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Undertale Scenarios

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(Post-Pacifist Ending) Monsters roam peacefully about the surface - or, as peaceful as it can get alongside a few big sacks of judgement calling themselves the Justice League while they terrorize each and every new addition they come across. You happen to be of the merciful sorts, despising what war the JL is trying to start, but can't find the courage to speak out about it. Instead, you decide saving even one person from the hurtful words of hypocrites is better than none at all.




You sifted through the shelves of Best Buy, eyes skimming over the many DVD cases of shows and animes you had watched and returned, time and time again. It was almost your monthly routine, to come and trade in your old obsessions for new ones, wondering if you’d ever find something to fill the gaping hole in your curiosity. When your eyes flickered up for a brief moment and caught a glimpse of a small, dinosaur-like - was it a lizard? - monster with round glasses and a white overcoat, something clicked on inside you. As you wandered aimlessly down the aisle, you kept finding your gaze drifting to the creature standing not far from you, unable to think properly and process all the titles in front of you. Flustered, you instinctively struck your hand out to grab a random case, only to find another already on it. A string of shock ran through your chest and you used the arm attached to the hand you had covered with your own to find the exact source of the appendage. It was the same monster from before, but now they seemed embarrassed, a bright pink blush covering their cheeks as beads of sweat ran down the sides of their face, lips curving up in an anxious smile. After a few moments of surveying them, you removed your hand as though you had been burned and stuttered out an apology before scampering off. You decided on the way to your car that you didn't mind marathoning YouTube gameplays for a week.


You relaxed into a wooden bench, directing your gaze to your hands as you steadied your breathing. You're not sure why you always tortured yourself like this; your own conscious and what it lead you to doing most of the time was like a coach trying to teach someone paralyzed below the waist how to walk. Since you could remember, colors wouldn't process correctly in your vision - colorblind, as some would say. You felt cursed to be of the rare group that lived in full monochromatism, everything dull and plain no matter how bright the palette. Pathetically, you woke up each day hoping to have restored vision, and visited the most colorful places in the world - art galleries, museums, the skyscrapers at night. Today, you had chosen a botanical garden, finding it harder than usual to watch children run around and examine all the assumingly beautiful plants with wide eyes. Just as you gained the courage to lift your head, a rather large figure landed themselves beside you on the wide bench. Out of simple curiosity, you surveyed them with your peripheral vision, instantly recognizing the large cape from magazines and news reports. It was the famous king of all monsters - you wondered how it felt to have that heavy of a title on your shoulders. Not wanting to come off as rude with your current attitude, you decided it best to leave and casually slipped away from the bench. You tried to pretend you couldn't feel a piercing gaze burning holes in the back of your shirt.


You found it odd when you spotted a dark silhouette placed atop your favorite relaxing spot. Yet, you couldn't manage a sense of surprise, knowing how comforting it was to be surrounded by the gentle caress of golden flowers and the quiet rustling of leaves. You understood that sometimes, all people needed was a step outdoors and a taste of fresh air. What did happen to shock you, was when the dark phantom steadily revealed itself to be a fairly large monster with curling horns. No matter how many months it had been, you weren't exactly used to the appearance of these creatures from below the surface. You hesitated on your climb up the hill, not wanting to disturb their personal time and finding yourself nervous at the thought of conversing with a monster. You thought you could skip back downhill without them noticing, but as you started to turn around, their head shifted to look over their shoulder. Both your eyes locked for a split second before you stumbled down the slope and returned home.


