Hey babe, wake up, the seasonal DoubleTime chapter just dropped! Anyways, how's it going, folks? DoubleTime's back! With reviews!

Zillowzest: Thanks for taking the time to review, it means a lot that you went and left even one of those bad bois. As for fight scenes, it just kinda takes a lot of practice, and a good friend or two to remind you of some basic pointers that are easy to forget but help the pacing immensely.

WhiteAngelKillua: Thank you, really, it means a lot to hear that I'm doing these characters justice. Also, you should go catch up on DoubleTale:Rewritten when you have some time, cause hot damn is that series getting spicy. Wolfy boi just puts out banger after banger chapter.

Speaking of which, it's time for the canned spiel and the not so canned spiel. Neither Undertale, DoubleTale, or DoubleScramble are owned by me. Shocking, I know, but it's true, honest! Look back at the first chapter's Author's Note if you don't believe me. This is some weird matryoshka doll of a fanwork. As always thanks go out to XWolf26 for writing DoubleTale, Wingah for writing the DoubleScramble sprite comic (which you should also check out and is the current canon) and helping to edit this chapter, and everyone else who took the time to listen to insane ramblings about some girl in a hoodie and her underground fever dream.

Chara stared into the murky depths of the river from their spot on the bank, their thoughts occupied by plans for the immediate future, and their own role in bringing this nightmare to an end. They stifled a sigh as they climbed to their feet, glancing over at the crux of all of these plans and seeing that she was caught up in thoughts of her own.

"We'd better get back inside, hopefully Napstabot already swung by with the next batch of dust for the machine…with any luck, it'll be the last." Chara said, stuffing their hands into the pockets of Cter's hoodie and turning back towards the lab.

"R-Right…" Marian mumbled, hurrying to catch up with Chara's longer stride as they led the way. She looked like she was still pretty run down, but the sentry noticed something they hadn't before the conversation. The look in her eyes was sharper, more focused. It wasn't much, but it was something, they supposed. Time would tell if Marian turned out to be what they needed her to be.

"I'd recommend you find something to occupy yourself for the time being, too much sleep can leave you feeling worse than not enough sometimes." Chara mentioned as the pair traipsed into the lab. Marian simply nodded and shambled off towards the elevator, and Chara had to withhold another sigh. If they were hedging all their bets on Marian, then they'd need to do more to stack the odds in her favor for the big fight. The aspiring guard's frown only deepened as they thought about what was to come. There was only one real way to set Marian up for a better fight. Frisk couldn't be allowed to reach her with a full inventory of healing items, and Chara could only think of one way that was going to happen.

They were torn from their thoughts by the sound of the door on the far side of the lab opening, a metallic humanoid, dressed to impress with a black vest over an untucked dress shirt, their metallic head of unruly hair refusing to move an inch as they hurried into the building. In one of their metallic arms they held a sack filled with canisters of dust, which clanked and clinked together. Neither the sentry nor the possessed robot exchanged words, merely nodding to each other as one made their way to the elevator with their precious cargo, and the other pulled out their phone.

[need a lift back to snowdin]

They waited for a few moments, before impatiently sending another text.

[need to get stuff from the house, not a lot of time to get ready]

Their eyes narrowed slightly as they looked at the reply they received shortly thereafter.

[Rather busy at the moment, and you know full well I can't make a portal for you if I don't know where you are]

The sound of Chara's palm slapping against their face echoed strangely off the walls of the empty lab.

[mettatons lab first floor. give me 5 minutes before closing it again]

[I'll just close it and reopen it, holding a portal open that long is exhausting and I've enough on my plate right now tending to the survivors and maintaining the insertion machine as it is.]

[k]

Chara paced back and forth after sending the final text, clutching the insides of their borrowed hoodie's pockets as they did so. What they wouldn't give to be able to do something like that, or take one of Cter's so-called 'shortcuts' on their own. All this idle time did was leave them alone with their thoughts. Mercifully enough, they didn't have to wait too long, as the promised portal opened up by the door they'd come in from with a horrific sound of screeching static. Through the glitchy pane of torn spacetime, they could make out the snow-covered landing of their house, and they stepped through without hesitation. They grimaced as they did so, an awful pins and needles feeling sweeping across their entire body.

