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Once upon a time…
A human fell underground.
Beneath the surface, they made friends.
Made enemies.
Made mistakes.
Made things right.
After a long time, the human decided to stay, calling the underground home.
The monsters, her family.
One day, the underground was destroyed, but the monsters were able to escape, thanks to the human.
For years, they have lived on the surface.
Their story is far from over...
Voxis City.
The largest city in the world. Miles upon miles of a rainforest of skyscrapers. The center of the city contains the oldest of these, dating back over a hundred years.
As you reach the outskirts of the city, you reach an even larger expanse of land. Suburban settlements, all still a part of Voxis. A massive network of communities. Humans and Monsters alike occupy this city.
Mt. Ebott once sat nearby, now having caved in, leaving very little behind after the volcanic eruption.
In one of the suburban homes was the girl famed with having saved all of monsterkind. She was known far and wide. Once the human ambassador for the monsters, until the monster king took that role after the integration process, which was still an on-going project.
This girl's name was Frisk.
She sat at a wooden desk in her room, papers, books and writing utensils scattered across its surface, most stuff stacked out of the way. In front of her sat a paper that she was writing on, scribbling fast, the smell of bacon drifting up from the kitchen.
The room was fairly sized, walls painted a fair royal blue. All except the far wall in her room, which was a mess of colors, painted by a close friend of hers. A skeleton monster named Papyrus, who had used just about every color he possibly could to represent all of his and Frisk's friends. Due to the main coloration of the room, Papyrus assumed that Frisk had the most admiration for Undyne, which he respected and agreed with. The majority of the wall he'd painted, which Frisk commonly referred to as the "Papwall", was colored in orange, the color Papyrus associated with himself. When she asked why it wasn't red, as it was his favorite color, he informed her that he had given the rights of that color to Asgore.
A twin-sized bed sat in her room, head against the papwall, horizontal with the room. The floor was a comfortable light brown carpet, the ceiling a smooth white. Her light had four bulbs below a spinning fan that Toriel claimed "collected more dust than Gerson on a morning jog".
A dresser was located nearby, four drawers. The top drawer held her undergarments. Underwear, socks, and the more recent addition of bras. She typically preferred to wear sports bras. Any other than that made her uncomfortable.
The second drawer held her shirts. A various arrangement of different colors. Only a couple years ago, the only shirts that had filled that drawer were blue sweaters with purple stripes.
The third drawer held various pants, skirts, and shorts. Almost all were jeans, or similar to the material.
The bottomost drawer contained pajamas and dress clothes, including a blue dress she wore to school dances. It was beginning to get a little too small on her, so she doubted she'd get to wear it to prom a couple years from now.
Her walls were lined with various pictures, most of which were group pictures of her and the other monsters. One wall was decorated with a shot of her and Mettaton together, which the singing sensation had taken to having one selfie with Frisk framed every month. It was actually a pretty decent way of seeing Frisk age over the last three years.
She'd changed a lot.
When she had led the monsters out of the underground for the last time, she had been much shorter, more yellow-skinned, with shoulder-length dark brown hair and slanted eyes. So slanted it was actually difficult for most to see her actual eyes, which were a rare scarlet in color.
Her nose had been small and pointy, and she'd been somewhat chubby.
Now, three years later, she'd changed a lot. She had grown nearly a foot taller, her hair now long and flowing, down to the middle of her back. Her eyes remained as slanted as ever, but her skin had lightened with time, getting more pale. Her nose had grown longer, but was still fairly pointy. She'd thinned out with her height, and her chest had begun to pop more, much to her embarrassment, even after Toriel had sat her down and had the "talk" with her. Apparently she was late on "blooming", as her mother put it.
As she sat at her desk, she wore a pair of jean shorts, knee-high white socks with black tennis shoes, and a dark red t-shirt with a picture of spaghetti on the front, courtesy of Papyrus.
As she wrote, she muttered the words out loud as they were put down, trying to go as quickly as she could.
"A lot has happened since I fell underground. I made friends, discovered myself, and found a family. Then I saved them all. Today, we all live on the surface. Together. Happy. No more struggle. The people I love and care about are flourishing in ways I couldn't even predict. I'm so proud of each and every one of them."
She paused, lifting her pen off the paper, furrowing her dark eyebrows as she scanned the last paragraph. This was a worksheet for English II that she'd been procrastinating on for some time, but it was due today and she couldn't put it off any longer.
"Frisk, my child! Breakfast!"
"Coming, mom!" Frisk yelled back to the sweet voice calling kindly up to her. This worksheet would have to do. It was supposed to be a self-reflection and an autobiography altogether. She was nervous about turning it in, hence her procrastination. Each student would have to read their story out loud in front of the class, and while she didn't have an issue with doing that, she wasn't comfortable with sharing her life story, so she'd been as brief and simple as she possibly could.
Quickly, she folded the paper haphazardly and grabbed the strap of her black backpack, pulling it up to her desk and unzipping the front, shoving in the paper, and zipping it closed.
She slung the bag over her shoulder, and dashed out of the room. She was gone for nearly a full second before she dashed back in and grabbed her pen off her desk, then ran back out, closing the door behind her.
Frisk's room led into a hallway where there were two other doors and a set of stairs down. The door across from Frisk's room led to the upstairs bathroom. The last door was near the head of the stairs, and led into Toriel's room.
Down the stairs was the first floor, where there was the kitchen/dining room, the living room, the laundry room, pantry, two closets, another bathroom, and a guest room. They also had a basement, but the entrance was outside.
Frisk raced into the kitchen, coming to a quick stop near the dining table. There were three other individuals in the kitchen when she came in. Her adopted mother Toriel stood at the stove, humming as she finished up breakfast. A classic combination of fried bacon, scrambled eggs smothered in cheese, jellied toast, and a refreshing glass of cold orange juice.
She wore a blouse tucked into her waist, beneath a long skirt, both purple in color. A pair of smart folk glasses sat on her face.
At the front door stood Papyrus, rattling his bones in anticipation, his face screwed up in concentration, pacing back and forth in front of the exit, stroking his chin thoughtfully, muttering slogans to himself, like "Paready Papasta" and "You can't spell pasta without several letters from Papyrus".
He used to wear what was referred to as his "battle body", but now spent most of his time dressed like a chef. This was one of those times.
At the dining table sat Papyrus' older, but shorter brother, Sans. He leaned against the back of his chair, arms resting behind his head, eyes closed, a grin ever-present on his face.
He was the one monster who never seemed to physically change. He still wore his ketchup-stained white t-shirt beneath his moth-eaten jacket. Black gym shorts with white singular stripes going up horizontally. White socks, and a pair of pink, fluffy slippers. The only changes he'd made was wearing a newer, cleaner pair of socks, as Papyrus had gone on a purge just a few months ago, ridding the entire house of all of Sans' socks. Sans had simply bought more and carefully placed then where his old socks had once sat. Papyrus gave up at that point. The other change was his color of jacket. It was now a deep scarlet, hand-picked by Papyrus because 'the old one smelled too much like moldy tomato stew'. The old jacket was long gone by now, but Papyrus had chosen the color so the two of them would be matching- up until Papyrus stopped wearing his battle body.
The moment Frisk entered, Sans had clearly made a joke, as Toriel interrupted her soft humming with a pleasant chuckle. "Oho, Sans."
She then shifted her gaze to Frisk. "Oh, Frisk dear! Your breakfast is almost finished. It's your favorite, my child. Happy birthday."