Bleu (Nice Cream Guy):
You didn't mind the rain as it created a refreshening smell, reflective puddles, and peaceful pattering noises. However, when it came down in sheets and the wind was strong enough to knock you off your feet, your love for the usually gloomy weather wavered. Luckily, you happened to be inside, sipping hot chocolate from your favorite mug, staring out a window and watching the rapid raindrops fall. Yet, unluckily, your eyes also landed upon a monster just across the street, what you supposed to be rabbit ears drooping solemnly as it tried to power through the rainstorm while next to its “Nice Cream” cart. You couldn't help but pity the guy and started to feel guilty just sitting there and watching him. Sighing, you set your mug on the sill and rushed off to find shoes, a blanket, and an umbrella. Once you obtained all three objects and had slipped on your footwear, you stepped out of your apartment complex and into the world. An instinctive shudder came over you as you were immediately drenched by all the water, but you shrugged it off, huffing as you quickly crossed the two-way street. When the rabbit creature noticed your figure heading towards him, one of his ears partially perked up, curious. It was hard to think that the confused look on his face wasn't adorable. Once you were standing directly in front of him, you opened the umbrella and grabbed one of his hands, carefully placing the handle in it. From there, you pulled out the (fortunately) dry blanket from beneath your blouse and swung it around his shoulders, tying the loose ends together at his chest as you shivered uncontrollably. You smiled at your finished work and waved shyly before hurriedly back-tracking to your apartment, not responding to the, “Wait!” Perhaps they would think you couldn't hear them over the heavy rain.


BP (Burgerpants):
It was an unusual thing, really, to find someone of your age enjoying an opera. Whenever people asked about your rare curiosity towards a certain one, you would shrug it off casually and blame your grandmother. Now, you stood outside a theatre after witnessing Love Never Dies, lit cigarette tucked between your fingers as the smoke mixed and intertwined with the steam floating from your nostrils. The cold weather hardly bothered you, but all the formally dressed people filtering from the sets of doors left an unmistakable aching in your chest that had you desperately grasping for the pack stuffed in your breast pocket on your way out. You could never afford clothes like that, not after you dumped your weekly wage into buying a ticket for the show. You looked down at yourself meekly - at least your black pants and v-neck shirt seemed sort of nice..? You rolled your eyes, bringing the cigarette to your lips again. That's when he showed up, a cat-like creature that was dressed almost as great as you. At least he had dress pants and a neck tie - scratch that, the tie was a clip-on. He asked you for a light and you complied without a second thought, sliding another smoke from your pocket. You handed it to him and pulled out your lighter, flicking it against your thigh and watching the flame lash out violently, then settle into a peaceful lapping. You carefully lit his cigarette before stomping out your own, not bothering with introductions or ‘goodbye’s as you turned and headed for your car. You liked operas, but you didn't like people.


You were just tired, really. Climbing that mountain, wondering even if the monsters had all filtered out of the underground, would you still fall in and “disappear”? It was a dark thought, but those seemed to be the only fabric of your soul anymore. Standing at a large, gaping hole in the ground, you looked down in the abyss, letting the black enrapture you, dare you to just do it, to just jump. But you suddenly felt paralyzed, hearing a calculated laugh from the other side of the hole. Fear crawled and wriggled around in your gut as you distantly recognized the evil tone, hating it as it brought an odd sentiment, but feeling comforted by it all the same. In some sort of sick, twisted way, it didn't make you feel so alone anymore. Pulling away from the abyss, you looked up and stumbled a bit to find someone looking back. Their crimson eyes seemed to glow in the shadows, a small grin in place of their lips as they stared at you, hungrily. You breathing became ragged, and tears started slipping from your eyes as they began cackling again. You sobbed all the way home, locking all the doors and windows. You felt threatened, but needed more...


Mt. Ebott was actually a really interesting place, in your head. You often took hike up to the cave the widely-known Frisk had explored, just to see what could be seen in the dark hole they had fallen into. You were tired, today, of seeing nothing but an abyss, so instead of visiting Frisk’s entrance, you side-tracked to their exit. The whole underground had practically been abandoned excluding the monsters who just couldn't give up the home they had become accustomed to, so as you stepped inside a dark room through some purple pillars, you were confused to hear crying, to say the least. You followed the distant weeps into the next room, seeing an oval-shaped patch of grass, and the back of a flower placed exactly in the middle of it. Its petals were trembling, two leaves rising and lowering in a sort of sullen wave. You could easily tell the sobbing was coming from them and took a step forward in an attempt to get closer and comfort them, but the flower’s base titled, its pistil turning as if to look at you. You should have been shocked to see a face on it, but you were not, instead deeply disturbed at the highly deformed expression it was wearing. It called you an idiot with heavy venom in its words, and demanded you to leave before it killed you out of spite. You obeyed as quickly as humanly possible, swiveling on your heel and tripping your way back out of the cave on hurried feet. Standing outside the gaping hole, you looked over your shoulder one last time, the flower’s distressed cries still echoing in your ears until you stumbled down the heavily-wooded slope and returned home. You continued to question why it had been weeping.


