The first character you meet in Undertale introduces himself as âFlowey the flowerâ. Itâs exactly the sort of cutesy name the mascots in these types of games often have.
And thatâs who we expected him to be, the first time we saw him.
I think a lot of Undertale players forget, either because itâs been so long since our first playthrough or because we were spoiled, but the first time you meet Flowey, youâre taken in by his honeyed words and false smiles.
Toby Fox puts an absolutely insane amount of thought into naming his characters. While itâs less obvious for some, each and every one of Undertaleâs names mean something, and a lot of them mean more than one thing.
Today Iâm going to be talking about one of the most information dense sets of names in the game.
Asriel Dreemurr, AKA Flowey.
Weâll start with the name he chose for himself, since, to my awareness, itâs the less complicated of the two.
When given the opportunity to choose whatever name he wanted, he chose âFloweyâ. While this is likely in part a callback to his fatherâs notorious lack of skill with names, itâs more complicated than just him naming himself the first descriptive word that came to mind. To start, âFloweyâ is very specifically a descriptive term for his new form, and an automatic acknowledgment of the fact that heâs no longer quite who he used to be. In the same vein, I suspect that itâs also him attempting to distance himself from his former identity, due to seeing himself as weak, among other things. Itâs also, as I mentioned previously, a very âcuteâ name. This likely has to do with the way Flowey likes to present himself as the gentle flower he appears to be at first glance.Â
I could probably go into more depth, but thatâs all I could think of for now.
Now, you know how I said Flowey was the less complex name? I meant it.
I suppose the first thing of note about âAsrielâ is that itâs a portmanteau of Toriel and Asgore, another tick in the âAsgore canât name for shitâ column. His full name, Asriel Dreemurr, is an anagram of âserial murdererâ which is certainly accurate. This also serves as an acknowledgement that however much he wishes it werenât the case, Flowey is Asriel and Asriel is Flowey.Â
Asriel is one way to spell the name of the angel of death in Christian mythology, which itself has multiple meanings. On the one hand, itâs more attention given to his disregard for the lives of others, and on another, Asriel is heavily implied, in game, to be the âangelâ of the Delta Rune prophecy, both through his visual design and his actions. On yet another hand, (for those of us who happen to be aliens) an alternate interpretation of the Delta Rune prophecy is that the angel would come to âfreeâ the monsters of their mortality, as it were, which Flowey is implied to have either done or attempted to do multiple times.
As for his last name, Dreemurr, a dreamer is usually considered to be a person who has difficulty facing reality. Asriel is shown many times throughout the game refusing to accept various truths, such as the death of his friend, Chara, and the faults in his âkill or be killedâ philosophy.
Also also, Asriel, Chara, and Friskâs names all have five letters and two syllables.
In conclusion, Toby Fox is an absolute madman, Undertale is a masterpiece, and the sky is blue.
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[A transcription of a fic I found while looking through my old school notebooks]
Note: WHEN DID I STOP BEING THIS FUNNY? WHERE DID IT GO
Also I was 13 when I wrote this
--
Deciding to live in orphanages was the greatest scam of my life. Not only do I get free food and shelter, but I get to meet families! Basically, itâs the perfect cover for an immortal who looks like a little kid.
I mean, yeah, occasionally Iâll get a shitty orphanage or a shitty family, but I can always just skip town and find a better one, you know?
So I live in an orphanage right now, though Iâm looking for a family to adopt me soon, because boooriing you know?
Iâm minding my own business, as per usual, you know, just doodling in my sketchbook, when a couple of skeletons walk in. Now, Iâm not so racist as to be startled by the presence of monsters, since theyâve been up on the surface for half a decade now, and anyway, Iâm old enough to remember when humans and monsters last coexisted peacefully. No, the fact that theyâre skeletons doesnât surprise me a bit. Their identities are what startle me, and telling you why would ruin my air of mystery.
Welp, if theyâre here to adopt, you better believe Iâll play every card Iâve got to get them to pick me.
Itâs time⌠to be really fucking cute.
The two skeletons make a beeline for the front desk. The shorter one is wearing a blue scarf and armor, while the taller one is wearing an orange hoodie and sucking on a lollipop. (How does that work? Does he have a tongue?)
âMISTER OR MS. DESK HUMAN, I WOULD LIKE TO ADOPT A CHILD.â The small skeleton announces.
Eeeeexceelent. I flip to a blank page in my sketchbook in preparation for my plan.
âOh! Um, would you like to meet some of the children, and see if any seem right for you?â The person at the desk asks politely. They seem slightly startled by the skeles, but not hostile. I always knew they were a good kid.
âTHAT SOUNDS EXCELLENT,â agrees the tiny skeleton. Seriously, he almost seems shorter than me. Well, anyway, I walk up to the short one and tap him gently.
âYES, TINY HUMAN?â Holy shit, heâs adorable. I âshylyâ point at my sketchbook and then at him. The request hangs in the air for a moment before his face just lights up. I am definitely keeping him.
âYOU- YOU WANT TO DRAW ME, TINY HUMAN?â
omg. He looks so excited. I nod and make a small smile, before looking at him questioningly.
âOF COURSE YOU CAN, SMALL HUMAN! MWEH HEH HEH!â
Heh. Seems Iâve been upgraded from âtinyâ to âsmallâ.
If I can get this drawing right, theyâll be a lot more inclined to adopt me. Iâm totally going to draw him sitting on his brotherâs head. HeheheâŚ
A few minutes later, (with the adorable skele watching over my shoulder the entire time, and, surprisingly, staying silent) I have finished my picture.
It depicts the small skeleton sitting on his brotherâs head while his brother smokes, and as I write the caption, the skele gasps in horror. It reads: âYou guys are smoking hot.â When he hears the gasp, the tall skeleton comes over to see what Iâve drawn. He chokes on his lollipop.
âtibia honest, i think me and my bro are a little old for ya, buddy.â Iâm totally taking this as blanket permission for more puns. Speaking softly, I state,
âWas- was it at leastâŚ?â I trail off, amplifying the shyness.Â
Then I grin almost as wide as him.
âHumerus?â He chokes on his lollipop again. The tiny skele makes a face.
âP- BROTHER! HOW HAVE YOU CORRUPTED THEM SO QUICKLY WITH YOUR TERRIBLE HUMOUR?â I giggle. These guys are just too damn cute. The tall skele gives me an appraising look.