The would-be guard swallowed a lump in their throat as they slowly stepped through the front door, gently closing it behind them. They made the mistake of glancing around the room. Echoes of arguments and laughs and other things lost to time haunted them with every step into the once inviting space. They could still see him. Hooking up the old television. Grinning at them in that stupid, goofy way of his from the other side of the couch. Leaning over the stairway railing with them both drunkenly belting some anime opening into a cheap karaoke mic. They grit their teeth hard enough to make their jaw creak and shook their head before stomping towards the kitchen.

They dug through the fridge, filling their inventory with chocolate bars and pointedly ignoring their brain's attempts to torture them with more memories as they eyed up the absurd amount of cough syrup and takeout lurking in their fridge before slamming it shut and moving on. As they made their way towards the front door again, they noticed something get kicked aside by their boot. The menu they'd written their note to Cter on, one side of it full of uneven creases, like it'd been crushed. Chara's breath hitched in their throat, before they grit their teeth and stomped towards the door. Their eyes stung, and they had time to burn before their ride back to the lab.

Their feet carried them towards the hazy road out of Snowdin on autopilot, stopping just before a lump in the snow. Tears began to gather in their eyes as they stood there and stared, feeling their crush's life essence splattering against their coat as they caught him in th-

Chara shook their head with a growl. They weren't here for the trip down memory lane. They scrubbed at their eyes and stared at the poor excuse for a grave.

"..." They tried to think of something heartfelt to say, but the words never came.

"..." They tried to think of a dumb joke, perhaps even one he'd told them once, but the set-up turned to ash in their mouth.

"..." They tried to admonish him for being so reckless, for leaving them all alone, but the anger felt hollow and forced, and they remained silent.

Chara took a shuddering breath as they brushed tears out of their eyes again. There wasn't anything to say, was there? Nothing that felt right, anyways. So they ignored the elephant in the room, the same way they and Cter had always done.

"...you really are something else, making me cover your shift, you know that?" they choked out, stifling a sob. "...you know I don't fight anymore. I made you a promise, didn't I?"

The silence was deafening. The chill wind bit into them through the gaping hole in their hoodie.

"...I'll see you later." They turned and trudged away, gritting their teeth as their maroon eyes gleamed with the Determined red light of their soul and their tears slowly dried. They strode towards the sound of screeching static, their thoughts laser focusing on what came next. If they were going to take Cter's place, they were going to do it right.

Chapter Eight: Save the Queen
"...I'm sorry. I wish I could do more."

I groaned as I finally sat down on the tiled floor in the center of the room full of beds. Those fuckers were heavy, as I'd found out while trying to move them off to the sides of the room to clear this space to practice in. Sure, I could have gone outside to practice, but I didn't want to wait any longer than I had to for the next infusion. It was only after a few moments of sitting there, sucking in air that tasted of refrigerator coolant and disinfectant, that I realized I probably could have tried using magic to push the beds out of the way. The dull smack of my palm and face uniting in holy matrimony echoed strangely off the empty room's walls. A glance towards where Boxy usually liked to make their appearance revealed dick and all. Figures, shows up when I can't make any meaningful conversation with it, gets cagey when I can, and then disappears again.

Shaking my head, I looked around the room, which now looked like a warzone. The tile was scored and scorched in equal measure. Slashes, cracks, gouges and pockmarks littered the walls and ceiling. Not even the beds had been spared in the end, many lying in pieces, or in crumbled heaps. A cheshire grin threatened to split my face in half as I took it all in. I was starting to think I might actually have a shot at this. It was a strange feeling, to be sure. My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"It's time." Gaster informed me, an unreadable expression carved into the calcium of his face. His clothing was slightly more disheveled than it'd been the last couple times I'd seen him. Granted, one of those times I hadn't been paying much attention, and he'd likely not had the luxury of going home to change clothing with Frisk on the loose and work on the machine to be done.

I wordlessly climbed to my feet, stuffing my hands into my pockets to hide the way they shook with anticipation. My blood hummed as the good doctor led me down the hall, reminding me of the sound one heard standing near an electrical transformer. The flexing of my newfound magical might had only exacerbated the feeling of a brewing storm flooding my veins. As we stepped into the room with the insertion machine, that storm threatened to break, drawing a gasp from me and an arched brow from Gaster.

"I-It's nothing…" I hastily assured, hoping my jitters weren't all that noticeable. He simply nodded as he strode over to the ramshackle device that had bottled this lightning inside me. I nodded in turn, making my way over to the platform that stretched out over the abyss below. I stared into the mouth of the metallic beast, unflinching as light gathered in the back of its throat one last time. It was hard to hear much of anything over the sound of my pounding heart as that light nearly grew blinding before rushing out to engulf me.

