So. Um. Someone clearly needs to take the Internet away from me, because I spent a lot of time I should have been using to write watching Minecraft vids on YouTube instead. And then my muse got stolen by Minecraft, so I spent ages building shit in creative mode (I built an entire fucking mountain using WorldEdit, can I just say I love WorldEdit?) and playing on minigame servers.
And now I also have like, at least 3 ideas for Minecraft "fanfics" that are more like original stories set in the world of Minecraft, so that's something I gotta deal with. Whoops.
Roots freshly planted in garden soil, Flowey scowled up at a window on the manor's second story. "That your bedroom, smarty-pants?"
Myles nodded. "Yes – the candy should be in the drawers near the window."
Grumbling a little under his breath, the flower monster sprouted red-thorned vines and reached up, pushing open the ajar windowpane and rummaging around inside the room behind it. Then with an "a-ha!" the monster's vines emerged with several plastic-wrapped candies, and dropped them unceremoniously from the second story and onto Frisk's head. "There! Hurry up and eat the candy already!"
Numbly, Frisk, who had been sitting in the grass watching the monster do his thing, unwrapped one of the little morsels and popped it into their mouth. The food melted instantly on their tongue, and a soothing rush of healing magic swept through their skin. Some of the stinging on their cheeks stopped.
*Phew. That's one less problem to deal with.
Frisk… just stared at the candy wrapper in their hands for a few moments. Not quite seeing it. They were still having trouble focusing, even after several minutes between now and their breakdown. Everything just seemed… washed out. They felt washed out, and faded, like their emotions had been wrung out of them to leave behind weak grey imprints of themselves behind.
"You've still got some scratches, Frisk," Beckett reminded them, tentatively, putting a hand on their shoulder. Myles was a strangely reassuring presence behind their other shoulder, keeping watch. "Just little ones now, though. At least eat one more?"
They twitched, kept their eyes fixed firmly on their hands, but did what they were told, unwrapping another sweet and eating it. They didn't even notice the rest of their cuts disappear this time, though they knew it was happening, could feel the magic working its, well, magic. Everything still felt distant.
Why are they… being so helpful?
They still couldn't get over it. They'd practically bared a piece of their soul, their awful, EXP-infested soul to the twins, and the boys… didn't hate them for it. They should have. They should have hated them. They'd admitted they were a murderer to the youngest Fowls, and yet…
"We both know you're a better person than that, Frisk. If you really were the killer you see yourself as, then would you be feeling so guilty right now?"
Why would Myles say something like that? They didn't know the twins very well, at least not compared to the monsters – they'd had nearly fifteen years, chronologically speaking, to get used to the people they now called family, and had known the twins for barely a few months at most. But they knew the other two humans well enough by now to know that Myles, even if he tried to be nice, was very blunt whenever he had something important to say. He didn't seem to believe in… niceties, when an honest, or semi-honest, truth could get the job done. If he'd said something like that… then he meant it. Why?
He doesn't understand. That has to be it – he doesn't understand, neither of them do.
They didn't understand just how horrible Frisk had been during those awful, awful timelines. They didn't understand that their empathy had just vanished like morning dew along with so many memories – memories of the monsters, memories of people that had treated them with kindness on the surface, all gone, leaving nothing behind but the memories of abuse and neglect, and the knowledge that they had died, over and over again, in the Underground. They didn't understand the desperation, the terrible knowledge that nothing they had done had worked, and they were still trapped in a never-ending loop, and the lengths it had driven them to, to stain their hands with the dust of their monster friends and family.
They wouldn't be nearly so nice if they knew. I shouldn't – I shouldn't keep them in the dark. I shouldn't. They deserve to know what kind of – of monster they have living under their roof with them –
But Frisk couldn't bring themselves to say anything. It was cowardly, greedy, selfish, but – the world still seemed so grey to them, and the twins were two bright spots of color in an otherwise monochrome landscape. They didn't want that feeling to go just yet. Even if the twins hated them later, here and now they just didn't .
I can. Tell them later. I can tell them later, right? Just… not now. I can't. I can't handle it now.