âyâknow, bro, how about we get to know this human a little better, maybe introduce âem to the others.â Yes! I mentally pump my fist. That means theyâre seriously considering me! The small skele smiles, and holds out his hand. I take it and shake.
âMY NAME IS BLUEBERRY AND THIS IS MY BROTHER STRETCH,â he announces.
âMy name is Sol,â I respond quietly.
âSOUL?â
âS-O-L. Like the sun,â I say, before continuing, âthatâs why you should adopt me, actually,â
âI DONâT UNDERSTAND?â the berry looks confused. I snicker, and he tenses.
âWAIT, DONâT EX-â
âBecause Iâll light up your life,â I interrupt.
Stretch chokes on his lolly again. I wonder how many times I can get him to do thatâŚ
--
The two skeles come by a few more times, and we discuss our various hobbies and interests, as well as the other skeletons who live with them.
Apparently, there are quite a few. 12, to be exact.
Boy am I one lucky fucker. Iâd only predicted about 8. Today, theyâre going to introduce me to two of them.
The door swings open to reveal Stretch as he lazily snuffs out a cigarette and chucks it into a trashcan.
One of the skeletons behind him does the same. Heâs a skeleton, obviously. Heâs a little taller than berry, with⌠distinctive cracks in his skull. One from his crown to his left eye, one from his right eye to his mouth.Â
Heâs wearing a snazzy black coat with white trim on the hood, and⌠Well, lets just say that Iâm cursing the fact that I look like a ten year old and leave it at that. Because that is one sexy skele. The last one, (berry couldnât make it today) might manage to look even cooler.
He looks a lot like Blueberry, physique wise, but the way he dresses is⌠well, itâs very anime.
Heâs got a long coat on, purple with a black hood. Somehow, heâs managing to pull of basketball shorts with knee high boots, under it. He also has an absolutely wicked scar on his right eye. Sorry smoker skele, my life for you was fleeting and Iâm going to dream about this man. Sweet jesus in scandalous socks, heâs hot.
Once Iâm done ogling, I power walk over, grab my new crush, and present him to Stretch.
âStretch,â I say. He makes an expression that implies that he is trying very hard not to laugh, and asks,
âwhat is it, kiddo?â The skele in my grasp wriggles slightly, as his mind attempts to make sense of the situation. (To make Sans of the situation? Lol)
âStretch look at him, heâs anime,â I announce.
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âWhyâd you shoot fire at him?â I ask, partially to fuck with her and partially out of genuine curiosity. He hadnât been attacking me, after all, so it was odd that sheâd intervene. What did he do to get her to set him on fire just for being near a human?
Toriel purses her lips, and I note that her hands are clenched tightly. Mustâve been bad, then.
âHe hides a wicked nature behind a congenial facade. Please, my child, keep your trust out of his reach,â
Oh, sheâs just as formal in person! Thatâs honestly kinda cool. Iâm pretty sure Iâm the only one I know whoâs ever used âcongenialâ in a sentence, but for her it just seems natural.
âI definitely have more questions about that, but first, can you not call me your child, please? We literally just met,â Seriously, itâs weird. I know sheâs grieving, but spontaneously adopting every child that falls without their approval or consent is kinda messed up.Â
If I manage to free the monsters, the first thing Iâm doing on the surface is sticking them all in therapy. Seriously, these guys are worse than me, and I really donât say that lightly.
Torielâs face falls slightly, though she makes a valiant effort to hide it. (Seriously, what were you expecting me to say?)
âA-Ah, I suppose that is reasonable. May I ask your name, then?â Ok, people who are definitely reading this because I am 100% egotistical enough to assume yâall want to hear about my life. Listen up, because Iâm going to say this as many times as the author wants me to. I know this is normally the part where Iâd say ây/nâ but I want to make it clear that y/n is for reader inserts.
I am a self insert, which I know because no reader insert would ever have this much personality, those boring fucks. As a self insert, I am free to call myself Ebony Darkâness Dementia Raven Way and dye my hair black with purple streaks if I so desire.
(I donât, I really donât, My Immortal is a fun read if you want something to laugh at but no way in hell am I emulating that MC in any respect other than our shared enjoyment of MCR.)
ANYWAY, back to my conversation with goat mom! Iâm not saying my real name because Iâve resolved that if I ever end up getting isekaiâd Iâll go by my middle name, due to its general awesomeness. (My first name is also awesome, but it has a different vibe and aesthetics are everything in fantasy worlds)
âMy name is Solena,â I say, responding after a reasonable pause in actual time and a weirdly long one in mental time. Now, my name looks like it would be pronounced âsol-een-aâ but itâs actually âsol-ain-uhâ which Iâm stating because again, Iâm fully confident that these thoughts are being written down somewhere by some enterprising author who is also very likely me from another timeline because no one else in existence is fully capable of conveying the Wonder that is Me.
âThank you for telling me, Solena. My name is Toriel, and I will be your caretaker while you are in these ruins,â Toriel says, conveniently leaving out the fact that sheâd prefer to keep me in these ruins forever, probably because Iâve already demonstrated some leeriness towards her.
Now, I could bring up Flowey again, seeing as her explanation for fireballing him was more than a little lackluster and Iâm still pretending not to know this world inside and out, but I already know stuff about Flowey and there are things Iâm significantly more curious about.
âCool! Toriel, got it. Hey, if you live in a cave underground, how did you get such a nice dress? Do you have farms down here? Livestock? Do you harvest fibers from animal monsters?âÂ
Haha, you thought Iâd ask more about the magic? Hell no! Iâm way more curious about how society functions down here!
Toriel does a double take, her expression implying that sheâs revising all of her expectations towards me. (Again)
âThere are small plant farms in some areas of the underground. We have no livestock down here, as we were delivered to this cave system in a bit of a rush, but we do harvest some fibers from willing monsters, yes. How did you guess it?â
Let me tell you, the high Iâm getting right now from those theories being correct? Very similar to what happened recently in the BNHA comic with Dabiâs true identity. I am living for this, just absolutely vibing with this new knowledge.
âWell, I donât see how else youâd do it. How do you get the dyes?â Because I donât see them having access to chemical dye, and itâs not like humans trash a lot of the stuff unless this is one of those illegal dumping spots, so what gives?