Strangely enough, I could feel the world be washed away around me, somehow lucid enough to watch as the light was replaced by a sky completely overtaken by storm clouds like bundles of steel wool in a microwave. They crackled and sparked with light blue and red lightning as I rolled over and climbed to my feet. I dusted ash and dust off myself as I looked around, seeing rolling hills of the glittering mixture stretching into the distance, dotted with patches of glowing blue echo flowers. With nowhere to go and nothing to guide me, I walked. It could've been for minutes, hours, days…I couldn't tell. The hills and valleys bled into one another as I marched onwards, the faintest whispers of voices I didn't recognize taunting me as I went. Cries of pain, grief, anger, all too faint to make out beyond the vaguest impressions of emotion.

Eventually, I came to a stop on a plateau of jet black stone, flecked with bits of ore of various metals both real and fictional. Situated in its center was a…playground? Strange as it was, it was hard to deny what I saw. A small, lonely playground, hemmed in by a chain link fence formed by a hardened ink mesh and fountain pen posts. Filling the space normally taken by wood chips were scraps of plastic and metal keyboard keys, which buried most of the playground's fixtures, such as the slides and jungle gym. The only piece of equipment that stood tall in this strange oasis was the lonely, rusted swing set, one of its swings taken by a familiar man. Embers and fleks of dusty ash were caught in the mop of messy brown hair on his head, and I could see clear through the hole in his torso, blood staining the edges of the matching hole on his striped hoodie. Wordlessly, I took the swing next to him, the chains creaking.

"...dying ain't all it's cracked up to be, lemme tell ya." Cter joked, his voice raspy and wheezing on account of the pressure his snapped ribs were putting on his lungs.

"...tell me about it." I lamely replied, finding it hard to speak while sitting next to a dead man.

"So, gearing up for the big show, huh?" the hole-punched man asked, seeming to be in high spirits despite being one adjective away from being a literal high spirit himself.

I glanced up at the overcast sky, my dull blue eyes fixed upon the bolts of electricity streaking between the metallic clouds and the earth.

"Y-Yeah…this is…probably the last infusion…we don't have much more time till Frisk reaches the hall…" I reply, drawing a grim, gurgling chuckle from the ghoul.

"Sounds about right. Squinty hasn't been the type to stop and smell the roses in a long, long time."

"...probably because they already know how each one smells…" I mumbled, my gazing falling back to the pseudo wood chips.

That comment seemed to put a damper on Cter's mood, the man's face and posture showing just a fraction of the weight that came from what must have been countless Resets worth of memories. He dug around in his pocket for a moment, before withdrawing a ballpoint pen flecked with drops of dried blood, an ominous red glow surrounding the writing implement.

"...give them hell. Hit them fast. Hit them hard. Don't ever ease up. If you do, you're as good as dead." he growled out, his pupiless eyes boring into mine as they met.

Hesitantly, I reached out to take the pen, wincing as it nearly burned my fingers with its surprising heat. It crackled with deep maroon sparks of electricity, as it slowly, painstakingly dissolved into pixels and strings of code within my grasp.

*You made it your own…

My text box subtly flickered and trembled as it typed that message out. My gaze snapped back over to Cter…except he was gone. I was alone as I stood up from my swing. All around me, the playground began to dissolve into inky black dust which mingled with the embers as it was swept away by the breeze. I shuddered, my blood feeling less like ozone and more like nitrogen as I moved on and attempted to put the macabre encounter out of my mind.

The only sound that filled the chamber was the thrum of the Insertion Machine living up to its name as it poured the essence of countless fallen monsters into their kind's last hope. The gentle, pale blue of her soul was nearly swallowed by the silver light as it poured over her. Every once in a while it threatened to bleach her soul the same hue, only for her Patient light to resurge. All the while, the girl in question stared into the maw of the beast, seeing and hearing naught. Eventually, however, a set of heavy footfalls broke the stillness. Gaster turned from the machine to regard his former queen with eyelights which occasionally flickered behind his glasses.

"...how is she?" Toriel asked, staring between Marian, the girl's soul, the machine, and Gaster himself.