"You doing better?" Beckett asked, awkwardly. Frisk blinked, finally surfacing from the mire their thoughts had been trapped in, and focused on the two Fowl boys again.
"Y-yeah," they managed. Not that I deserve it.
"Physically, at least," Myles pointed out, blunt as ever. He sighed, and finally turned his attention away from the gardens, making eye contact with them. "You don't need to hide that your are unwell emotionally, Frisk. I don't think you could at this point, anyway, for all you've done exactly that, and done so quite well, in the past."
The young Ambassador flinched, and looked away. Another reason the twins should have hated them after finding out the truth. Keeping so many secrets… wasn't good for friendships with other humans. Monsters didn't care if you kept a lot of things secret, or if you'd done some bad things in the past – all they usually cared about was the present. But humans? They required trust.
Haven't I broken that trust by now?
*Haven't they broken yours, partner?
Beckett elbowed his twin harshly, making Myles pause, then sigh and reach up to rub the side of his neck awkwardly.
"Frisk," he began, the words just as awkward as the neck-rub had been, "I… I must apologize. For my part in your current distress."
*I'm sorry say what.
Just as startled as their ghostly friend, and several times more confused, Frisk blinked. "What… what do you mean?"
Beckett groaned, and muttered something that sounded like an exasperated come on, Myles before raising his voice and speaking clearly. "Myles means that he's sorry for eavesdropping on you and Arty in the office. I'm sorry, too." His blue eyes met their reddish-brown ones. "We shouldn't have listened in. It wasn't something you wanted us to hear, so we should have kept our noses out of it."
They were… they were apologizing? For eavesdropping on them? Considering the twins had shamelessly snooped around in their own older brother's business before, they hadn't been expecting this at all. The shock and disbelief – what made them so different from Artemis Fowl that they got an apology? – in their expression must have shown, because Myles sighed and, clearly still uncomfortable, made eye contact with them, crossing his arms.
"Yes, I am well aware that we are usually shameless in such things," he said. "But we know that sometimes, there are things we are truly not meant to hear. We knew that you wanted the information kept to yourself and our brother and his friends when we stationed ourselves outside the office, but we listened in regardless." He grimaced. "We may have been worried for you, but that did not excuse our actions."
"Worried?" Frisk managed to rasp, still half-gawping.
The twins shifted, and Beckett grinned sheepishly. "Artemis… isn't very good at being nice, sometimes? Especially when he's looking for information?"
*… bit late for that warning.
Frisk blinked, their eyes feeling strangely watery. "You… were worried about me? Over your own brother?"
"Artemis has no need for such worries," Myles pointed out. "He is a fully grown adult, confident in himself and what he does, and is much, much smarter than all of us. You, on the other hand, were clearly nervous, and were going into a situation you did not trust to be able to handle on your own." He gave Flowey, who was taking advantage of his temporary freedom from his pot to explore the garden, and was currently trying to glare down a peacock, a sideways glance. "And your… friend… is hardly trustworthy when it comes to emotional support, considering his abrasiveness and borderline psychopathy."
*Thanks, Captain Obvious. No, wait, that's not good enough – Admiral Obvious.
Frisk couldn't help a quiet hiccup of a laugh – there was barely any real humor to it, but – god, that really was taking it beyond stating the obvious. "I – I guess that makes sense, from an outside perspective. But – he knows more about… about the Resets, than anybody but me at this point. And Sans… has nightmares, sometimes. I didn't want –"
"You didn't want to cause him undue distress, when Flowey was more capable of handling the emotional burden of the conversation," Myles completed for them. When they nodded, he sighed. "Perhaps you should have brought him along in any case. Beckett and I ran past him in the hallway, and he seemed as if he'd been listening in."
"Looked pretty upset, too," Beckett agreed. "I think he could have handled it, for you if nothing else."
"Doesn't mean he should have had to," Frisk whispered.
"You shouldn't have had to handle it, either," Myles pointed out bluntly. "Unfortunately, it seems our brother had other ideas." He sighed. "Considering that Sans was there, however… I'm assuming he's aware of your time loop troubles?"