âExcellent question, Solena! There are professional tailors who transfer dye from clothes that fall from the surface! Many also simply wear clothes acquired from the trash, though mine are hand-crafted as befits-â She cuts herself off before she can let slip her (former?) royal status. I let it slide because I really donât see a need to step on trauma landmines here.
âAs befits someone whoâs! Affluent! Anyway, weâve entered the Ruins proper! There are many dangerous puzzles here, an old monster tradition, so Iâll need to focus more on guiding you!â Damn it, weâre at the first puzzle already? I completely missed the staircase room, which sucks because not only did I miss out on seeing one of my favorite rooms, I didnât notice whether there was a save point!
Fuck!
I walk to the sign by the door. âBrave ones, foolish ones, both walk not the middle road. Whatâs that mean? I obviously get it in the proverbial sense, but itâs near this puzzle, so is it supposed to be a clue?âÂ
It straight up took me until my second playthrough to understand that sign, man.Â
Torielâs face just lights up. She looks absolutely delighted, and I remember that sheâs always wanted to be a teacher.
âIt is a misdirection! The sign tricks the reader into thinking about it metaphorically, when the answer is actually quite literal!â She demonstrates by stepping on all the buttons but the center two, before turning to smile at me.
âOh, thatâs genius! Because youâre supposed to ignore the tiles in the middle! It works as a puzzle while also having an easily remembered solution if youâre in a hurry!â Itâs honestly my favorite puzzle in the game for that, even if youâre never given the opportunity to solve it yourself.
âThat is exactly what I was thinking when I created it! It is wonderful to hear that the message came across to someone, even if my- my, ah, my friends had consistent difficulty with it!â
We continue chatting about puzzles as we walk into the next room.
Toriel explains the spike puzzle here and how youâre supposed to memorize the layout of the first room to safely traverse the spikes. She also explains that she locked the âincorrectâ spikes permanently in the âupâ position so that no one would get hurt, stating that puzzles should be fun, not dangerous.
Honestly, sheâs giving way more exposition than she ever did in the game, probably because Iâm a slut for knowledge. I only really half hear her explanation, though, because what comes next is going to be very important to knowing the kind of experience Iâm going to have down here.
See, we havenât gone down the hallway to the spike room yet, and I know full well thereâs a Froggit waiting there to ambush me.
I have a few questions that this pseudo fight will hopefully answer.
One, are there options like there are in the game? Because if the battle system is the same, it could severely limit my choices when it comes to conflict resolution, especially if I have the same options as Frisk.
Two, do I have a narrator and is that narrator Chara? TwoA, do they have control over me in fights, as in some fics, or am I fully autonomous? TwoB, if they are here, are they evil or are they a person, because thatâs also something the fandom intensely and frequently disagrees about. TwoC, can they hear my thoughts? Iâm going with âprobably notâ because Iâve made zero effort to exclude spoilers, but there's still a possibility and I need it confirmed. TwoD, can they hear thoughts deliberately directed at them? I hope so, it would be a huge pain to only be able to talk to them when no oneâs around.
Three, are Froggits secretly cats because thereâs a meme comic about that and I need it in my life.
With these thoughts in mind, Toriel and I turn down the hall, and the world goes black and white.
I am sitting in my room, not doing much of anything, (as per usual) when I look up and notice that my mirror has apparently transformed into a solid wall of inky darkness as Iâve been spacing out.
And well- itâs not like I can not poke it, right? Thereâs a high chance Iâll seriously regret it, if my life has become the isekai it appears to be, but thereâs a 100% chance Iâll regret it forever if I donât touch it, you know?
Everyone always assumes Iâm risk averse, that I like to play it safe, but the truth of the matter is Iâve just never found something I really want to take a risk with.
So, I push myself out of bed with a hand and go grab my shoes, because thereâs no way in hell Iâm touching something that might be a portal with no shoes on. Thankfully, Iâm actually dressed for once, rather than being in my bathrobe like usual.Â
Once Iâve got my shoes on, I grab my coat from where it hangs by my dresser and walk straight into what used to be my mirror. I hope my parents arenât too worried by my disappearance. Maybe Iâll be lucky and this will be the kind of isekai that retroactively erases me from existence? That would be kind of nice, to exist without tethers.
The portal (because thatâs what it is, Iâm pretty sure) feels cool, but not unpleasantly so. Like when you first put on a fleece sweater and it takes a moment to warm up.
If this were a stereotypical isekai story, things would quickly become very unpleasant in this dark void, and some godlike being would reach out to grant me power beyond my wildest imaginings.
Iâve never been one to cave to expectations, though. Not even my own.
The darkness remains cool and comforting, and I continue walking forward because thereâs no chance Iâm going to turn back now, with so much possibility awaiting me if I only continue long enough.
Eventually, I feel as if Iâve passed some threshold, and something definably changes within me. Canât say what, though. Iâve always kinda sucked at interpreting what my body is trying to tell me, so Iâll probably have to figure it out on my own.
At some point the darkness and walking grows boring, and so I do what I often do when bored, and curl up to go to sleep. This place isnât cold enough for me to need a blanket, and Iâve got my coat with me anyway, so Iâm fine. Sleeping on hard surfaces isnât unpleasant, in my opinion, merely a bit annoying, since if you pick the wrong position youâll inevitably wake up sore.
As always, consciousness takes a while to fade, so I occupy myself with grand imaginings about all the wonderful (and terrible, Iâve got anxiety okay, I canât help it) things that might await me.
==
When I wake, itâs immediately obvious that something is different. Thereâs light now, for one, and for two I can feel something soft and organic beneath me. Judging by smell alone⌠Flowers? Waking up on a bed of flowers in a lit room⌠Well, Iâve always wished I could live in Undertale, if only so I could chew out the characters for bottling up their feelings so damn much. Hey, maybe if Iâm lucky, that one headcanon I have about Sans secretly being a teenager will be right and Iâll be able to flirt with him without it being creepy.
Oh come on, like everyone attracted to dudes and not overly hung up about species concerns doesnât want to kiss that guy, are you kidding me? Plus, I love puns and Iâm depressed, surely weâll get along.
Oh boy, Iâm definitely going to die, huh? Thank fuck for my high pain tolerance and ridiculous resistance to trauma, am I right?
Finally, I open my eyes, because I like to wake up slow and I see no reason to alter my existing routine simply because Iâve apparently been yeeted into my favorite video game. Hey, speaking of favorite video games, will I get to visit Hollow Knight next? No, wait, that would probably suck, wouldnât it. Ah, well.
