dust of sin

No randomizer, of course!

Basically, we can explain the rules of the game to you when you join, but you play as your UNDERTALE IC BLOG and they’re all at a cafe, playing epic mafia together! (So, in person, but playing a game.)

*I’m completely serious!

… oh. It was this flower again. Huh.

*... Catsup?

(Well, that’s not weird. Not at all.)

*I wouldn’t...really think that’s drinkable in the first place.

“…Okay, what is that WE USUALLY like to do.”

*Well, ah...

*What I usually like to do is check in on monsters and see if they’re doing all right. But I’m not sure what that has to do anything...

“It’s strange when it’s one of US asking, that’s for sure!” Flowey cackled without mirth, a nasty laugh clearly meant to provoke more than anything else. “Different timelines crossing isn’t exactly new, you know! Can’t say I know the science behind it, but I don’t NEED to.”

The smile dropped again, his face twisting further. 

“I do have a question for YOU though, pal!” A pause, mostly for effect. “You want to tell me why you’re acting like you are? All nice and stuff. What, do you think another version of you wouldn’t know to watch out for crap like ‘friendliness pellets’? I really freaking doubt it, so what’s your deal? HUH?”

These passive versions of him were bewildering. It was throwing him off-balance; he knew what to expect from himself usually, if the flower was a Flowey like him. But a Flowey like these WASN’T, and he didn’t know what exactly to make of it– but it was still another him, so. 

(... Friendliness pellets?)

(You’ve heard that phrase before, but even now you don’t understand the context. All you’re beginning to grasp at this point is that it’s related to your duplicates.)

*I really don’t know what you mean--

(Then you remember. You remember one particular thing that Sans told you, and a realization dawns on you.)

(That’s why you’re similar, and yet so different. That’s why this is such a stark contrast. That’s why you’re so confused by your other self’s actions.)

*... Actually...

*That’s right! Golly, you don’t have a SOUL, do you?

Flowey hadn’t exactly been intending on hopping away from his own timeline; while he wouldn’t deny that it was nice to stretch his roots - so to say, because it wasn’t like they could really feel and it wasn’t like the pot was confining - and have freedom to roam at will instead of being resigned to wherever someone decided to stick his terracotta residence, it was still fact that this hadn’t been exactly an intentional choice on his part.

He didn’t have much longer to gather his bearings, however - a voice had sounded.

He drew himself up to his (Admittedly unimpressive, but hey. He was a flower.) full height upon being addressed, head raising from where he had kept it lowered briefly for longer than necessary upon his eruption out of the dirt. The flower snapped to the side to face his alternate, fangs flashing as his mouth parted in threat, eyes narrowed immediately even despite, perhaps even because of, the unusually friendly tone of the other. Meek, rather than simply faux-cheerful. It was strange, and he didn’t like it. One. Bit.

(Did you say something wrong, or what?)

*... Er. I don’t know? That’s why I’m asking.

(You can’t help but note how the other self of yours morphs his face into something rather grotesque, with imaginary fangs sprouting from pollen, and it... Well, you can’t say it intimidates you, because it’s you and you know what you’re capable of, but it makes you shrink back regardless anyway. The hostility is... Unexpected, to say the least. Especially upon a random chance meeting.)

(Sure, you met a duplicate before, but he was not this brittle.)

*I want to know because you just suddenly popped in here. Golly, is that really so strange? I’d think it’s natural to be curious when something like this happens. I don’t know what that’s got to do with my own timeline of all things.

But then that sound, the teeth chattering, is back.

Again, only a flower. Nothing else.

* i know someone’s out here. come out, i promise i won’t bite.

No reply.

He decides he may as well check the flower, maybe there’s something making that sound around it.

* huh? are those eyes?

(You see him staring directly at you now, and this time even verbalizes that he’s noticed your eyes, and you know you’re done at this point. Completely done -- Sans is clever enough that there’s no way that it’s going to get past him if you try to worm your way out of this one.)

*... Yes, they are. Um, hi.

A low chuckle escaped Sans at the flower’s insistence.

*...

(You admit that he has a point. Not out loud, of course -- mainly because something bothers you. Something important.)

(But... He does have a point as far as getting better for people goes. You can’t argue against that.)

(It’s just... Well...)

*But what if you’ve done something really awful?

(That’s a dangerous question to ask. You could’ve taken the out, but...)

*We lost two. 

*… . . 

*It wasn’t just that, as devastating and terrible as it was for both of us.

*It revealed something in my heart. 

*A capacity for hatred. The ability to murder.

*... You’re not bothering me. It’s okay.

(Dad...)

*But... Isn’t it natural to want to hurt people who’ve hurt someone you’re close to?

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