal their own name to really make the point that they are NOT us, not entirely. It's hard to see Frisk's personality shine through, but it's still there. They're an empathetic person, they hug Asriel to comfort him. They don't insult Snowy's mother in the true lab, however they know some MEAN insults based on acts in other battles. There's the interesting description of the "Abandoned Quiche" item which hints that Frisk was an abandoned child (not many people know that I imagine, you guys should look it up). And they seem to know some sickass poses and flirt really well.

What I think is happening is that Frisk is in a position that is similar to Kris' but they aren't self-aware like they are, perhaps because Frisk's soul is truly theirs? But if we think about it in that way, then the player must be a character in the game somewhat. So who is the player?

Well, they are: The Anomaly.

Sans mentions the anomaly as the one who is controlling the timelines, resetting and restarting. Flowey must have been the anomaly before the player showed up since they resetted often and it's hinted he fought sans in some timelines. We are the ones that control the timelines now though, we're the ones that control Frisk, that don't let them be happy. The player is the anomaly.

TL;DR The player is not Chara, and is not Frisk (entirely). The Player is the "Anomaly", the one who controls the timelines and Frisk. Which makes us an actual character in the game, without ruining the Meta-Meaning of it's story. Interpreting the player as any other character ruins the message of the game about the player's empathy and consequences of our choices.

(Sorry if I sound like an asshole, you can interpret the game as you like msjskj. Make that comic, draw that fanart, be happy bud).

#sorry just had to get this out of my head for a second snshsj #im very passionate about this game snhsnsjsj #at the end of the day there is no TRULY right way to see the game unless Toby says otherwise which he never will so lol #there is also no right way to play the game so people can kill and torturr whatever they want if thats what they wish #LETS NOT HARASS PEOPLE OK #undertale #chara dreemurr #chara #frisk #chara ut #frisk dreemurr #frisk ut #flowey #asriel #asriel dreemurr

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ejzah · 1 month

Text

Ain’t It A Kick In The Head, Part 11

***

If Kensi hadn’t seen Deeks bleeding out and barely able to move just a few hours ago, she almost wouldn’t believe it. He moved with the same confident strut as always, giving no hint of any pain as they walked to the meeting point. The tailored suit did go a long way to projecting that image.

“You ready?” Deeks asked, looking over his shoulder. Kensi’s apprehension must have shown, because he actually stopped, and took her arm. “Hey, if you think that you can’t pull this off at all, you need to tell me now.”

A part of her wanted to be outraged by his assumption, but she repressed it. Their lives depended on both their abilities to convince the Kaisers they were legitimate buyers.

“I can handle it,” she insisted. “I’ll follow your lead.”

“Remember, we don’t push too hard.”

“In that case, I won’t tell them I have a million dollars on me and more where that came from,” Kensi muttered sarcastically. That got the barest hint of a smile out of him.

While he’d recovered on the couch, Deeks had called Andre, and convinced him to contact Dimitri Kaiser again, and ask for a meeting. Deeks didn’t didn’t like the idea of seeming too desperate and showing their hand, but he truly felt like they had no other choice. After so many months, LAPD wouldn’t take kindly to the operation falling apart. Not to mention his own need to take a drug ring out of circulation.

Kensi stayed close to Deeks’ side as they approached a dark parking lot. A single black Volvo was parked conspicuously in the middle of the lot at an angle. Once they were within five yards of the vehicle, all four doors opened, and four men emerged.

Two of the men stayed back while the other two stepped forward. Kensi noted that the two guards were visibly armed.

“Dimitri, Paul,” Deeks greeted them.

The Kaiser brothers were both tall and incredibly thin. While they weren’t physically imposing, there was something undeniably dangerous about them.

“Mr. Gentry, I’m surprised to see you so soon,” Dimitri Kaiser said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his long coat. He flicked his eyes over Kensi without any change in expression. “I haven’t met your friend before.” He had a soft, slightly raspy voice that made Kensi’s skin crawl.

“This is Bella Mendez,” Deeks answered. “She’s a colleague.”

“I thought you preferred working alone, Max.”