That explained why breakfast smelled better than usual this morning. Frisk had honestly almost forgotten... she turned 16 today...
For some reason, it didn't feel special. She didn't feel... different.
"hope you enjoy the anniversary of your conception, kiddo. only get it once a year." Sans grinned at her from the table, opening his right eye to look at her. "YES! THAT IS PERFECT, SANS!" Papyrus gasped, excitement lighting up his face, before grandiosely presenting his arms in the air. "PAPASTA ANNIVERSARY SALE!"
"you made papasta four months ago. still got another eight to go 'till the anniversary."
Papyrus frowned, excitement fading from his eyes as Toriel carried a plate of steaming, wonderful breakfast to Frisk as the teen put her bag down on the floor and sat down beside Sans.
"DARN. WELL, ANYWAY, HELLO HUMAN! I SEE YOU'RE DELECTABLY DECKED OUT WITH YOUR DELICIOUS DELIGHTS!"
"Thanks guys." Frisk replied awkwardly. She never liked her birthdays much, anyway. The attention just wasn't very appealing. She didn't like special attention, regardless of the reason. Sans gave her a light shrug. "don't sweat it, kid. least we can do for you after everything. funny how your birthday seems to land on the same day every year, huh?”
“THAT IS INDEED ODD.” Papyrus agreed. “THERE’S SOME ODD, CONFUSING PATTERN GOING ON THERE. DON’T FEEL BAD FOR NOT UNDERSTANDING IT, SANS. I DON’T EITHER.”
With that, Frisk dug into her breakfast. Sure, it burnt her tongue, but the amazing taste of Toriel's fried bacon exploded her mouth with wonderful flavors. She wasn't even a quarter of the way finished when Toriel suddenly gasped. "Oh my, it's getting late! Frisk, hurry up, dear. You don't want to be late for school."
"aw, come on, tori. it's her birthday. so what if she's a little after the bell? i can sign her in." Sans offered, patting Frisk on the shoulder as she gave her mother the cutest, most innocent face she could muster with bulging cheeks full of bacon.
Toriel narrowed her eyes at Sans, then Frisk, before smiling. "Oh, well... okay, then. Just don't take too long, alright?"
"got my internal alarm set for eight o'clock, your majesty." Sans winked in reply. Toriel smirked at that, and Frisk could tell what was coming.
Sans and Toriel had made a habit of tossing jokes and puns and occasional fake insults at each other when in the same room as each other. It was adorably sickening.
"Please, Sans. Just call me Toriel. I am no longer the queen." Toriel replied, and the short skeleton's grin widened. "maybe not out there, but this castle is ruled by you."
"A castle needs a king and a queen, Sans. Any suggestions for my betrothed?"
At this, Sans blushed. Or at least the skeleton equivalent. A shade of blue befell his face. "oh... um... i... no... not really..."
It seemed Toriel had won this round.
"Well, I have some rather crucial appointments to attend to that I'd rather not miss, so I shall take my leave." She sighed, resting the dishes in the sink and running cold water over them.
"Bye, mom!" Frisk tried to call through a mouthful of cheesy scrambled eggs. Papyrus whipped a box out from behind him. Where he stored it, nobody was sure, and frankly, nobody wanted to know. "TAKE A BOX OF PAPASTA FOR YOUR DAY, LADY ASGORE! NOW ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OFF FOR ITS ANNIVERSARY SALE!"
Papasta noodles were certainly not bad, but they were funded by Mettaton, who'd grown sweet on Sans' younger brother. Sweet enough to help Papyrus make his own brand of noodles, and even get a television program in the making called "Skelechef". Needless to say, Papyrus had his celebrity work cut out for him. Sans was worried over this, even if he didn't let anyone know that. He was worried that Papyrus would be fouled in some way, and wasn't eager to pick up the pieces.
The Papasta mascot was, if you could believe it, Papyrus himself. His grinning face cartoonishly drawn on the front wearing a chef's hat, disembodied gloved hands holding up a bowl of spaghetti in front of him, the box itself an orange color. The noodles inside were multicolored, as Papyrus had been intrigued and joyous over colored pasta when he'd discovered it at Flormart.
"Oh. Thank you, Papyrus." Toriel smiled kindly, gently taking the box from him, and moving toward a cabinet.
"I'll put it with the others." Upon opening the cabinet, they could see stacks of other Papasta boxes inside. It was a tight fit, but the new box made it in, and she closed the cabinet. Papyrus beamed at her.
With that, Toriel began making her way for the door. "hey." Sans called to her. "break a leg."
She smiled. "'Tibia' continued, Sans."
"'femur' puns like that and i'll-"
"Do what? I'm the queen of this castle, Sans." She gave the skeleton a sly grin, and he blushed again. "Have a wonderful day. I might be home late, Frisk. You're free to stay over at Sans and Papyrus'. I love you, my child." Toriel blew a kiss at Frisk, who swallowed down her last bit of toast. "Love you too, mom." She blew the kiss back, flakes of crust blowing from her lips.
"I ALSO LOVE YOU, MOM!" Papyrus agreed gleefully as Sans gave Toriel a last wink. "see ya."
And with that, Toriel was gone. There were a few moments of silence as Frisk finished up her bacon, and returned to her eggs, which there were still a lot of, and she was beginning to get full.
"so, kid. how'd those pig bits taste?"
"Really good!" Frisk smiled as Sans leaned back in his seat again. "don't tell porkly that."
"SPLENDID! I HELPED MAKE THEM!" Papyrus beamed happily, placing a hand importantly on his chest. "Oh..." Frisk gulped. "Did you add pasta?"
Papyrus' jaw almost dropped as his eyes widened in disbelief. There were a few moments of silence as Sans and Frisk stared at Papyrus, who eventually found his voice.
"...I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT ABOUT THAT."
Frisk watched sadly as the rest of her eggs were smothered in a rain of multicolored pasta noodles, some of which were shaped like poorly formed Papyrus heads.
------
There were many familiar landmarks Frisk witnessed during the ride from her home to school. First was Aaron’s Crossfit Flexing, though the monster mostly liked to flex in front of anybody who walked through the door. Surprisingly enough, business actually did fairly well for him.
Then there was Dreamhope Elementary, Toriel’s workplace. Frisk took notice that Toriel’s car wasn’t parked outside, but didn’t think much of it. Perhaps her adopted mother had decided to go to the store and pick something up.
Next, came a McOswald’s. Sure, Voxis had many, but this one was different because of one of the employees, the depressed and sometimes exuberant Burgerpants. Nobody was actually sure if that was his real name or not, but the monster tended to avoid the topic of his name with desperate fervor.
Then there was Catty and Bratty’s Beauty Salon. Originally they’d started their business at a landfill just outside of town, but when Mettaton took notice of their work, they’d been given employment under him and were actually quite successful. That didn’t stop them from dumpster diving still, however.
After that was Asgore’s. It wasn’t too different from Toriel’s house. Despite their ruined relationship, the both of them had shared tastes in just about everything. That was when they moved past the residential area and began making their way into the heart of the city.
The first thing they passed was the Monster Integration Office, something run by Asgore after he’d taken over Frisk’s ambassador duties. Originally, the integration program was met with a lot of resistance, but over time, it became accepted. Its job was to find monsters jobs, homes, and a safe place to go.
Then there was Obatech Industries, a massive office building run by the richest and most powerful man in the city, Jonathan Obaseki, who also happened to be Asgore’s boss.