They nodded slowly. "He… doesn't remember them the same way me and Flowey do, but yeah. He knows about them. I… always tell him about them. Every time we leave the Underground. It's the least he deserves, after everything I've…" Their voice tailed off uncomfortably. Mercifully, Myles did not ask for them to continue, instead looking thoughtful.
"Well, since he is at least somewhat aware, I'm assuming he'd be able to fill our brother and the fairies in about these… violent timelines they're worried about. He may have even been planning to do that, if things went south for you – and they certainly have. He was waiting outside the office when we left, so he may be doing so right now, as a matter of fact."
Oh, that was a relief to think about. It shouldn't be, Frisk shouldn't have to burden their friend with their problems, any of them, regardless of how much they'd shared about the past that Sans couldn't remember, but – the less they had to talk about the Genocide Runs, the better. They didn't think they could handle another breakdown like that, ever.
Though… they might have to. The twins deserved to know. And Sans didn't know everything. They felt the nervousness rising like a tide of nausea, and opened their mouth –
Myles put up a hand before they could say a single word. "Frisk. You should not force yourself to talk about them if you're not ready." His eyes narrowed. "I won't deny that I am curious about these other timelines you've lived through, and I know Beckett is much the same. But if you are not ready to speak to your family about them, then you are certainly not ready to speak to your friends about them."
Frisk closed their mouth again, and tried not to feel too guilty about feeling relieved.
"I… not yet," they whispered, wringing their hands. "You deserve to know eventually, but… I don't think I can..."
"Then don't tell us," Beckett chided gently. "We can wait until you're ready." He suddenly flashed a cheeky grin. "Though I do have some questions about Chara. And I want to meet them at some point!"
*Fat chance.
They had the mental image of the ghost tossing their hair over their shoulder like some sort of sassy teenage girl, and had to stifle a snicker.
"Chara doesn't like meeting new people all that much," they admitted quietly. When the blonde Fowl's face fell, and Chara snorted in agreement, Frisk hesitated. Then, slowly, they smiled.
"But," they said, slowly, cautiously, testing the words out. "I could, um. Tell you about them?"
*Frisk, don't you dare . I know what you're up to.
The ghost's irate words (and the headache that came with them) were totally worth seeing Beckett's face light up, and Myles' face take on an interested expression. And… well. It did kind of distract them from that pit of numbness in their chest... and the ghost really DID need more friends, in Frisk's very personal opinion. Being able to talk with only one person had not done their social life (social unlife?) any favors.
"The first thing you need to know about Chara," Frisk began, lifting a slightly shaking finger and smiling uncertainly as the ghost groaned loudly in protest. "Is that no matter how much they deny it, they are completely and utterly addicted to chocolate –"
The ticking clock seemed incredibly, impossibly loud in the quiet of Artemis's office.
Eyes still on the door, where a hoodie-wearing skeleton buzzing with dangerous magic had excused himself barely a few minutes ago, Holly sucked in a trembling breath, and wished, just for a moment, that fairy time travel didn't have so many limitations. She needed to go back in time, to before the meeting with Frisk, and smack herself. And possibly everyone else in the room. And below ground.
I don't think we've messed up this badly since Artemis sent Butler away in a fit of paranoia.*
Sans hadn't pulled a single punch once he'd gotten started. For a skeleton known for being lazy and unmotivated, he sure got animated when he was roasting someone for their poor decisions – or, rather, helping them roast themselves, since they had been the ones asking all the questions. And frankly, Holly was sure that they deserved it at this point.
Frisk's Genocide runs are caused not only by a loss of memory, but by a loss of empathy, and their sheer desperation to break free of the time loops. Sans hadn't gone into too much detail – he was still respecting Frisk's privacy, or maybe he didn't know exactly what had gone on in the kid's head – but he'd given them enough to figure that much out. The Resets had just as much of a chance of messing up a human brain as regular time travel did, apparently – if anything, it was an even greater risk for Frisk than it had been for her or Artemis when they'd gone to the past, because there was no powerful, experienced warlock sending them on their way. They'd already known about the memory loss, thanks to the recordings, and suspected the desperation, but -
They lost their empathy. They lost their empathy during those runs. That's the puzzle piece we were missing back then, before we knew everything we knew now.