“He made an exception for me,” Kensi spoke up, giving him a cool smile. Dimitri regarded her with distaste while Paul’s expression didn’t change.

“Max, you know I don’t like surprises. I didn’t agree to anyone else coming.”

“Dimitri.” Deeks spread his arms wide. “It hurts that you don’t trust me.”

“You know I don’t trust anyone.” Gesturing with two fingers, he beckoned, and one of the guards came forward. “Check them, Jacob.”

Jacob frisked Deeks first, his search thorough, and based on Deeks’ brief wince, roughly.

“Watch your hands,” she told Jacob when he moved on to her. He winked, a sliding his hands down the outside of her thighs more slowly. She sincerely hoped she got the chance to kick him in his smirking mouth.

“They’re clean, no wires,” Paul said, stepping back.

“You think we’re cops?” Deeks asked with an incredulous and mocking laugh.

“Oh, that’s the last straw,” Kensi huffed, following his lead. “I will not be disrespected in this way.”

“Bella,” Deeks protested softly, turning to face Kensi. He grasped her wrist gently.

“No. We can take our business elsewhere. I told you that this was a terrible idea.”

Deeks gave her the slightest nod of encouragement, and she shook his hand off.

“Ms. Mendez, we do apologize. You understand that people like us need to work with an abundance of caution,” Paul Kaiser interrupted, speaking for the first time.

Kensi tipped her chin up, regarding him for several moments.

“I’m not accustomed to being mauled,” she informed him. “The next person who touches me will find out how skilled I am with a knife.”

Paul leaned back slightly, glancing to Deeks, who shrugged.

“She has many skills. Personally, I wouldn’t test it.”

Paul looked between them for a few more seconds, then unexpectedly, threw his head back, and laughed. Kensk held her ground, hand dropping to the back of her waistband where her gun was concealed, but before she could touch it, she felt Deeks’ fingers just barely brush her arm. Thankfully, Paul didn’t seem to notice her slip.

“I like her,” Paul decided. “She’s unpredictable like you, Max.” Kensi got the sense that he was trying to charm her, and suddenly wished for Dimitri’s emotionless persona again. “Alright, Max, tell us why we needed to meet so quickly.”

“I’ve parted way with some of my business partners,” Deeks explained. “They’re less…adventurous than I am. In order to keep my previous customers happy, I need more supplies. Soon.”

“I see.” Paul turned to glance towards Dimitri. “How much?”

“Triple my last order.”

“We agree, but it will cost you double for the short notice,” Dimitri said.

“Or, you charge the normal price and I promise to use you exclusively,” Deeks suggested. Kensi’s eyes widened slightly, and she willed him to take the deal before they got shot or one of the Kaisers changed their minds. Instead, Deeks stared Paul and Dimitri down with a challenging glint in his eyes.

“Half extra,” Dimitri countered. “Because Paul likes you.” He held out his hand, and after the briefest of hesitations, Deeks shook it, his grip firm.

“You have yourself a deal. Is tomorrow at noon too early?”

“Give us until two. We’ll meet at our usual location. And bring Ms. Mendez with you,” Paul said. He offered Kensi a smile that sent another shiver up her spine, and she glared back. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you as always.”

“You should come to my poker night,” Deeks drawled as Paul and Dimitri turned to leave, shadowed by their two guards.

Only once they were inside the car and pulling away, did Kensi dare to turn her back on them. “You’re insane,” she informed him in a shaky voice.

“Yeah, but you love it about me,” he said nonchalantly. His delivery was ruined by a wince and him suddenly grasping for her arm. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. I think I’m about to bleed through my bandages.”

Kensi shook her head in disbelief as he unsteadily made his way back to their own vehicle.

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #drama #Deeks whump #undercover Deeks #undercover Kensi #ain’t it a kick in the head #part 11 #au

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cacartoon · 1 year

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How did the crew meet C.B?

While I haven’t actually illustrated much of their origins, aside from the doodles giving hints of what happened, I suppose I can try to explain how I imagine it happened.

