What's this? A fic that isn't Hetalia? How scandalous! Look, I'm having trouble getting my Hetalia muse on so all my fics are on ice until I get motivation back. Until then, I'm going to try a fic for the trash that's lead to my lack of fic writing: Undertale. This is my first time writing for a new fandom since… 2012? 2011? Meaning a lot of people probably haven't read my stuff before and this is not making any sense. Anyway, anyone who's read my stuff before, I'm out of my comfort zone, which is good but that coupled with a lack of writing these past months means I'm rather rusty. Bear with me on this. It might take a while to get good.
Now, this is a human au, and with nearly all the characters, I'm using my personal humantale [eartale] designs, with the exception of Mettaton and Napstablook, whose designs were created by peteradnan on tumblr. It's also because of them that this story's set in Australia.
Okay, so this fic is supposed to be a generally fun adventure story with some domestic fluff thrown in. However, it also gets pretty dark at times, so be warned. I'll be putting up specific warnings when need be. I don't want the general atmosphere to be too miserable and pessimistic though, because it wouldn't feel like Undertale then. The true ending, at least.
Anyway, enjoy this! The plot is still a work in progress- when is it ever not with me?- but I'll try my best!
...
Toriel had to count herself lucky that she was being allowed to adopt again. After what happened last time, she wouldn't have been surprised at a lifelong ban.
Not that she was to blame for-
The care home still seemed the same, from what she could remember. The same faded, blue carpet and, wait, were the walls always cream? They had been paler last time, she could've sworn. Maybe she was turning into a doddery, forgetful old lady already, Toriel mused before stifling a giggle. Oh, she was already an old lady in a young lady's body! Though, not as young as she'd like anymore, she noted with a grimace, playing with a strand of greying white hair, forced into two crude, messy plaits barely brushing against her shoulders. She would normally blame it on the events of the past decade, and how she'd not bothered with her appearance in a long time, but, well, she would be 35 this year, and that was pretty old, according to some of her students.
After… well it was still painful to think about, so she tried to cover the past with what appeared to be a tentative, hopeful future. She was to become a mother again; if all went to plan, a few months from now the pitter patter of tiny feet would soon be filling her chilly, desolate home again.
Toriel had already seen a photo of this child, Frisk Guerrero Durante, in their file, along with whatever basic information the staff and counsellors could find, and a disturbing list of possible reasons as to why they couldn't talk. When she'd first read through the file, she assumed Mr Gerson, the child's social worker and an old acquaintance, had been playing a cruel joke on her, matching her with a child so similar to…
But Gerson wasn't the type to pull a stunt like that, so she'd simply asked if the decision was wise. He'd laughed and scratched his scraggly beard, explaining that, due to her past experience caring for traumatised children, mild temperament, and knowledge of Auslan, had made her a good candidate to look after this particular child.
Traumatised? Just what had she gotten herself into? Again.
The paintings on the wall had changed, too, naturally. A whole decade of children coming and going, pinning their watercolours and scribbly drawings on the notice boards provided, along with certificates and schedules. A stand heaving with brightly-coloured children's coats and a shelf of little shoes were her only company in the bright hall, sunlight warming her face as she wondered just what to say to Frisk. Oh it had been so long since she'd spoken to a child so young, what could one even say to a four year old? She had to look warm, friendly, like someone this little one would want as a mother. What if they were scared of her though? What if they didn't like her? What if they ran away after one tiny glance?
Oh God Toriel hoped this would work out. Watching a child grow up, becoming someone good! Who knew what she would get to see them do with their life? She had a lot of love to give, and adoption had always stood out as a way to give it, even when she herself was a kid. If she had her way, and more money and a bigger house, she'd adopt the entire care home! Yes, a tiny army of adorable children to care for and love; what could be better? Nothing, as far as Toriel was concerned.
Then again, maybe that would be a little stressful, especially considering she was a teacher and vice-chancellor on top of being a hopeful parent. One child would have to do for now or she might just go mad.
"Excuse me, madam?" a tiny voice carried her from her thoughts, and Toriel looked down to find a young boy, smiling politely, optimistically. He wasn't Frisk, she could tell that easily- too old, too blond.
