Chershire

Im gonna be doing my best to get a masterlist made and set up to help my followers better navigate it.

Lae’zel’s mouth curved.

Not a smile exactly.

A predator deciding the prey might be interesting.

“Good.”

The tiefling swallowed.“

What happens if I disappoint you?”

Lae’zel considered.

“I will tell you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I may tell others.”

He looked faint.

Karlach bent down toward me, shoulders shaking.

“Poor bastard doesn’t know whether he’s being invited to bed or challenged to a duel.”

“Can’t it be both?” I whispered.

Lae’zel’s head turned toward us.

“Yes.”

This is not written to fit canon I was bored and had a funny thought for a scenario involving my fanfic Baldur’s Gate 3: Nine Lives and One Tadpole.

It's meant to be funny and make you laugh so don't question what happens as like I said not canon to the story or the game really.

I write what I like whether if its canon or not lol.

---

The Great Orange Brain Cell Interception

There were many things I had learned since waking up in Faerûn as a cat.

One: people were far more willing to forgive theft if the thief was four-legged, fluffy, and made a pathetic little chirping noise while doing it.

Two: wizards were, in fact, extremely easy to bully before breakfast.

Three: Astarion could say he hated cats all he wanted, but his lap had betrayed him twice now.

Four: Karlach was warm enough to be classified as both companion and campfire.

And five—perhaps the most important lesson of all—

All orange cats shared one brain cell.

I had always known this, of course. It was one of those universal truths, like gravity, death, and the fact that if a person says “don’t touch that,” I will immediately begin plotting how to touch it.

But now?

Now I was an orange cat.

A short, stubby-legged, fluffy, red-orange Scottish fold munchkin cat with the cursed coordination of a dropped potato and a mind flayer tadpole living rent-free behind my eyeball.

Which meant the brain cell had to pass through me eventually.

And by the gods, I was going to intercept it.

I woke before the rest of camp, not because I was responsible, but because the rising sun had hit my face at the exact angle required to activate whatever ancient orange-cat prophecy was stored in my bones.

My eyes snapped open.

My ears flattened.

My pupils went wide enough to frighten lesser men.

Somewhere—far beyond the trees, beyond the river, beyond mortal understanding—I felt it.

A pulse.

A flicker.

A singular thought drifting through the astral currents of all orange feline existence.

The Brain Cell.

It was coming.

I sat upright so fast my own body seemed surprised by it. My stubby little legs kicked at the blanket beneath me. My tail poofed. My whiskers pointed forward like antennae.

Across camp, Gale was still asleep near the ashes of last night’s fire, one arm flung over his face, looking like a man who had not yet been informed he was my breakfast servant.

Shadowheart slept curled beneath her blanket, expression peaceful in a way she would absolutely deny if anyone mentioned it.

Lae’zel was already sitting upright, because apparently githyanki did not sleep so much as temporarily power down in a threatening position.

Astarion was lounging with one eye open, pale and irritated, as if consciousness itself had personally offended him.

Wyll was near his bedroll, probably dreaming heroic dreams.

And Karlach—

Karlach was sleeping on her back, one hand over her chest, her infernal engine giving off that deep, steady heat that made every single one of my cat instincts scream:

**Belly warmer. Now.**

But no.

Not today.

Today I had a mission.

I rose on all four paws.

The Brain Cell was close.

I could feel it.

Unfortunately, my body chose that exact moment to forget how walking worked.

I took one step, stepped on my own front paw, lurched sideways, and rolled clean off the blanket.

A soft *thump* announced my impact with the dirt.

Astarion’s visible eye opened wider.

“Remarkable,” he murmured. “She’s awake for five seconds and already losing to the ground.”

I glared at him from my undignified heap.

At least, I hoped it looked like a glare.

Based on the way his mouth twitched, it probably looked more like a very angry dumpling had been dropped in a wig.

I got to my paws, shook myself violently, and resumed my quest.

The Brain Cell was moving overhead.

I could tell.

Don’t ask how. Orange cat magic was not meant to be understood by mortal scholars. It was raw instinct. Ancient. Powerful. Stupid.