After that, they turned a corner, passing by the police station where Undyne worked at. Unfortunately, Undyne couldn’t get much higher in the ranks due to a supposedly racist boss. She was easily his best cop, but who she was seemed to affect his decision of a promotion. Asgore was working himself into office, one of the acts he planned to pass was the Monster Integration Act, which disallowed employer interests from treating monster employees any differently from human employees. It wouldn’t fix all their problems, but it’d be a start.
Then there was Voxis Middle School, which Frisk had attended for a couple of years before graduating to High School. There, she’d met her two closest human friends. Terrence Anoma and Gregory Favian.
Terrence had been and still was the ‘popular’ kid. He was both charming and handsome, not to mention easy to get along with and mature. It was no surprise when he’d asked Frisk out back in Freshman year. Frisk, of course, said yes. The relationship didn’t last long, the two deciding to remain as friends and possibly try again another time. She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t maintain feelings for him.
Gregory was always the shy, quiet kid who stuck himself in the back corner of class, got his work done before anybody else even knew what they were doing, and placed his nose in a good book for the remainder of the block. He’d come out of his shell a lot more since he’d become friends with Frisk and Terrence, but sometimes felt third-wheeled around them, especially when they started dating. He’s always had a very low self-esteem, and despite their close friendship, adamantly believes he doesn’t deserve friends like them.
Next to pass was Muffet’s. That was what it was called. The spider monster had been inspired by the homey simplicity of Grillby’s that she opted to copy the style with her own. Sure, her meals were a bit pricey. While she had learned to lower her prices, Muffet’s was still the most expensive place to eat in all of Voxis. That didn’t go without saying that her meals were very high in quality. She and her spiders could cook basically anything you wanted, and fast, too. Service was exceptionally good, as well. In the end, a $100 meal was sometimes worth it. Sometimes. Frisk, fortunately, got discounts and sometimes free meals due to her friendship with Muffet.
Grillby’s was the next place they passed, and it was certainly much cheaper. It wasn’t quite as high quality as Muffet’s, but it was homey and welcoming. Grillby had his daughter, Fuku, working for him part-time while she started her senior year at Voxis High. He hoped to be able to retire eventually, and for her to take over his business, but his daughter had different dreams. Ironically, she wanted to become a Marine Biologist. Sans remained his best customer.
Finally, after rounding another block, they were near the heart of Voxis City. City Hall could be distantly seen as Sans pulled up to the drop-off lane in front of the school. The girl climbed off the back, adjusting her backpack before looking back at Sans, who grinned dolefully at her. “school’s waitin’, kiddo.” He told her. “have a good day.”
“You too, Sans.” She replied with a smile, before turning and making her way into the building, and made a beeline for Marine Biology. That was her first class of the day, which she was lucky enough to have with Greg. He was pretty nerdy, but not in a cliche way… maybe, but he still managed to make the otherwise boring class bearable. Frisk loved marine life, but learning about seven kinds of plankton and algae? Bleh.
She entered the classroom to find most of her peers were already seated inside, waiting for class to start, either chatting with their friends and waiting patiently, some on their phones, others trying to catch up on the homework they’d procrastinated on. Mr. Gagne, their teacher, was seated at the head of the class behind his desk, taking silent attendance, glancing up at Frisk before marking her down. He was a tall, scrawny, dorky-looking man in his mid-thirties with a bushy beard and thick round glasses that magnified his beady eyes tenfold it seemed.
As per usual, Gregory was stationed in the corner of the room, a pencil tucked over his ear as he stared expectantly at Mr. Gagne through his own pair of glasses, which were rectangular and nowhere near as thick. Greg had a thin face and body, not that different to their teacher, with medium-length jet black hair that was brushed as well as it could be, though remained extremely untidy. The most interesting part of Gregory’s appearance were his eyes. Big and violet, with a steely gaze to them. Before him sat a blank sheet of paper, no doubt ready for him to start copying down Mr. Gagne’s lesson word-for-word. When Greg caught sight of Frisk as she took the seat beside him, he grinned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Hey.” She greeted, getting settled in.
“Hi Frisk.” He returned just as the bell rang and Mr. Gagne sprang up with the usual monotone; “Good morning, class” to which only about three people replied, including Frisk and Gregory. Gagne placed a piece of paper in his projector, which was displayed on the board. He shifted it to be angled perfectly in contrast to its smartboard background. The paper read; ‘Write down one type of plankton and describe what it does. Be prepared to share your answer’. Greg was the first to move, sliding his pencil out from over his ear and beginning to write rapidly in miniscule writing Frisk doubted anybody but he could discern.
She decided to write about phytoplankton, or what she could remember of it. Frisk hadn’t even written her first three words when Greg set his pencil down, a full paragraph written out on his paper. First to begin work, first to finish. This was the way of Greg and it may never change.
Eventually, Mr. Gagne cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention as he held one of those shiny red sticks with a pointer at the end that every teacher with a smartboard loved. “Alright class, would someone like to read their answers?” He asked, his voice cracking as he said it, leaving him to clear his throat once again. Greg’s hand was in the air before Mr. Gagne had even finished speaking. A few other hands raised, but with much less enthusiasm. There was never any real point to raise a hand in class when you share it with the one named Gregory Favian.
Mr. Gagne chuckled, but it sounded nervous, as though he were scared. “Frisk, how about you?” He asked, before chuckling again and waving his hand dismissively. “Kidding, kidding… Greg, impress me.”
Frisk found this a little rude and unnecessary, but didn’t indulge it. Mr. Gagne was one of those teachers that thought he was funny and chill when he did things like that, but mostly came off as rude and a little dismissive to the students. Come to think of it, that describes a lot of teachers.
"Phytoplankton, also known as microalgae, are similar to terrestrial plants in that they contain chlorophyll and require sunlight in order to live and grow. Most phytoplankton are buoyant and float in the upper part of the ocean, where sunlight penetrates the water. Phytoplankton also require inorganic nutrients such as nitrates, phosphates, and sulfur which they convert into proteins, fats, and carbohydrates." Greg stated in a single breath, to which somebody at the front of the room groaned and laid their head down on their table.
“I don’t think we’ve even gotten that far in the textbook. You must have read ahead. Well done, as usual, Greg,” Mr. Gagne nodded. “Anybody else?” His voice cracked again.
A kid raised his hand.
“Tyler.”
“Phytoplankton, also- uh... microalgae... it needs sunlight...” Tyler faltered, failing to reword Greg’s answer.
Mr. Gagne seemed to stop listening to Tyler, turning away and marching toward the front of the classroom. Greg noticeably blushed. He loved being who he was, but he hated the attention he got, and always felt bad when he made others look less than he. “Poor Tyler...” Frisk shook her head. It wasn’t Greg’s fault or anything- but he didn’t even really leave much room for anyone else to look smart, so a lot of people usually tried to piggyback off of his brains, but... well, it didn’t turn out too well.
Greg glanced over at Frisk, still red in the face. "Um, hey Frisk." He greeted, more awkwardly than before. "Terrence wanted me to tell you to meet him behind the school during lunch. I uh... only just remembered."
Frisk raised an eyebrow, confused. Terrence rarely spent any time during lunch doing anything but food fights.
“Thanks for telling me,” she gave him a nod, before, just like nearly every other student in the classroom, her eyes drifted to the clock. She then looked back at Greg. “Hey, when does this class get out, again?” she asked in a hushed tone.
"Same time as every day." Greg replied, beginning to write something down on his paper. Frisk simply stared at him, which he was quick to notice.
"Er- 8:55." He added, pursing his lips.
“Thank you,” she nodded, before Mr. Gagne’s voice filled the room.
