But No One Came.
But No One Came.
A/N: Guess who got into Undertale? And of course the first thing I write about it is an angsty Sans piece. So! This takes place in the early part of a genocide run. Enjoy!
"undyne...we've got a problem." Sans frowned a bit as he spoke into the phone. He stared up into the trees as he told her about the human...or what looked like one. Because, clearly that thing wasn't human. It wasn't a monster, either, though, which was the unsettling part. It was...nothing. Empty. It sent a shiver down his spine when he'd first seen it. But the woman behind the door had called it human, so he'd supposed... But then they were so cold, and silent. The look in their eyes... "yeah...yeah, we'll try. don't worry about paps," he half smiled, the looming purple door appearing at the end of the path, "I'll make sure he's not in the way of the fight. he's busy setting up a puzzle before waterfall, and they'll never get that far." He nodded. "yeah, you watch yourself too, 'dyne. i'll see ya when i see ya." He hung up and glanced up at the door. He could really use some cheering up...a joke or two never hurt anyone, and he could warn the old girl to take care of herself. He knocked a couple of times on the door. Nothing. Sans frowned again. That...never happened. She was always here. Maybe she'd gone to do something? He knocked again, harder this time. Again, there was no response. "lady? you there?" Nothing. Something felt heavy behind his ribs. Something was wrong. It was then that he spotted a track in the snow. It looked as if the snow had been pushed aside by the door opening...but...it was always locked. He'd tried again and again, but... He tried it now...the handle turned. The door was heavy, but he could move it. This didn't feel right.
"hello?" It was dark in here...silent. He walked for a long time, down a hall that looked darker and darker with every step, until he came to a doorway to a small room, with nothing in it but a patch of dying grass. The door on the other side was still open. He took a few cautious steps closer. It smelled a bit like...butterscotch? Or maybe cinnamon. The feeling he’d had when the door opened was getting worse with every step he took. "lady?" But then he saw something that made his bones go cold. A pile of dust lay in the middle of the room, with a footprint in the center of it. That thing... Was in Snowdin. Was heading for his brother.
He was running before he knew what he was doing. He passed through a doorway and suddenly he wasn't in the dark place anymore, but in Snowdin. "PAPYRUS!" There was no one around. No one, not a single monster. Even Monster Kid, the stupid child that he was, had finally wandered away. It was too quiet in his town, except for the unusually loud and frantic echo of his own voice. He didn’t know if he’d ever yelled like this, ever had every fiber of his being on as high alert as it was now. "DAMMIT, PAPS, WHERE ARE YOU?! ANSWER ME! PAPYRUS!" He wrenched open their front door and raced up the stairs, shoving Papyrus' door aside with a BANG. But he wasn't there. No, no, no, no, no... He turned and ran out the door, but instead of appearing on the landing, he was running down the path out of town. Papyrus had been working on something near Waterfall. Maybe he'd taken refuge. Maybe he'd found Undyne. Maybe...maybe... He skidded to a stop.
A red scarf had been kicked to the side of the road. There was scattered piles and smears of dust, not even enough for a proper burial. For a long moment he couldn't move. He couldn't make a sound. It couldn't be real, there was no way, he couldn't be...he wasn't...he wasn't... He was screaming, and there was beam after beam of power and light bombarding the ground, the trees, the sky, the rocky walls of the Waterfall entrance. The ground was shaking and he was screaming and everything was on fire. He came to his sense after a while, and the screaming cut out suddenly, turning into heavy breathing. And the heavy breathing became sobbing as he crumpled to the ground, clutching the scarf. He stopped himself eventually. Stood slowly. Shakily stuffed the scarf into one of his pockets, resting his hand on top of it. He stared around him at the carnage he'd wrought. Stupid, goody-two-shoes, stickler-for-the-rules, spaghetti-loving, pun-hating...wonderful Papyrus. The poor guy had tried to make friends with even this thing. He probably hadn’t even put up a fight at all. He’d probably spent his last breath believing that he could change them, make them good again... No. No more of that. There was only one thing in the world that was worth his energy now. No more breaks. It was time to end this.
More Posts from Likepuppetsonastring and Others
I actually wrote a story about Tentoo getting older.
Bonus:
It’s not that he hadn’t expected the signs of aging - he just hadn’t expected them to happen so soon…
[Part of the TenToo Adventures series] —
(Random fact: I had actually planned to add a third scene where TenToo notices that he’s getting more wrinkles and pulls his face into grimaces at the mirror, but this request has already been taking me quite long and was starting to get a little frustrating when things went wrong, so I decided to cut it out.)
....Oh.
Oh no.
Mark why are you like this.
Your attention please! I am Harold B. Darrensworth head of the Organization Watching Over Suspicious Entertainers Notoriously Pushing Alternative Ideals and I have SHUT DOWN THE CRIMINAL RING KNOWN AS #KICKCULT!
