entrancelogs | + Trick or treat till the neighbors gonna die of fright!

Entry tags:

+ Trick or treat till the neighbors gonna die of fright! | OPEN +

Who: EVERYONE (if they want to live)
Where: EVERYWHERE (inside the mansion, knocking on doors)
When: 6/24 - 6/27
Rating: PG-13?
Summary: The Summerween Trickster has made his decree - Trick or treat...or die! This is a mingle log for Trick-or-Treating!
The Story:

On the morning of the 24th, everyone will find that the mansion was inexplicably decorated for Halloween...sort of. The idea behind the decorations is mostly the same, except that every jack-o-lantern is made out of a watermelon instead of a pumpkin. No, this is SUMMERWEEN.

For the first day it will be harmless enough, just a change in décor and a little spooky summer fun. However, by the second day there will be sightings of the Summerween Trickster, a creepy fellow made entirely out of unpopular loser candy, and he is not happy. In the entrance hall, there will be a giant jack-o-melon container with a counter and a count-down clock ticking away to the end of the event.

Your job, Wonderland, is to trick-or-treat for your lives. You have until the end of the event to deliver one million pieces of candy to the jack-o-melon before the end of the event, to appease the Summerween Trickster.

What was that? You'll just sit this out and wait for the event to end? I wouldn't do that if I were you. You see, the Summerween Trickster could be lurking around any corner. If he catches someone not fully embracing the spirit of Summerween (refusing to trick or treat, not wearing a costume, etc), they will not survive the experience. The Trickster will kill them and swallow them whole, making them part of his horrible loser candy body.

More details about trick or treating can be found here. This is a mingle post for trick-or-treating, if you'd rather use this than make a post! [Brackets] or prose are both welcome.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

A grin that they slap down to the ground. Still don't trust. Easier to not hope, especially when you already know that not a single happy ending has room for you in it. But they're learning. Starting to get clever again. Exploding isn't the only option. They learned to stay quiet and smile so well, before they grew sick of it, and a smile gets you places. You can slap an idea down quietly, acceptably, without ruining it for everyone.

And maybe for now, just not exploding counts for something, right?

"Yeah, you would," they snort. "A crybaby and a cornball. You must really be loving it here, then. Not a single death has been your fault, and there's nothing left for everyone to do but learn how to get along, right?" No barrier to break, and plenty of humans milling around to make it plenty clear that introducing yourself with magic is actually kind of ouchy and unpleasant!

"But that just makes things more interesting!" They can't guess any of what's going to happen, and isn't that neat? It's terrifying too, but the power of the SAVE is enough to draw them back from most of their terror. "I'm glad we're here! 'Cause otherwise, I wouldn't've gotten to know you the way I do now!"

It's not just a corny thing they're saying to make themselves feel better, or to make Chara feel like they're not constantly impeding on Frisk's happiness - it's a genuine emotion, they realize as they say it. They're happy they know Chara now, and they don't want to go back to just being two voices in one body. They want this to be...this. Forever.

Boy, they sure are getting good at answering Frisk with silence! Because they just have to go and utter more completely saccharine, eye-rolling sap, right? Because they bring up something that Chara doesn't know how to take into themselves - or maybe something they've been thinking about, and thinking about a lot, but don't quite... know how to articulate.

They... they're glad they're here too. They're glad they... got to know Frisk? Not... their idealized concept of what the Good One is like. Not a bunch of blurred lines and interchangeable names. Not a tug-of-war. They... would have chalked certain things up to being their doing, they think, if they'd still been crowded into a single body. Would have blamed themselves for bandages that have been re-used multiple times, even if that was there before Frisk fell. Would have called their arguments, their desperate clinging, a howling loneliness they tried to hard to smother... would definitely have called those all Chara's.

They really are starting to accept that bit of guidance about the good and bad not being cleanly divisible between the two of them, aren't they?

"I guess I'm glad I'm not stuck under your skin anymore," they decide. "Not that either of us seems to do very well at having alone time." Too soon? Definitely too soon. Always that dark tilt to their jokes. "But it's nice to not have to fight for the right to move every single time I want to so much as scratch my butt."

"Oh my god, Chara!" Frisk shoves them playfully, but they're laughing. The demon that comes when people call its name, everybody! The demonic, genocidal, irredeemable force of evil! Now located at Wonderland, plus a halo and a pair of devil horns, making jokes about scratching butts as they trick-or-treat in the middle of July!