(In which they fell down at a much older age and will be referred to with they/them pronouns..)
Looking in the newspaper, your eye twitched. Why hadn't you thought of that? Climbing Mt. Ebott, disappearing forever? Your strict parents would be so devastated… and then you would pop right out of that cave, releasing all previously trapped monsters into the world, seen as a true heroine. But at the same time, reading about all the criticism the Frisk persona received, maybe it was best you remained tucked away in your home. Folding the paper carefully, you tucked it beneath one of your thighs and sighed. You watched all the people walk and drive by, ignorant to your presence like they always had been. If you ran out in front of one of those cars, would they..? No. You weren't suicidal, you were just desperate. As much as you hated to admit it, you craved a moment in the spotlight as much as you craved breathing while underwater. You sat there at that outside table, cup steaming as you sighed softly, unbeknownst to the figure intently surveying you from inside the café. It’d probably be a while before you noticed.


You hung over all the paperwork and bills, tears of frustration leaking from your eyes, creating little dots of dampness on the piles of hospital letters. You had recently been in a car accident and had to have multiple surgeries to maintain your health, resulting in a sore pride, a deep well of debt and no money to get yourself out of it - damn you, shitty insurance. Your fingers shakily moved back to your keyboard, typing a few words in the email to your new lawyer, only to find the font in your Word document had been switched. Pursing your lips, you highlighted the words you had wrote and changed it from all the crazy symbols back to the usual Arial. Your eyes widened to find the sentence before you not replicating your previous words at all. “It's been years since I've seen a face around here. I was broken and alone in that hell I called my home. You should have left me to decay. Helping me was your worst mistake.” You shutdown your laptop without a second thought. 


It was late, really late. But around midnight was the only time your apartment complex’s laundry station seemed to not be filled up with other people’s clothes. You looked pretty trashy when you slipped out your front door, locking it shut behind you as you balanced the basket of dirty linens on your hip. You were just about to hurriedly rush for the stairs and towards the mini laundromat, only to turn around and bump ungracefully into a man made quite literally out of fire. Your basket toppled to the ground as you gasped, clutching for the racing heart you couldn't reach. After another few moments, you blinked the shock from your eyes and pulled the hamper back into your arms, muttering a few curses along with an apology as you slipped past the man and toward the stairwell. Was it hot in there or was it just him?


Flashing lights were not your thing. You realized this as you tried to escape from a Victoria’s Secret without being caught in the crowd of screaming journalists and crying fans. It was futile, you knew it, but it was nice to hope you would, at some point, be able to escape the lingerie store without scrapes and bruises. And if you weren't caught on one of those damned cameras, blushing madly and practically man-handling a lace bra in an attempt to look like you were comfortable buying undergarments, that would be a dream. Probably a fever dream though, shit that happens in those never comes true. But alas, you could see the wide exit just a few feet from your reach, you could almost taste the freedom, and then - you were hit squarely in the face with cold metal. Stumbling back, you held your nose and gazed through narrowed eyes at your assailant, only to have your eyebrows raise in surprise. Your first thought, ‘What the fuck is a robot doing in Victoria’s Secret?’  You didn't bother for answers as the bra was released from your grasp and you then booked it out of the store. Who ever said you liked lace anyway?


(In which he is in his Napstabot form for the convenience of not being able to stick your hand through him. That’d be kind of awkward.)
You just wanted some peace and quiet, some time to read your paperback books without the constant interruptions from your roommates. Instead, you found yourself still irritated as a person somewhere behind your chair blasted music so loud you could hear it through their headphones - or, that's what you assumed they were doing. In any other situation, you would've admitted the song they were playing sounded pretty cool and asked for the title if they didn't seem busy. But now, you were irked beyond belief. You lowly growled to yourself and stood abruptly from your chair, swinging around to face the accused. You were paralyzed when you saw a robot sitting at a table not far from you, hair sticking out in every direction as he stuffed his face into his laptop screen. He was so… precious. Just looking at the concentrated expression on his face, the way his metallic lips somehow managed to pout, you disregarded any thought of scolding him. You must have been standing there too long, for his glowing white pupils flickered up from his computer screen before locking with yours. You both blushed your respective colors - although you weren't sure how robots blushed (not to mention it was a light shade of teal) - and you hugged your books to your chest before rushing to the other side of the library. You sat on a wide window sill, trying to brush off the embarrassment as you nursed your damaged pride. Would you ever get to redeem yourself?


