you are what you love [ open ]

[determinedest]

Who: Tim Wright + your beautiful self, and/or Frisk + your beautiful self!
Where: All over!
When: April 7th - April 10th
Rating: PG-13 probably though I'll warn if it goes higher
Summary: Maybe, with what little power you have...
The Story:

[Starters are in the comments. Let me know over here or at arrpee if you want a closed starter or anything! I will match prose or brackets!]

Comments

[determinedest]

"You're the reason anyone had a happy ending," they have to remind him gently. It's nothing at all like the showering blazes of multicolored lightning and shimmering stars. It's more akin to the way he couldn't hold an attack toward the end, white trails of fire spilling out to either side of the little red heart that refused to die, guttering fireballs that couldn't help but avoid them.

There's hardly any point in dodging.

"It never would have been possible without you."

[pleasereset]

"Yeah! We'll free everyone!"

The static across Asriel's face flickers a little. He remembers... everyone's hearts beating as one. And so much love for one human child, cheering them on. And their name was...

...?

"I'll hurt them again. It's only a matter of time."

Another attack. This time it's rainbow-looking stars, appearing behind his head. Just like his previous attack though, the stars start to crumble apart before they can even reach Frisk. Part of it is weak magic, but the other part...

It's like he's not really wanting to fight back too much.

[determinedest]

They could FIGHT. They could strike back, and he wouldn't do much in turn, they know. He'd barely raise a paw in defense for himself. The attacks he's hurling at them now flake away like melting snow, dissipating in the same way the smokelike wisps of static fragment into pixelated blocks, dissipating into the air.

"You haven't hurt anyone here, Asriel. Not since you got here."

Maybe using his name will act like a trigger phrase, like something that might phase his memories into being. They didn't know it before, when he needed SAVING - he broadcasted it, loud and triumphant, a fanfare of neon lights and flaring bolts of lightning.