The “Discord” is NO MORE
The “Hashtag” is NO MORE
The “Kicking” is FINITO
I am very well known to have “fun” but unless said “fun” is in accordance with standard rules and regulations then HOW MUCH “FUN” COULD IT REALLY BE?
You are now free to feel safe and send your gracious thank yous to my department supervisor. You’re welcome.
Aha. So I’ve been spelling Celine correctly.
Also William. Ouch, my heart.
Also I love that the Chef doesn’t have a name. XD
Announcement!
So I originally set up this account to be my Doctor Who Fic blog, but I thought why not make it a general fic blog, as I’m writing a lot more Supernatural at the moment? So I’m going to be posting a couple of my SPN fics here. Lemme know what you think of them!
Whether or not JJ is involved in this, I’m super excited to see what Wil and the Detective have been up to. This is gonna be a fun ride. Probably full of feels.
Literally just hit my first ending for ISWM and I straight up cried.
A Mask, My First (Phantom Oneshot)
A/N: Unusual, I know, but I felt inspired by my favorite Opera Ghost.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Phantom/Reader
"Is this what you wanted to see?!" the Phantom growled angrily at the girl sprawled on the floor, watching him. He barely glanced at her face as he tried to cover his own, the mask he'd been wearing having fallen to the floor when she'd pulled it from him. He turned away from her, falling to his knees. All of the fury went out of him at once, and was replaced by defeat. He was tired of this, this face he was trapped behind, this monster.
"What's your name?"
He turned slightly, confused. "What?"
"You must have one. A name, I mean," she said softly, standing and taking a few steps toward him. "And I can't just continue to call you Angel, knowing that you're a man."
He was silent for a moment, studying her through his fingers. She was watching him, not as you would watch a wounded animal, as he was expecting, but as if she really was going to come closer, and comfort him. But she never would...would she? She couldn't...could she?
He answered slowly. "Erik. My name is Erik."
It had been so long since he'd said it aloud.
"Erik." The name sounded nice on her tongue. She smiled a little, then bent and picked up the mask. He flinched, as if to take it from her, but she held up her hand and he stopped, watching, curious and...well, if he was honest, nervous.
She knelt beside him, and offered him the mask. He stared at it.
"If this will make you feel better," she said quietly, "then have it back, and wear it. But just so you know..." She touched his hand, and pulled it gently from his face.
He was too shocked to react other than to stare at her. She smiled again, fully this time.
"Erik, your face, your scars..." Her hand reached toward him, toward his face, and he pulled away harshly. She sighed and dropped it. "They don't scare me. Not at all."
He managed to take the mask shakily then, but instead of putting it back on, he simply studied it. The candlelight played against its contours in a way that made it seem more sinister than a simple white mask should be.
"I've worn this for so long," he muttered, "hidden, in shadows, for all of my life, because of this...thing, this face. I've spent so long in the dark."
Taking his hand she began to sing softly.
"No more talk of darkness
Forget these wide eyed fears
I'm here, nothing can harm you.
My words will warm and calm you."
Taking his hand, she stood, still singing.
"Let me be your freedom.
Let daylight dry your tears.
I'm here, with you, beside you
To guard you and to guide you."
He stood, meeting her, and started to sing as well.
"Say you'll love me every waking moment.
Turn my head with talk of summertime.
Say you need me with you now and always,
Promise me that all you say is true.
That's all I ask of you."
She smiled, and it was like sunshine, pulling him closer to her. Her hand came up again, and this time he managed to stay still, and not to flinch, though his eyes closed. He shuddered as she touched the scarred skin of his face, the broken places and misshapen bones. But she never flinched.
For the first time, in a very long time, he half smiled through the tear tracks on his cheeks.
Ohhhh FUCK I was NOT ready for that “01″ at the start of the timer today.
hello @space-pot8o! amateur fan historian here, and i just wanted to say that while authors of the original work aren’t necessarily keen to read fanfiction for legal reasons, there’s a big community of us writers who are more than happy to read your work!
that includes me, i love Crowley/Aziraphale!
Hi Mr. Gaiman,
Recently I’ve been trying to change how I interact with the world and take a more active role instead of just watching and waiting for things happen. I’ve realized that if I never ask the answer will always be no, and I feel like knowing that I tried is better than wondering “what if” for the rest of my life. So here goes: Not long ago I wrote my first ever piece of fan-fiction. It’s short, only around 3k words, and it’s about Crowley and Aziraphale feeding the ducks. Would you be willing to read it and give me your opinion? I understand that you probably get requests like this all the time, but like I said, at least I know I tried. I hope you are doing well.
Well done! I'm the wrong audience for your fan fiction, though. You should put it in front of people who read fan fiction and enjoy hearing what they say about it.
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Just a writer obsessed with her characters, from Supernatural and Sherlock to the Dark Side of Youtube. Your source for the Egos of Jacksepticeye and Markiplier, theories thereon, and random oneshots and short series. I take requests!
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