No sympathy for others. No memories of kindness from the monsters. Hell, Frisk might not have had any memories of kindness from before they'd fallen, depending on how deep the memory loss went. Holly could easily see how that could cause a borderline saint to become a serial killer.
Every time Frisk experiences a Reset, there's a chance that the same damage will occur. Holly couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of stress that would put someone, much less a kid . No wonder they'd panicked when Artemis had pushed too hard.
But, most damning at all, had been one of the last things Sans had tossed over his shoulder at them as he was leaving the room.
You know, it's ONLY the Resets that cause this sort of thing. Not Saving and Loading.. I hope you're happy with yourselves.
Holly was exactly the opposite of happy. In fact, she felt downright wretched, and the desire to go back in time and punch herself was only growing stronger the more she turned over the new information in her head.
We went to all that trouble, brought up all those bad memories, drove Frisk into a panic attack – all for no Frond-damned reason.
We messed up. We messed up so badly. What do we do now?
"Well," Foaly muttered. "I don't think I'll be able to look the kid in the eye after this." In the other chat window, No. 1 nodded numbly, eyes distant and guilty.
"I don't think I would be able to either, were it not necessary," Artemis murmured, and Holly could see her own guilt mirrored in his face, stark and obvious. Which wasn't like her friend at all – even after years of a slow transition to the almost-straight-and-narrow, Artemis Fowl the Second wasn't one to show such strong emotion.
Some of that was probably the situation with Frisk. But the rest of it… well.
"Do you even give a damn about anyone besides the fairies or your family? Because from where I'm standing it sure as hell doesn't look that way."
If Holly hadn't been so shell-shocked, and feeling so guilty herself, she was pretty sure she would have wanted to strangle Sans for that comment. He didn't know Artemis. He didn't know the boy he'd been, the child genius who had fought tooth and nail to have his father returned to him at the expense of others. He didn't know how Artemis had changed, learning empathy and some level of compassion, over years of hardship. He had no right to say that about her friend.
Even worse – she'd been able to see a kind of satisfaction on the skeleton's face when the barb had hit home. Sans had known exactly what he was doing, accusing Artemis of such things. He'd known, somehow, that it would hurt him.
I don't care if he's got a super-powered skull weapon – if he ever tries anything like that again, I will flatten him.
"Well," No. 1 managed, after some moments of silence. "At least we won't have to pester Frisk about this information? I know we probably don't know everything , but… surely we know enough?"
"Oh yeah, more than enough," Foaly snorted.
Artemis opened his mouth, then closed it again and nodded, eyes remaining fixed firmly on the surface of his desk.
Okay, that does it. I'm not staying quiet. Artemis Fowl should not look so ashamed of himself.
"Artemis," she said, almost gently. "Are you still thinking about what Sans said? About… you not caring?"
The other fairies' heads jerked up to look wide-eyed at Artemis, as if the thought had slipped their minds. To be fair, it probably had. Unlike Holly, they hadn't been in a good position to see every little nuance of the genius's face, and figure out the emotions behind them.
"Oh dear," No. 1 said. "Artemis, surely you don't believe Sans's words? You're far from heartless, you know – always have been, so far as I can tell. And it's hardly your fault that Frisk panicked – none of us knew any better than to poke."
"Is it not?" Artemis murmured, finally speaking after too many moments of silence. "I should have seen their breakdown approaching. I was blinded by my own caution, and my own desire to see the fairy people and my family safe. All at the expense of another."
"Don't take all the blame, Mud Boy," Foaly snorted.
"None of us saw that coming, Artemis," Butler rumbled, putting one enormous hand on Artemis's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "And even someone like you is bound to miss a few things in your life. There's no such thing as all-knowing, no matter what you might deceive people into thinking."
"But I should have at least suspected it," Artemis snapped – D'Arvit, he was in a really bad state of mind if he was snapping at Butler. "The signs were all there, I could see the panic in their face the entire time we were speaking. But I kept pushing and pushing until they broke and fled like a nightmare was on their heels. Why wasn't I able to predict that?"
Silence, for a long moment. As much as Holly hated to admit it, Artemis had a point. It wasn't like him to miss something that big.
