Chapter 3 Of My University AU

ok alphys was a character ahead of her time and too good for this damn fandom honestly. she isn't some evil gaslighting lying cringey manipulator who only exists as comic relief for the love of god look at her with eyes less poisoned by cynicism and irony. she is a love letter to... well, a lot of things. a love letter to "cringey" people, to video game fans, to people who try to drown their sadness in fiction. she's so achingly relatable to so many of us that it really feels like toby knows his demographic like the back of his hand. we've all met someone like alphys. maybe we are that someone- awkward, nerdy, can't get over their past mistakes, terrible at phone calls, far more eloquent online than in person, only wants to make people like them to distract them from the fact that they don't like themself. normally, this character archetype is the butt of a great deal of jokes- just a gross nerd who needs to touch grass. but alphys is different. she is, as i said, a love letter. she is one of the best-developed and most complex characters in the game. her nerdiness isn't "fixed" or mocked, it's celebrated. her unabashed love for her interests and her 100% attitude is a big reason why undyne loves her. games, especially in 2015 and before, are not often so genuinely kind to characters like alphys! and in deltarune, too- alphys is still a nerd, despite not being nearly as traumatized as her undertale counterpart. her rambling about shows she loves is a constant across all universes, a fundamental and important and good part of who she is.

and i just think that's very kind, and very important.

Honestly tho theorizing about Deltarune is fun, but we gotta admit we’re working on next to nothing here. Like…comparing it to Undertale, we’re at the end of Snowdin here. We’re trying to piece out Asgore’s identity from the tiny hints from Toriel and put together the whole story based on NPC dialogue. Sans is still just some guy; we don’t have the slightest inkling that Frisk isn’t the fallen human we name. For some reason we’ve collectively decided that Glyde is our favorite character

An older life is strange commission i did! I ADORE a good dancing in the rain scene

Various DELTARUNE / UNDERTALE stuff drawn in the past few months!! My favorite one is Catty, personally.

Make me.

Yeah, yeah. I heard the song and dance. I get it. You're here to make my life better because you're wonderful, because you just care that fucking much.

Make me.

Yeah, that's right. I'm not able to stop you- I don't think I can, physically or otherwise. But I'm not going along with this bullshit just because a pretty face asked with a smile. I made it through a lot before you got here, and I don't need someone else running the last few yards of the race on 'my behalf' and taking the credit for the whole damn thing. If you want to help me that much, if you want to say you saved me? You're going to have to fucking earn it.

So Make me.

Make me want what you're offering. You talked a big game about doing what's right for me, even when I don't want it. You've got drugs on you right now that could fix my gender dysphoria, that could finally get the intrusive thoughts and constant anxieties to sit down and shut up. You could melt my brains out of my skull, throw me into a brilliant hurricane of pleasure and joy, surround me in a cocoon of your vines. You can ignore me when I get defensive, when I lie to your face and try to push you away, when I say one thing but desperately need another.

Things like, 'I don't want any of that.' Things like, 'I'm not tired. I'm not in pain. I haven't forgotten how to let another help me like that.'

So make me.

rip freakazoid you would’ve loved tumblr

Chapter 4:

Just boys sharing trauma :'''D

Chapter 3

A big thanks and shoutout to @lutiaslayton who kindly tooks some of her time to correct my bad english !

I'm starting to have a good rythm with this comics, and I'll try to post every week on Tuesday for now :D

See you !

harry dubois would end death note in one episode. he'd be unkillable bc he has no fucking idea what his name is and then he'd go drink driving and accidentally run light over and the killings would mysteriously stop

the angel isn’t Noelle. It’s the player.