I tilted my head up toward the pale early morning sky.

A bird crossed over camp.

My eyes locked on.

Brain Cell?

No. Bird.

But maybe Brain Cell riding bird?

I crouched.

My haunches wiggled.

The tadpole behind my eye gave the faintest little twitch, like even it had paused to observe my decision-making with concern.

The bird flew over Gale’s tent.

I launched.

For one beautiful second, I was grace itself.

A predator.

A goddess.

A tiny orange missile of destiny.

Then I hit the side of Gale’s pack, bounced off a rolled blanket, knocked over a tin cup, and landed directly on his face.

Gale woke with a strangled noise that was not a word in any language I knew.

“Mmph—! Gods! What—?!”

I stood on his chest with all four paws, staring intensely into his eyes.

He blinked up at me.

I blinked down.

The Brain Cell was near.

Gale had a brain.

Suspicious.

I pressed my forehead against his.

Nothing.

No cosmic wisdom. No divine clarity. No sudden understanding of the Absolute, the tadpoles, or why Astarion smelled like expensive soap and murder.

Just Gale groaning, “Please tell me this is affection and not an assassination attempt.”

I pushed harder.

Maybe the Brain Cell had to transfer through skull contact.

Gale made a small wheezing sound.

“Shadowheart,” he called, voice muffled by fur, “I believe our feline leader is trying to absorb my intellect.”

Shadowheart stirred. “Let her. Maybe she’ll make better choices with it.”

Astarion gave a soft, delighted laugh. “Unlikely. But gods, I would pay to see her try.”

I stepped off Gale’s throat and sat on his chest.

Then, with great dignity, I screamed directly into his face.

“MRAAAAAAAAH.”

Gale stared.

“I see. A compelling argument.”

I screamed again.

“MRAH!”

He slowly lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t speak cat, but I’m beginning to suspect this is about food.”

Foolish wizard.

Small-minded wizard.

Breakfast could wait.

The Brain Cell was getting away.

I jumped off him and sprinted across camp.

Well.

“Sprinted” was perhaps generous.

My legs moved very fast, but because they were approximately the length of campfire kindling, I mostly resembled an angry loaf skittering over the dirt.

Lae’zel watched me pass.

Her yellow-green eyes narrowed.

“What madness possesses the beast?”

Astarion stretched lazily. “The usual kind, I imagine.”

I came to a sudden halt in front of Lae’zel.

The Brain Cell pulsed again.

Githyanki were weird. They had mind powers. They had astral knowledge. They knew things. They probably knew where the Brain Cell was.

I stared at her.

Lae’zel stared back.

I lifted one paw and placed it on her boot.

She looked down at it like I had declared war.

“Remove yourself.”

I did not.

I patted her boot again.

Brain Cell?

She leaned forward. “Do not challenge me, little beast.”

I meowed softly.

Not a normal meow.

A question meow.

A tiny rusty-door-hinge sound that meant: **Do you have the orange wisdom?**

Lae’zel’s expression hardened. “Chk. It speaks nonsense.”

Then I saw it.

A loose strap dangling from her pack.

It moved slightly in the breeze.

Thin.

Wiggly.

Mocking me.

The Brain Cell vanished from my awareness.

There was only Strap.

I pounced.

Lae’zel’s hand shot down. “No.”

Too late.

My teeth were already on it.

Victory.

I grabbed the strap, planted my front paws, and pulled with every ounce of my chubby little body.

Lae’zel’s pack did not move.

I growled.

Lae’zel lifted one brow.

I growled harder.

The pack still did not move.

So I did the only sensible thing.

I flopped onto my side and began bunny-kicking it with my back feet.

Lae’zel stared in silence.

Astarion made a sound that was dangerously close to a giggle.

Karlach woke up.

“Huh? Fight? Fire? Murder?”

She sat bolt upright, saw me attached to Lae’zel’s pack like a feral bath sponge, and immediately broke into the loudest laugh I had ever heard.

“Oh my gods,” Karlach wheezed. “She’s fighting your luggage.”

Lae’zel’s jaw tightened. “She is training poorly.”

I released the strap, sat upright, and looked around with sudden alarm.