"Her condition appears to be stable enough, for the moment. She's managed two infusions without any noticeable adverse effects thus far…" he trailed off, busying himself with the machine's console.

"And the child?" the goat woman asked, her tone conveying the authority and respect she'd once commanded.

"Dealing with the last stretch of Mettaton's traps. We don't have much more time left, your majesty." Gaster replied without missing a beat, glancing between readouts on the dingy screen and the soul they pertained to.

"Oh please, Wingdings, I'm no more a queen than you are a scientist these days." Toriel scoffed, even as her worried eyes lingered on Marian's soul.

"And yet, here we are…" Gaster chuckled bitterly.

"Will this truly be enough?" Toriel asked, seemingly lost in thought.

"It will have to be. We have no other options left." Gaster replied, his eye sockets narrowing as he continued to monitor the machine.

"...not entirely…" Toriel mumbled, ignoring the skeleton's piercing stare.

Said stare moved from Toriel's eyes, to one of the paws which lingered over her chest, and finally towards the unconscious woman the boss monster's eyes failed to leave.

"Toriel. Surely you aren't considering…?"

"I am, Wingdings. I sit here, cowering in the dark while my people suffer. I let children fight these battles in my stead, instead of doing what needs to be done…" Toriel trailed off for a moment, before resuming, "...I am no fool, Gaster. As the child is now, I would be marching to my demise were I to try and right these wrongs in person."

"...and yet…" Toriel turned to look the former doctor in the eye sockets, the deposed queen's expression mirroring the resolution, the Determination, that had compelled Marian to take a mortal blow for her. "...I would give everything I have to keep my people safe."

Gaster let the silence reign as he processed what his friend was saying. His mind scrambled for some alternative, some better way in spite of all that he knew. This path to victory was already laid in dust. He took a deep breath.

"...if you do this, there is no going back. Your soul's will and essence will be almost entirely subsumed by her own, only the barest scraps of your own being are likely to remain." he stoically explained, even as his bony hands faintly trembled at the keyboard.

Whatever Toriel's response was, it was cut off by a shriek of pain from the young woman in the center of the room. Silver and red arcs of electricity crackled around her soul, which was beginning to chip and crack under the strain.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion for Gaster, as Toriel wordlessly rushed to Marian's side, her own soul manifesting in the palm of her fuzzy hand. A glance at the screen of the insertion machine confirmed what he already knew. Dozens of errors reported that her soul was being overwhelmed by the amount of magic being forced into it. He hadn't properly accounted for this, as strapped for time and desperate as this whole affair had left him, so there was no emergency shut-off. Either this worked, or…

That train of thought was derailed by the sight of Toriel's soul beginning to drift closer to Marian's as she held it out to the girl. Parts of the goat monster's body began to break down into silver dust and gather within her soul's pale radiance. The last Gaster saw of his dear friend was the graceful smile that he'd taken for granted before that too was scattered into silver dust and washed away in a blinding flash of light and heat.

When Gaster could see again, he quickly scanned the room. The Insertion Machine's console had a string of more errors before finally returning to semi-normal functionality, reporting a successful insertion with the last line, as well as rating the girl's soul stability at a percentage represented by a scramble of characters. He rushed over to the woman in question, having to sift through decades of memories to recall that he should be checking for a pulse.

Marian was alive. This much was certain. The soul shining over her chest still glowed a pale, icy blue, but it slowly bled into a silver core. Her breathing was steady, and her expression was serene as she slumbered. This brought the faintest of smiles to Gaster's own face. There was still hope, Toriel had made certain of it.

He was stirred from his thoughts by the sound of his phone going off once more.

[got a plan]

Gaster sighed and pocketed his phone before hefting Marian off the floor. There was still work to be done, as evidenced by the sound of his phone going off again. A bony hand appeared to fish his phone out of his pocket for him as he walked back down the hall, flipping it open and opening up the text. Slowly, a smirk began to creep across his skull as he read through its contents.

It wasn't long before he'd made it back to the room full of beds, the grin on his face failing to leave as he took in the carnage. Two infusions, and no boss monster soul had allowed her to tear the room apart. There was definitely still hope, Gaster decided as he laid Marian down on a less destroyed bed. His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Chara, who looked ready for war. Their expression eased up a bit as they glanced around the room, letting out a low whistle.

"...so…thoughts?" Chara asked, clearing their throat and staring up at Gaster.