True, they're not good at alone. They don't think that, really, either of them are. They just tried that, and look where it go them. A few scratches, a few scrapes, some mild starvation, and a complete lack of self-worth, capped off with such an indifference toward the concept of a CONTINUE that they both decided it was better to not CONTINUE at all.

Better to be together, then. Better together like this than apart the way they were.

They get a whole box of Good'N Plenty from the next door, which makes their eyes go wide with delight. They pull out the purple box eagerly and crack it open.

"It's licorice," they say, somewhat apologetically, "but it's good. Want some?"

They end up grasping at their shirt. Like they went for the locket, but missed. (They haven't let themselves hold the locket for a long time now. Not since Asriel arrived.) This... aches, sort of? And they don't know why. Touch that comes from hands that aren't bigger than theirs, that aren't smothering or threatening or panic-inducing. Just... a harmless, friendly shove. A real laugh. Bright, sincere excitement over a candy they like.

This... it's a feeling they... the only word they can think to pin to it is "Asriel." But Asriel isn't even here right now, right? They laugh, and they don't know why they're laughing, don't know if it's fake or it's coming from somewhere as sincere as Frisk's had been, wrinkle their nose up in a downright silly, undignified manner.

"Ew, no chance! I'd rather go back to not tasting anything at all. You can have that particular bit of loot all to yourself."

"It's good!" Frisk pops a few into their mouth and grins as they chew. They'll take that as a sign of laughter. Genuine enjoyment, even, from Mx. "I don't enjoy anything". Not fooling anyone.

They hesitate a little bit, shoulders shrugging. "Um, sorry if I...I didn't mean to just touch you without asking."

Personal space is important, after all, and they'd know that. Even if Frisk is mostly fine with it, particularly from other kids, adults are still something that generates that instinctive wariness.

"It's... okay," they answer, and it's a lot closer to actually okay than they're used to the word ever being. A kid's touch isn't as alarming as an adult's. Hands that they used to steer aren't as foreign and unwelcome as a stranger's. Frisk is...

...

Safe?

Their brow furrows. They look away. That's a lie. Why would they be so unwary? They don't even trust Frisk. Nobody is actually safe. They obviously mean some other word.

"I can put up with it, if I must," they decide. Better. "Compared to how we used to be, anything still feels like plenty of space between us."

"That's true," says Frisk, with a little laugh, though it's not quite at full force like before. They didn't mean to cross any boundaries. But you don't have to be aware of this sort of thing to do it, do you? They should know. They should be better about this. They owe Chara that.

Like now, they can't read Chara's head at all. No idea what they might be thinking, which...is frustrating, a bit, because Chara looks bothered about something, but getting them to genuinely discuss their problems can be like pulling teeth on bad days. No, actually, on good days. On bad days it's like pulling teeth from a rabid dog while fending off a pack of wolves.

"Still, um - if I ever do or say something that you don't...that you wish I wouldn't, I - I won't mind if you say something."

"Save that advice for yourself, Frisk," they reply. "Have you ever known me to be quiet?" Every action, every thing they looked at, every bit of food they ate, there was always an asterisk blinking into their head. Here and now, separate, locked out of each other's minds, Chara may be able to keep things up their sleeve a bit more closely, but they doubt they'd ever be described as the sort of person who takes slights lying down.

Especially when it concerns someone who's already seen the very worst of them, right? What, getting furious that Frisk died or broke a promise is more frightening and unlovable than being the sort of creature who comes up with plans to free everyone? Than carving a dusty path through everything and everyone that they could possibly reach?

"I'd like to think we're sort of past that point. Aren't we?" They turn their eyes on Frisk when they ask that. Don't trust. Promises aren't kept. Can they really assume Frisk will say something when they do or say something they don't like?

"I...guess, yeah." Another skip and another stumble. They look to their feet again, feeling foolish. "But I mean, we - I'm always trying to get you to talk about things even if you don't like it. Talk about Asriel. Talk about M - about Toriel. Talk about before you fell."

Their cheeks grow a little red as they go on, but their miniature diatribe continues, unimpeded.

"And I'm not the one who's actually dealing with it, right? I'm just...watching. And I guess that's why I feel like I've got to always do something. Even if I don't have the right to."

It prickles like nettles. They've already offered Frisk more about before they fell than even Asriel got to hear, even if it's only one, maybe two little snippets, oblique barely-there mentions.