“Now, today we’re going to be learning about oxygen levels in the atmosphere, and how much of the oxygen is produced by plankton...”
He droned on and on, continuing even after he told the students what their assignment was and not allowing them to start until he finished. Greg was the only one who seemed capable of paying attention.
Frisk had an itch. Something she'd been wanting to tell Greg ever since she'd walked into that room and seen him.
As Mr. Gagne turned away, Frisk directed her attention to Greg. "I saw… it… again." She whispered.
Immediately, Greg paled. "Again? You sure?"
“I’m pretty sure... unless it was a different stalker thing, maybe?”
Greg paled even more. “U-Um... well, you could do what Terrence suggested and set up a video camera, or something...”
Frisk shook her head. “Mom would be suspicious if I did. And if I did do that, I’m worried I’ll see something on video that I’d rather not.”
"I still think you should tell her." Greg advised. Frisk bit her cheek. She'd thought about it for a while. Letting Toriel know about this felt like it was the right thing to do, but for some reason... Frisk couldn't convince herself to do it.
"I will." She replied. "Soon."
"Did it do anything?"
"No." Frisk shook her head. "Same as always. Just... stood there. Watching." She paused. "But... I think it wasn't staring through the kitchen window this time."
Greg gulped, staring at Frisk as she continued. "It looked almost like it was staring back at me this time..."
“Frisk... you could be in some serious danger here, one of these days he might try and get into the house, or-“
“Gregory,” Mr. Gagne’s voice interrupted. “Is it something you would like to share with the rest of the class?”
“No,” Greg replied instinctively.
“Now, if you will, class, please do as I instructed. And the only thing I want to hear until the bell is pencils touching papers.”
"Lunch. Behind the school." Greg muttered to Frisk. "We'll talk more about it then."
"Oh, and Mr. Favian." Gagne called to Greg, who looked up. "Stay after class, will you? There's something I need to talk to you about."
“Oh great...” Greg sighed, before turning and beginning his assignment while most of the other students discreetly tapped at their phones or played table football.
------
A dirty blonde, shaggy haired boy stood behind the school, leaned up against a wall. He was slightly taller than the average sixteen year old, and had a good build. He was desperately trying to rub away a lipstick mark on his arm, but to little avail, before he decided to give up and concealed it with his sleeve. He was standing a few meters away from the double doors into the cafeteria, which were pushed open by his two best friends; Frisk Dreemurr and Gregory Favian.
"We haven't hung out here since the middle of last year." Greg commented, his eyes clearly showing he was beginning to reminisce about their freshman year.
Terrence Anoma grinned widely, looking from Greg, to Frisk, before his grin widened even more.
“There’s the birthday girl,” Terrence said, winking. “The big one-six, Frisk, how’s it feel?”
Greg’s face flushed. “That was today...?” he looked ashamed and embarrassed at the same time.
Frisk awkwardly chuckled. "Uh... fine. I guess." She usually wasn't much of a shy person, anyone knew that. However, she always did get shy when receiving direct compliments or congratulations of the sort for reasons nobody really knew why. Frisk herself didn't wasn’t even sure. That’s just how it was.
“Trust me, Frisk, this is a whole new chapter for you. You know, driving, independence, uh... driving. Yeah, mostly driving.”
“So... why did we come out back here?” Greg wondered.
“Because I can’t wish anyone happy birthday with a crowd,” Terrence rolled his eyes, gesturing to the door.
Greg bit his cheek as he looked through the door's windows, watching a group of pretty girls at a nearby lunch table glance repeatedly at Terrence.
"Well, let's stay out here for a little longer." Frisk said. "I have an update about the... about the… it. A thing about the thing."
“Oh, geez,you mean the thing?” Terrence’s friendly attitude seemed to sink into a worried one. “What happened?”
“The same as usual,” Frisk said, “but I think it was staring through my window this time.”
Terrence sighed. “You gotta be kidding... like, directly at you?”
“Yes.”
“When did they leave?”
“I don’t know.”
Terrence bit lip. “You gotta tell Toriel. Or call the police.”
"I know, I know..." Frisk sighed. "It's just... I don't know. For some reason, my heart is telling me not to. Like somehow, that by not telling my mom, I'm saving her from something."
"If you don't, we'll come over to your place." Greg stated. "She needs to know. We want to help, but you need to let an adult know about this guy."
“Come on, Frisk, think about this logically. Creepy stalker man outside your house. If you tell Toriel, the chances of that man going away increase, because she’ll either A) have him arrested, or B) kick the shit out of him, because your mom is really cool. Not telling her is like inviting this guy to keep coming back, you know?”
Frisk folded her arms. "I know. I know all of that. I know what I'm supposed to do. I know what I want to do... but I have... trouble."
"Then we'll come over to help you." Greg offered.
“Yeah, as cheesy as it sounds, we’re your friends. And friends don’t let their friends lose sleep and get creeped out by stalkers all the time, you know?” Terrence smiled. The girl chuckled. "Yeah." She looked toward Greg, then back at Terrence. "Thanks. I'll tell her tonight, then. Or as soon as I can. Right now, though, I'm hungry."
“Wanna eat some garbage cafeteria food, or go down to Grillby’s and get some good stuff?” Terrence asked, looking smug as he stated the obvious choice. He’d become a Grillby’s addict ever since he’d been introduced to Sans.
“Grillby’s,” Frisk said without skipping a beat.
"If we can make it back in time." Greg said, rubbing his thumb nervously. "You remember what happened the least time we went, right?"
“Ah, come on, do you want this girl to eat cold, wet tater tots on her birthday, Greg?” Terrence asked charismatically. “My treat. What do you say?”
Greg pursed his lips. “...Fine. But you’d better hope your time management has improved.”
------
"Thanks Grillbs." Frisk smiled at the fire monster, who gave her a courteous nod of his head, and walked away from their table, swishing a rag in a shot glass, a service dish tucked under his armpit.
He'd just delivered the three shakes they'd ordered. Frisk had a classic chocolate with chocolate-flavored whipped cream, Greg had mint cookie with classic whipped cream, and Terrence’s shake was also chocolate, but with extra sprinkles and no whipped cream, because he often claimed the cream ‘got in the way’ of enjoying the shake.
“Wow, he gave you a nod? Last time I tried to call him Grillbs, all I got was a cold stare... or a hot stare, maybe.” Terrence shrugged.
"I've told you a million times." Frisk giggled. "He respects me. The only other people I've ever seen Grillby give a crap about has been Sans and his daughter, Fuku.”
There was the sound of a short choke, then a wet splatter, and Greg rose his face up from his shake, mouth covered in cream as he coughed. "Grillby has a daughter?"
"Yes. Do you guys never pay attention?" Frisk blinked. Greg gulped, grabbing a napkin and wiping the shake's contents from his face. "We do! It's just... distracting in here." He shrugged, glancing about. "So many different people and monsters. They all have so many interesting things to say."
"So... you eavesdrop all the time?" Terrence smirked. Greg only shrugged. "It's easy. Nobody notices me anyway, I can get away with it."
“Speaking of Grillby’s daughter, isn’t she the green fire-lady with the, uh... uh... someone, someone help me out, I’m drawing a blank,” Terrence said, snapping his fingers as though that would help him gain a better train of thought.
“Her name is Fuku,” Frisk informed them. “She goes to our school. How do you guys not know her?”
“Well, is she in our grade?” Terrence asked, taking a sip of his shake. Frisk shook her head.