"...I believe we're closer to the end than we've ever been." the retired doctor replied, smiling down at his child before pulling them into a tight hug, which they returned.

Unfortunately, the hug had to end at some point. There was still a day to save, after all. Chara looked over Marian one last time, frowning as they noticed just how messy and long her hair was. That would get her killed. Thankfully, they had a solution for that. They pulled out a pair of maroon hair clips, a sad smile tugging at their lips as they remembered the birthday they'd received these from Cter. They'd protested, of course, stubbornly insisting that they didn't need something like them, despite having been sick of brushing their hair out of their eyes every five seconds. They never did end up wearing them after that day, though they had secretly begun pinning their bangs out of their eyes with some bobby pins that blended into their hair.

Shaking their head to clear the memories, they got to work pulling the unconscious girl's hair out of her eyes with the clips, before pulling their own hair back into a ponytail. It was just about time.

"One last ride?" Chara asked.

"If you insist." Gaster joked, before rending another tear in reality.

Chara lifted Marian onto their back, giving Gaster one final look before stepping through the portal to face their fate.

It was hard to keep track of time as I marched through the sands. The storm clouds continued to roil and crackle overhead, threatening to smite any who dared to pass beneath with icy blue or scorching red lightning. The wind carried the scent of dust and smoke, now tinged with the off-putting odor of ink. My limbs felt like lead, and yet my muscles seemingly couldn't help but move. My blood boiled and froze and boiled again as it screamed through my veins in time with my mile a minute heartbeat. I felt like at any moment I was gonna vomit fire or blood or some other unholy substance.

I scarcely noticed it when I collapsed in a bed of echo flowers, dust and sand sticking to the cold sweat which poured down my face. Everything felt wrong. My chest ached. Was this what dying felt like? Every second felt like it crawled by before being yanked from my grasp too soon. I shivered and twitched and writhed as the winds began to howl, dust and sand tearing at my exposed skin as red and blue bolts rendered entire dunes into monuments of glass and slag with horrid shrieks of thunder as everything

…stopped. I…I felt like I could breathe again as a faintly familiar scent of baked goods reached my nose. My head felt like it was resting on something much more forgiving than a patch of dusty flowers. The rending gales had died down to a gentle breeze upon which embers and echo flower petals danced. My chest no longer felt like it was being torn apart and crushed in on itself at the same time. A glance up at the sky revealed that the clouds had returned to merely suggesting that they could scour me from the face of this humble desert, rather than actively attempting to prove that they could in fact follow through. It also revealed a fuzzy, smiling face that pulled a truly intelligent, poignant question from my lips.

"...what?"

"Are you alright, my child?" Toriel replied, dodging my hard hitting, showstopper of a question like a squinty child dancing around flaming spears.

I shook my head and forced my now less than aching body to sit up, turning to look up at the cardigan clad goat woman as I tried to drag my train of thought back onto the track kicking and screaming. "I've…been better…" I admitted, before blinking a couple times and staring at her. "...what are you doing here, Toriel?"

"What little I can to defend my people in their darkest hour." the former queen responded, her bittersweet smile at odds with the resolve burning in her eyes.

That…explained almost nothing, but it did make me think a bit more about the nature of this screwy world, and what still held up from my memories of the game it was seemingly based off of. My blank stare provoked a chuckle from Toriel, who elaborated.

"Your soul couldn't bear the weight alone, so I gave it a helping hand, if you will…" she explained, while glancing down at my chest.

My gaze followed hers, my eyes widening as I stared at my soul. It still glowed a pale, icy blue, but now it bled into a silvery white core. I could feel its warm, gentle strength in every heartbeat as I gawked at it before looking back up at Toriel. "...you…"

"It's shameful for monsterkind to once again cower behind a child as our last aegis. How can we ask you to give all that you can, if we are unwilling to do the same?" she continued, smiling down at me before pulling me into a tight hug.

"Come what may, I will be with you, Marian. Don't forget."

I buried myself in her warm, fuzzy embrace, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths as I tried to ignore the way she slowly dissolved into glittering dust and embers, which coalesced into a gentle silver flame the size of my fist. Every few seconds it'd momentarily glitch out or become pixelated before returning to normal again. I cradled that will-o'-the-wisp in my hands, staring into it as the desert slowly broke down around me. I vaguely felt myself be seated upon something hard as everything faded to white.