Honestly... they just feel foolish for it. Before they fell is better off erased. Just like anything they feel for Asriel. Just like what they feel about Toriel. Why would Frisk encourage this? They're the one who's only suffered for it. They're the one who doesn't get to call Toriel "mom" even if it's the most effortless thing in the world for them. They're the one stressed to the very limit when the friend they wanted to SAVE shows up, because Chara has to go and be a big muddying factor.

"That's right. You don't have the right to," they snap, more forcefully than they mean to. "Think about what good your meddling has done. All it's made you do is decide you're personally responsible for my choices. All it made you do was think you had to move out and disappear. Yeah, real big help that was, wasn't it?"

Frisk cringes, glances away. They're right, of course. You just keep messing up, don't you, Frisk, messing up and messing up and never learning from it. Don't have infinite tries here. Don't have the advantage of a blank slate. Not anymore.

And they're not the one who's deciding anything. They're just watching, and deciding that they're relevant. Even when they're not. They just walked in on the Dreemurr's problems, tried to fix them, and now that they're all here, they shouldn't pretend that they have a say in how any of it should be anymore.

"I know," they say quietly. "But you didn't have to leave either. Decided it'd be easier if no one had to worry about you, but I - didn't know what to do without you. I missed you."

"Why don't you talk about your before you fell? You didn't have anyone in your head then, and that wasn't an issue at all!"

They're... just getting awful again, aren't they? Sharp. Jagged. Mean. They pull the halo off their head (it isn't funny anymore) and clench both hands around it. Think about how hard they'd have to pull to tear it in half.

"It wasn't a problem when you never wanted me here - no one did, right? Wasn't a problem when you didn't even know I could be here. You obviously are capable of doing just fine on your own. Missing me was optional." Everyone else sure figured that out, huh? Asriel found a replacement, a superior model. So did Toriel. Asgore only missed one child to begin with.

"It's only a problem because you're deciding to make it a problem," Chara blurts, even if they know how that sounds. "You could be perfectly happy without me if you actually tried."

"Just fine?" Frisk stares at them, aghast. "Just fine? I was lost without you! I didn't know what to do! You think I ever wanted to be just, just alone like that, without you? I - you're my friend, my best friend, I don't wanna - I don't know how to be alone!"

There's a tremor in their voice again, that halting shudder as they struggle gamely not to burst into tears. Why do they have to be such a crybaby? Couldn't live without that clamor in their head, or that clamor outside of it. Couldn't live without Chara. Chara, just being Chara, whether they're laughing and giggling or giving them chocolate and a juicebox or throwing ketchup bottles at windows or curling up and crying and pretending they're not crying because big kids don't cry or trying to be brave or trying not to panic or slicing their way through undead monstrosities or clinging to Frisk as they lay there trembling on the floor, snarling that Frisk isn't a burden.

"I love you, you butt."

They... they don't like this. Any of this. Frisk is upset, Frisk is close to tears, and Chara... doesn't like that. Doesn't like that they're saying horrible things, and Frisk says I love you.

They're right. They're sure they are. There was a time when Frisk wouldn't have missed Chara at all. And... and instead, all this everything had to go and happen. Their one, single job was to let go, and instead, they bent everything around so they... so this... so they care. No, not right. Doesn't have to matter if they care about Frisk or not. They can care and still let go. They can let go because they care now, because it matters that Frisk gets to be happy. But they didn't mean to... to make Frisk love them.

Love's still too fragile. Too scary. Not real.

They stare at their hands. Could break the fake halo they're holding. Could clench the pitchfork balanced against their shoulder. ...Reach one hand out, instead. They only really know how to speak in the kind of touch that's only meeting halfway, that's just an invitation to be taken or refused. In the kind that's easy to just lean away from. They're pretty sure what Frisk really needs is probably so much more than that. An I love you that can be returned. Hugs that aren't too tight and too brief and too scared that even a human being could turn to dust in their vicious, dangerous arms. But... extending a hand is really... it's all they have.

"Don't say stuff like that. Don't cry." It's not a comforting answer, not the kind of answer that's supposed to come with offering to intertwine fingers, but big kids don't cry. Love isn't supposed to make you cry. Not if it's real love. Good love. The kind that fixes it. Right? "I... got. Um." They missed Frisk. They don't want a future without Frisk. They don't want a mother's love if Frisk can't have it too. They want to share whatever little goodness life has left for them with Frisk.

"I guess I got... bored without you, too, but... look, you're upset. All caring about me does is lead to you being unhappy. Is that really a good thing?"

Again, forcing Chara into the role of comforter. Supporter. God, Frisk, can you go ten minutes without turning everything inward, and making them have to drop everything and come to your aid? Abandon their problems, and fly to yours.

