Entry #90

[postictal]

action;

[Everything goes white.]

[It's slow, and it's immediate. It's an eruption of snowy white fur across his forearms, along his back, to contrast the black-brown of the hair on his head. It's not painful, but it blazes in a way nothing else can. The weight of stubby horns on his head, the white-hot torquing of the barbed wire of his nervous system as it rearranges itself, as his organs howl in accommodation of something a human body was never meant to endure. His shoulder blades prickle with an eruption of thorny growths, stark and black as the skeletal branches that always rake the sky in his dreams. A startled, agonized noise wrenches out from the back of his throat, sputtering into an abortive gagging when he discovers that his canines have abruptly sharpened into fangs.]

[That's when the memories begin.]

[He doubles over, hands snapping around his middle. He's taller than he was, larger than he was, and there's a bright sizzle of something in the palms of his hands.]

[Can't think. Can't do anything but - ]

[* ACT.]

[An eruption of white-hot flame bursts from his hands - his paws? It coils up and around, wreathing the Frost Giants in a fiery nimbus. They begin to shriek as the heat starts to melt their blueish skin into slurries of clear, watery runoff. It curls his lips upward into a snarl. His eyes are wet, blinding him with the heated prickle of his own inability to fucking cope. His nostrils are thick with dust. He's breathing in, sitting in, FIGHTing in Asgore's own fucking remains.]

[The interleaving of dualed memory digs into the posterior of his skull like a fingernail prizing away a scabbed over wound. Warm scents of butterscotch and cinnamon, of a crackling fire in a hearth, soft white fur smoothed beneath a large, heavy paw, the twining of horns in with tree branches and the musical chatter of a child's laughter at the sheer silliness of it. The bitterness that clenched in a Boss Monster's gut that left him bedridden for days, and the deep-voiced plea that begged the bedraggled, bleeding, sweating shape on the bed to * Stay determined.]

[Watching one child crumble to dust, so soon after the other stopped breathing.]

[He can no longer tell whose tears are burning in wet runnels down his cheeks.]

[...]

[He no longer cares.]

video;

[If Tim could have his way, he'd be issuing this announcement over text. But he can't - having learned, very far after the fact, that the new, clawlike shape of his hands makes inputting text commands rather impossible. It seems Asgardian technology doesn't account for impromptu goat-human hybrids. So instead, people get something different.]

[Something...very different.]

[On day four, a watery scarlet iris stares hollowly at the screen for several moments before Tim pulls back. If the presence of thick white fur and rounded horns and branchlike protrusions doesn't cement that something has gone really, horribly, terribly wrong, then the tremor in his voice and the glisten of tears down his cheeks certainly should.]

I, uh...

[Maybe it's the eyes - the eyes that, though they've changed in color, undeniably belong to one Timothy Wright.]

Asgore told me - he said that I had to, I had to take it before anyone else did. I didn't know this would - god - I didn't know.

[He's trying not to break down. He's trying not to. He can no longer tell whose guilt is swelling like a tumor in his chest, whose grief is eating at his heart. At the soul he allegedly, apparently possesses.]

I'm sorry.

Comments

video

[pleasereset]

[Asriel recognizes Tim's voice, but that's - that's not...]

What happened to dad?

[There's only way Tim can look like that, and Asriel knows it. But he can't accept that, he can't-]

video

[postictal]

[Asriel.]

[It takes him...a minute. Sorry, just - just give him a minute here, because fresh tears have sprung into his eyes and he can't tell who they belong to anymore. There's an all-too-short timeline of happy nights in front of the fire, of stories read at bedtime, of raising the future of the Underground, and that doesn't belong to him.]

[What right does he have to take that which doesn't belong to him?]

[Focus. Focus. Answer the question.]

Kid, I'm sorry, I'm -

[He can't even point to a body, because there isn't one. There's just dust. And there's so fucking much of it.]

He did it to save me. [He did it to save some stupid, unarmed asshole who didn't deserve it.] He saved my life.

video

[pleasereset]

[Tim doesn't have to say anymore. How he looks, and what he says - Asriel doesn't even need to see the dust to know what happened. His teeth clench and his eyes sting. But it's okay, because Wonderland brings people back, right? That's what he was told, so he has to come back and-

This is what happens when you get attached to the people you were supposed to let go.]