You were trying to figure out the physics of that guy’s cape. Well, I mean, he wasn't a “guy” by any means - er, maybe he was, who knows? Anyway, it seemed his cape fluttered freely in the breeze every time pride came upon his face - somehow. Except… You licked your finger and placed it in the air, you felt no draft. He was just breaking all the laws of physics, not to mention the fact he could move his face into various expressions. You had no idea bone could be so… so flexible. Maybe it was magic, that would explain it… right? You huffed, watching the skeleton roam freely about the playground, conversing loudly with a dog, then attempting to climb the slide. He was sure fun to watch as long as you didn't think too hard about why exactly he was capable of doing what he was doing. But overthinking was the only strong point you had, so you sat there and pondered life, wondering what all you had missed when the monsters were underground. You figured you might have to read up on it.


You were what people called a “freelance poet”. You saw people on the streets and you literally judged a book by its cover, soaking in their actions and appearance to try and guess their story. Then, you would take that fiction in your head and transform it into a poem, sometimes vague, sometimes obvious. But, staring across the street at what you were pretty sure was an illegal hot dog stand, you couldn't get a read on him -whoever he was. He was short, stout, seemed to fall asleep every other ten minutes. Once he even got up and left, but returned half an hour later, repeating his process of gazing at the ground boredly and dozing off. Nobody really gravitated towards his stand, and yet he didn't seem to mind. You were struggling and frustrated when you couldn't make up a reason why. He appeared to be so careless, and for that, you just couldn't understand him - the one missing piece still meant the puzzle was incomplete. You may have been surveying him for a little too long, a flustered expression on your face as you tapped your pencil impatiently against your knee. His white pupils locked with yours, you felt like you were supposed to remember something, but couldn't remember what you were supposed to remember. You both momentarily stared back at each other until you pulled away from his heavy gaze and packed your things. You decided it was time to leave.


You were just doing your daily routine of grocery shopping, grasping small items that would be needed for your dinner, and maybe tomorrow's dinner. And that was when you felt a slight tug on your shirt, making you flinch and cower a bit, instinctively. Looking down, you were relieved to only see a short kid, probably around the age of eight or ten, their brown bangs falling carelessly over their eyes. You asked them what they needed, and they told you they were lost. It seemed they weren't much for conversation, but you helped them anyway, soon learning they were looking for their mother. You stood at the front of the store, filled basket in hand while scoping out the area, looking for a human that looked somewhat like the child beside you. You were surprised when they quickly ran up and hugged a monster, confusion crossing your features as you wondered how a goat walking on two legs could be a suitable parent. You decided the thought was rather rude and brushed it off, instead continuing to watch the reunion. The monster's eyes flickered up to you after the kid pointed in your direction, but you didn't want to go through a whole spiel about charity, so you quickly slipped away. Waiting in line, you realized it could have been nice to be rewarded. 


It was the one week you could afford to attend lunch at a semi-fancy restaurant, but now, you were regretting wasting your money. Only one booth in front of you was a blue-skinned monster with bright red hair, yelling about the waiter giving her shrimp as an appetizer. Her loud and perpetual ranting was honestly starting to give you a headache, and you sipped lightly on the glass of white wine in some weak attempt to make it go away. You considered roughly grabbing her shoulder and telling her to shut up, but after noticing the toned muscles of her biceps you sank right back into your seat. One of your hands used a fork to push your ravioli around on the plate, hoping a waiter would notice your discomfort and offer to move you, or kick the enraged lady out. Instead, you were stuck waiting another ten minutes before you caught a waiter by their sleeve and asked if you could get a to-go box. You angrily slammed down some cash after you were told they didn't supply any, and started to understand the angry fish woman just a little bit easier. You probably wouldn't forget her any time soon.