Don't cry, says Chara, and Frisk swallows the lump in their throat, chokes it down and flattens their features like they used to. Trying not to panic, trying not to break out sobbing, because then Chara would feel guilty and that would be cruel, to put them through that now, when they're trying, and being helpful, and, and Frisk doesn't want them to feel this way.

Got bored without them, as if they weren't streaked with scratches and cuts and grime when they ran into Frisk in the library, disheveled and likely starving.

"Caring about anyone hurts," says Frisk at last, choking out a hiccup of a laugh. Do they just not know how to love very well? What kind of person says that they love their friends and then guts them all, carves them to pieces, turns them all to dust. What kind of love is that?

"Love is, it makes you happy, but it also makes you sad. Like, like now. B-because you don't think that, that you're anything special. But you are."

They retract their hand. Look away, distract themselves with dangling the halo off one of the tines of their trident instead. If an invitation isn't taken, they shouldn't push. All they ever do is push people into things they shouldn't do, ha ha. Pushing a shared body to fight back against things that hurt it, because that's how demonic possession is, right? Pushing Asriel into a plan that's cruel, wicked, that would only start wars and they should have known that.

...Pushing Frisk to not cry. And they don't, even if that laugh is dangerously close to a sob, and they're trying to not react, trying to wear the poker face that carried them through the Underground. They didn't actually make Frisk less upset. Of course they didn't. They're just... teaching Frisk the sort of things they taught Asriel.

Really aren't good at this at all, Chara.

Really aren't good in general, Chara. Aren't special. Used to think they were, right? The angel who'd seen the surface! Someone who survived a fall for a reason! The demon that comes! Someone who had been reawakened for a reason, intentionally, by someone who needed them! They... they think they just want to back out of this. It's just like everything else trying to care has fooled them into thinking. The more they buy it, the more they make others love them, the more... ha. The more they'll all be set back by Chara, right? Life actually is that unfair for some people.

"Look, I'm not gonna leave you anymore. You don't have to convince me to stay. Save the sappiness for someone who's actually going to buy it. I've doled out plenty of hurting already, haven't I?" Hurt everyone so much, there were almost no survivors! Ha ha ha! Asriel sure learned that caring about anyone hurts, didn't he! Hurt real bad when the asshole next door got the rifle, and their parents hurled rocks and vengeful words and the wrong pronouns, and the president of the PTA courageously went in with a Louisville Slugger, and....

...There isn't really a punchline to this joke.

"Just... don't..." Love me? Kind of a stupid thing to request. Won't get them anywhere, will it? "Don't work yourself up over it."

Edited 2016-07-05 02:49 (UTC)

Why are they...like this? Why do they keep doing this to themselves and everyone else? Dare to get close, then snap away, because they don't deserve anyone's love or patience or attention, not after all they've done to hurt people and get away with it. What are the consequences? Shouldn't they suffer those consequences? Be...alone? But how do they be alone? They haven't been really alone in so long. Not since they first fell, and...how long ago was that, really?

"I hurt you too," says Frisk. "And back there, we would've both...we'd've just done that, if Toriel hadn't...and I wasn't gonna stop us. I just wanted it to be over."

But as it turns out, they're really, really good at dying. Even when they're not supposed to. So good at dying, it's like the only thing they think they should ever do. So good at it, and - and they can't keep thinking like this.

"Sorr - um," they abort the apology before it gets all the way out. Chara doesn't like apologies. "I didn't mean to make this a whole - a big thing. Where I cry, and you don't like it."

What was their point here? That they don't hate Chara, and they don't ever want to let them go? But they knew that already. Or maybe they hear it and keep saying Frisk can't mean it. They don't know.

"I just don't wanna lose you," they finish, clumsily, "that's all."

Where I cry, and you don't like it. Don't cry. Not because big kids don't cry. Because Chara doesn't like it? Because... Chara will get mad? They're really glad they hung that halo up. Just like them jabs like needles into the back of their neck, and they're sure they'd have twisted it beyond recognition if they'd been holding it.

Maybe they're just... looking for excuses to sour this. Just being... you know. Like this. They don't even know, right? They aren't in Frisk's head anymore. Don't get to be the voice announcing how Frisk feels. Weren't always accurate even when they were in Frisk's head, were they? Maybe they just want this to hurt, so they're making it hurt before Frisk can dig in the knife.

"Reset," they blurt, and it's not funny at all. The opposite of funny. Not the kind of word that should be joked about, right? "We're just... tangling each other up, I think. Start over."