Frisk breathed a sigh of relief as they brushed against the Save Point in New Home, glancing back past the bleached brickwork towards the elevator that had rescued them from cyber-hell. Fuck the CORE.

*yeah, your split there sucked, dunno how you're gonna pb at this rate.

"Shut up, Sans."

*shut don't go up kiddo, but your time sure does.

Frisk huffed and proceeded down the road, not sparing the empty city around them a second thought or glance as they went. There was…well, nothing left at this point, really. Cter was already dead, Marian wasn't worth their time, and no one else had come crawling out of the woodwork to deliver some big speech or fight them or do anything different. It kinda took the wind out of their sails, if they were honest.

They shook their head to clear it, their pensive expression once more returning to a blank mask. Focus. They just needed to make it to the throne room, and this would all go back to normal. They'd go back to throwing themselves at this stupid route in hopes that one day it'd stick, and they could rid themselves of this re-run episode from hell.

*some jokes only get funnier the more you tell 'em, kid.

They glowered at the message typed out in Comic Sans and stomped up the steps leading into the empty house. Their legs carried them on autopilot through the living room and into the kitchen. They helped themselves to some of the random odds and ends in Undyne's fridge, seeing as they'd burned through their items dealing with the cavalcade of bullshit that Hotland and the CORE had become.

Their inventory filled with protein shakes and leafy green things, they idly swiped the indigo key off the counter by the sink and moved on. Frisk found their mind wandering as they robotically marched down the hall to retrieve the second key. Was this really it? Was there nothing left to look forward to in this run? As they trudged past a closed door on the way back to the chained up staircase, they hesitated. Normally, they wouldn't bother with this door. Chara's knife was easily the best weapon they could get their hands on, after all. They couldn't even remember the last time they'd bothered to try a run where this door was relevant. And yet, this run was different. They glanced down at the busted gun in their hands, before looking back up at the door.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room as they slowly opened the door, the strangest feeling of dread creeping up on them. Wasn't this light supposed to be on? As they peered into the center of the room, the empty crack in the floorboards turned their blood to ice in their veins. Where was the Ink Spear?

*oh fuck.

"Oh fuck…?" Frisk asked, torn between hope and fear as they stared at the empty space the second best weapon in the entire underground usually rested in and clutched their peashooter tighter.

*ohhhhh fuck.

Frisk ignored their less than helpful text box and pushed on, ignoring the faint trembling in their hands as they turned the keys in their locks and pushed on past the chained up stairwell. Their footsteps echoed in the silence as they crept forward, feeling their heartbeat pick up just a bit.

The golden hued walls and pillars loomed large over their head as Frisk entered the Judgement Hall. They'd been here before, countless times, over countless Resets. And yet, something felt wrong here. They hesitated before beginning the walk down its imposing length, recalling countless deaths at the hands of pens and ink and lasers. They could feel their sins crawling down their spine as they marched onwards…before stopping dead in their tracks.

A lanky figure lurked in the shadow of one of the marble pillars. What light reached them revealed the vague silhouette of a figure in a hooded sweatshirt, a good head or so taller than they were. They had to bite down hard on their tongue to stifle the urge to scream. They'd killed him. He was dead. They'd punched a hole through him like he was made of paper and left him for dead in the snow so why the fuck was he standing right there!?

The figure stepped forward, however, and Frisk couldn't help but let out a sigh that was equal parts relieved and disappointed beyond measure. It was just Chara.

*Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fffffffffuck.

Frisk stared down at their text box in disbelief. What the hell was Sans still freaking out over? They glanced back up at the wannabe royal guard, noticing that they'd ditched their own coat in favor of Cter's hole punched hoodie. Did it have better stats, they wondered, or were they just stupid? Chara stared at them with that same ignorant, pitiful smile they'd given Frisk every time they'd ever met in Snowdin. The smile didn't reach their eyes this time, however. The pale sentry stood with their hands stuffed in their borrowed hoodie's pockets, and Frisk couldn't help but wonder why their heart was still racing, and they still felt their sins weighing down on them as if the Judge himself was at his post today?

"Greetings."

Get ready for shit to go down next chapter. If you enjoyed this chapter, it'd mean a lot if you took some time to leave a review or added this story to your favorites. If you don't have the time, that's cool too, it's cool that this story could at least be there for ya in some crazy times. I'll try harder to not make this next chapter take 3 months. TwT

As always, I'm the TiredWhiteMayge, signing out at a reasonable time of night this time.