W-who-

[Who killed him, why did you take his SOUL. There's a lot of questions he could ask, but he doesn't get that far. There's a snort, a sudden wave of tears that he can't stop, and he covers his mouth as a high-pitched, muffled sound tries to escape.]

video

[postictal]

[Who.]

[He's trying to look anywhere but at the face, the voice, on the screen. Trying not to look at him, the way he's tearing up, but having nowhere else to look instead. Just - hands that aren't hands, wind tearing at thick fur, the remnants of his retribution. Whatever's left of the Frost Giants has all but melted away.]

[Just like the monster they killed.]

They're dead.

video

[pleasereset]

W-why do you have his SOUL?! A human can't-

They're not supposed to-

[A monster can take a human SOUL, because human SOULs last longer. Asriel already knew that, already experienced it when he took Chara's, but he never thought about it happening the other way around.]

He can't come back if you have it-!

[Does he even have the right to be upset? At least Tim has it, and it's safe. Unlike all the times he forcefully ripped out Asgore's SOUL himself. He told himself that he wouldn't get attached to anyone here, that he can't...

Still... he can't help it. It's upsetting to see, regardless of the intentions.]

video

[burntvideocassette]

[Jay switches the phone--or whatever it's turned into, ornate and advanced beyond Jay's comprehension--to broadcast video before he's ready, and he ends up taking up the first several seconds just staring in mute horror.]

[He's seen Tim as a nonhuman before, a bipedal thing with feathers and a beak, but this? This is much worse. He's still very visibly Tim. He's got the same face. But he's got branches erupting from his back and horns curling over his head and he looks like he's in physical pain.]

Tim, what--

[He can't decide which question to ask first, so of course the worst possible one slips out.]

What are you?

video

[postictal]

[Jay finds him. Of course Jay finds him. Sees him at all his lowest points, the way Jay does. Breaking down, hysterical, on a burnt, abandoned floor. Sobbing in anger as he drives a fist into his face. Screaming at things that aren't there. Tipping a handful of medication down his own throat.]

[He finds him at his worst, because god knows Tim is never really at his best.]

He told me to take his - his soul, so I -

[So he listened to him. Like a fucking - like the worst kind of gullible moron.]

video

[burntvideocassette]

[Jay doesn't understand. He doesn't understand, and that familiar frustration wells up in his chest. He thinks he's starting to get a handle on the rules, and then some bullshit like this happens, and he's back in that cinder block studio apartment, pulling unmarked tapes out of plastic grocery bags.]

[Tim's clearly hurt, and there's not a damn thing Jay can do unless he figures out what's going on.]

What do you mean? [He can't keep the irritation out of his voice.] Asgore's dead?

video

[postictal]

[Another silence, long and heady. His voice cracks when he answers - when his chin dips in a jerky, pained nod.]

Yeah.

[He can't look at the camera. He can't look at anything. Just - at the dust mixing with the liquid swirling in the dirt, the half-melted remnants of the things he tore apart. The things he destroyed.]

He -

He did it to save me.

video

[burntvideocassette]

And you took his...

[Jay knows he should probably just shut up, that he's walking into something he doesn't understand, but he has to know what the hell could do something like this.]

...his soul. And now you're...

[A monster. Something that shouldn't exist.]

Was that...part of the plan, d'you think?

[video]

[punful]

[It's Tim's voice, but it's all wrong.]

[There were always stories. Legends. Humans were so worried about a monster taking a human soul, but a human taking a monster soul was always a possibility, given very unique circumstances. The history books say that neither thing ever happened, but there were stories. Humans kidnapping Boss Monsters to steal their souls, gaining incredible powers and terrorizing the countryside, to be stopped only when monsters and humans worked together to defeat the foe. The kind of story you'd tell to spook your little brother at night.]

[This is the first time it's happened in over a thousand years, if it ever happened at all. Unless Frisk really did absorb Asgore's soul when they took it in certain timelines.]

[Asgore's dead. And Tim...]

[God, he hopes Papyrus doesn't see this.]

tim.