It is canon that Circus Baby was the last one to join the team. Before the events of Game 6, she was back in her own universe. But after GlitchTrap found a way to enter other worlds and assembled his team, the villians needed all the power they could get to take over the universe (of course!) GlitchTrap told of a power source that could be very useful but only certain people have it. That power was the remnant magic thing that Marionette, Ennard, and CB all have. So some of the bad guys lent him reinforcements to go nab one of them to use their power. Metal sonic was a part of that group. He was gonna grab Marionette, but CB saved him. Unfortunately, this resulted in her getting kidnapped instead. GlitchTrap wasn’t too happy with his own daughter being taken at first, but being the psychopath he relented and accepted the outcome. He even thought he could persuade he to join. (Obviously that didn’t happen lol). Circus Baby was the least experienced in the magic she had so her power was unpredictable. So until they figured out how to extract it, she was kept locked up in their base somewhere in the universe.After some time though, the other members found their way to this mysterious place. After meeting Bendy, he told the others about something strange he saw; a robot girl being taken by a metal robot that looked like a blue hedgehog. So while Mario Cuphead and Frisk scouted around to investigate all this chaos, Sonic and Bendy went to rescue CB. CB though had other plans are was able to escape her prison, hoping to find her own way out. She ran into Sonic and kinda smacked him with a pipe since he looked like Metal Sonic. Before she could do any more damage, Bendy stopped her and explained that they were here to rescue her. CB was obviously scared out of her mind, which did not go unnoticed. Sonic got her to calm down and convince her to come with them, promising he’ll keep her safe and help her get home. And thus, CB became the final member of the team.

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realm-of-aethercrest · 1 year

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CHARA, The Fallen Human

The human that comes from the Absolute. It appears when people call its name. You cannot see it, but you can feel the spirit’s presence with a strange sensation. But do not worry, because it is harmless. Moving on, Chara swap places with W.D. Gaster for few main reasons:

Both of them are somewhat dead.

Both of them are the game’s anomalies.

Both are very mysterious characters.

Both of them are even responsible for certain events.

With that out of the way, allow me to explain what and who Chara is supposed to be and what is their role in both earthsecret and AETHERCREST, respectively.

In earthsecret, Chara was the first human to discover the mysterious world below the depth of the ocean. A world where monsterkind dwelled in peace. They grew up there and trained to become a warrior. They swore to protect monsterkind from any kind of destruction. As more children ended up in their world, Chara took care of them all and raised them to become the Underwater Fighters. They were the leader amongst all seven humans [The 6 Fallen Humans swap places with the Gaster Followers/Goners]. Unfortunately, they all fell upon conjuring the Mist [the Barrier replacement] in hopes to prevent the deadly parasite from spreading further. Nonetheless, their spirits lingered in the Underwater...

In AETHERCREST, Chara chose Frisk (who replaces the Vessel) as a subject to set off on a brand new journey throughout the isles for reason that is not known yet. Unfortunately, this course of action was immediately halted by the strange man himself. Chara reached out to some people from the Shadow Realm through spiritual contact and voice. Afterwards, these people began to go insane and all they yearned for was a peaceful SILENCE.

Now, let’s talk about what is happening in earthsecret now that it is going through a reboot.

earthsecret is less about "humans vs monsters" and more about "stopping the destruction of monsterkind". Humans, for now, are portrayed to be mysterious in terms of their existence until AETHERCREST, albeit there are several hints about it here and there. Regardless, the game’s main focus is to prevent "the end" caused by a deadly parasite that turns each monster into goner.

The Barrier is replaced with the Mist from where you encountered Papyrus at the end of Snowdin. The Mist exists to keep the infected monsters sealed within, however the Mist won't last any longer and they will need to find another way to stop the parasite that has already claimed many lives. So you need something to keep it stable rather than destroy it. But perhaps there is a way to stop the infection and the clear the Mist at the same time? Who knows!

Vessel, or whichever you want to call them/her/him/it, is an amalgamation of two different races; they hold the essence of both monster and human. After all, they were created through the magic of monster and the DNA of human thanks to Chara’s willing participation. It is barely Dr. Gaster's successful project called EASE. Vessel contains an empty, star-shaped soul that he hoped soon to be filled by the Player/Anomaly beyond his world. He even uploaded his consciousness to the empty body, so that when it is finally active, he will be able to communicate with them/her/him/it. The STAR is the key to determine the future of monsterkind. Whether it be peaceful or... not-so peaceful?