The cave is just as beautiful as I always imagined it would be. Though it looked lovely in the game art, thereâs truly nothing that can compare to seeing the sight in person, those marble pillars in a half circle around me, that single spot of sunlight in the ceiling far (far, far) above. Not to mention the lovely flowers Iâm laying on at this very moment and- thereâs a dead body under me, isnât there. Is Chara going to show up, or am I left to be alone in my head?
Though their narration doesnât actually start until you meet Flowey, in the game, so I suppose Iâll just have to wait and see.
Wait.
Wait wait wait.
Which human soul am I taking the place of right now? Because I read a fic once where the protagonist wasnât the seventh, even if it was a fakeout, and I very much do not want to be saddled with the fate of those poor bastards.
Though, maybe Iâd be able to talk my way out? Thereâs no one whoâd call me diplomatic, for sure, but Iâm pretty great at knowing exactly where to aim an insult to utterly break someoneâs spirit. (Unusual skill, Iâm aware, but in my defense I was bullied growing up)(I say âgrowing upâ like Iâm not still doing it, like Iâm not fourteen and trapped in a world where itâs an accepted fact that the protagonist will die, and several times over, too)
My first order of business is Flowey, before I can take the time to freak out, to hold myself tight and weather the sheer panic that Toto, I am not in Kansas anymore.
I get up. I give a last fond look to the beautiful cave Iâve âfallenâ into, and I walk to the next room, hoping all the while that Iâm not signing my own death sentence.
Once Iâm a few feet in, there he is, in all his fucking glory.
Flowey the flower, the soulless remnant of prince Asriel Dreemurr, former hope of the underground, possibly still holder of the ability to control time itself.
Yeah, Iâm definitely going to mess with him. Self preservation is for losers.
âYouâre a flower with a face,â I say before he can start with his usual greeting. I have it memorized anyway, so itâs not like Iâm missing out on anything.
He makes his T-T face, so I know this isnât how he thought this would go.Â
âWow, human! What gave you that impression?â Ooh, sassy. Literally his only positive trait.
âWell I have eyes, see,â I was planning to ask him probing questions, but honestly this is just as good. His expression doesnât change as he says his next sentence, nor does his ever cheery tone, (and holy fuck his voice is just as vaguely creepy as Iâd imagined, all that childlike innocence paired with the fact that heâs a mass murderer)
âWell howdy, human with eyes! Iâm Flowey, flowey the flower!â He says. I donât interject.
âYouâre clearly new to the underground, and it looks like Iâm the only one around to show you how things work around here! Are you ready?âÂ
âŚ
âIâm really not, to be honest. Iâve got no idea whatâs going on,â So my plan here, basically, is to stall until Toriel gets here. Mostly because Iâm hoping that if he doesnât get the chance to do his betrayal, heâll keep pretending to be nice, which will be hilarious since Iâll know heâs faking the whole time.
Admittedly, this significantly increases the likelihood that Toriel wonât come to save me when he inevitably finds a secluded place to murder me, but if I think too hard about the long term right now Iâm going to scream, so.
âWell you see, human, youâve fallen into the underground, a land inhabited by monsters! Donât worry though, weâre quite nice,â Oh right, conversation. I wonder how much info I can get out of himâŚ
âWhatâs a monster? Like, I know what it means on the surface, but that definition is pretty vague, and I donât want to be accidentally racist,âÂ
His face pops back to the usual smile. (Side note: his face looks like it was drawn on with sharpie and itâs totally messing me up)
âA monster is a being made of magic!â Ok, thatâs⌠a bit vague, but not really inaccurate. I guess he doesnât want to get into the science, which is a damn shame, since he probably knows it backwards and forwards due to all his reset shenanigans.
âWoah, cool. Magic is real? How does it work without breaking thermodynamics?â Finally, the question Iâve always wanted to ask. If energy canât be created, how the fuck does Toriel shoot fireballs from her hands? What is she drawing on, what is the fire burning, how hot is it, how does it keep being on fire, etc. etc. repeat for every magical display in the game.
âWell, a lot of it isnât super understood. Scientists have mostly been pinning it on âdark energyâ like they do with every other phenomenon they donât totally understand,â I wonder why heâs so willingly entertaining my time wasting antics. I know, in game, he didnât realize heâd lost control over the timeline until after his first talk with Frisk, so maybe heâs just waiting it out to see where it goes? And then of course he must be planning other things to do with me before he takes my soul and goes to the surfaceâŚ
âGod, I hate dark energy in science. I know they just call it that because not much is known about it, but Iâm thirsty for knowledge, you know?â Actually âthirsty for knowledgeâ describes my mood like 90% of the time. Huh, actually, I have that in common with Flowey, right? Even if his knowledge thirst is just due to boredom.
âHey, human, me too! Learning new things is great!â Thereâs a loaded sentence if iâve ever heard one. When was the last time he learned something new? Heâs supposedly read every book in the underground, but how much information from that did he actually retain?
âIsnât it? Itâs why I love Youtube so much. Free information for anyone who cares to make a few clicks!â Wait, he probably doesnât know what Youtube is, actually.
âWhatâs Youtube?â He asks, cocking his head.
âItâs a service where you can upload videos or watch videos other people have uploaded,â Not the most nuanced explanation, but itâll do for now. Before Flowey has a chance to respond, a fireball manifests next to him.Â
I donât smile because Iâm pretending to be shocked, but Iâm laughing my ass off on the inside. The face he makes is even more ridiculous in person.
Enter Toriel, queen of the monsters, mother of no living children.
This is a continuation of Donât Forget Me (Please)
Also, the idea for this comes from this post.
Sans has always been determined. How could he be anything else, to be what he is and do what he does?
If he were anything else, even the smallest iota less secretly stubbornly willful, he would have broken long ago, would have shattered to pieces under the strain of the duty he places on himself.
From the outside, he doesnât give off the impression that heâd do anything, go against time itself for those he loves. From the outside, he doesnât give the impression that he cares at all.
In the end, though, his actions will always speak for the truth of him where his words refuse to.
--
A twelve year old Sans sits on the edge of a cliff, kicking his legs back and forth over the steep drop.
The forest continues, so far down below. He can see a small cottage, lit up by some unknown occupant within.
He wonders, silent, what would happen if he jumped. Would he land on a tree, the sharp points of the branches ripping his fragile body to pieces? Would he fall into the snow, his dust mixing with the snow until it became impossible to tell which is which?