[What does he even say? It's not like he can really do anything. Maybe teleport the poor guy (guys?) somewhere, but he hasn't left the dining hall since the fighting started.]

that is you, tim, right?

[Doesn't even realize he made a pun, for once.]

is he still--is he conscious? in...there.

[video]

[postictal]

[Another monster. He'd know what's happening, right? He'd know what's happening to him. Only no one would know, because Asgore said - he said there's no way of knowing what might happen, when a human takes a monster's soul.]

[And now he's this.]

Yeah. It's...

[It's him. Right?]

[The words emerge a whisper.]

I don't...how'm I supposed to know? How do you know if someone is?

[video]

[punful]

[He looks so different. Like he's stuck halfway between one and the other. It's enough so that he'd pass for a true monster if they were back underground. Although all it would take would be for someone to see his soul...]

[Their souls?]

[People know what happens when a monster absorbs a human soul, because of Asriel--and to a lesser degree, because of the flower. Chara always said that both of them were conscious. Frisk had said the human souls were conscious the whole time. But is that unique to humans?]

[This is unprecedented. Sans gives a helpless sort of shrug, trying to make it look languid and failing.]

i...jeez, i don't know. i got no idea.

[Chara and Asriel were aware of each other, and Chara and Frisk were aware of each other, but two of those three are human. With monsters...]

[Sans presses a hand to his chest off-screen. Maybe it's more like that connection he made with Alphys and Mettaton. He can still feel them, wherever they are in this...castle. Both of them distressed, but alive.]

i think you'd...feel it. feel him there kinda...kinda on the edges. i don't know, maybe...maybe it's not the same with monsters.

[And the connection isn't the same as this. Alphys and Mettaton are alive. Asgore...]

i guess it doesn't really matter right now. are you...safe, at least?

[video]

[postictal]

[You'd feel it.]

[He glances down - down at the soft sputter of white light between his hands, paws, claws, whatever the hell you'd call them. It flickers, almost pinkish, drowned out by the hum of crimson that pulses, that absurd heart shape that hovers a few inches away.]

[That's...that's new. Never been able to do that before.]

[Maybe that's part of what he is, now. His soul, and Asgore's.]

[Is he safe?]

[Are you afraid of anyone? Check no - check no.]

[His fuzzy chin jerks in a nod. He's trying to paw away the hot swell of tears down his cheeks, to little avail. Still can't tell which instinct has him wanting to ball himself up into a corner and howl.]

...yeah.

They're gone.

[You killed them.]

[Like you killed so m̷̤̓ǎ̶̡͆n̸̹͠y̵̻͎͛ ḿ̸ͅo̶̯̎̑r̷̞̐ė̷̝.]

[video]

[punful]

[There's a flicker of white...and red. Of course it would be red.]

[It suits him.]

[He's never seen Tim cry before. Or maybe that's Asgore. Or both of them. With things like this, it all gets mixed up. He wonders if it was the same for Chara and Frisk when they were one person.]

...okay.

[He can't judge. He won't. It's too complicated--far, far too many gray areas.]

[But all the same, he can't help but wonder if Tim has gained LOVE. He's never Checked. Can't tell over the network, either. He tells himself it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter. It's not even his business.]

how did it happen?

audio

[fulllifeconsequences]

[A human has never taken a monster's SOUL.

It's a law of the world. Literally carved in stone. For all the atrocities humankind was capable of, not once did they sink that low. Not once did the whisper in the back of Frisk's head permit them to snatch up Toriel's SOUL, try to keep a trace of her with them instead of going through a journey with a phone nobody answers. Not once did the flower and his schemes let that human take Asgore's SOUL, gain the power to slip past the Barrier.

No human ever crossed that final boundary. No human took the last thing monsters had to themselves.

And yet. And yet!

What greets them, when they finally reawaken in a familiar world?

Not Mr. Dad Guy, ha ha. That's for sure! When they speak, there is no face attached to it. There is no question mark on the end of what should be a question - no rise in inflection at all. Nothing but a deadened, sharpened tone, dripping with redness.]

What have you done.

audio

[postictal]

[There's just...breathing, for a moment. Hiccup-like, staticky with the sobbing he's trying to bite back - trying, and failing. He's always cried easily. He's broken down, he's broken down. On cameras, on tapes, on video. He's had everything he is bared for the world to see.]