“No. She’s a year ahead of us, I think... wait, Greg, how often do you eavesdrop on people? Do you eavesdrop on us, too?” Frisk looked curious.
"Sometimes. I try not to with you guys, though. Since..." He paused as Frisk frowned at him. "I uh... respect you guys. More than other people... Why?"
“Just wondering,” Frisk shrugged, taking a sip of her milkshake.
“We have twenty-five minutes left for lunch,” Greg informed them, eyes glued to a watch on his arm. “It’s about an eight minute walk back, so-“
“Relax, we’ll be alright. And even if we’re not, it’s not the end of the world,” Terrence said, seeming unbothered. “We have plenty of time.”
"Not the end of the world for you, you mean." Greg sighed. "I have a perfect attendance, and-"
"Relax." Frisk repeated Terrence's advice. Greg pursed his lips, then sighed and took a sip of his milkshake. "Alright." He submitted.
“Listen, think about it this way, if it’s an eight minute walk back,” Terrence said, leaning back. “We have twenty five minutes total, that means we have seventeen minutes to get out of here. Grillby doesn’t usually dawdle, so we’ll get our food, eat, and leave, and then get back for some boring lectures with time to spare. See, I’m a bit of a mathematician.”
"I know all that." Gregory huffed. "Last time you said all of that, though, you made us stop at the mall because you claimed there was something you wanted at Hot Topic." He paused as Frisk snickered in remembrance of it before Greg continued.
"It wasn't even there."
“Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know that that magazine was from 2012? Besides, if it had been there, it would have been great. But apparently they don’t make them anymore.”
"Yeah, sure. Then-"
Greg was cut off as Terrence rose up in his seat, grinning. "Guys, let's go to the mall!"
"What!?" Greg paled. Terrence placed his hands on his hips. "It's Frisk’s birthday. Let's get her something special."
“You’re joking!” Greg said, eyes as wide as saucers.
“Joking? Why would I be joking?” Terrence looked genuinely confused. “Come on, we should get her something, and what better place than the mall?”
“Why can’t we just do it after school?” Greg questioned, looking uneasy.
This time, it was Terrence’s turn to pale. He scratched the back of his head. “I, uh, don’t actually have time after school, until like, seven thirty.”
"Neither do I." Frisk added. Gregory appeared extremely conflicted, biting his cheek and looking between the two individuals, unsure. “Okay... okay, but... I need to be back in class on-time.”
“If we go, we will definitely be late,” Terrence shrugged, leaning back. “I think it’s a small price to pay.” Greg winced, slumping in his seat as he began to ponder his options. "Um..." Gregory bit his lip. "I... I don't know..."
“Come on, you can afford to miss one class. Besides, if we have a good enough excuse, they won’t mark you late or absent,” Terrence said as Grillby approached with a tray of food.
"I... really can't..." He got his lip. Frisk let out a sigh and shrugged. "Then it's okay." She stated. "We can go some other time."
Terrence looked annoyed, but he also wasn’t willing to start a full-blown argument right now, so he dropped it. Grillby began to set the plates of food down.
Greg appeared relieved as Frisk was quick to dig into her meal. Before he began to eat, Greg awkwardly stated; "Sorry guys. I just... I really can't."
“And... why not, exactly?” Terrence asked, raising an eyebrow as he ate a fry. "...I um..." He took a bite out of his burger. "Can't miss anything." He chewed lightly, then slowly swallowed. "Anything."
“Whatev,” Terrence sighed, taking a bite of his pasta, which was noticeably shaped like a certain skeleton’s face... sort of.
Greg seemed to shrink into his seat as he ate silently. Frisk shook her head. Her two best friends hadn't even known each other until they'd become friends with her. They were just so very different, and so were their motives.
Frisk knew that Greg felt strongly about academics and knowledge. He was devoted to his grades, attendance, and anything else of the sort. Not to mention, he had a rather poor home life. Terrence on the other hand, was popular, a magnet for attention, and wasn’t very careful about his grades, but as for his home life, he’d never really told Frisk much about that aside from ‘complicated’.
They finished their meal in awkward silence. It was unfortunate, but not unknown. Terrence and Greg butted heads a lot, despite the fact that Greg was as shy as they came.
They made their way back to school in silence as well, and when reaching the building, Greg quietly departed from the group to go to his class while Frisk and Terrence remained together, their next class being Algebra II.
“Man, Mr. Kay’s gonna hand it to me today,” Terrence said as they stood outside the classroom door. “I didn’t do my homework.”
“What’s going on? You haven’t done your homework all week,” Frisk asked. “Usually, you at least get it half-done.”
“Busy week, is all,” Terrence replied, but he was a terrible liar.
"Right. Totally busy. Lounging at pools, wandering the streets. Homework is supposed to be at home. You never get it done because you're never home." Frisk stated matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, well,” Terrence looked away. “I don’t really like it there, is all,” he said as they neared the classroom door. Mr. Kay was standing outside, checking off student’s names on the attendance sheet as they entered the room.
"You've never said why." Frisk replied as they got in line. "I'm your best friend, Terrence. You may not want it, but I care for you more than just inside this school building."
“I get that, you know I get that. But seriously, my problems are trivial. You don’t have to worry about me, if I had something really bad going on, you’d be the first to know.”
That much was true. His situation at home wasn’t ideal, but it was too familiar for him to consider it very bad. He was... used to it.
Frisk gave Terrence a long stare, before turning away from him as they neared the front of the line. "Nothing is too trivial. I know you'll tell me when you're ready." She shrugged.
Terrence bit the inside of his cheek, but didn’t reply as they were both granted entry by Mr. Kay., a seedy old man who took his class very seriously. He was generally a friendly teacher, nonetheless.
A human fell underground.
Beneath the surface, they made friends.
Made enemies.
Made mistakes.
Made things right.
After a long time, the human decided to stay, calling the underground home.
The monsters, her family.
One day, the underground was destroyed, but the monsters were able to escape, thanks to the human.
For years, they have lived on the surface.
Their story is far from over...
Voxis City.
The largest city in the world. Miles upon miles of a rainforest of skyscrapers. The center of the city contains the oldest of these, dating back over a hundred years.
As you reach the outskirts of the city, you reach an even larger expanse of land. Suburban settlements, all still a part of Voxis. A massive network of communities. Humans and Monsters alike occupy this city.
Mt. Ebott once sat nearby, now having caved in, leaving very little behind after the volcanic eruption.
In one of the suburban homes was the girl famed with having saved all of monsterkind. She was known far and wide. Once the human ambassador for the monsters, until the monster king took that role after the integration process, which was still an on-going project.
This girl's name was Frisk.
She sat at a wooden desk in her room, papers, books and writing utensils scattered across its surface, most stuff stacked out of the way. In front of her sat a paper that she was writing on, scribbling fast, the smell of bacon drifting up from the kitchen.
The room was fairly sized, walls painted a fair royal blue. All except the far wall in her room, which was a mess of colors, painted by a close friend of hers. A skeleton monster named Papyrus, who had used just about every color he possibly could to represent all of his and Frisk's friends. Due to the main coloration of the room, Papyrus assumed that Frisk had the most admiration for Undyne, which he respected and agreed with. The majority of the wall he'd painted, which Frisk commonly referred to as the "Papwall", was colored in orange, the color Papyrus associated with himself. When she asked why it wasn't red, as it was his favorite color, he informed her that he had given the rights of that color to Asgore.
