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pigerludio · 6 months

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Emotions. Memories. Life. Fanfic. Undertale AU.

-Part 1-

Category: Gen, 16+ maybe?

Character: Frink, Mirror, Seller, AI Dream

Warnings: Obscene language, Inhuman morality, OC, Mental disorders, Psychological traumas, Rating for profanity, Gray morality, OOC,

Other tags: AU, In one body, Drabble, Parallel Worlds, Under the same roof, A collection of drabbles, Elements of psychology, Elements of humor / Elements of banter.

- Created by the desire to ✨ create✨

- Tags will be added as they are written.

- Predominantly bone-shake, though it's not a fact that this will always be the case.

- EML is: Acute Incident stories, (sick)everyday life of HWS, spending time with the AI inhabitants, living the dead and not quite alternatives, and just the creeping of bone-gnaw in the knowledge of their mortal existence.

— Just admit you didn't do a good job. – The skeleton sought to calm, if not calm, then at least bring the rampaging guardian to his senses.

— Admit defeat, and move on. – And he still has the same guy in front of him. Only now he's facing him: the left pupil, burning blue, stares coldly, indifferently:

— Admit defeat and move on. – No… wait, what's that's boy doing here? What's he doing in HE memories? In HIS battle right here and now?

— You lose. – The words of the main enemy echo in his head. No, he can't lose. Concentrate, come on! His head splintered, as if it were about to crack, turning to dust. In his case, it was more like a puddle of ink that was as flammable as his blood. His trembling hands clutch his weapon with all their might. In front of his eyes, a frozen image of reality, an image from many years ago:

— You lose. – The words come alive. Not an enemy, no, someone painfully familiar. Too bad the unknown man has his back turned to him. Too bad he doesn't remember him anymore. It's not the first time he's been visited by memories and visions of this nice guy. And while in them the stranger plays not the most pleasant role. In this particular memory, the stranger does not hear his requests. His posture, his intonation, the tilt of his head: everything looks the same as it did a few seconds earlier. But unlike he recent rival, the stranger's bones are a milky white color. Someone had said a similar phrase to him before, with the same meaning, and that memory somehow gave meaning to the enemy's phrase. It annoyed the hell out. Gave him motivation to move on.

— Huh – With an effort, he raises his head and directs his gaze to the back of his enemy. Wiping the residual ink from his face, he gets to his feet, leaning on his tool:

— YOU'RE WRONG. – He speaks clearly, snatching a red-colored pill from the dispenser. Thoughts turn a vengeful, angry color. The same color as his T-shirt. The same color as his pupil sights.

The lunge forward was too abrupt and a bit ill-conceived. As soon as the wearer of the gray cloak raised his arm up, the violet strings twisted the white skeleton. His attempts to break free resulted in more pain and weakness, more irritation and hatred. Even more unfortunately.

— Stop it. Just admit you didn't do a good job. – The calm, ingratiating voice did not jump in pitch, only sounded irregular, mechanical notes. The skeleton sought to calm, if not calm, then at least bring the rampaging guardian to his senses. His heterochromatic pupils contrasted against the blood-red eye sockets and dark bones hidden beneath the fabric of his cloak and T-shirt.

— Admit defeat, and move on. – And he still has the same guy in front of him. Only now he's facing him. Close enough to see: camouflage sweatshirt, long dark pants, boots, brown turtleneck, and a turquoise cape behind him. His white skull is covered in a multitude of scars – deep and not so deep. In the right eye socket is a black void covered by familiar lags. The left pupil, burning blue, stares coldly, indifferently. Judgmental:

— Admit defeat and move on. – No… wait, what's that's boy doing here? What's he doing in HE memories? In HIS battle right here and now?

Unintelligible whispers from different directions make he look around in bewilderment. Darkness thickens around them, forming shadows. The whispers intensify until they become deafening.

YOU LOST US..

— No…

WE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!

— Shut up!

LIAR..

…REMEMBER!

— YOU SHOULDN'T BE HERE!

He screams, grabbing his head with his hands. He doesn't want to hear their deafening rumble, he can't do anything stunned by that rumble. No, he can't remember, he has to keep fighting! But how, if he can't see anything in front of him – only feels incredible pain… It seems he fell, or is still falling, and what is happening is nothing more than a dream? The keeper rarely had dreams, so much so that he remembered them all by heart and by date. He desperately did not want to remember such a dream…

—̴͇̳͂F̸̢̀ŕ̸̨.̷̥͡.̴̹͂.̶̻́k̷̝̊?̴̗̈– Through the shroud of voices comes the irritating monotone of Mirror's voice… His eternal and main enemy, the destroyer. The dark-skinned man was always trying to ruin his life and the lives of those around him.

— …Ink! – Another voice sounds. His head clicks as the named one jumps up from the bed. A powerful arm stops him from falling, holding him in a sitting position with pressure. The dizziness gradually fades, as does the hitched breath.

With the ticking of the wall clock, Frink regains consciousness, squinting somewhat dazedly at his winged friend, who is frozen in worry. He is lying in a room, one of the many in RJ castle. The room is simple, even very simple – bare walls, a window with a carved grate, a sink and mirror in another corner of the room, a couple of doors, and a nightstand by the bed with a glass of water on it. Frink drains the cool contents immediately, without thinking about the safety of such an act.

What am I doin' here?

Being oblivious doesn't add up to peace of mind. He would have understood if he'd woken up on the ground or in the water, in a garbage can, an alternative Grillby's bar, in a sucking snowdrift, or, at the very least, in the company of the inhabitants of Underlust. But what was he doing here, next to a supposed ally, and was he an ally? He didn't understand.

— You awake? What the hell were you dreaming about? – Dream snorted, drawing attention to his angry self. Dream was the one responsible for the recent appearance of the dream to the guardian. To put it crudely, he was the only one he could come to just to sleep. But he did so only in extreme cases and as needed.l.