Firstly, the angel is a prominent figure in both undertale and deltarune. Your existence is heavily implied in both games and is pretty much canon. In deltarune it’s obvious kris is being controlled, and in undertale flowey acknowledges that his world is a videogame, and you are stated to be separate from frisk and separate from chara. Now that we’ve established the players existence, why sre they the angel? Firstly, the undertale prophecy for the angel days that when the angel returns, the underground will go empty. This could make sense in both genocide and in pacifist. This leaves three options for undertale’s angel: you, chara, and frisk. But wait! The angel is from the prophecy of the deltarune, and is seemingly far more prominent in that game. It would make sense for the angel to be a connector between undertale and deltarune, wouldn’t it? And who connects the games? You. Secondly, in deltarune, some may use the fact that noelle and dess made angel sculptures for their father at some point as evidence for her being the angel, but its lack of facial features could very well be pointing at the angel looking like anything, the anonymity of the player. Who knows, maybe that’s why the vessel doesn’t have a face. The deltarune prophecies of the angel say the three heroes will “banish the angel’s heaven”, in pther words seal away the angel and their world at the end of deltarune. And what happens at he end of a videogame? It ends, and so does your connection to it. You can no longer access the world past then. Sure, you can load a save file, but one way or another that is the last point in the timeline you will appear. This means that regardless of what happens, the player is banished at the end of deltarume, along with our world’s connection to it. Thus, the angel’s heaven is banished. The angel is also worshipped like a deity in the most popular religion of hometown, so it would stand to reason the otherworldly being with godlike powers (see: player is canon and can manipulate time and cant die) , AKA the player. My next piece of evidence is Spamton. 3 known characters thus far in deltarune are aware their world is fictional: Jevil, Seam, and Spamton. Now, Spamton wants to reach “heaven”, and in order to do this he wants the soul, the player’s connection to the game, implying heaven is reality. The further this idea, spamton seems to have once been controlled by a player like entity who “pulled strings”, etc, the connection is obvious. So, spamton wants to find this analogy for the player, who is in “heaven”, the place angels reside. Adding on to religious connection with angels, after speaking to father Alvin in hometown he tells kris this:

“Let the angel’s power light your way”whose power is controlling Kris? The player’s.

some other popular theories i’ve seen for who the angel is include Chara, Asriel, and Noelle. I will make a separate post later if i feel like it because idk i can be lazy with my counterpoints to those theories

get lost

a story about hapless wanderers and the fairy that collects them

Masterlist

TW: mind control, drugging, restraints, captivity, hypnosis, non-sexual touching and manhandling, condescension

You are lost.

Maybe you decided to go for a hike that was above your skill level. Maybe you wandered into the woods behind your suspiciously cheap vacation rental. Maybe you woke up here among the thick undergrowth. You might not even remember how you ended up here.

But you know for sure you are lost.

Any hint of a path has long been swallowed by roots and branches, moss and weeds. You might have some supplies, but they're not nearly enough to spend a significant amount of time lost in the forest. The trees are even so thick overhead that you can't reliably tell the direction of the sun, if you even knew which direction might help.

The only thing you can do is to keep trudging, hoping that eventually you'll get somewhere.

The more you climb over thick roots and rotten logs, the more you wade through tall grasses, the more exhausted you're becoming. Your calf muscles ache. Your arms are scratched and stung from twigs and rough bark and bugs. You're so tired. But you know you can't stop for long if you hope to get out of the forest before nightfall. It can't be that much further, can it?

You pause for just a moment to lean against a tree, taking a deep breath. The smell of green leaves and damp earth fills your senses, both pleasant and oppressive. This time, you think you sense something else. It smells almost sweet, like flowers or candy. It's different. And while you're not sure it will help, you feel drawn to it.

As you stumble further into the forest, you notice more and more flowers growing thick around you. Scatterings of clover and goldenrod are giving way to larger, more exotic blooms, in stunning jewel-tone colors. Even as the forest gets deeper and darker, you see more and more of the flowers, surrounding you, and the scent of sweet nectar and pollen grows stronger. It makes you feel woozy, almost drowsy, but you can't stop now. You need to keep going. 

You wonder vaguely how such large flowers can grow in a place with little sunlight. The flowers hanging from the branches and swaying in front of you are nearly as big as your entire face. They sway softly in a breeze you can't feel, and you watch them, transfixed in wonder. They're beautiful. And they smell so good.

You don't notice when your feet stop moving. You barely notice when something warm snakes around your ankles.

The flowers sparkle and shimmer and sway in front of you, and you sway too, dazed. A cloud of yellow engulfs your vision and you cough softly as your head fills with pollen. You feel so sleepy, so deeply drowsy, as though you'd like to lay down and take a nap, just rest your eyes for only a minute...

No, you can't stop here. You're lost, and the forest is dangerous. You muster up what strength remains to you to try and take a step back, only to realize that your legs are halfway wrapped in vines, holding you firmly in place. Your feeble struggles cause you to lose balance, and more vines catch you, wrapping around your chest and arms.