[The part of him not recoiling from the hot stab of crimson across the audio feed aches with torqued recognition - borrowed insight into someone he doesn't really know.]

[His head is in his hands - awkwardly, because he doesn't know how to accommodate the new shape of his face or his hands.]

He told me to take it so no one...he said he didn't know what'd happen. He didn't know, and I didn't want to but he said I -

[Blaming his current state on the man who died for him. That's classy, isn't it.]

This wasn't supposed to happen.

audio

[fulllifeconsequences]

[They see this for exactly what it is. Making excuses. Self-pity. The usual disgusting oh-so-human tricks and tactics, as if figuring out who to blame this on is more important than Asgore, all over again, being unsaveable, being the one who still has to suffer if you make just one tiny, tiny mistake. Buttercups instead of butter. A single failure to figure out how to show MERCY. Human error, all over again, taking everything away from Asgore!]

Don't you dare blame him. Don't blame him for dying. You sickening, sickening human.

[Like he was tricked into absorbing a SOUL by some devious manipulator. Like someone forced him to do it. Like he's a tragic victim of some nefarious, selfish ploy!]

Sir. You're still here, are you not? Take him over. Answer me. I know that you can. I know how control works when a SOUL is taken.

audio

[postictal]

I've tried. I've tried.

[There hadn't been any time. There hadn't been any time to do anything but take the words at face value as they'd come, and react immediately. He'd reacted. He'd reacted, been proactive instead for once in his damn life, and of course it all goes to hell.]

[He didn't know. He didn't know.]

If I'd known I never would've done it. I don't...

[He breaks off, again. A choking, desperate sob that shivers up the length of his spine.]

If he's in there, I don't know how to get him back. I can't get him back!

audio

[fulllifeconsequences]

[Asgore doesn't answer. The human just keeps sobbing. Keeps saying he can't get him back.

Like he's... not there. Like this isn't keeping him around, it's just... turning him into fuel. Into power that can be used. Like Asgore's not a person anymore - like Asgore the person isn't here anymore - they don't know which way to phrase it. They don't know which one hurts less.]

What... what are you talking about? That's not how it works. He's supposed to be there. He's still supposed to be...

[They stop.]

Sir...? Mr. Dreemurr? Your Majesty?

[Of course he's in there. Chara had been sure a human would stop existing when a monster took their SOUL, and it didn't work out that way. Remnants shone through. Within Asriel, within Frisk. Within Flowey, full of six wriggling SOULs. There was always a glimmer of what was gone, poised to take control when someone needed it.

So of course he isn't gone.

Of course he isn't.

He's just... taking his time answering. He's just... feeling a little sick. He'll be feeling butter in no time, won't he?]

I do not like this game you are playing, sir. I don't want to talk to a stranger. I want to talk to you.

[Voice]

[mypartnerintime]

[She answers in voice only, because the sight of him sends her goosebumps up her arms and makes it hard to speak.]

T-Tim? Wh-, what- god- what happened?

[Voice]

[postictal]

[Oh, hell.]

[He thought - was she gone? He thought she was gone. Shouldn't've been grateful for a thing like that, not when she's one of the only tethers to the memory of Alex he has, but it made things simpler, in their own way. Their own morbid, selfish way.]

I didn't mean - neither of us knew what would happen.

[Voice]

[mypartnerintime]

[She's been keeping mostly to herself, as is her new style, but this deserves a response. She needs to make sure he's... okay. If okay is even possible in a situation like this.]

Y-yeah, uh, calm down, okay, I just... Just tell me what happened? One step at a time.

[Voice]

[postictal]

Asgore, he, uh -

[He's having trouble speaking clearly. Having trouble making things clear. No amount of context will isolate this into something he can bear to look at, even for a second.]

He tried to save me. He did save me, but he - [He chokes himself off, face buried in his hands.]

[Voice]

[mypartnerintime]

O-okay... [So he got saved by that big goat guy and now he's... kind of like that too. Max tries to remember all those little tips about managing anxiety attacks.] Try to breathe regularly. Like, uh, like long breaths...