The Vessel is seen as a threat to some monsters because they look like they have been infected. The grayscale body gives them that impression, and is therefore considered dangerous. Not to mention, they are connected to Dr. Gaster, who has accidentally caused the whole disaster, even involving the president's daughter. On the other hand, some see them as the answer to the cure, and thus must be taken to President Rudolph immediately.

The Vessel is yours to customize. You are also free to add some characters to your creation. Though depending on how you ACT throughout the game, it will give them personality trait. Their name, body, gender, anything else... shape them to your heart’s content and treat them with care. At the end of the game, the Vessel will become their own person and they will not need your guide anymore as they will finally be able to continue with their life normally.

Fun Trivia: there is a hypothetical online earthsecret game as a bonus where Gaster calls all the vessels around the timeline to join and meet every other vessels in his strange void paradise.

#AETHERCREST #DELTASWAP #EARTHSECRET #UNDERSWAP #Chara #W.D. Gaster #Vessel #Frisk #Six Fallen Humans #Character Description #Lore

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under-lore · 7 months

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It was strange to me that in-universe monsters who saw humans can't recognize frisk by apparence in the genocide route

Is there any explanation of that?

I get that probably is a reference about chara being soulless (since they definitely are with you in that route) and that the player is becoming a like Flowey but in-universe that's weird

Indeed, it is about Chara.

In all parts of the genocide route, there is a certain recurring theme regarding the way some monsters happen to describe Frisk. Even mentioning it as inhuman-like or failing to easily recognise them as such.

However, those instances are not so much tied to Frisk themself, but rather to the way their body is handled and behaves, which contrasts with what those monsters expect of a normal human behavior.

To be exact, the thing that makes monsters react that way is seeing Chara in control of Frisk's body in opposition to just Frisk themself (and the player, of course.) as Chara does not get so assertive in controlling Frisk in other routes.

For instance, Sans sees Chara controlling Frisk near the lamp. Papyrus sees it when Chara walks Frisk straight through the puzzles, Chara is in control when approaching Asgore, etc...

Papyrus is the one monster that actually elaborates just a little bit more in what seems to feel so wrong with the way Frisk's body is moving when Chara controls it :

He describes it as "shambling about".

As Chara was only just very recently brought back to life by Frisk's side, it actually seems quite reasonable that Chara would not be very used to controlling Frisk's body yet. As such, their movements would appear to be somewhat sluggish, likely dragging their feet or with larger heavier steps. A way to walk that, although easier to control for Chara, simply looks really odd for say, the monsters.

The game only gives vague details on what the differences are depending on who controls the body, but those are at least noticeable enough to truly stand out.

They certainly look human, but the way they act does not feel very human or very, say, very "organic". To an outside observer, it just doesn't look right compared to how Frisk trods around when in full control of their own body.

In short, they just look a little bit weird and not all that human-like in a maybe even somewhat creepy manner. This sentence sums it up pretty well.

As Sans put it, this description the game has implicitely made of it looks almost like something that's pretending to be human. Which seems to explain the strange lines in which monsters hesitate regarding Frisk's nature.

If the concept is still difficult to grasp, you could potentially compare it to the way Kris moves at the end of the Deltarune chapters. While the situation is not quite the same between the two games, the way Kris moves in those cutscenes also kinda feels wrong, shambling about in a description not so different from the one Papyrus made.

There is also another really clever side to this, the plural community, who reports experiences of bodysharing in real life, also claims that the other identities usually struggle to move the body on their own at first.

As the number of similarities between NarraChara and a plural system is already large enough by itself to suspect an intentional inspiration on Toby's part, It wouldn't be surprising for Papyrus' words here to have been a specific reference to that detail. In that case, Toby would have done his homework quite well.

Of course, there are plenty of other reasons to make those comments about Frisk's inhuman vibe be as specific as they are in the game, such as foreshadowing or potential hints at Chara's situation like you brought up. But those are out of the scope of the ask. From an in-world perspective, the main thing that causes this change appears to be tied to the times where Chara has control of the body.