The Brain Cell.

I had lost the signal.

No.

No no no.

I spun in place once.

Nothing.

Twice.

Nothing.

Third time—

There.

A shimmer in the air.

Not visible, exactly, but felt. Like a thought trying to land.

It was above me.

Directly above me.

I looked up.

A single leaf drifted down from the tree overhead.

Slowly.

Gracefully.

Suspiciously.

Brain Cell.

Absolutely.

My pupils expanded until the world became leaf-shaped.

The leaf floated left.

I stepped left.

It floated right.

I stepped right.

It dipped.

I rose onto my back legs.

Behind me, Gale had now sat up, hair mussed, robe wrinkled, watching with the weary dread of a man who knew breakfast would not happen until the cat finished whatever religious experience she was having.

The leaf drifted closer.

Closer.

Closer.

I opened my mouth.

And chomped.

I missed.

The leaf landed on my head.

Everyone froze.

I froze too.

Because the moment that leaf touched me, I felt it.

A flash of pure, divine, orange-cat enlightenment.

For one blazing heartbeat, the universe opened.

I understood everything.

The weave.

The tadpole.

The Absolute.

Why Astarion kept pretending not to care.

Why Shadowheart hid softness under sarcasm.

Why Gale made himself useful so no one would notice how afraid he was.

Why Wyll carried guilt like armor.

Why Karlach smiled like every moment was stolen and precious.

Why Lae’zel looked at the stars like they owed her an answer.

I saw it all.

The meaning of life.

The path forward.

The truth of my soul.

The secret to defeating the tadpoles.

The—

Then the leaf slid down my face.

I sneezed.

And everything was gone.

I stared blankly at the dirt.

A long silence passed.

Astarion leaned forward slightly.

“Well?”

I blinked.

He smirked. “Did enlightenment hurt?”

I opened my mouth.

“Brrrp?”

Gale lowered his face into his hands.

“Mystra preserve me, shes gonna drive me insane”

I panicked.

I had it.

I had the Brain Cell.

I had touched the divine orange thread of knowledge, and then I had sneezed it out like an idiot.

I whipped around, searching wildly.

Where did it go?

Where did it go?

Karlach was wiping tears from her eyes. “Soldier, what are you doing?”

I looked at Karlach.

Her engine glowed faintly in her chest.

Warm. Bright. Humming.

A thought struck me with the force of a thrown brick.

Brain Cell liked warmth.

Orange cats liked warmth.

Therefore Brain Cell might be attracted to Karlach.

Genius.

I charged.

Karlach barely had time to go, “Oh—!” before I launched myself at her.

This time, I made it.

Mostly.

I landed on her stomach, slid up her chest because of momentum, planted my paws on either side of her face, and stared into her eyes with manic intensity.

Karlach blinked.

“Uh. Good morning?”

I headbutted her forehead.

Hard.

“Oof.” She laughed. “Alright, hello to you too.”

I headbutted her again.

Maybe if Gale did not have it, Karlach did. She was orange-red. I was orange-red. Her chest had a flaming engine. My head had one shared brain cell trying to find the landing strip.

There had to be a connection.

I pressed my entire face against her cheek.

Nothing.

I climbed onto her shoulder.

Nothing.

I shoved my head into the curve of one of her horns.

Nothing.

Then the heat of her body hit me properly.

And for a moment, the mission faded.

Because Karlach was warm.

So warm.

Perfectly warm.

My eyes narrowed.

My paws relaxed.

My body melted against her collarbone.

Karlach’s hands came up automatically, gentle and careful despite their size. “Aw, poor little thing. Big thoughts tired you out?”

I was not tired.

I was hunting a celestial brain particle.

But her chest was rumbling, her engine thudding, and her skin was like a heated blanket gifted by the gods.

I began to purr.

Against my will.

Loudly.

Betrayal.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “There it is. The fearsome warrior falls to the first available furnace.”

Shadowheart sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Did we ever decide whether she’s cursed, possessed, or just like this?”

“She is an animal,” Lae’zel said flatly. “This is expected.”

Gale gave me a tired look. “I resent that. Tara is an animal, and she has never once tried to extract my thoughts through forehead pressure.”

