Hey, it's me. If you read the summary, which I am absolutely sure you did unless a friend sent this to you and you did not read the summary yet, do it now.

If you read the summary, you will know that dust and death lay ahead, and this is where I let my morbidity run wild as best as it can. You have been warned that I will do my best to make each chapter its own shade of horrible, and you will take note that they are all subject to change and revisions at any given whim of mine.

And you also may be wondering, "what is wrong with you, dear author, if you are writing this?"

I dunno. I know I'm going to hell for this, but since you're reading, you're all coming with me.


Once upon a time, there was a child who hurt a lot of people.

You watch as the battlefield fades to darkness, and under Frisk's expressionless facade, you smile.

Prove to me you are strong enough to survive.

Toriel was weak. Toriel was a weak, pathetic excuse for a boss monster who couldn't even stand up against a child with only 4 tiers' worth of LOVE, armed with a toy knife- a toy knife! It was laughable. Your mother was a piteous old woman who didn't know how to move on. Who wasn't worth talking to. She was weak. She was weak. She was weak and she was in your way.

You can see the flames spark in her hands. A feeble attempt of attack. She isn't even going to kill you, what a jest!

You strike with your weapon and tear her apart.

Now I see who I was protecting by keeping you here.
Not you…
… but them!

Good, you think. They should be scared.

You let her soul shatter. You won't need its power- and besides, Toriel's good nature would just hold you back like Asriel did. She'd be another disappointment. A setback, just like her gullible flowery son.

Kicking around her dust and watching it billow around for amusement got boring pretty quick. Hers in particular was an extremely fine powder that clumped together like flour or confectioner's sugar. Both baking ingredients, you think idly, and with humor- what would it be like if she were baked into a pie? Oh ho ho, wouldn't that be a treat! Maybe finally she'd have some kind of use, even if it was just in taste. Muffet had no qualms baking a human corpse into her pastries. What about monster dust?

Then you go back into the house to sleep in her bed. Always wondered what sleeping in a queen-sized bed was like, and jeez, it was soft. (Briefly wondered about carrying an entire bed in their inventory.)

When you wake up, dust- real dust- was already beginning to descend on the house. A spider was weaving in the corner. Without anyone to take care of it, the house would become cold, crumble apart, and fall to the Ruins. An empty house part of an empty city.

An empty house that was completely quiet.

The empty house of a murdered mother.

As if you hadn't leveled the entirety of the Ruins, you kick off the covers and stretch leisurely, yawning a great, big yawn. Like a child waking up to a familiar home, instead of to the corpse of a city you had laid to waste. Any other kid would have left immediately instead of being so… "twisted," is the word those kinds of people would use, as to sleep in the bed of the mother you killed.

Ha ha.

You left.