It's not at all like a LOAD. Doesn't pull the leaden, thorny sensation out of their stomach. Pointless to even talk about do-overs. "You're not gonna lose me. Not... here, anyway." While Wonderland lasts. No promises about anything beyond Wonderland. For their own good, they'll eventually have to lose Chara in their own world, right? But here, it's... it's different. "We... it's just better when we're together. I know that."

They leave that sentence unfinished. Drop it on the floor, kick it away. "But I don't... I'm sick of being the reason you're not happy, okay?" Let Frisk be happy! Even if they no longer know how to do that. Even if they're so, so bad at this. Even if history has proven beyond the shadow of a doubt that Chara's love takes away everything people treasure, turns them into bitter, lonesome shells of their former selves, and that's inescapable. That's going to be what will happen to Frisk, too. "I'm not trying to make you cry on purpose, I just... there are things I don't want or need, so - so how am I supposed to know what to do with them?"

Reset. Scrub the slate clean, start over. Deep breath. Frisk nods, gulps down the lump in their throat. Let Chara talk, even if it feels like they might be fumbling over the words a little bit. But that's all right. They've both been fumbling, floundering. Don't know how to really love all that well, maybe. Don't know how to express something that isn't expressable through grand, self-sacrifical actions.

So reset. Not RESET, just...reset. Let's start from the beginning.

"You're not why I'm unhappy," says Frisk, head ducking in embarrassment and sheepish acknowledgment. "I don't know why I'm not always happy all the time. I think that's just 'cause I remember too much. And I don't like remembering it. Don't know what else to do with it, so I just - cry, sometimes. Or, or I say or do stupid things, 'cause I dunno - how's it supposed to be? How're kids...how should we be - "

How should they be handling things like this, always walking around with that guilt weighing in their SOUL. How's it supposed to be, with kids? How are they supposed to act or think or feel? Neither of them are paragons of normality, not really, but Frisk doesn't know a single person who is, back home or in Wonderland.

Funny, right? It's so far out of their reach that they don't even know how to ask.

"I don't know," Chara answers. "I was born 600 years old, remember?" And it's a joke, it's more of that oh-so-tiring edgy demon trash they're always spouting... but it's kind of how they feel, too. Like they were born too old and weary. Seen too much. Lived too much, even before their age hit the double digits. Like they've always been kind of... paradoxical? Out of sync with normal, right, comprehensible.

So, that's what makes it weird, right? That... "I get what you mean, though." They don't cry, of course, but they know the feeling. They know acting so irrational, so impossible, not at all like a human being, because you don't know what sort of shape you're supposed to give to something so overwhelming. "But whatever kind of love I've got, it's not the kind that fixes it. Look... look what happened when the Dreemurrs loved me. Look what happened to... maybe my real parents were nice, too, until they had me!" It writhes under their skin, every time they attach the word "real" to the wrong set of parents, but they deserve that. They deserve it.

Wouldn't be wrong, either, right? Their surface parents had lots of friends! People who liked them! Who refused to believe anything some problem child might come up with. Weren't they always the ones who said Chara made them do things like that? Chara just liked to make them suffer, behaving the way they did. What did they ever do to deserve a demon child?

Ha. How's this for talking about their "before they fell?"

...Not fun anymore. Wasn't fun to begin with. They juggle their toy pitchfork aimlessly, hoping to distract their hands. Doesn't work. Scratch their arm uneasily. That does work. "I'm just... maybe you shouldn't hand that kind of power to just anyone, you know? It's not gonna work out the way you think it will. It never has."

Look at them. Look at the pair of them. Castoffs, unwanted things, fleeing to leap into a pit in the ground because the alternative was too terrifying to comprehend, too hateful, too horrifying. It should be wrong for kids like them to feel like this, empty and bereft and...tired. Tired before their time. Hard to know how old Chara really is, but it's not difficult to imagine them older. Taking the lead so easily, so much more assertive than meek, too-quiet, too-stammery Frisk.

"That's not you," says Frisk, and bile swells in their throat for a horrible moment. "Not your fault." Real parents. As if parents like that deserve the word "real" as a prefix. They don't remember much from something Chara so viciously blocked out, but there was that surging hatred, that angry, bitter loneliness associated with humanity. Or maybe those were Frisk's memories. Things shattering, the anticipatory tensing of your shoulders before the other thing happens. Slip a knife from a cabinet so no adult gets to come close to you ever again, not without your say-so.