#undertale #undertale theory #frisk #chara #deltarune #kris #sans #papyrus #asgore #frisk undertale #chara undertale #asgore udertale #sans undertale #papyrus undertale

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holly-opal · 1 month

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Glitchtale Rewritten

My brother and I have been talking about Glitchtale for a bit and decided that we should rewrite it. The series has a ton of world building errors, plot holes, character assassinations, and so on and so fourth.

Here are some concepts for our main villain, Betty.

In this world, pink souls don't mean fear, they mean compassion. They are EXTREMELY rare. It's very unlikely you'll see someone with a pink soul. It was to the point where people thought pink souls were just a myth.

Betty once lived in a human village, but was heavily abused by her parents until they died when she was six. And as an orphan, everyone hated her. They thought she was a "bad omen". One day, a group of humans threw her into a lake because they thought she was a demon. As she was floating along the river, a monster family found her and adopted her. Her monster parents loved her and cared about her, and she had a great brother named Azlin. She was happy. Until the war broke out. Betty's family hid in their basement to hide, but the humans found them. They killed them in front of Betty and Azlin. As they were about to kill Azlin, Betty attacked them and ended up getting injured alongside Azlin. Azlin and Betty ran into the forest whilst being chased by the humans. Eventually, they ran into a cliff and had nowhere to run. Betty begged them to spare her and Azlin, to at least let them survive for one more day. But the humans didn't listen and pushed them both off a cliff. Ending the lives of Betty and Azlin.

But Betty didn't want to die yet. So she and Azlin both cheated and glitched back to being alive (but undead at the same time). So the two siblings made it their life's mission to kill all of the humans and let the monsters live in peace and prosperity. Betty and Azlin kills multiple humans and takes their souls to become even more powerful. Soon, her Compassion became Indifference.

Betty is actually a puppet! She is able to hide it from the humans and monsters, but there are hints to her being a puppet. Such as; abnormal walking, bending and contorting in freaky areas, and if you look closely you can see black tar and bugs.

I think throughout the story, Betty would be chasing after Frisk for their determination soul. So she can be even more powerful to kill every human on the planet. She dislikes Frisk for their naivety and almost couldn't believe that they even freed the monsters.

Azlin (Akumu's replacement btw) is her adoptive brother. He's pretty cold and aloof, but he's caring and loves his family, especially Betty. He hides in Betty's backpack until it's time to fight and sometimes speaks to Betty.

Maybe when the monsters are released, she was happy to see them again after so long, but was less happy about the racism they were facing, which only deepened her beliefs about humanity.

That's all for now.

#glitchtale rewrite #glitchtale rewritten #glitchtale #glitchtale betty #undertale #undertale oc #undertale original character #undertale fandom #undertale fanart

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punsmaster69 · 27 days

Text

31/MAR/20XX

papyrus walks past me.

he's got one hand shielding his eyes from the sun, basket swinging in the other hand.

stopping in place not far from me, papyrus checks how many eggs are in his basket.

"MS. TORIEL!! YOU SAID EACH PERSON HAD EIGHTEEN EGGS, CORRECT?"

she shakes her head and readjusts her sunhat.

"Twenty."

"DARN."

"THREE SHORT, THEN..."

"onto the final ones then, huh?"

"INDEED!!!"

"I'LL BE THE FIRST TO FIND THEM ALL, FOR SURE!-"

"GOT 'EM!"

frisk hops over to toriel victoriously. she checks their basket and confirms the correct amount.

"......"

"I'LL SIMPLY HAVE TO TRY EVEN HARDER, THEN!!"

i watch him do a few laps around the yard, searching.

the eggs close to the ground are the ones he always entirely misses.

"need a hint?"

"NO!"

"you sure?"

"𝘦𝘺𝘦 can definitely give you one."

"NO, I DO NOT-"

confused look followed by slowly turning to face me.

"WHAT ON EARTH WOULD EYES HAVE TO DO W-"

". . . ."

after actually looking at my face, papyrus noticed that one of his eggs sat within my right eyesocket this whole time.

"REALLY?!?"

