Chapter Text
The creator a burden, stripped down to dust.
Forced into creations, and felt it as just.
Dragged down below thee, from world high to low
Though new worlds apart eat shadow and bone.
Believed thee worthy, deserved of such pain
Letting thy soul be torn: battered and strained.
TW!!! ⚠️⚠️ THOUGHTS OF SUICIDE. I’M SERIOUS GUYS, ITS THAT KIND OF ISEKAI, THIS IS A REAL ‘DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT’ FOR LIKE THIS WHOLE FIRST SECTION I’M NOT JOKING MY BETA READERS FREAKED OUT ⚠️⚠️
It hurt you to think like this. But it was simple fact. They hated you, they all did. You had solely believed that your best friend, at least, would have cared. You stopped pretending your family did long ago, but now? Now you were starting to wonder if they were right. How could so many people believe the same thing without somewhere to base it off of? It must have been you. You were the problem, right? You were desperate. You were a mistake. You shouldn’t even exist anymore. Why did you? Because you believed one person cared? No. No, you could’ve gone long ago. Maybe you should've. Look at you, holed up in your room, looking at your shitty Undertale fanfics for fucks sake!
Just look at yourself, man! Was this how you spent your time!?
You cried out in frustration, tearing the closest paper--a fic about the bad Sanses-- to shreds. After a moment filled with only your labored breathing, you cried out again and tore up another. It wasn't enough. You gripped the pages of your notebook, manhandling it compared to the delicate wear it had been lovingly given in previous years. You didn't care if you poured your heart and soul into it anymore. You were angry. You were seething. You were enraged.
Faster and faster, you individually tore each page out, tossing the delicate pieces behind you in your frenzy. You did this until your fingers scraped the empty back of the notebook, signaling its end. Frustrated, you grabbed the shell that was once your book and threw it against the wall. Sobbing, you curled into yourself, flooded with more sorrow than you had expected after previously feeling so outraged at the innocent paper. You hated it.
You hated yourself.
Why were you so sad? Why did it hurt so much? You continued to cry, soaking your pants and leaving wet spots on the carpet that muffled your wails.
But nobody came.
Nobody would come, because nobody cared. Nobody cared if you threw a fit in your room. Nobody would care if you poured your heart into a fic for them. Nobody would care if you destroyed it.
Nobody would care if you destroyed yourself.
It was at this realization, that something clicked inside of you. Something hollow, unmoving, settled in your soul. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to be gone. Dead to this world. You didn't care how painful you went as long as you died, and soon. You deserved whatever pain befell you until then, but you would die.
And if nobody stopped you, your soul decided, it will be by your own hand.
Something snapped.
Run.
You were dashing through the dirt, the terrain rough and dusty. You didn't know why you were running, but everything inside you was screaming for you to move.
“You dare approach my experiment, and try avoiding the consequences!?” A horrible voice screeched.
You winced, but continued running, holding the package you were carrying very carefully. It was wrapped up, soft and delicate. Nothing compared to the shaking world around you.
“You should be dead!” The voice yelled, and a loud boom could be heard behind you rattling the earth.
Something in the back of your mind agreed. You should be dead. So why are you here?
Another voice snapped you out of it, fading fast.
Focus. Get him to safety. Don’t stop running.
You blindly followed these instincts as you took in the crumbling buildings around you, dodging a collapsing chunk of debris by nearly a foot.
“Our world is falling apart, Sans! We can still save it!”
Save it? Was all this crumbling, somehow because of you?
‘No.’ The thoughts snapped again. ‘Don’t fall for it. Not again. Don’t risk losing your package. He’s the only thing that matters.’
Your brain scrambled to remember why these things were important, when you heard distant whirring behind you. Reluctantly, you chanced a peek behind you.
Weren’t you just in your room?
You were outside, gray skies and floor surrounding you, the air littered with dust. You were in a crumbling city, and a terrifyingly inky creature was chasing after you. You knew him, you recalled, but you were losing that memory quicker and quicker as you ran.
The creature, a scientist you swore you recognized, was in hot pursuit. He had a large scar above his left eye, and another to match below the other, destroying his otherwise perfectly white face. His lab coat extruded long black tendrils, acting almost like shadowy spider legs as he chased you. You hated spiders.
You soon realized this doctor wasn’t what caused the noise. Your eyes drew up to the gray sky above him, distantly behind both you and your pursuer. Soaring down, lower and lower, was a menacing shape. Descending from the sky, falling directly at the building you were running from, was an actual bomb.