Humans can really suck sometimes. Anyone that provokes that reaction from a kid, makes them run and hide and see a long drop and just let it all fall - maybe there's enough hatred in their heart for that. For people like that.

"I don't love you 'cause I think I'm gonna get something out of it," they say, the corners of their mouth twitching as they struggle to smile but don't quite make it. "I don't love you to make anything happen. I love you 'cause I do. I can't change that, even if I wanted to."

It's all your fault. It's all because you MADE THEM love you. All that time you spent listening to them... encouraging them... caring about them...

They really haven't learned a thing, huh. Frisk didn't always love them, but now they do. And now that it's there, they don't know how to erase it. Neither of them do, right? They just set down a road there's no coming back from. Maybe love, like LOVE, can't be undone. Not without a RESET. Maybe it's a consequence, too? If even the tiniest increase in LV locks them out of an ending, maybe the tiniest bit of love locks them into something too.

"I know. Good people don't have ulterior motives. I know someone with no EXP to speak of can't just up and decide not to miss a person." Also know how to fix that, but they're positive Frisk's never gonna hit LV 8. That's not who Frisk is. "But it's worrying."

Two lovers, the cauldron of hell. Still doesn't fit. No lovers, no boiling magma far beneath them. But... a sense of scaling toward disaster. Mutual destruction. They already came close to it, didn't they? Almost walked out of existence hand in hand. "I can't see a way it will end happily, Frisk. I can't. I don't care how it sounds. I wish you never loved me at all."

Maybe it'd be lonelier in the short-term, but in the long run, it would be safer. They wouldn't get hurt. Not like Asriel's been hurt, Toriel's been hurt, Asgore's been hurt. If there's no love, no attachment, then they'd surely never be willing to trade their SOUL away. Maybe they could divert a fate that still feels inevitable. If Chara can't change, then maybe they should have at least... at least tried to steer Frisk in the right direction?

Good people, says Chara. Good like Frisk is, and like Chara isn't, based on numbers and values alone. No distance, no tearing away. No EXP. A LOVEless existence. Whereas Chara...did they have a loveless one, before they fell upon the Dreemurrs? Was it fate? asks Asriel, his voice wavering, uncertain, watching Frisk as they stood there, not answering his question, not answering anyone. Why would you ever climb a mountain like that, Frisk? Why would someone as good as you ever do something so horrible?

So endeavor not to be broken, Frisk. Endeavor not to be so torn at the seams. Endeavor to be the friend everyone always wanted, the perfect pacifist, the ideal human. Patch yourself up while no one's looking, and continue to be good.

"That's why I ran away," says Frisk quietly. "Trying not to love anyone. I said awful things to...everyone. But they just kept loving me anyway. And I got so mad." Their hands ball into fists at their sides, all thoughts of trick-or-treating forgotten. "Why couldn't they see how horrible I was? Why couldn't they accept that I'm always gonna - even in the happiest ending, there's always that chance that I'll just, I'll take it all back. And I told them that. Kept telling them that. And they wouldn't listen."

Why wouldn't they just listen?

Frisk breathes out shakily, trying to funnel out that rage before it spills over, but it...doesn't quite go away.

"Wow," they say, vaguely hysterical, "we're pretty messed up, huh?"

They... it's rude to stare, especially when you've got creepy eyes and a creepy smile, but Chara stares. Really looks. Tries to see.

They understand this completely, and that worries them.

They... saw Frisk mad at them once, conjuring every last emotional weapon they could grasp. It had been righteous anger. For everyone's sake, for the greater good. For everyone's hearts beating as one, or whatever Undyne's all about. But this is... a very Chara kind of anger? It is anger, right? Frisk is angry. There's only one feeling in the entire world Chara actually understands, and it's anger.

"You wanna be punished," they venture quietly. "You know you deserve to. You know it's coming eventually, because it always is." Karmic retribution, a declaration over an unmarked grave that you weren't a good person, whatever. "When they don't get mad, it just... feels like the calm before the storm." Like they're all just waiting for you to stop holding your breath, so it'll hurt more - and the constant throb of guilt always trails on the heels of that wariness, because what kind of mean jerk assigns those sort of motives to good people?

They... hold out their hand again. Don't even know why, because they're pretty sure Frisk's not feeling much like being touched right now, and it's a waste of effort to repeat the gesture. Just... don't know what else to do, they guess. "Because of your own impulses or because of the way people respond to you... you don't feel like anything happy can actually last."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

cw abuse mentions

no subject

no subject

no subject