I lifted my head sharply.

Tara?

No.

No Tara yet.

Different cat.

Future problem.

I returned to my search.

The Brain Cell had not landed in Karlach.

Maybe it was bouncing.

I needed height.

Everyone knew important transmissions were easier to catch from high places. Birds perched high. Wizards had towers. Gods lived in the sky. Astarion’s ego was somewhere in the upper atmosphere.

I needed a tower.

My gaze slid across camp.

Astarion.

Tall enough.

Pretentious enough.

Likely empty-headed at the exact right frequency.

I sprang off Karlach with renewed purpose.

Karlach made a mournful sound. “Hey! Come back, I wasn’t done being chosen!”

I scampered toward Astarion.

He immediately held up one hand.

“No. Absolutely not.”

I continued.

“I know that look.”

I sped up.

“That is the look of a creature about to make me regret existing.”

He tried to lean away.

Too late.

I jumped onto his bedroll, bounced off his thigh, dug claws into his shirt, and began climbing.

Astarion hissed.

Actually hissed.

Like a cat.

I paused halfway up his chest and stared at him.

He stared back, offended.

“Do not look at me like that. You started it.”

I climbed higher.

“Careful,” Gale called helpfully. “She’s trying to reach a higher plane of stupidity.”

“Thank you, Gale,” Astarion snapped. “Your scholarly insight is invaluable.”

I reached his shoulder, wobbled dangerously, and planted myself there.

Perfect.

I was tall now.

Practically enormous.

A giant among cats.

A god.

I lifted one paw toward the sky.

Brain Cell, come to me.

Astarion went still. “Why is she doing that?”

Shadowheart squinted. “Praying?”

“To who?” Wyll asked, now awake and looking deeply confused.

I stretched higher, paw open, claws slightly out, eyes locked on the empty air.

Karlach whispered, delighted, “I think she’s trying to catch something.”

Gale’s voice became very serious. “Has anyone considered the tadpole might be influencing her behavior?”

Everyone went quiet.

I slowly turned my head toward him.

He was right.

The tadpole.

The disgusting little worm in my skull.

The uninvited brain slug.

What if the Brain Cell sensed the tadpole and refused to land because my head was already occupied?

Rage filled me.

Not ordinary rage.

Orange cat rage.

I flattened my ears, opened my mouth, and screamed at my own skull.

“MRAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Astarion flinched so hard I nearly fell off his shoulder.

“Gods below! Warn me before you do that!”

I slapped a paw over my own forehead.

Come out, worm.

Brain Cell needs parking.

The tadpole twitched.

The world tilted.

For a split second, my mind brushed against the others through that horrible little psychic thread we all shared. Not words. Not speech. Just a burst of pure emotion, image, and nonsense.

What they received was probably something like:

**LEAF. SUNBEAM. EMPTY HEAD. NEED BRAIN. WORM BAD. KARLACH WARM. ASTARION TALL. GALE FOOD. LAE’ZEL STRONG. SHADOWHEART JUDGMENT. WYLL NICE. BRAIN CELL COMING. MUST CATCH.**

Every companion reacted at once.

Gale went pale. “Oh. Oh dear.”

Shadowheart stared at me. “Did she just send us a… thought?”

Wyll blinked. “I think I saw a leaf.”

Karlach gasped. “I was in there!”

Astarion slowly turned his head toward me, eyes narrowed. “Did you just call me tall?”

I licked his ear.

He made a sound of absolute betrayal.

Lae’zel stood. “The creature’s mind is chaos.”

I puffed up proudly.

Yes.

Yes it was.

But the psychic burst had done something.

The signal came back.

The Brain Cell was near.

Closer than ever.

It had heard me.

It was descending.

The camp fell still as I stared upward from Astarion’s shoulder.

A breeze moved through the trees.

The fire snapped softly.

A faint golden mote drifted through a slant of morning sunlight.

It was probably dust.

But I knew better.

It glimmered.

It floated.

It came right toward me.

The Brain Cell.

At last.

My entire body vibrated.

Astarion whispered, “I don’t like this.”