What would the world look like, without him? He doesnât have any parents to miss him if he were gone, doesnât have any family really, aside from his brother.
And Papyrus would move on in the end, he knows. His brother has always been resilient, has always had something unbreaking at his core, for all his bluster.
What would the world look like without him?
He doesnât really have any friends. He has associates, acquaintances, but no one in his life he lets close enough to call a friend. He doesnât have any important contributions to the world, doesnât have any great accomplishments.
Heâs just some kid with low health and more magic than he knows what to do with, in the end.
If he jumped now, what difference would it even make, in the end?
...Well, there is one thing. Just one thing for the world that only Sans can and will provide. The encounter was months ago, now, but he canât very well forget it.
Without Sans, thereâs no one to tell Siennaâs mom that sheâs dead, if monsters ever reach the surface. No one down here to remember that soul in a jar as a person with thoughts and feelings.
Itâs small, but he promised her. He said heâd remember.
And itâs not like he really wants to kill himself, in the end. No matter the exhaustion and dissatisfaction he feels with his daily life, no matter that he canât see any light at the end of the tunnel, thereâs still a whole world, a whole wealth of knowledge and beauty and despite how tiring it is to exist, he wants to see it.
He wants to see tomorrow, not because he thinks itâll be any brighter, but because he canât experience everything the world has to offer today.
Itâs this thought thatâs still in his mind when the snow beneath him shifts, and he slides right off the edge of the cliff.
Itâs the thought that damn it, he isnât done yet that follows him down the side with the small avalanche.
Itâs the complete and utter refusal to die here and now that he holds tight as the tip of a tree impales his ribcage, his body being prised apart by the force of gravity and the surprisingly effective wedge that is the branch beside his sternum.
His last thought as he turns to dust is that he refuses to let it end like this.
--
Sans comes to with a start, dropping back into awareness suddenly enough that heâd gasp, if he had lungs.
He almost falls off the bench, but he manages to grasp the back in time to stay on.
His head feels like itâs been stuffed with dynamite and blown to bits, and he struggles to remember the events that just transpired.
Heâd been⌠talking with that human, right? Sienna? The one who was probably going to die?
...Something about that âprobablyâ feels wrong. He presses a hand to his face, harshly digging his fingers into his skull, hoping the discomfort will clear his mind a bit.
He could swear heâd been in Snowdin a moment ago, but it made no sense. Sienna had only left an hour or so ago. And he knew heâd spent that time thinking, so why did he remember being in Snowdin too?
He presses a hand to his ribcage, just beside his sternum, without conscious thought.
The cloth is perfect and whole.
...Sans is perfect and whole.
The memories of the past three months come back in a rush, and this time he does fall off the bench.
Has he gone back in time? Is that even possible?
Without bothering to get off of the ground, he props a hand under his chin. What are the possibilities here?Â
Because while suddenly finding himself back on the bench he hasnât visited in three months and having difficulty remembering whatâs happened since for a few moments is extremely odd, jumping straight to time travel is more than a bit of a logical leap.
First things first: He remembers being impaled and turning to dust, and if he accepts hallucination as a possibility here heâs going to drive himself insane.
...Which kind of does rule out anything other than time travel, actually. Huh.
Ok, so how far back is he? Is he back to just a few moments before his unfortunate tumble, or the whole three months?
Thankfully, this is easy enough to test. He just has to go to somewhere populous and see if there are any monsters around, since there was a lockdown while Sienna was underground.
He teleports to Snowdin, because if someone sees him there they wonât know him to think itâs anything but some reckless teenager.
Looking around, the only footprints in the snow are his own. The shop and inn are closed, doors locked, and he can see the bar is locked up as well.
He teleports back to the bench and considers his next move.
Heâs three months in the past. Nothing in particular has happened, since Siennaâs romp through the underground, so itâs not like he has any disasters to prevent or anything. (Aside from that time he told a waiter to enjoy their meal, of course)
Itâs odd, he supposes, being in this situation. Heâs now in a position to undo all the blunders heâd made last time, but heâs not far enough back for there to really be anything he wants to change.
Actually, that raises another question. If heâs gone back once, can he do it again? Heâs not going to kill himself to test, obviously. That would probably be a bad idea, but he remembers that desperate determined feeling heâd had as he fell, and wonders if he could replicate it.
He tries as hard as he can to summon every bit of will he possesses, focusing it all on the desire to go back, to start again.
To reset.
His determination rises to a crescendo, his magic howling, and the world goes dark for a momentâŚ
And heâs once again sitting on the bench, thankfully sans the confusion, the second time around.
Woo! Science, baby!
Whatâs he going to do now? Obviously this is powerful, this ability to turn time itself to his whims, so what great deeds will he undertake, now that he apparently never needs to worry about failure again?
...Holy shit.Â
Sans has thought of an amazing idea, one that will change the world as he knows it, irreversibly altering the status quo even more so than this revelation has already shattered it.
This is going to change everything.
Sans pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it to reveal a series of half finished math equations.
He walks to the river a few feet from where heâs sitting and yeets it in, because with this powerâŚ
Sans is never going to have to do homework ever again.
Also, heâs going to read every book in the underground and no one can stop him.
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He wasnât supposed to be there, of course. He was supposed to be in lockdown like everyone else, hiding from the human whoâd apparently already proved that they had no qualms about killing monsters.
He personally thought that they probably wouldnât be doing much killing if they werenât being attacked on sight. It seemed really dumb to try to kill someone for their soul and then get mad when they fought back.
And whatever, right? He was safe anyway. No one ever found this bench, since it was in a weird place and kinda out of the way. A human wouldnât find it because theyâd be too busy trying to get to the castle faster so they could try to leave.
That was another thing Sans didnât get. Why have the Royal Guard running around like headless chickens to try and capture a human when theyâd have to pass through the palace to leave anyway?
Sure, the humans overall seemed pretty warlike, considering how many separate nations and stuff they had up on the surface, but that didnât mean that any given member of the species was just some crazed murderer. Judging by the kind of trash that fell into the underground, they had to be pretty technologically advanced, especially since they didnât have any trash to copy. They had to do it all themselves, so at least some of them mustâve been smart, right?
Sans took a whoopie cushion out of his pocket, inflated it, and blew it at the echo flower next to him so it would make fart noises forever.