A twin-sized bed sat in her room, head against the papwall, horizontal with the room. The floor was a comfortable light brown carpet, the ceiling a smooth white. Her light had four bulbs below a spinning fan that Toriel claimed "collected more dust than Gerson on a morning jog".
A dresser was located nearby, four drawers. The top drawer held her undergarments. Underwear, socks, and the more recent addition of bras. She typically preferred to wear sports bras. Any other than that made her uncomfortable.
The second drawer held her shirts. A various arrangement of different colors. Only a couple years ago, the only shirts that had filled that drawer were blue sweaters with purple stripes.
The third drawer held various pants, skirts, and shorts. Almost all were jeans, or similar to the material.
The bottomost drawer contained pajamas and dress clothes, including a blue dress she wore to school dances. It was beginning to get a little too small on her, so she doubted she'd get to wear it to prom a couple years from now.
Her walls were lined with various pictures, most of which were group pictures of her and the other monsters. One wall was decorated with a shot of her and Mettaton together, which the singing sensation had taken to having one selfie with Frisk framed every month. It was actually a pretty decent way of seeing Frisk age over the last three years.
She'd changed a lot.
When she had led the monsters out of the underground for the last time, she had been much shorter, more yellow-skinned, with shoulder-length dark brown hair and slanted eyes. So slanted it was actually difficult for most to see her actual eyes, which were a rare scarlet in color.
Her nose had been small and pointy, and she'd been somewhat chubby.
Now, three years later, she'd changed a lot. She had grown nearly a foot taller, her hair now long and flowing, down to the middle of her back. Her eyes remained as slanted as ever, but her skin had lightened with time, getting more pale. Her nose had grown longer, but was still fairly pointy. She'd thinned out with her height, and her chest had begun to pop more, much to her embarrassment, even after Toriel had sat her down and had the "talk" with her. Apparently she was late on "blooming", as her mother put it.
As she sat at her desk, she wore a pair of jean shorts, knee-high white socks with black tennis shoes, and a dark red t-shirt with a picture of spaghetti on the front, courtesy of Papyrus.
As she wrote, she muttered the words out loud as they were put down, trying to go as quickly as she could.
"A lot has happened since I fell underground. I made friends, discovered myself, and found a family. Then I saved them all. Today, we all live on the surface. Together. Happy. No more struggle. The people I love and care about are flourishing in ways I couldn't even predict. I'm so proud of each and every one of them."
She paused, lifting her pen off the paper, furrowing her dark eyebrows as she scanned the last paragraph. This was a worksheet for English II that she'd been procrastinating on for some time, but it was due today and she couldn't put it off any longer.
"Frisk, my child! Breakfast!"
"Coming, mom!" Frisk yelled back to the sweet voice calling kindly up to her. This worksheet would have to do. It was supposed to be a self-reflection and an autobiography altogether. She was nervous about turning it in, hence her procrastination. Each student would have to read their story out loud in front of the class, and while she didn't have an issue with doing that, she wasn't comfortable with sharing her life story, so she'd been as brief and simple as she possibly could.
Quickly, she folded the paper haphazardly and grabbed the strap of her black backpack, pulling it up to her desk and unzipping the front, shoving in the paper, and zipping it closed.
She slung the bag over her shoulder, and dashed out of the room. She was gone for nearly a full second before she dashed back in and grabbed her pen off her desk, then ran back out, closing the door behind her.
Frisk's room led into a hallway where there were two other doors and a set of stairs down. The door across from Frisk's room led to the upstairs bathroom. The last door was near the head of the stairs, and led into Toriel's room.
Down the stairs was the first floor, where there was the kitchen/dining room, the living room, the laundry room, pantry, two closets, another bathroom, and a guest room. They also had a basement, but the entrance was outside.
Frisk raced into the kitchen, coming to a quick stop near the dining table. There were three other individuals in the kitchen when she came in. Her adopted mother Toriel stood at the stove, humming as she finished up breakfast. A classic combination of fried bacon, scrambled eggs smothered in cheese, jellied toast, and a refreshing glass of cold orange juice.
She wore a blouse tucked into her waist, beneath a long skirt, both purple in color. A pair of smart folk glasses sat on her face.
At the front door stood Papyrus, rattling his bones in anticipation, his face screwed up in concentration, pacing back and forth in front of the exit, stroking his chin thoughtfully, muttering slogans to himself, like "Paready Papasta" and "You can't spell pasta without several letters from Papyrus".
He used to wear what was referred to as his "battle body", but now spent most of his time dressed like a chef. This was one of those times.
At the dining table sat Papyrus' older, but shorter brother, Sans. He leaned against the back of his chair, arms resting behind his head, eyes closed, a grin ever-present on his face.
He was the one monster who never seemed to physically change. He still wore his ketchup-stained white t-shirt beneath his moth-eaten jacket. Black gym shorts with white singular stripes going up horizontally. White socks, and a pair of pink, fluffy slippers. The only changes he'd made was wearing a newer, cleaner pair of socks, as Papyrus had gone on a purge just a few months ago, ridding the entire house of all of Sans' socks. Sans had simply bought more and carefully placed then where his old socks had once sat. Papyrus gave up at that point. The other change was his color of jacket. It was now a deep scarlet, hand-picked by Papyrus because 'the old one smelled too much like moldy tomato stew'. The old jacket was long gone by now, but Papyrus had chosen the color so the two of them would be matching- up until Papyrus stopped wearing his battle body.
The moment Frisk entered, Sans had clearly made a joke, as Toriel interrupted her soft humming with a pleasant chuckle. "Oho, Sans."
She then shifted her gaze to Frisk. "Oh, Frisk dear! Your breakfast is almost finished. It's your favorite, my child. Happy birthday."
That explained why breakfast smelled better than usual this morning. Frisk had honestly almost forgotten... she turned 16 today...
For some reason, it didn't feel special. She didn't feel... different.
"hope you enjoy the anniversary of your conception, kiddo. only get it once a year." Sans grinned at her from the table, opening his right eye to look at her. "YES! THAT IS PERFECT, SANS!" Papyrus gasped, excitement lighting up his face, before grandiosely presenting his arms in the air. "PAPASTA ANNIVERSARY SALE!"
"you made papasta four months ago. still got another eight to go 'till the anniversary."
Papyrus frowned, excitement fading from his eyes as Toriel carried a plate of steaming, wonderful breakfast to Frisk as the teen put her bag down on the floor and sat down beside Sans.
"DARN. WELL, ANYWAY, HELLO HUMAN! I SEE YOU'RE DELECTABLY DECKED OUT WITH YOUR DELICIOUS DELIGHTS!"
"Thanks guys." Frisk replied awkwardly. She never liked her birthdays much, anyway. The attention just wasn't very appealing. She didn't like special attention, regardless of the reason. Sans gave her a light shrug. "don't sweat it, kid. least we can do for you after everything. funny how your birthday seems to land on the same day every year, huh?”
“THAT IS INDEED ODD.” Papyrus agreed. “THERE’S SOME ODD, CONFUSING PATTERN GOING ON THERE. DON’T FEEL BAD FOR NOT UNDERSTANDING IT, SANS. I DON’T EITHER.”
With that, Frisk dug into her breakfast. Sure, it burnt her tongue, but the amazing taste of Toriel's fried bacon exploded her mouth with wonderful flavors. She wasn't even a quarter of the way finished when Toriel suddenly gasped. "Oh my, it's getting late! Frisk, hurry up, dear. You don't want to be late for school."
"aw, come on, tori. it's her birthday. so what if she's a little after the bell? i can sign her in." Sans offered, patting Frisk on the shoulder as she gave her mother the cutest, most innocent face she could muster with bulging cheeks full of bacon.