— I… I can't remember. – Dream only rolled his eyes at this response, twitching his wings behind his back in frustration. I should have smiled guiltily, but it was not easy to reach for the unknown where funked off lost dispenser, and the residual emotions for shame were not enough. The feathered man sighed, turning his gaze to the open window: judging by the bright sunlight, it was daytime outside, which meant that Dream had come to check on him for a reason:

— I have something for you. I'll meet you in my office in 30 minutes. Don't be late, please. – Another careful glance at the sleepy body of the guardian, and the feathered man hurried away from the stuffy room. It was only after he left that Frink realized how uncomfortable he felt being in a terribly empty room with white walls…

Checking under his pillow, the keeper exhaled with relief: he'd taken his diary with him, which was fortunate, because its current owner didn't remember a fucking thing about the last few hours of his life. Except for a bad dream, of course. The thought of that made he pause for a moment.

Dream's settings are off, so instead of a normal dream, I'm having a nightmare?

The role of Mirror in it was decisively unclear, though, what is to be said, judging by the entries in his diary, he had been fighting with him only lately. Boring and uninformative. The other boy, who looked like a Blue, but was also very different from him, was interesting.

The reason for the appearance of his person in the castle of the hyper-positive was not found at once: only on the fifth attempt Frink managed to read the assumption written in an inferior handwriting. He didn't seem to have been drinking, but it felt as if his hand was moving in all directions while writing. Judging by the notes, he came to the winged one for help – there was little strength left after the battle, he was exhausted to a critical minimum. He had taken back the world, but he didn't have enough strength for self-recovery.

And instead of just curing me, the idiot put me to sleep.

Frink clenched his teeth loudly, contemplating which feather to start plucking at the curious chicken's ass. As if the keeper didn't know what his feathered friend was doing while he slept! Sometimes he lost ink, and sometimes sheets with valuable notes, though Frink was 100% sure he'd never give them up voluntarily for anything in his life. His gaze caught on a scrawled but legible note on the Wingdings:

— And… what's that mean?

Indeed, the writing was legible, and to the keeper's delight he knew the Wingdings well. But that didn't change the unfortunate fact that the meaning of the writing was obscured by those mighty scribbles:

👎⚐

☠⚐❄

💧☹☜☜🏱

DO NOT SLEEP

A leaf that had fallen out from under the page added to the confusion. The text on it was written in the same messy handwriting:

— 👎⚐☠🕯❄ ❄☼🕆💧❄ ✌ 👌✋☼👎 🕈✋❄☟ ✌ ☝⚐☹👎☜☠ 👍✌☝☜📬 DON'T TRUST A BIRD WITH A GOLDEN CAGE. – He read it aloud, as if it could be a magic spell to get him out of trouble. The thought made me laugh a little – it was funny. — ⚐😐✌✡📪 ✋👎⚐☠🕯❄☞☼☜✌😐✋☠🕯 🕆☠👎☜☼💧❄✌☠👎📬 OKAY, I DON'T FREAKIN' UNDERSTAND.

But that wasn't all! The new scrawl made his eye socket twitch nervously, and the darkest shadow of bewilderment appeared on his face:

💣✋☼☼⚐☼ 😐☠⚐🕈☜✞☜☼✡❄☟✋☠☝ MIRROR KNOWS EVERYTHING

— Oh yeah, thanks boss, that makes a lot more sense now!

And what does HIS name have to do with it? For the second entry in a row, Frink stoically ignores the hints of his previous notes that it would be «worth talking» to the owner of the deadly purple strings. Somehow he'll get by without that glitchy splinter. Filled with despondency at the domestic confusion, the guardian of the universes washed his face with cold water, noticing with suspicion the dispenser he was looking for on the sink.

Creators, save Dream, if he's gotten the idea to put something in my pills. I swear to Brut, I'll kick his ass!

Speaking of Brut: there was no sign of her anywhere in the room. It wasn't a problem to summon her right now – Frink had recovered enough, but he was afraid he'd snap and ruffle a feather or two. And that, no less than that, would result in a loud scandal and a relationship that the keeper had neither the time nor the energy for.

There weren't enough pills in the dispenser. Too few to be in his usual frenzied state, and too many to trash his surroundings with his energetic carcass. There was an option to flood the misery in blue, but Frink had cut that thought down early on, settling on a few colors and combinations. The orange and blue pills, two in number, were popped into his mouth at the same time, but the green pill, he later realized, was unnecessary. Disgust was the only thing he wanted to feel from this rather sticky situation though. Looking at himself in the mirror, he adjusted the black bandana that had fallen off to the side and the flame-patterned T-shirt that was literally begging to be washed. If Frink's biological clock was correct, he'd been awake for about ten minutes, and the feathered man's office was still about five minutes away.

As you wish, Creators.

He sighed humbly and headed out of the room. There were more things in the corridors, so maybe he's paranoia would fade into the background. Before he'd gone a couple of meters, Frink slapped his forehead, and with a tickling sensation of shame went back to the room to retrieve the dispenser he'd forgotten on the sink. It was a miracle he hadn't left his diary in his room. It was good that there was no one in the corridors – they would have thrown slanted, perplexed glances. Speaking of birds…

Which way is the winged one's office…?

— ⚐☟📪 ☞⚐☼ ☞🕆☠😐🕯💧 💧✌😐☜✏ OH, FOR FUNK'S SAKE!

_______________

End, I think?)

#undertale #undertale au #Frink Sans #Mirror Sans #Seller Sans #dreamswap #Acute Incident #AI Dream Sans #AI Dream #Acute Incident Multiverse #AI Nightmare Sans #AI Nightmare #Radiant

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