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My Soul For Yours

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“Another long day, another night of rest to come,” muttered Frisk, sliding under their covers. “I wonder what kind of memory I’ll see today.”

The memory they saw first was not a pleasant one, which was rare, and only happened every once in a while. A soulmate’s memories were supposed to be happy, at least the ones shown to their future partner.

In this particular one, their host’s skeletal hands were cradling the body of his brother, which was covered in red. The host sobbed into his chest, tears not leaving wet spots thanks to the large–and ever-growing–blood spot.

“P̺̘͉̼̓ͧ̚a̴̠̖̠̟͎̲͋͏̦̚ͅp̸͉̂ͬ͏̥̦̔̀͠y̡̠͖͓̝ͪ͂̎̚͠r̳̪͔͈͎͑ͯ̈͝ṳ̤̻̠̟͖̻͋s̷̰͓ͫ̈ͥͧͪ̿͡, no,” the host pleaded. “How could this have happened? I… I’m sorry I couldn’t… do anything…"<

Frisk despaired at the scene before them. They’d quite liked their soulmate’s brother, and they hoped that this hadn’t been how he’d died.

Suddenly, a great flash of what looked like red lightning appeared in front of him, so bright he’d had to shield his still-wet eyesockets with one hand, and when the light dissipated, and once the host could lower his hand, a striking figure stood there. It seemed to be the same blue-skinned fish lady Frisk had seen in the photograph from the previous dream, but instead of the enormous smile she’d worn in the picture, her spiked yellow teeth were not on display and her mouth was closed in a frown.

“Get him up!” she ordered the host, who immediately hoisted his brother up into her arms. “Let’s go, I know someone who can help.” She held out a free hand to him, and he took it.

Frisk awoke in the middle of the night, covered in a cold sweat and shivering a little. That had not been terribly pleasant. Actually, it had just been plain terrible. They hoped that the fish lady’s friend had been able to help


Sans eased himself into bed with a little groan from the pain. His bones were sore today from all of the tasks he’d had to do in the lab, and he was happy to escape into his soulmate’s memories.

The host seemed young and rather small in this one, so it was probably one of their childhood memories. They cowered, afraid of… something, and it soon became clear to Sans just what they feared.

A human man towered above them, a thunderous frown on his face, his forehead creased. His voice boomed in the small space.

“You little sh*t, it’s your fault your mother died! And you can’t even do what I tell you to! I suppose that will mean another punishment.”

Sans looked on in horror as the man went on to strike the little host several times. Once his hand made contact with their face, and Sans could’ve sworn he heard something crack. The host whimpered, but the man moved as if he were going to hit them again, and they quieted in terror.

“Am I clear?” growled the man.

They nodded quickly, one tiny hand on their bruised cheek, tears in their eyes.

“I SAID, am I clear?”

“Y-yes, f-father."

Sans awoke from the dream, sitting bolt upright, tears from his own eyes falling down his face. How could someone be that cruel to a child? And how could that man still call himself a father after treating his own child like that? Well, in any case, Sans was very glad that they now had a new family, one abundantly kinder. Shuddering, he tried not to think about what might’ve happened if their soulmate hadn’t been able to get away.