Your limbs are already heavy and numb from the sedating pollen, and your weak thrashes against the vines holding you captive do nothing to free you. Just as you start to panic, your mind trying to reassert itself against the numbing influences, the flowers appear before you again, distracting you with their colors. They're starting to blur, your vision fogging. You're getting sleepy, all of your fight draining from your body. You yawn involuntarily, taking in more pollen. You're fighting a losing battle against your heavy, drooping eyelids.

As your mind starts to slip into a drugged, half-awake daze, you're vaguely aware that the vines are pulling you against a tree and restraining you firmly but comfortably. You can hardly move an inch now, but you're becoming less and less inclined to try. It's so much effort to resist, when you could just fall into a dozing dream, relaxed and comfortable and so drowsy.

One of the flowers is growing closer, engulfing your entire vision. You feel the soft petals brush your cheek, the scent of sweet pollen and nectar intense as the flower seals around your face. The dim spark of consciousness that remains to you recognizes this as the final step in the trap: it's going to put you to sleep. You know now it's aware of what it's doing, and it's going to incapacitate you, make you sleep so deeply, helpless and unaware, vulnerable to whatever or whoever set this trap in the first place.

There's nothing you can do about it but take a deep breath. You're so comfortable and sleepy, and your eyelids are beginning to flutter, too heavy to keep open. You relax into the vines. Everything's starting to feel so floaty and far away, and it's so nice to feel your pain and fear flowing out of you. Every breath smells like flowers. Every breath pulls your eyelids down, coaxing you into a gentle, easy slumber. You're too tired and dazed to fight it, to even remember why you wanted to fight it. It's so much nicer to stop moving, to shut your eyes, to let the gentle flowers and vines lull you into sleep.

You skim the edge of sleep, and your dreams are filled with the forest, but you're not lost any more. You belong to it. You're part of the moss on the trees and the breeze ruffling the flowers and the ants marching in a neat line. Your mind relaxes, defenses lowering, as the wind and the  trees whisper to you in words you don't understand.

You don't know how long you sleep, but eventually you feel someone pulling at the vines holding you in place, the light pressure on your body loosening. You fall forward into warm arms, blinking slowly, dazed and just barely awake.

"There, there, I've got you," says a voice like flowing water, washing over you. "Just relax. You're safe."

You have questions, but your tongue is too thick to speak and your mind too drowsy to formulate them. "What...?" you manage.

"Shhh, hush, now. I'm going to take good care of you." 

You're being picked up in a strong grip, and you feel yourself being carried away, the meager light around you dimming as you're brought into an even deeper part of the forest. Your helpless body is laid down on soft grass and moss, propped up against a tree, and you sink into it, fighting the urge to fall back asleep.

A face appears in front of you, shining in the dim light. The eyes sparkle and the mouth smiles, but you can tell instinctively it is not human. 

The strange being sits back and begins to play on a set of panpipes, a low, haunting tune. Its form is difficult to make out, youthful and humanoid but not clearly male nor female, and you can see sparkling, deep blue wings like those of a butterfly. A fairy, perhaps -- that's the closest thing your mind offers. It seems clad only in flowers, ribbons, and strings of beads, which flutter slightly in the breeze. 

It's so hard to think, to even remember how you came to be here, and the music is slowly but surely stealing your focus away. The song is so beautiful, and you're completely relaxed and calm, not at all inclined to move, much less escape. Increasingly less inclined to think too hard about any of this. The air around you seems to sparkle as your vision blurs, your eyes blinking so, so slowly. 

Through your haze you see the fairy smile, looking down at you. You smile back weakly. It stops playing -- although the music continues to tie your mind in binds -- and kneels beside you. It tilts your chin up with the softest of touches, their fingers like sunbeams, and gaze into your glassy eyes.

"What's your name, little one?"

Your name spills from your mouth, and the fairy laughs with a sound like bells.

"Of course it is. You're such a silly little thing, running away from me, aren't you?"

Running away? Your brow furrows. Even in your entranced state, that doesn't seem quite right, does it...?

"You don't even remember why you ran away, did you?" The fairy ruffles your hair affectionately. "It's an awfully good thing I found you before you hurt yourself. You were like a helpless moth, flapping uselessly against a spider web."

"I didn't..." You're trying to collect your thoughts enough to explain why that's wrong. "I didn't run away from you," you finish weakly.

"No?" It leans in closer, eyes far too bright. "Then how did you get here?"

Your mouth opens and closes.

The fairy traces a finger along your cheek, just under your eye. "Can you remember?"