Toriel narrowed her eyes at Sans, then Frisk, before smiling. "Oh, well... okay, then. Just don't take too long, alright?"
"got my internal alarm set for eight o'clock, your majesty." Sans winked in reply. Toriel smirked at that, and Frisk could tell what was coming.
Sans and Toriel had made a habit of tossing jokes and puns and occasional fake insults at each other when in the same room as each other. It was adorably sickening.
"Please, Sans. Just call me Toriel. I am no longer the queen." Toriel replied, and the short skeleton's grin widened. "maybe not out there, but this castle is ruled by you."
"A castle needs a king and a queen, Sans. Any suggestions for my betrothed?"
At this, Sans blushed. Or at least the skeleton equivalent. A shade of blue befell his face. "oh... um... i... no... not really..."
It seemed Toriel had won this round.
"Well, I have some rather crucial appointments to attend to that I'd rather not miss, so I shall take my leave." She sighed, resting the dishes in the sink and running cold water over them.
"Bye, mom!" Frisk tried to call through a mouthful of cheesy scrambled eggs. Papyrus whipped a box out from behind him. Where he stored it, nobody was sure, and frankly, nobody wanted to know. "TAKE A BOX OF PAPASTA FOR YOUR DAY, LADY ASGORE! NOW ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OFF FOR ITS ANNIVERSARY SALE!"
Papasta noodles were certainly not bad, but they were funded by Mettaton, who'd grown sweet on Sans' younger brother. Sweet enough to help Papyrus make his own brand of noodles, and even get a television program in the making called "Skelechef". Needless to say, Papyrus had his celebrity work cut out for him. Sans was worried over this, even if he didn't let anyone know that. He was worried that Papyrus would be fouled in some way, and wasn't eager to pick up the pieces.
The Papasta mascot was, if you could believe it, Papyrus himself. His grinning face cartoonishly drawn on the front wearing a chef's hat, disembodied gloved hands holding up a bowl of spaghetti in front of him, the box itself an orange color. The noodles inside were multicolored, as Papyrus had been intrigued and joyous over colored pasta when he'd discovered it at Flormart.
"Oh. Thank you, Papyrus." Toriel smiled kindly, gently taking the box from him, and moving toward a cabinet.
"I'll put it with the others." Upon opening the cabinet, they could see stacks of other Papasta boxes inside. It was a tight fit, but the new box made it in, and she closed the cabinet. Papyrus beamed at her.
With that, Toriel began making her way for the door. "hey." Sans called to her. "break a leg."
She smiled. "'Tibia' continued, Sans."
"'femur' puns like that and i'll-"
"Do what? I'm the queen of this castle, Sans." She gave the skeleton a sly grin, and he blushed again. "Have a wonderful day. I might be home late, Frisk. You're free to stay over at Sans and Papyrus'. I love you, my child." Toriel blew a kiss at Frisk, who swallowed down her last bit of toast. "Love you too, mom." She blew the kiss back, flakes of crust blowing from her lips.
"I ALSO LOVE YOU, MOM!" Papyrus agreed gleefully as Sans gave Toriel a last wink. "see ya."
And with that, Toriel was gone. There were a few moments of silence as Frisk finished up her bacon, and returned to her eggs, which there were still a lot of, and she was beginning to get full.
"so, kid. how'd those pig bits taste?"
"Really good!" Frisk smiled as Sans leaned back in his seat again. "don't tell porkly that."
"SPLENDID! I HELPED MAKE THEM!" Papyrus beamed happily, placing a hand importantly on his chest. "Oh..." Frisk gulped. "Did you add pasta?"
Papyrus' jaw almost dropped as his eyes widened in disbelief. There were a few moments of silence as Sans and Frisk stared at Papyrus, who eventually found his voice.
"...I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT ABOUT THAT."
Frisk watched sadly as the rest of her eggs were smothered in a rain of multicolored pasta noodles, some of which were shaped like poorly formed Papyrus heads.
------
There were many familiar landmarks Frisk witnessed during the ride from her home to school. First was Aaron’s Crossfit Flexing, though the monster mostly liked to flex in front of anybody who walked through the door. Surprisingly enough, business actually did fairly well for him.
Then there was Dreamhope Elementary, Toriel’s workplace. Frisk took notice that Toriel’s car wasn’t parked outside, but didn’t think much of it. Perhaps her adopted mother had decided to go to the store and pick something up.
Next, came a McOswald’s. Sure, Voxis had many, but this one was different because of one of the employees, the depressed and sometimes exuberant Burgerpants. Nobody was actually sure if that was his real name or not, but the monster tended to avoid the topic of his name with desperate fervor.
Then there was Catty and Bratty’s Beauty Salon. Originally they’d started their business at a landfill just outside of town, but when Mettaton took notice of their work, they’d been given employment under him and were actually quite successful. That didn’t stop them from dumpster diving still, however.
After that was Asgore’s. It wasn’t too different from Toriel’s house. Despite their ruined relationship, the both of them had shared tastes in just about everything. That was when they moved past the residential area and began making their way into the heart of the city.
The first thing they passed was the Monster Integration Office, something run by Asgore after he’d taken over Frisk’s ambassador duties. Originally, the integration program was met with a lot of resistance, but over time, it became accepted. Its job was to find monsters jobs, homes, and a safe place to go.
Then there was Obatech Industries, a massive office building run by the richest and most powerful man in the city, Jonathan Obaseki, who also happened to be Asgore’s boss.
After that, they turned a corner, passing by the police station where Undyne worked at. Unfortunately, Undyne couldn’t get much higher in the ranks due to a supposedly racist boss. She was easily his best cop, but who she was seemed to affect his decision of a promotion. Asgore was working himself into office, one of the acts he planned to pass was the Monster Integration Act, which disallowed employer interests from treating monster employees any differently from human employees. It wouldn’t fix all their problems, but it’d be a start.
Then there was Voxis Middle School, which Frisk had attended for a couple of years before graduating to High School. There, she’d met her two closest human friends. Terrence Anoma and Gregory Favian.
Terrence had been and still was the ‘popular’ kid. He was both charming and handsome, not to mention easy to get along with and mature. It was no surprise when he’d asked Frisk out back in Freshman year. Frisk, of course, said yes. The relationship didn’t last long, the two deciding to remain as friends and possibly try again another time. She’d be lying to herself if she said she didn’t maintain feelings for him.
Gregory was always the shy, quiet kid who stuck himself in the back corner of class, got his work done before anybody else even knew what they were doing, and placed his nose in a good book for the remainder of the block. He’d come out of his shell a lot more since he’d become friends with Frisk and Terrence, but sometimes felt third-wheeled around them, especially when they started dating. He’s always had a very low self-esteem, and despite their close friendship, adamantly believes he doesn’t deserve friends like them.
Next to pass was Muffet’s. That was what it was called. The spider monster had been inspired by the homey simplicity of Grillby’s that she opted to copy the style with her own. Sure, her meals were a bit pricey. While she had learned to lower her prices, Muffet’s was still the most expensive place to eat in all of Voxis. That didn’t go without saying that her meals were very high in quality. She and her spiders could cook basically anything you wanted, and fast, too. Service was exceptionally good, as well. In the end, a $100 meal was sometimes worth it. Sometimes. Frisk, fortunately, got discounts and sometimes free meals due to her friendship with Muffet.