"Oh, hello little one," she told him, keeping her voice as soft as possible.
"Are you choosing a kid today?" he asked. He tried to discretely fix his hair as he beamed up at her, and Toriel couldn't help chuckling. Utterly adorable! Utterly heartbreaking too, she realised as she opened her mouth to reply.
"I am afraid not dear." The boy's face fell. "I was invited to visit little Frisk. I plan to take care of them eventually, if they are willing."
"Oh? Frisk," the child tapped his chin, "I know them! They're really nice, and share their crayons! Bit weird though."
Well wasn't that just a strange coincidence. Someone else she knew once had been described as a bit weird before she'd met them. 'Really nice' was a new one though, certainly one-up from aggressive, anti-social, rude.
"I see," she murmured, "well, thank you for telling me, young one. I hope… I hope one day you find the parents you deserve. And hopefully they will know how to make pie."
"Well that's kind of you, lady! I prefer cake though."
Toriel laughed.
"Of course, cake then!"
Playful shrieks sounded in the distance, and the kid turned his head with a grin. "Oh, that's my mates; we're playing rugby! See ya lady!" And with that, he dashed off, leaving a still-giggling Toriel.
"Ahem, Ms Dreemurr?"
Toriel turned her head, face dusted with a blush at being caught, coming face to face with Mr Gerson, in his familiar tweed suit and bright, crooked smile.
"Oh, good morning," she began. She really should get round to changing her surname sometime, but as much as she hated that man and everything to do with him, the name, it had a beautiful ring to it. More so than her maiden one, at least. She used to revel in muttering that man's delightful name, long and slow in a way she knew would make him blush and babble. Not any more though. She didn't want anything to do with him now.
"We can begin now," Gerson continued, and she shook herself as she crashed back into, a thankfully more pleasant, reality. Really now. Why think of the past at a time like this? "Frisk will be along in a minute; I have to admit, it took some convincing to get them to even give meeting you a shot. Don't be too upset if they, well, run away or aren't very responsive. I had to really ham you up as this incredible, perfect motherly candidate, from last week even."
"Oh," one of Toriel's paw-like hands made its way to her pearls, just over her heart. Maybe this wasn't the best idea then. "Would it be possible to reconsider my suitability then? I do not want to cause this child any distress."
"Oh come on, I almost had them excited to meet you! And you really are the best potential match, really something this kid needs. I think you can help them."
"I fear you are putting too much faith in me," Toriel commented as she stood up, "but I will go along with this. I trust you, Gerson. If you say this is a good idea, then who am I to doubt you?"
Well, she did doubt him, very much so. But he thought this was for the best, and the man was smart, smarter than herself and most people she knew. At his age, that should be expected to some degree. And she really wanted a child…
"Well then," Gerson clapped his hands together, "shall we begin?" He opened a bright blue door opposite the row of chairs Toriel had risen from.
"Indeed."
"Well, you go on inside and get settled. I'll fetch the kid."
And so Toriel found herself looking around an equally bright and friendly office from a considerably more comfy padded chair, the room covered in shelves of files and books on psychology and child development. On the huge wooden desk were more papers that she wasn't nosey enough to read, and a plate containing a single apple carved into the shape of a crab; funnily enough a similar piece of culinary artwork had been present every other time she'd sat in this office.
"Ah, here we are." Toriel turned around to find Gerson pushing open the door gently, almost as gentle as his grip on the tiny hand of the toddler following behind him, clinging to his leg with their other arm and staring up at Toriel with great unease.
In person, they were even more like someone else Toriel loved, when she'd first met them. That person had glared though, equally fearful of this tall, dumpy woman before them. In fact, although their jumpers and hair were similar, there was nothing in their faces that shared any resemblance. This child certainly seemed warmer, if more withdrawn, quaking in their wee dungarees and boots.
"Hello, little one," she tried.
Frisk's eyes widened and they buried their face in Gerson's leg.
"You know," he commented, "it took a while for them to warm up even to me. But now I'm the only person they feel safe around." He knelt down and ruffled Frisk's hair gently, "hey, come on; what did we discuss just now? There's no need to be scared. Ms Dreemurr is nice! She's gonna help you."