You can't. Your mind is still full of fog and pollen and everything feels like a blur. "...I was lost," you manage.

"Yes, you were," it says with a predatory grin. "And now you're found, but you don't even remember that you belong to me. Poor dandelion fluff." It produces a long, iridescent ribbon from seemingly nowhere, holding it up in front of you. "But don't worry, I'm not mad. I know you can't help it. Your head's just so full of flowers that there's no room for anything hard, like memories."

You'd like to protest, but that seems right somehow. Doesn't it?

"Here, let me put your collar back on." It ties the ribbon in a bow around your neck, and you're too relaxed to stop it. The ribbon feels silky smooth and weightless, and the fairy wraps one end around its wrist. That feels right, too, like something long forgotten locking into place. "Let's get you home, little moth."

It picks you up effortlessly once again, and your limbs are too heavy and numb to do anything more but lean against it. In the blink of an eye, you're flying. The soft, rhythmic wingbeats fill your ears and soothe you as the fairy somehow glides effortlessly through the thick tangles of branches and vines.

You come to a stop at a darkened clearing filled with enormous mushrooms, large enough to sit on and pulsating with soft blue-purple light. There are beads and ribbons and trinkets hanging from every tree branch. In the dim light you can see the sparkle of many colored crystals, and, off to one side, there seems to be a pile of people huddled on top of the mushrooms. Humans, like you, all in various states of undress, with their skin painted in wild, rainbow hues. All of them seem fast asleep.

Before you have a chance to wonder if this is the fate that awaits you, you're laid out onto a bed of soft mushroom, your ribbon-leash tied to a tree. You try to push yourself up and look around, but your head feels dizzy and your arms are heavy and uncoordinated. The fairy pulls your pack from your back and pushes you down gently. You watch as it rifles through your things, tossing this and that to the side, running its fingers down the rough paper of your sketchbook, using your pens to mark its hands, clicking your flashlight on and off, before tossing it all into a pile of other backpacks.

"Drink." The fairy is holding out a small clay cup of unnaturally bright red liquid. "You must be thirsty, little moth. Drink."

You swallow hard. Your throat and lips are dry, but the last remnant of your reason is warning you with all its might. "What is it?" you ask.

"Medicine, silly thing. Medicine to open your mind. Medicine to help you accept. Medicine to soothe you to slumber."

You manage to shake your head. "I don't want that."

The fairy smiles, the shimmering red liquid reflected in its impossibly large eyes, and speaks your name. It sounds like water rushing down a mountain, like fire consuming a forest.

It holds out the cup once more, and your hands reach to take it, unable to stop yourself from drinking. The medicine is warm and tastes like sweet berries and slides down your throat like a living thing.

"Foolish little bunny," it says gleefully, and then you feel everything. Slow. Down.

Suddenly, you're hyperaware of everything around you. The mushrooms below you and the cool air around you makes your skin prickle, the beads clinking together overhead sound like a symphony, and you can smell a hundred things you're sure you've never smelled before. It would be utterly overwhelming if you weren't completely relaxed. A butterfly flaps nearby, and you watch its wings sparkle through lazy, half-lidded eyes.

The fairy is in front of you again, holding a tray of little pots of pigment. It dips its fingers into the purple and runs its thumb along your cheek, outlining your eyes. Symbols are drawn on your forehead as it mutters strange words under its breath. With the pads of its fingers, it coaxes your eyelids shut, and you can feel pigment being applied to them too. You're not inclined to open them again as it lines your lips with colors, running down your chin and onto your neck.

"You're so cute under my spell," says the fairy. "Sometime I'll take you to a still pool so you can see how beautiful my painting is on your blank face."

It picks up your hands and decorates those as well, as your mind dozes and drifts, listening to the far off sounds of bird wings and creatures scuttling through the undergrowth. Your thoughts are filled with colors and mushrooms as a deft finger draws lines around your arms, the fairy's muttering turning into a song, a spell. 

You can feel the magic settling on you and around you like a heavy blanket. Your shoes and socks are pulled off too, landing nearby with a thud, and your feet are decorated, pigment tickling the soles of your feet and the spaces between your toes. Hands that feel sun warmed draw your wrists together and bind them with more silky, weightless ribbons.

"Sleep now, tired little thing. You're safe and sound here with me."

You're half-asleep, eyelids fluttering, as you're picked up and set down again next to the pile of other humans. 

You were lost.

And now you have been collected.

And now you will not be found.