"UGH. IT WAS ENT-𝘌𝘠𝘌-RLEY FOR THAT PUN, WASN'T IT?"

his annoyed look is replaced with a slight smirk at his own pun.

"...NYEH HEH."

"yup."

"SIGH."

"OKAY, THERE'S ONE..."

"NOW I'M JUST TWO SHORT!"

toriel and frisk walk over.

"You are certainly not 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵."

"WHAT? BUT THAT 𝙄𝙎 HOW MANY I'M MISSING."

"That is your hint."

"WAIT."

"A RIDDLE!?"

"HMMM....."

a hand is placed to his jaw and he furrows his brows in thought.

" 'TWO SHORT', 'TOO SHORT'..."

"𝘚𝘏𝘖𝘙𝘛..."

"...S?"

immediately patting down the pockets on his shorts.

toriel tries to gently guide him.

"Er."

"They will not be on your person."

"SOMEONE ELSE'S?"

"IS ANOTHER ONE ON SANS?!"

"No, no!"

"Perhaps you should rethink your interpretation of the hint, Papyrus."

"OKAY..."

"NOT 𝘛𝘖𝘖 SHORT?"

"HMM.........."

thinking for a moment longer, he runs off to go search more.

across the yard, flowey spots one of papyrus' eggs. he disappears underground, and reappears beside us.

"heya."

"Howdy."

i try not to look shocked that he actually said hello back instead of spitting some insult or ignoring me.

"How many did he get already? I saw around two of his."

"He has two left. I have given him a hint, so do not give away the locations for him."

"I won't!"

"Maybe if it was Frisk."

they shoot him a glare.

"But not Papyrus."

"I appreciate it."

"Have you found all of yours?"

"Found, but I'm not grabbing the last one yet."

"How come?"

flowey gives her a look as if it should be obvious.

"...So he's not the last one??"

"Awww. That is sweet of you."

"Th-"

scoffing immediately.

"It-

"It was a joke!"

"I'm waiting until he's about to find the very last one so I can grab mine just before he grabs his own, and steal the victory right from him!"

"i think you're too late, petals."

jumping up from the ground, papyrus runs over with his basket raised.

"I FOUND THEM!!"

"THEY WERE CLOSE TO THE GROUND - HIDDEN BELOW MY EYELINE!!!"

"VERY CLEVER, MS. TORIEL!!"

"Thank you, dear."

"HAVE YOU RECOVERED ALL OF YOUR EGGS, FLOWERY?"

"I haven't grabbed one of them yet."

"OH!! I'LL HELP YOU LOOK!!!"

"LET'S GO!"

crouching in front of flowey, papyrus sets his basket aside to offer flowey that place on his arm instead.

"...."

the flower curls a vine around papyrus' arm before slithering to his upper arm, moving into place immediately as he has a million times before.

"Do not eat all your candy right now, my child."

turning, i see that frisk is behind me with a large pile of wrappers beside them.

"you're gonna get sick, kiddo."

they shrug.

"No more after that one, alright?"

thumbs-up.

the other two walk around the yard for a few minutes before flowey suddenly sighs.

"Golly, Papyrus! I sure am 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘱ed on this one."

"WAIT, HAVE YOU CHECKED THERE PREVIOUSLY?"

"Hm?"

"AT THE STUMP."

"Gee, I don't think so..."

this tone-switch flowey always does around my brother is kind of off-putting. probably has something to do with wanting papyrus to feel like he helped, though. i'm guilty of that too sometimes, so i guess i can't really call him out on it.

my brother hops over to the tree stump, and flowey points with a dramatic gasp at the base of it.

"There! Between the roots!"

"AS I THOUGHT, THE GREAT PAPYRUS WAS ABLE TO HELP YOU LOCATE YOUR LAST ONE IN NO TIME AT ALL!!!"

"Thanks, Papyrus! I don't know what I would have done without your help."

the sickeningly sweet tone drops.

"...Now, can we go inside already?"

"OKIE DOKIE."

#undertale #journal #sans #papyrus #sans and papyrus #papyrus and sans #skelebros #toriel #frisk #flowey #sans and flowey #flowey and papyrus #undyne and alphys are inside. trust #easter

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