"I… might have an idea about that, actually," No. 1 said, slowly. When several pairs of eyes turned towards him, he looked thoughtful, tapping his fingers together absent-mindedly. "Artemis, while I won't deny that Frisk is a genius… I think we all forgot that they aren't you."
The human's eyebrows jumped up.
"Well, duh," Foaly said with a snort. "There's only one Artemis Fowl, thank Frond for that."
"No, I mean," No. 1 flailed his hands a bit, trying to get his thoughts together. "We – I think we keep lumping Frisk in with Artemis, in terms of personality, when despite all their similarities, they're very different people."
"That's ridiculous!"
"Is it?" The little warlock countered. "Think about it, Foaly! Who's the first person you think of when you think human genius? You think of Artemis, or Minerva, or Myles. Who are all logical, rational, analytical people! Frisk – they're certainly capable of logic, but they're not that kind of person! They're empathetic, they wear their heart on their sleeves – they're smart, yes, but they're driven by emotions instead of logic."
Holly opened her mouth to protest – then paused, and actually considered this. As much as she hated to admit it…
"You might have a point," she admitted quietly. "When they kept evading all the sensitive questions, I just kept thinking -"
"That they were really making it harder for themselves, and they should have known better than to try to deny wrongdoings, right?" No. 1 asked. "Especially when they knew that we wouldn't care nearly so much about that as others would?"
The elf nodded.
"See what I mean?" The warlock crossed his arms. "We're so used to thinking of Artemis whenever we think of human geniuses, especially child geniuses, that it colored our opinions of them!"
"And that prevented us from seeing their incoming breakdown," Artemis mused, "because it wasn't something that fit into our shared view of them." He steepled his fingers with a frown. "That… would explain some things, yes. But if that is the case… why did I not see it?"
"Well, to be fair, up until now the only geniuses you're familiar with are… Foaly, Minerva, Myles… and Opal Koboi," No. 1 pointed out. "All confident, analytical people, much like you. You're used to thinking of your intellectual equals as being similar to you in terms of personality in some way. And, well, you and Frisk are quite similar, if not in personality. I think you just… assumed Frisk was more like you than they really are."
Artemis's frown deepened at this, but, tellingly, he didn't protest.
"So we've just… been going about dealing with Frisk the wrong way, then?" Holly asked uncertainly. "What should we do differently?"
"Well, for starters, we need to be a lot more gentle with Frisk," No. 1 said sternly, waving a clawed finger at them. "They're probably just as shell-shocked, traumatized, if not more so, by the Resets than we are. You don't just approach someone with PTSD and ask them to describe their worst nightmare, do you?"
"...No. And after that?" Holly asked.
No. 1 grinned a touch sheepishly. "Well. I don't know about you, Holly, but I was going to start by apologizing. A lot. After that? I guess… we'll just have to figure it out as we go."
Writing Artemis feeling guilty felt weird. Like, he's perfectly capable of feeling guilty like any other sentient being, but he's usually so unrepentant about what he does that I just – it felt weird, okay. Still, I managed to get the point across, and now Arty and Co. know that they completely and utterly fucked up while talking to Frisk, so that's fun.
*Artemis sending Butler away in a fit of paranoia: in Book 7, Artemis was suffering from a mental disorder the fairies call the Atlantis Complex, which is brought on by intense feelings of guilt and at least partially caused by magic I think, since it's a complex specific to fairies. It resembles OCD and Multiple Personality Disorder in its symptoms, and on top of that also has paranoia as a symptom. It's been a while since I read book 7 (mostly because it's my least favorite book in the series – doesn't mean its not good though, if you haven't read it go read it), so I don't remember why Artemis got paranoid about Butler, but he basically fabricated a threat against Juliet to convince Butler to go halfway across the world in a fit of paranoia. Which then resulted in Butler and Juliet being in actual danger. Remember the note about Turnball Root from last chapter? The guy mesmerized an entire buildings' worth of wrestling fans and tried to have the sibs killed that way, so, whoops, Artemis's paranoia actually put Butler and his sister in real mortal peril. Real galaxy brain moment there, Arty.
