Toaster Stroodle

*pauses with my hand held up to my ear*

*sighs, defeated*

Where Y/N gets teleported into the game mid sans battle

And y/n tells sans that y/n only killed everyone to fight him

And sans feels the weight of his inaction crawling on his back

He feels the the souls of all his friends

And feels it’s his fault for not killing the kid sooner

It’s always “good girl”

And

“Bad boy”

What if Eridians had soulmates and could hear when two souls sang together and it was customary to join in the soul song’s music. What if Grace and Simon were soulmates separated by the multiverse.

Simon was dead. At least…that what makes sense. Nothing else could explain the eerie peace that consumed his body. Nothing else explained the weightlessness.

“Simon.” A voice called out, yet he didn’t hear it. The voice shook his bones and filled every crevice of his veins. It was bright. So bright. The voice felt as if it turned his body to glass and was illuminating his very soul.

The light.

“Please.” Simon begged, for what- he wasn’t sure. Was he begging for freedom still, or mercy?

“I want to offer you a reward.”

Hearing the voice hurt. His eyes welled with tears as each word was stabbed directly into his brain through his eyes. It was so bright. It was so beautiful. It was horrifying.

“A soul is tied to yours, you were separated by space and time, I will fix that mistake.”

“Please.” Simon begged again. He was done with this. He wasn’t meant for some great destiny. Fuck Eden and fuck the monster in the dumb blood ocean. He never wanted any of this. The silent rapture, filament station, being the butcher. None of it. All choices that were made for him, not by him. He didn’t want it.

He just wanted to live.

The light grew warmer around his body, it was boiling. He felt as though his blood was bubbling in his veins. Boiling him alive from the inside out.

“No,” The Light felt amused yet sad, the emotion tied into Simon’s psyche, having him feel the same mix of convoluted emotions along with his own “you won’t just live. You will thrive.”

Then it was gone.

A scream erupted from Simon’s lungs, it was muffled by the dull gurgling of blood in his throat.

His body was heavy yet he managed to sit up. Everything hurt. His body trembled as he sat up and coughed the blood out to the floor beneath him.

His head was fuzzy, his vision blurred. It took him a moment to recognize that he wasn’t in the sub. He was…in a crater? Smack dab in the center, dust still in the air.

The edge of the crater seemed to be surrounded by rocks and they were…moving? Were they- alive?

“Fuck.” Simon swore softly as he attempted to stand. Where the actual fuck was he?

A man in a space suit ran and- tumbled into the crater. Simon watched the man trip and slide on his ass all the way down.

Simon couldn’t help but stare, like something wasn’t allowing him to look away.

“I- oh my goodness. You? How? Human? You- oh geez.” The man stumbled into his feet and scrambled towards Simon, causing Simon to pull away, his body much to weak to stand and fight. “How the- how are you even alive?”

Simon glared distrustfully at the man, until the two locked eyes.

Simon felt his body go limp, something that would feel terrifying if he wasn’t overwhelmed with the emotion of…belonging. He felt at peace, a dull part of his mind was worried, but not enough to remove the joy from his veins.

The answer is a criminally low amount

AND

Why apnly make grace trans when Simon embodies the body horror that many trans people sorta experience?