"Oh please," Toriel piped up, "no need to be so formal. Toriel is fine, little one." Well, there was one thing she would prefer to be referred to as, but it was far too soon for that.
After a few moments apparent deliberation, Frisk peeked their head out from behind their social worker's leg, expression blank. But, despite that, they gave the tiniest of waves.
"Hello to you too," Toriel got up as slowly as possible and moved to sit in front of them. The three of them were now close to the ground, and in the doorway, but things were going better than Toriel could've hoped, so she for one wasn't going to complain.
"So, you are Frisk then?" she tried, "how lovely to meet you. You must tell me all about yourself."
Frisk finally pulled themselves away from Gerson, but were too nervous to move their hands.
"Hmm," Toriel scratched her chin. "Do you like to play?"
Frisk stuck their thumb in their mouth, losing their balance and falling into a sitting position. They shook their head.
"Oh what about puzzles?" Gerson suggested, "you like those."
Frisk shifted their glance from Toriel to him and back again, bringing their free hand to the side of their head, forming a claw and wiggling their fingers.
When Toriel had mentioned her knowledge of Auslan to Gerson, what she'd failed to admit was that her 'knowledge' consisted of an evening course she'd taken as a teenager, oh so long ago and mostly forgotten. What? People lied and exaggerated on their CVs, how was this any different?
She glanced at Gerson, who gave a knowing sigh. "They like puzzles, or they're confused."
"Oh, any particular kind of puzzle?"
More gesturing she couldn't understand.
"Jigsaw puzzles," Gerson elaborated, and Toriel made a mental note to keep some stocked, in case this did progress to home visits, and maybe even the child moving in eventually…
Oh, she was getting ahead of herself again. Silly silly...
"How lovely," she cooed, "how smart you are!"
Frisk's lips twitched upwards at that; a good sign!
"Erm, what foods do you like?" she tried. The child didn't give a response, besides continuing to suck their thumb. Well, it seemed she was all out of conversation topics. What else was there to a tiny child's life? She had to say something though, anything really, to keep conversation flowing.
"Look, little one, I don't know how much of this you will understand, but if you let me take you in, I will provide you with so much love and care. I mean it. I have no one, and I suspect you did not either. I will read you stories, I will bake birthday cakes from scratch for you, I will support you in all your dreams and ambitions, because that is what you deserve. We can have a future together, leave the past where it belongs and stand tall as mother and child." She blinked back the ghostly beginnings of tears. "I mean it. I will not let anything bad happen to you again."
Toriel truly didn't know where that outburst had come from, or if Frisk understood any of her, quite frankly, embarrassing ramble, but she had meant it.
"Nicely said," Gerson commented.
The only acknowledgement Frisk could give was another petite smile.
...
I will admit it took me a while to warm up to the concept of human aus, mostly because these characters' names… they're rather absurd for regular people names huh? Yet here I am using them, because 'human names' on top of changed appearances, I felt was taking too much away from the original characters, personally, and I want this story to have a similar atmosphere to the game. The thought did lead to one idea I had to amuse myself: of the human au characters being the children of really pretentious celebrities who liked to give their kids daft names. Or spies with codenames. That's interesting too. None of these theories made it into this story, I must stress.
On the plus, it means I don't have to type some longage human names to nation names list at the start of every Goddamn chapter, or spend ages finding good ones. Admittedly, I took an embarrassingly long time to come up with a surname for Frisk that would only be mentioned once, but I like being annoyingly deep and meaningful about names. McFrisky will always be my canon surname for them though, I just needed something more serious for this.
Still, if you want to see mine or peteradnan's designs, my tumblr is kuzeykirkland just message me or check out their elbowtale tag [seriously their art is hella]. One of my New Year's resolutions is to be more friendly and hospitable, so catch me while you can!
Also, yes there is past-Asgoriel, of course there is or Asriel wouldn't exist! And he plays an important part in the fic. I feel like I should just reassure everyone there will be no Asgore-bashing [besides some negative thoughts from Toriel] and the guy will be portrayed fairly and to the best of my abilities. I want to try and give him a happy ending too, or my big burly heart's gonna break.