The golden speck drifted closer.

Closer.

Closer.

I opened my mouth.

Gale lunged halfway forward. “Don’t eat it!”

I ate it.

Everyone screamed.

Not because anything bad happened.

Mostly because I immediately launched myself off Astarion’s shoulder with no plan whatsoever.

I hit the ground, rolled, popped upright, and stood perfectly still.

My eyes widened.

The Brain Cell had landed.

I had it.

I had the one orange cat brain cell.

The universe settled.

My mind cleared.

For the first time since becoming a cat, I knew exactly what to do.

Everyone watched me with breathless concern.

Shadowheart whispered, “What is she doing?”

Gale leaned forward. “I think… she’s thinking.”

Lae’zel’s hand hovered near her weapon. “Dangerous.”

Karlach clasped her hands together. “Come on, soldier. Show us what you’ve got.”

I turned slowly.

With great dignity, I walked across camp.

I approached Gale’s pack.

I nosed it open.

Gale frowned. “That’s my—”

I reached inside with one paw.

Everyone leaned in.

This was it.

The great revelation.

The grand strategy.

The answer to everything.

I pulled out a dried fish.

Then I ran.

Gale shouted, “That was for later!”

Astarion burst out laughing.

Karlach cheered like I had slain a dragon. “YES! THAT’S MY GIRL!”

Shadowheart sighed. “Of course. The divine wisdom was theft.”

Wyll laughed despite himself. “Efficient theft, at least.”

Lae’zel crossed her arms. “She used her moment of clarity for rations.”

I scrambled beneath a bush with my prize clamped in my teeth, growling triumphantly.

The Brain Cell pulsed once inside my skull.

A single perfect thought formed.

**Fish good.**

Then it left.

Just like that.

Gone.

Passed on to the next orange cat somewhere in the multiverse who needed to make one halfway decent decision before returning to a life of chaos and licking furniture.

I stared after it, spiritually.

Then I looked down at the fish.

I had no regrets.

Outside the bush, Gale was still lamenting his stolen breakfast. Karlach was defending me with the passion of a woman advocating for a war hero. Astarion was making cruelly accurate commentary. Shadowheart was pretending not to smile. Wyll was trying to negotiate the fish back. Lae’zel was declaring that if I wanted food, I should hunt it with honor.

I ignored all of them.

I had intercepted the Brain Cell.

I had used it wisely.

And then, because the gods demanded balance, I immediately forgot how to back out of the bush and got stuck.

My rear half remained visible to the entire camp.

My tail lashed.

My paws scrabbled.

Leaves shook violently.

Astarion’s voice drifted over, dry as old bones.

“Ah. The intellect has departed.”

Karlach howled.

Gale sighed.

Shadowheart muttered, “Our fearless leader.”

And me?

I kept chewing the fish.

Gale: stares

Riely: stares back and starts pushing a cup towards the edge of the table

Gale: Ah!

Riely: pauses before continuing slowly

Gale: No, dont you dare.

Astarion: you're not going to win, I hope you know this.

Gale: looks away Oh yes I am im not going to be best–

Riely: knocks the cup off the counter and it clatters to the ground

Art i made for the story im writing.

What games have opened doors for you in real life?

Feed your dashboard by answering my question, blogger.

What video game world would be your #1 travel destination?

Feed your dashboard by answering my question, blogger.

Loki Panicking: This flower took away all my magic! *looks to Karlach* Im more than my magic tho right?!

Karlach: yes of course love... but until you can learn to properly swing a sword stay behind me and let me do the fighting alright.

I was making myself a Peanut butter sandwich while humming binks sake and the thought popped in my head of luffy just jump scaring one of his crew mates as they make a midnight snack because that man knows knows when food is out.

Like just imagine you joined the crew for one reason or another and Sanji gave you a key to the pantry in case you wanted a snack and in the middle of the night you go to get said snack and our of the corner of your eye see a head attached to a long stretched out neck in the middle of the dark doorway.

My ex just broke up with me over text and I've been feeling real shitty so to help myself get out of this funk and feel motivated I wrote this. This story is for everyone who's been dump and tossed aside like their nothing.