That was another thing. Humans had invented whoopie cushions and most of the associated gags. That meant humans couldnât be all bad, because bad people would never invent something as awesome as whoopie cushions.
Sans continued to idly contemplate humanity, fully believing that his conclusions would never be tested.
--
Sienna rested in the room with the bridge puzzle, her signature cowboy hat tugged low over her eyes. She took a polishing cloth out of her pocket and ran it over her gun a few times, a nervous habit her mom had never been able to break her of.Â
She was starting to think she might not see her mom again. Sheâd do everything in her power to get through the underground alive, of course, but some of the monsters down here were really strong, and the sheer amount of people that wanted her dead was terrifying.
Even scarier was that she was almost out of bullets, even though sheâd never planned to use any at the start of this.
Her favorite poncho was stained with dust, that clingy white stuff monsters turned into when she shot them. She didnât regret it, no. Every kill sheâd made had been in self defense, but she still hated the necessity of it.
Looking around the room, she didnât see any monsters anywhere, though she knew there could be some hiding in the reeds. She also knew sheâd encounter more if she continued on, and she just wasnât ready yet.
She decided to mess around with the bridge seeds instead. Maybe if she could get all four of them into the water fast enough, she could ride them down the river to some nicer place.
Carefully, she took each seed and placed it on the edge of the water, just barely balancing on the small ridge that separated Waterfallâs spongy earth from the flowing water.
All at once, she pushed the seeds off. They sprouted into a bridge and she hastily leapt on before it could be washed down the stream.
Sienna cautiously got to her feet on her improvised boat, holding her arms out to keep her balanced. She was doing it! It had really worked!Â
She let out a laugh of pure joy.
Maybe now she could leave peacefully!
Just as she was getting excited, her seed bridge came to an abrupt stop, causing her to tumble forward.
Before she hit the ground, a blue glow enveloped her, stopping her momentum entirely.
âgeez, i donât even know you and youâre already falling for me,â
--
Sans was still sitting on the bench when he heard a wild laugh from just outside the room. Curious, he turned his head, just in time to see some kid falling over from where theyâd been standing on some bridge seeds.
He knew faceplanting was bad for those fleshy types, so he grabbed their soul with blue magic to stop their momentum. Because he couldnât resist, he coupled his timely assist with a pun.
âgeez, i donât even know you and youâre already falling for me,â He said, winking and finger gunning.
The kid got shot back to their feet with a wild look, pulling an actual gun out of a holster at their side and pointing it at him.
Sans was confused, to say the least. âuh, normally if people donât like my jokes, they just groan at me. no need to start taking out the weapons, yâknow?â He gave them some side eye that they one hundred percent deserved. Seriously, who pulls a weapon over a joke? Who down here even had a weapon?
âAre you gonna try and kill me?â They demanded, and he noticed that their arms were shaking just slightly.
Sans tilted his head. âwhy would i do that? itâs not like youâre a-â Sans paused for a moment, taking in the dust on their pocho and the fear in their face. Suddenly, he remembered that there was a human in the underground.Â
âoooooh. youâre the human, arenât you?â
âYeah! Whatâre you gonna do about it?âÂ
He deliberated for a moment, bringing his hand up to support his chin. His eyes narrowed and he made a long âhmmâ sound.
Suddenly, he snapped his fingers, making a bony clacking sound.Â
âi know!â The human tensed. âiâm gonna do absolutely nothing.â
Their jaw fell open, producing a comical expression of surprise. âYouâre not going to try and kill me?â
ânope,â he popped the p.
Their eyes narrowed slightly. âAnd youâre not going to try and capture me? Not going to shoot magic at me or try to break my legs or set me on fire?â
âdid people actually do that? you look like, eight,â Sans couldnât imagine what he would have done if people had done all that to him. He felt somewhat horrified, but he kept it to himself, hiding it behind a jovial grin and a friendly tone. He didnât know what people had done to this human, but they were pointing a gun at him with their finger on the trigger and he knew all too well that it would only take one shot.
âOf course they did! Monsters have done nothing but try to kill me since I fell down here!â There was something raw in their voice as they said it, and he couldnât suppress a pang of sympathy.
âthat does sound pretty sucky,â
The human rolled their eyes. âGee, you think? I just want to go home and see my mom again, and thereâs literally only one monster in this whole place whoâs been actually nice to me,â
âwow, is it me?â Sans asked, fluttering his eyesockets.
âNo. Youâre weird and suspicious. Iâm still trying to figure out what the hell youâre trying to sell me here,â
Sans mimed a dramatic gasp, placing his hand over his heart and looking to the side. âhow could you, human whose name i donât know. i thought we had something special here, with our forty seconds of interaction,â Dropping the hurt tone, he said in a more serious manner, âand of course iâm being nice to you. youâve got a gun pointed at me and you look like the twitchy type.â
The human gave him a searching look, like they were trying to telekinetically implode him, before nodding, flipping the gunâs safety back on, and sticking it back in the holster all in one fluid movement that made him question how a little kid knew how to operate a handgun in the first place.
âThatâs fair. You planning to attack me now that Iâve got it put away?â They asked.
âi donât really see the point, to be honest. youâll die pretty much irregardless of my actions, so why should i get blood on my hands?âÂ
They glared at him. âSo youâre only refusing to fight because someone elseâll do it for you?â
Sans thought for a moment, and shook his head. ânot quite. more like⌠i dunno whether i agree with killing every human who falls down here, and itâs not like the king is gonna listen to some kid about it, so i can at least make him face the consequences of that decision himself,â He explained.
âand we have to get to the surface somehow, right? the underground canât support monsters indefinitely. the clockâs been ticking since we got sealed down here.â It was wrong to kill kids for freedom, it had to be. But what other choice did they have? It was seven humans measured against thousands of monsters, and while both options sucked, there was a pretty clear winner, in Sansâ view.
The kidâs eyes widened. âSo you guys are gonna die if you stay down here?âÂ
ânot all of us, necessarily. but monster society as it is will probably completely break down within fifty to seventy years, going by the ratio of population growth to how many farmable fields weâve got,â
âWhy not just stop having kids?â
Sans blinked. Then he flashed back to a human book heâd found in the dump a few years ago and was pretty sure he knew the source of confusion.Â
âmonster kids donât work like human kids. they kinda just pop up wherever there are large concentrations of magic. thatâs why we know there arenât more than a handful of monsters living on the surface, is because the barrier sucks up all the magic on earth to stay powered,â
âThatâs so weird, dude.â They looked like they were about to ask follow up questions, but Sans didnât want to talk more about the inevitable decline of his species, so he spoke before they could.