The weapon was practically only feet away from landing, and with a loud scream you turned on-heel and dashed to the side. Harried, you had split from your path in hopes to find any shelter from the impending impact. A building, half-sunken into the ground, was your only cover. Seeing your only options, a suspiciously lopsided wall, or a crazed spider-skeleton-thumb, you knew where you were going. You had no time to settle, as the moment you turned to duck behind your cover, there was an ear-splitting boom. It rattled you to your core, and almost immediately during your dive, your leg felt a searing pain engulf itself. You ducked with a hiss of pain, pressing your back to the building and yanking your leg with you. Practically rattling, you found yourself tucking your sizzling leg closer and squeezing your eyes shut.
The rest of you was fine. Your package was fine.
Breathing heavily, you subconsciously held the bundle closer to your chest. A few moments passed, most of which felt like they were dragging on for hours, until the barrage behind you stopped. The smoke faded, and you failed to hear the angry scientist behind you, his presence likely gone. You knew it would be too optimistic to hope he’s dead. Vaguely, your gut seemed to agree, despite the fact you swear you didn’t know him.
’He’s like a cockroach.’
Your ears were ringing, and your breaths felt empty as you cautiously opened your eyes. Glancing down, you were immediately met with relief to find your package unharmed, though you struggled to understand why. The searing pain in your leg made itself known again as you tried to move, said leg screaming at the gesture. With a wince, you pulled the leg closer again to examine it. Yet, to your befuddlement, what you saw was not a leg. Was not your leg, to be precise.
It was literally, bones.
You burned your skin off, to the bone.
“Shit!” You exclaimed, panickedly reaching for your ankle.
How could you have not felt this!? Why-
You froze, seeing an unfamiliar hand reaching for your leg. This unfamiliar hand was attached to an unfamiliar arm, and in turn covered by an unfamiliar jacket, messily layered in dirt and soot. Though, that last bit seemed reasonable, considering you just barely survived a fucking bombing.
The dirt, however, was not your biggest concern.
Shaking, you slowly turned your hand over and brought it closer to examine. You were met with more bone, and phalanges instead of fingertips. Your breath grew heavier, and everything seemed to slow as you carefully turned to the building behind you. Seeing the glint of something reflective, you turned to examine the wall. Seeing vague movement following you, you realized what you were looking at was just a grimy window. Slowly, you wiped the dirt off with a free sleeve. What you saw could have made your heart stop, and you gasped.
White eyelights met your own, yet you knew they truly couldn't have. This couldn’t be real.
What you saw before you was a skeleton, roughed up and as pale as a literal skeleton could be. Short, round, and carrying a delicate bundle of cloth in their arms. You looked like a fucking Sans, but you knew better than to believe that. Surely, your eyes were playing tricks on you? Yet, despite this all, you could see right then and there the evidence laid before you. You had read about such phenomena fanfics, but had never contemplated their wild possibility. Because they weren't possible!
Suddenly, with a renewed and panicked vigor, you turned and began unwrapping the cloth bundle in your arm. Suddenly things started to peice together, and you almost didn’t want to be right.
You pulled another strip away, revealing what was underneath. You gasped softly, tense arms loosening in the slightest at the sight.
It was a small, (albeit slender-skulled,) skeleton.
Papyrus.
His bones were tiny. Frail, even. He was minuscule as a whole, tucked delicately into the crook of your arm as you’d been subconsciously cradling him, protecting him the whole time. And you wanted to protect him. Had to protect him. You didn't know why, or why you’d even care about a kid in that way. Sure, he was a Papyrus, but you didn’t even know where you were, let alone what he was at the time. What crazy place were you, that had possibly casual bombings and crazy scientists claiming you ‘broke their toys’???
But again, that fading feeling from earlier sparked to life, albeit faintly. It was almost completely gone now, compared to earlier, but it fought. Everything inside of you screamed that this child was important. The little feeling in your chest resonated equally in the opinion. Keep him safe.
Whether the opinion was you, or that weird voice inside you, you didn't know. Even as your choice began to solidify, and your face sobered in determination. But what you did know, was that you were going to take care of this kid.
It was funny, really. You almost laughed, your faint memories of your past seeping back into you as the adrenaline wore off. The memories of your real life. You had so desperately wanted to leave your world in what seemed like a moment ago, now, and here you were. You technically succeeded. You had been intending death, really, and in all honesty? That seemed to still be an option. You wanted an escape. You had so dearly wanted to kill yourself, but now...?
No. You can’t, this time.
Now you had a reason to live. You had a purpose. You couldn't die, not yet. You had to protect Papyrus.
If you died later? Then albeit, you didn't mind.
But if Papyrus needed protection?
Then you’d willingly die trying.