Papyrus discovers it first—because Papyrus always does.

It’s not dramatic. Not a monster attack. Not a new training regimen. Not even one of Undyne’s “WE’RE GOING TO KICK DEPRESSION IN THE TEETH” speeches.

It’s just… quiet.

You’ve been quiet.

Your door is shut. Your curtains are drawn. The air in your room feels heavy in that way it only does when you’ve been lying still for too long, staring at the same patch of ceiling like it might explain something if you look hard enough.Your phone is face-down on the bed.

Papyrus knocks anyway, gentle and precise, like he’s trying not to scare a skittish animal.

“NYEH HEH HEH! HELLO, DEAR FRIEND!” he calls through the door. The laugh is bright—too bright, almost—like he’s holding it up in both hands, offering it to you. “I HAVE BROUGHT YOU A VERY IMPORTANT DELIVERY!”

No answer.

Papyrus’ smile falters for a heartbeat. Then he clears his nonexistent throat in that formal way he does when he’s worried but refuses to sound worried.

“AHEM. I AM ENTERING NOW! BECAUSE I AM… UH… LEGALLY REQUIRED TO ENSURE YOU ARE NOT TURNING INTO A SAD GHOST. ALSO, I HAVE SPAGHETTI.”

The door opens slowly.

He peeks in like a cartoon detective, scarf trailing behind him, tall silhouette framed by the hallway light. The moment his eye-sockets land on you—still in bed, hair messy, cheeks puffed from crying, the kind of exhaustion that sits under your skin—his whole posture changes.

Not pity.

Not disappointment.

Just… concern, raw and immediate, like someone took his ribcage and squeezed.

“Oh,” Papyrus says, softly, like he’s found something fragile.

You manage a small sound that might be a greeting if you squint at it. Your throat feels like sandpaper.

Papyrus steps in and closes the door behind him with exaggerated care. He sets the plate he’s holding on your desk, and the smell of warm tomato sauce and garlic tries its best to be comforting.

He approaches your bed in measured steps—like he’s learned that when people are hurting, you don’t charge in at full Papyrus Volume.

“FRIEND,” he says, sitting on the edge of your bed, hands folded in his lap. “YOU HAVE BEEN… HIDING.”

Your eyes burn. You stare at the wall. “I’m just tired.”

Papyrus tilts his head. “TIRED CAN MEAN MANY THINGS. SOMETIMES IT MEANS YOU FOUGHT A VERY BIG BATTLE INSIDE YOUR HEART.”

Your lip wobbles.

You swallow hard and whisper, “He broke up with me. Over text.”

Papyrus goes still.

The silence that follows isn’t empty. It’s loaded, like the world is waiting to see what he’ll do with that information.

Papyrus’ voice comes out quiet, and that’s how you know he means it with his whole being.

“OVER… TEXT.”

You nod. Your eyes are wet again, and you hate how fast it happens, how your body gives you away. “Like it was nothing. Like I didn’t even—” Your voice cracks. “Like I didn’t even deserve a conversation.”

Papyrus’ hands ball into fists in his lap. He takes a deep breath—because Papyrus has learned, through trial and error and Undyne yelling at him only a little bit, that sometimes you don’t fix people’s pain by shouting at it.

So instead, he says, carefully:

“YOU DID NOT DESERVE THAT.”

You let out a shaky laugh that isn’t really a laugh. “It’s embarrassing. I’ve just been… here. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

Papyrus nods once, very solemn. “YES. THAT IS A NORMAL RESPONSE TO HAVING YOUR FEELINGS DROPPED LIKE A SPAGHETTI NOODLE ON THE FLOOR.”

A real, tiny breath leaves you at that—half a snort.He brightens, just a little, encouraged.

“AND LISTEN! IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO TALK, YOU DO NOT HAVE TO. I CAN TALK ENOUGH FOR BOTH OF US!”

He pauses, then adds, gentler: “BUT I WILL ALSO SIT HERE QUIETLY. I AM… AN EXCELLENT QUIET-SITTER.”

You glance at him for the first time. He’s looking at you like you matter. Like your sadness is not an inconvenience. Like it’s something he’ll help you carry if you’ll let him.