âwhatâs the surface like, anyway?â
The human raised their hand and made an a aborted gesture, before flapping their hand. âUh. Itâs, a lot of things? Itâs kinda big, so thereâs a lot going on,â
Sans was absolutely floored by this stunning revelation. Heâd never guessed that the surface might be large, of all things. âi was kinda hoping for specifics, kid,â
They shrugged âItâs hard to sum up, okay? I guess the country I live in has a lot of parks and stuff?â
âiâve heard of those. theyâre like big areas of land cordoned off for animals to live in, right?âÂ
âSome of them are, I guess. I think most parks are just big tourist attractions, though. But I guess they have to be? Since itâs not like the governmentâs gonna give them enough money,â
??? Sans was confused. What did they mean, the government wouldnât give proper money? Wasnât that the whole point of having it in the first place?
âthe government wonât give them money?â
âWell yeah, bastards are too busy lining their own pockets to give proper funds to necessary amenities. Even insurance is privatized,â
âwhatâs insurance?â
The human looked at him, and blinked very slowly. They raised their hands as if to gesture a point, before once again lowering them to their sides.
âMonsters donât have insurance?â
âi mean, we might. you still havenât explained what that even is,â Judging by their vaguely shell shocked expression, he was guessing it was something pretty universal.
âInsurance is like⌠If you get in a car crash, or your house burns down, a company will give you a payout based on the damages, and in exchange you give them a set amount of money, which they put into a pool, which is where they get the money to pay their clients from,â
âthatâs just a pyramid scheme with extra steps,â
âHow do you know what a pyramid scheme is but not insurance?â
He shrugged. âmonsters have scammers too. ask me about jerry sometime,â
They gave him a dubious look before continuing. âAnyway, insurance isnât quite a pyramid scheme, mostly because itâs pyramid schemey-ness pretty much only exists to combat the healthcare system, which is infinitely, infinitely worse. Also, what do you guys do if you have a disaster you canât pay for if none of you have insurance?â
âwhy would you have to pay for a disaster?â
âThe people doing the repairs have to get money from somewhere, right?â
âthe government???âÂ
âYour government actually cares about you?â
âyours doesnât?â
âItâs the government? Wouldnât that be obvious?â
Sans could clearly see that this line of questioning wasnât going anywhere, so he decided to ask about something else confusing theyâd said.Â
âwhat did you mean when you said your healthcare system was a pyramid scheme? how does that even work?â
The human made a face. âLemme just give you an example. So, some humans have this disability called diabetes, and they need to inject a chemical called insulin semi-frequently so they donât die,â
Getting a sense of where this might be going, Sans prepared his sense of horror.
âInsulin costs about $2.50 per bottle to manufacture. I know you guys probably donât use the same monetary system, but just try and guess how many dollars it costs to buy,â
Sans figured that it must be bad, given the humanâs seeming assurance that this would prove their point handily, so he guessed high.
âfifteen dollars?âÂ
The human chuckled without a trace of humor. âTry 50.â
Sans was physically incapable of paling, but he gave a valiant effort. âbut you said they need it to not die,â
âYep,â
âand 50 is a lot?â
âYep. Especially since they end up needing a lot of it.â
The rictus of a grin on their face raised another question in his mind. How did some probably-eight-year-old have this nihilistic an outlook on life? (Later he would look back on this thought and giggle to himself)
âhow old are you, anyway? you seem to know a lot about this,â
âIâm twelve,â
Sans blinked. âwait, weâre the same age? that feels so weird, iâve been calling you kid this entire conversation,â
âYouâre twelve too? Damn, you act like youâre thirty,â
âi could say the same to you,â
âWhyâd you assume I was younger than you anyway? Iâm way taller than you,â
Sans sniffed. âiâm going to pretend i didnât hear that,â
âWhy? Itâs true,â
âi take everything nice i thought about you back. youâre by far my least favorite human,â
They rolled their eyes. âAnd how long ago did the last one fall?â
âlike forty years, whatâs your point?â
The two snickered.
âyou know, itâs kinda a shame thereâs a war. i think i wouldâve liked to be friends with you,â
They smiled, the motion bittersweet. âYeah. Same to you. I should go,â
The human turned, walking from his life as quickly as theyâd entered it.
âwait!â He said just as they were about to turn out of sight.
They rotated at the waist so that they could see him without turning all the way around. âWhat?â
âyou said your mom is on the surface, right? if you tell me your name, i could make sure news of you gets to her, in case⌠you know.â
They looked slightly touched. âYeah, okay. If Iâm gonna die, let me be remembered as Sienna Auren, instead of just âthe girl with the gunâ,â
Then they paused. âYou should tell me your name too, so I can think of you as something other than âthat weirdo who gave a pickup line to someone he was actively at war withâ,â
He winced slightly at the distinctly unflattering description. âsans.â
âGoodbye, Sans. Iâd say see you, but I probably wonât.â
And then she left for real. The only human heâd likely ever meet, in and out of his life in less than twenty minutes.
--
Sans sat on the bench, his head tilted back to regard the only stars the underground could lay claim to. He pulled a coin out of his pocket and flipped it, but he didnât catch it and it landed in the river.
How long would she live? How many more times would she fire that gun? how many times would she have no choice?
Each second she spent in the underground, each step she took, was a countdown ticking to the demise that awaited her in the castle with the king. Her poncho was stained now with dust, but how long would it take for that to be mixed with blood?Â
How long would it take for the sixth human who fell into the underground, the girl the same age as him who hated those who ruled the world she came from with such ferocity, who searched for the surface so her mother could see her once more, how long would it take for Sienna to be nothing but a body in a coffin and a soul in a canister?
What a world, where children were sacrificed at the idol of freedom.
Sans couldnât cry. He wasnât capable.
He hugged his knees to his chest and wondered why it was him who was left with her memory.
âi guessâŚâ He began, his words directed at nothing more than the knowledge that he now must grieve for someone he didnât even know, because no one else would.
âi guess i justâŚâ He broke down laughing midway through the sentence, and for someone who couldnât cry, his giggles sounded remarkably like sobs.