Your voice comes out small. “I feel stupid.”

Papyrus leans in, eyes serious. “STOP THAT.”

You blink. “What?”

“I MEAN—” He points at you with one gloved finger like he’s declaring a law. “STOP SAYING MEAN THINGS ABOUT MY FRIEND.”

Your throat tightens again.

Papyrus softens his tone. “YOU ARE NOT STUPID FOR CARING ABOUT SOMEONE. YOU ARE NOT WEAK FOR HURTING. AND YOU ARE CERTAINLY NOT EMBARRASSING FOR NEEDING TIME.”

You rub your eyes with the heel of your hand. “I just… don’t know what to do with myself.”

Papyrus sits up straighter, like he’s been waiting for that exact sentence.

“I KNOW WHAT TO DO.”

That’s when the door suddenly swings open so hard it thumps against the wall.

“OKAY, WHO DO I HAVE TO FIGHT—”

Undyne fills the doorway like a storm in a leather jacket, one hand already clenched, one eye blazing. Then she sees you in bed, the tear tracks, the phone face-down, and all the fury in her expression pivots instantly into something else.

Protective. Focused.

She steps inside and closes the door behind her, much more firmly than Papyrus did. Her voice is lower now, the way it gets when she’s trying very hard not to scare someone she wants to protect.“…hey.”Papyrus raises both hands. “UNDYNE! GOOD TO SEE YOU HAVE MADE IT.”

Undyne’s jaw tightens. “Yeah..” She looks at you, then at your phone like it personally offended her. “Over text?”

You give a weak shrug. Your chest is tight again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Undyne nods immediately, like that’s a rule and she’s respecting it. “Cool. We won’t.” She crosses the room and sits on the floor beside your bed instead of towering over you. “But we are gonna talk about you.”

You frown. “What?”

Undyne points at you like you’re a teammate. “You’ve been down for days. No fuel. No movement. No sunlight. That’s not ‘moping.’ That’s your body waving a big red flag that says ‘I got hit hard and I need help.’

Papyrus nods enthusiastically. “YES! YOU HAVE BEEN EMOTIONALLY PUNCHED!”

Undyne grimaces. “Paps—”

“WHAT? IT IS ACCURATE.”

Undyne exhales through her nose, then looks back at you. “Listen. I’m not here to tell you to ‘get over it.’ I hate when people say that.” Her eye narrows, not at you—at the idea of anyone being dismissive with you. “This sucks. It hurt. You’re allowed to be wrecked.”

Your eyes sting again.

Undyne continues, voice steady. “But you’re also not gonna rot in here alone, okay? Because you’re our friend. And friends don’t let friends self-destruct.”

Papyrus leans forward, hopeful. “WE MADE A PLAN.”

Undyne cracks her knuckles like the plan might be a sparring match. “A SIMPLE PLAN. Small stuff. Not ‘fix your whole life.’ Just… today.”

You swallow. “I don’t have energy.”

“That’s fine,” Undyne says instantly. “We brought energy. You just have to borrow a little.”

Papyrus lifts the plate on your desk with both hands, presenting it like an offering to a temple. “STEP ONE: CONSUME SOME SPAGHETTI. NOT BECAUSE FOOD SOLVES HEARTBREAK—IT DOESN’T—BUT BECAUSE YOUR BODY NEEDS FUEL TO FEEL ANYTHING OTHER THAN ‘BAD.’”

Undyne nods. “Step two: water. Hydration is not optional. It’s basic maintenance.”

Papyrus adds, “STEP THREE: YOU WILL OPEN THE CURTAINS. YOU MAY HISS AT THE SUN IF IT OFFENDS YOU. I WILL NOT JUDGE.”

A reluctant smile tugs at your mouth, then collapses into a tremble. “I don’t— I can’t even look at my phone. Every time I see it I just…”

Undyne’s expression softens. “Yeah. That’s real.” She glances at Papyrus, then back at you. “Want us to put it somewhere else? Like… out of sight.”

You hesitate. The idea of someone touching it makes your stomach turn, but the idea of it staying where it is feels worse.

“…please.”

Papyrus nods with solemn honor. “IT WOULD BE MY GREAT PRIVILEGE.”

He picks up your phone like it’s a cursed artifact and, with exaggerated seriousness, places it in a drawer and closes it. Then he turns back and lifts his chin proudly.

“THE EVIL RECTANGLE IS CONTAINED.”

A sound escapes you—half laugh, half sob. Your shoulders shake.Undyne reaches up and—carefully, surprisingly gentle—rests her hand on the edge of your blanket, near your knee. She doesn’t grab. Doesn’t pull. Just anchors herself there like a promise.

“Hey,” she says, voice rough around the edges. “You don’t have to be okay right now. You just have to be here.”

Your tears spill over again, silently this time. You hate crying. You hate how heavy your chest feels. You hate how your heart keeps trying to reach for someone who let go without even showing up.

Papyrus scoots closer on the bed, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence without him crowding you.

“FRIEND,” he says, “I KNOW IT FEELS LIKE YOU HAVE LOST SOMETHING IMPORTANT.”

You nod, wiping at your face.

“But,” Papyrus continues, voice trembling with sincerity, “YOU HAVE NOT LOST YOU. YOU ARE STILL HERE. YOU ARE STILL WORTH LOVING. AND I—” He looks at Undyne, who gives him an encouraging nod. “WE… ARE GOING TO HELP YOU REMEMBER THAT.”

Undyne’s grin flashes briefly, fierce and proud. “Yeah. You’re part of our team. And the team’s not letting you go down.”

Your throat tightens. “I don’t feel… lovable.”

Undyne doesn’t flinch. “Then you’re not gonna feel it. Not today. Today we’re just gonna act like it’s true until your brain catches up.”

Papyrus points at you again, very serious. “LOVE IS NOT A TROPHY YOU EARN. IT IS A THING YOU DESERVE BY EXISTING.”

You stare at him, and something in your chest cracks—like a door that’s been stuck finally gives a little.Papyrus lifts the fork and carefully twirls a small bite of spaghetti.

He holds it out, patient. No pressure. No “come on.” Just… an offer.

Undyne watches you with steady, stubborn faith.You take the fork with shaky fingers. The bite is small, but it’s warm, and it tastes like someone tried.

When you swallow, your stomach feels less hollow. Not fixed. Not healed. Just… less empty.Undyne nods once, like you just won a round. “Good. That’s step one.”

Papyrus beams. “YES! AND AFTER THIS, WE WILL DO STEP TWO! AND THEN STEP THREE! AND THEN—” He pauses, as if considering what might be too much. “AND THEN WE WILL RETURN TO YOUR ROOM, WHERE YOU MAY MOPE… BUT WITH LIGHT SNACKS AND SUPPORT.”

Undyne snorts. “And if you want to cry, cry. If you want to rant, rant. If you want to say nothing, say nothing.” Her eye softens. “But you won’t be alone with it.”

Your voice is small, but it’s there. “What if I… what if I never feel normal again?”

Papyrus’ smile turns gentle instead of bright. “THEN WE WILL CREATE A NEW NORMAL. ONE THAT INCLUDES YOU BEING TREATED BETTER.”

Undyne’s hand squeezes the blanket edge once, a quiet emphasis. “And for the record? Anyone who can toss you away over text doesn’t get to define your worth.”

You breathe in, shaky. Breathe out.The room is still the same. The hurt is still there, heavy as ever.But now there’s spaghetti on your tongue and two monsters in your room who look at you like you’re something precious.

And for the first time since that message lit up your screen, you don’t feel like you’re sinking alone.You take another bite.

Undyne leans back against your bed like she’s settling in for the long haul. “Alright. When you’re ready… we can open those curtains and glare at the sun together.”

Papyrus raises a fist in triumph. “YES! A TEAM GLARE!”

A watery laugh escapes you, surprising and real enough that it makes your chest ache in a different way.

“…okay,” you whisper.

And it isn’t a lot.

But it’s something.

I remember reading this fic a long while back it was an undertale multivers fanfic where the reader was pretty depressed and her soul was at risk of shattering.