He pushed himself to his feet, the rough wood of the bench scraping at his fingers. He tore his gaze from the lights above, for he had no wish right now that was in their power to grant. He pulled his hands to his face, covering his bone dry eyesockets from the judging view of the stars above.
âi just wasnât ready for the responsibility.â
i was hit by a headcanon at the speed of a truck and since iâm apparently an undertale fanblog in the year of our lord 20 goddamned 20, Iâm making a post about it. fuck it. I think Sans Undertale used to be able to reset and hereâs why.
That would be super interesting. Like you said, itâs probably not actually canon, but it would definitely be a cool premise for a fic.
It makes me wonder what Flowey is doing in this scenario. Does he know? I could really see that going either way. Another reason Sans in this universe might have stopped trying to go back âa long time agoâ is if he lost the ability to reset when Flowey was created? After all, itâs likely that Flowey has more DT than a monster body could hold without melting, since Alphys apparently doensy have much self restraint and kept injecting until she got results.
That brings me to the question of whether Sans knows what Alphys is up to in this universe, since we know he at least knows her in canon. Having him be somehow involved with the determination experiments could be another way he acquired enough to be able to reset. It could also explain what he was trying to go back to, what past he left behind, since of heâs Alphysâ friend I have little doubt heâd try to fix her mistakes if he could.
You raise some great points! On one hand, Sans would likely be more wary with information towards Flowey, because heâd know that he only has to slip up once and Flowey will Remember Things. if one thing is different in a world that constantly repeats, it sticks out. But on the otherâwould he be used to the idea of coming back and fixing his mistakes later? would he get to being careless with what he says and does because he forgets that his actions stick now? That would explain why he never checks his mail or feeds his pet (besides it being. a rock.)âheâs used to things not having time to build up. Why bother bringing the same mail in every time when nothing changes if he doesnt?
That got away from me but,, yeah it definitely makes sense for him to have some fun and interesting interactions with Flowey, either way. Personally I think Flowey would assume that no one could have possibly had the save/reset ability before him, because heâs otherwise pretty unique and also pretty lonely and self-centered. I just donât think it would occur to him that someone else could possibly have gone through the same things. (though if someone were to have something in common with the reanimated dead sorta-monster, a skeleton is an interesting and ironic option). But also, whoâs to say that Sans wouldnât fess up during a bad run in an attempt to empathize and convince Flowey to stop? That would be fascinating.
As for the DT experimentsâif Sans had DT before those, he might have been pretty closely involved. Itâs implied that he feeds the amalgamates (though presumably not always; Alphys lives with them after all), so he could have been used as a control group, sort of? Obviously he didnât die so it could be assumed that injecting monsters with DT is relatively low-risk. If he didnât want to be a time traveler anymore, he could even donate DT, maybe? It always confused me how they were draining the 6 souls they desperately needed of the trait that allowed them to stick around. And it would offer some neat depth to his and Alphysâs relationship, too: not only did the DT experiments fail horribly, but the lack of DT steadily drained at Sansâs will to live (since itâs. literally the will to live) and Sans and Alphys both have to just kinda live with that. History to the point of awkwardness: both of them know how he âshouldâ be, but heâs mostly sad and tired and they both know why.
Alternately, he could be completely unaware of the experiments until itâs too late, and his reaction is âfuck no thatâs a terrible ideaâ because having high DT drove him a little crazy, and why would you do that to a whole bunch of monsters who were already on the brink of death? how could this possibly end well? which would be an interesting point of narrative.
Ah, the world is brimming with possibilities. Iâd love for someone whoâs not me to write this :D
i was hit by a headcanon at the speed of a truck and since iâm apparently an undertale fanblog in the year of our lord 20 goddamned 20, Iâm making a post about it. fuck it. I think Sans Undertale used to be able to reset and hereâs why.
That would be super interesting. Like you said, itâs probably not actually canon, but it would definitely be a cool premise for a fic.
It makes me wonder what Flowey is doing in this scenario. Does he know? I could really see that going either way. Another reason Sans in this universe might have stopped trying to go back âa long time agoâ is if he lost the ability to reset when Flowey was created? After all, itâs likely that Flowey has more DT than a monster body could hold without melting, since Alphys apparently doensy have much self restraint and kept injecting until she got results.
That brings me to the question of whether Sans knows what Alphys is up to in this universe, since we know he at least knows her in canon. Having him be somehow involved with the determination experiments could be another way he acquired enough to be able to reset. It could also explain what he was trying to go back to, what past he left behind, since of heâs Alphysâ friend I have little doubt heâd try to fix her mistakes if he could.
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Chara sits on a bench and listens to an echo flower endlessly repeating its message. They consider replacing it with something more interesting, swapping the soft self admonishment for screams or laughter or both or maybe just tears.
I just wasnât ready for the responsibility.
Every time the plant repeats itself, their desire to rip it out by the roots and throw it to the rushing water that dominates the biome and watch it wash away, never to be seen again- every time it repeats itself, that desire grows a little more.
They want to rend and tear, to turn the whole world to dust and move on.
Instead, they tilt their head back, staring at the crystals in the ceiling with a calm expression that reflects none of what they feel inside.
They want so badly to kill, to hurt, to maim, but what would be the point?
Theyâve tried that. Theyâve done it dozens or hundreds of times, wandered through the underground with dust on their hands and a knife in their grip.
Theyâve left death in their wake in quantities that would horrify the worst people imaginable.
It horrifies them, after all.
Theyâve killed too many times to count, and it never leads anywhere. No matter how many lives they end, no matter how many families they rend to shreds, they always find themselves back on that damnable patch of golden flowers.
Theyâve destroyed the world, and they didnât even get a cool T-shirt. Just emptiness until the crushing sensory deprivation gets to them and they go back to the start.
Sometimes they spare a thought for the original owner of the body they inhabit. Chara remembers them with a clarity miraculously undulled by uncountable resets.
Frisk had been young. Older than Chara, but young nonetheless. Theyâd held a deep love for flirting at inappropriate moments, even as theyâd wiped any trace of life from the kingdom.
That first run through, Chara had done almost nothing, up until the very end, at least. Theyâd sat and narrated as Frisk went through the underground like a hot knife through- well.
The second run through, Frisk had been gone, and they never came back.
âWeâll be together forever, wonât we?â They utter the words quietly, remembering the desperate hope theyâd felt the first time they said them.
The echo flower picks up their words, and as it repeats them, Chara allows the tears to roll down their cheeks.