Grillby’s was the next place they passed, and it was certainly much cheaper. It wasn’t quite as high quality as Muffet’s, but it was homey and welcoming. Grillby had his daughter, Fuku, working for him part-time while she started her senior year at Voxis High. He hoped to be able to retire eventually, and for her to take over his business, but his daughter had different dreams. Ironically, she wanted to become a Marine Biologist. Sans remained his best customer.
Finally, after rounding another block, they were near the heart of Voxis City. City Hall could be distantly seen as Sans pulled up to the drop-off lane in front of the school. The girl climbed off the back, adjusting her backpack before looking back at Sans, who grinned dolefully at her. “school’s waitin’, kiddo.” He told her. “have a good day.”
“You too, Sans.” She replied with a smile, before turning and making her way into the building, and made a beeline for Marine Biology. That was her first class of the day, which she was lucky enough to have with Greg. He was pretty nerdy, but not in a cliche way… maybe, but he still managed to make the otherwise boring class bearable. Frisk loved marine life, but learning about seven kinds of plankton and algae? Bleh.
She entered the classroom to find most of her peers were already seated inside, waiting for class to start, either chatting with their friends and waiting patiently, some on their phones, others trying to catch up on the homework they’d procrastinated on. Mr. Gagne, their teacher, was seated at the head of the class behind his desk, taking silent attendance, glancing up at Frisk before marking her down. He was a tall, scrawny, dorky-looking man in his mid-thirties with a bushy beard and thick round glasses that magnified his beady eyes tenfold it seemed.
As per usual, Gregory was stationed in the corner of the room, a pencil tucked over his ear as he stared expectantly at Mr. Gagne through his own pair of glasses, which were rectangular and nowhere near as thick. Greg had a thin face and body, not that different to their teacher, with medium-length jet black hair that was brushed as well as it could be, though remained extremely untidy. The most interesting part of Gregory’s appearance were his eyes. Big and violet, with a steely gaze to them. Before him sat a blank sheet of paper, no doubt ready for him to start copying down Mr. Gagne’s lesson word-for-word. When Greg caught sight of Frisk as she took the seat beside him, he grinned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Hey.” She greeted, getting settled in.
“Hi Frisk.” He returned just as the bell rang and Mr. Gagne sprang up with the usual monotone; “Good morning, class” to which only about three people replied, including Frisk and Gregory. Gagne placed a piece of paper in his projector, which was displayed on the board. He shifted it to be angled perfectly in contrast to its smartboard background. The paper read; ‘Write down one type of plankton and describe what it does. Be prepared to share your answer’. Greg was the first to move, sliding his pencil out from over his ear and beginning to write rapidly in miniscule writing Frisk doubted anybody but he could discern.
She decided to write about phytoplankton, or what she could remember of it. Frisk hadn’t even written her first three words when Greg set his pencil down, a full paragraph written out on his paper. First to begin work, first to finish. This was the way of Greg and it may never change.
Eventually, Mr. Gagne cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention as he held one of those shiny red sticks with a pointer at the end that every teacher with a smartboard loved. “Alright class, would someone like to read their answers?” He asked, his voice cracking as he said it, leaving him to clear his throat once again. Greg’s hand was in the air before Mr. Gagne had even finished speaking. A few other hands raised, but with much less enthusiasm. There was never any real point to raise a hand in class when you share it with the one named Gregory Favian.
Mr. Gagne chuckled, but it sounded nervous, as though he were scared. “Frisk, how about you?” He asked, before chuckling again and waving his hand dismissively. “Kidding, kidding… Greg, impress me.”
Frisk found this a little rude and unnecessary, but didn’t indulge it. Mr. Gagne was one of those teachers that thought he was funny and chill when he did things like that, but mostly came off as rude and a little dismissive to the students. Come to think of it, that describes a lot of teachers.
"Phytoplankton, also known as microalgae, are similar to terrestrial plants in that they contain chlorophyll and require sunlight in order to live and grow. Most phytoplankton are buoyant and float in the upper part of the ocean, where sunlight penetrates the water. Phytoplankton also require inorganic nutrients such as nitrates, phosphates, and sulfur which they convert into proteins, fats, and carbohydrates." Greg stated in a single breath, to which somebody at the front of the room groaned and laid their head down on their table.
“I don’t think we’ve even gotten that far in the textbook. You must have read ahead. Well done, as usual, Greg,” Mr. Gagne nodded. “Anybody else?” His voice cracked again.
A kid raised his hand.
“Tyler.”
“Phytoplankton, also- uh... microalgae... it needs sunlight...” Tyler faltered, failing to reword Greg’s answer.
Mr. Gagne seemed to stop listening to Tyler, turning away and marching toward the front of the classroom. Greg noticeably blushed. He loved being who he was, but he hated the attention he got, and always felt bad when he made others look less than he. “Poor Tyler...” Frisk shook her head. It wasn’t Greg’s fault or anything- but he didn’t even really leave much room for anyone else to look smart, so a lot of people usually tried to piggyback off of his brains, but... well, it didn’t turn out too well.
Greg glanced over at Frisk, still red in the face. "Um, hey Frisk." He greeted, more awkwardly than before. "Terrence wanted me to tell you to meet him behind the school during lunch. I uh... only just remembered."
Frisk raised an eyebrow, confused. Terrence rarely spent any time during lunch doing anything but food fights.
“Thanks for telling me,” she gave him a nod, before, just like nearly every other student in the classroom, her eyes drifted to the clock. She then looked back at Greg. “Hey, when does this class get out, again?” she asked in a hushed tone.
"Same time as every day." Greg replied, beginning to write something down on his paper. Frisk simply stared at him, which he was quick to notice.
"Er- 8:55." He added, pursing his lips.
“Thank you,” she nodded, before Mr. Gagne’s voice filled the room.
“Now, today we’re going to be learning about oxygen levels in the atmosphere, and how much of the oxygen is produced by plankton...”
He droned on and on, continuing even after he told the students what their assignment was and not allowing them to start until he finished. Greg was the only one who seemed capable of paying attention.
Frisk had an itch. Something she'd been wanting to tell Greg ever since she'd walked into that room and seen him.
As Mr. Gagne turned away, Frisk directed her attention to Greg. "I saw… it… again." She whispered.
Immediately, Greg paled. "Again? You sure?"
“I’m pretty sure... unless it was a different stalker thing, maybe?”
Greg paled even more. “U-Um... well, you could do what Terrence suggested and set up a video camera, or something...”
Frisk shook her head. “Mom would be suspicious if I did. And if I did do that, I’m worried I’ll see something on video that I’d rather not.”
"I still think you should tell her." Greg advised. Frisk bit her cheek. She'd thought about it for a while. Letting Toriel know about this felt like it was the right thing to do, but for some reason... Frisk couldn't convince herself to do it.
"I will." She replied. "Soon."
"Did it do anything?"
"No." Frisk shook her head. "Same as always. Just... stood there. Watching." She paused. "But... I think it wasn't staring through the kitchen window this time."
Greg gulped, staring at Frisk as she continued. "It looked almost like it was staring back at me this time..."
“Frisk... you could be in some serious danger here, one of these days he might try and get into the house, or-“
“Gregory,” Mr. Gagne’s voice interrupted. “Is it something you would like to share with the rest of the class?”
“No,” Greg replied instinctively.
“Now, if you will, class, please do as I instructed. And the only thing I want to hear until the bell is pencils touching papers.”
"Lunch. Behind the school." Greg muttered to Frisk. "We'll talk more about it then."
"Oh, and Mr. Favian." Gagne called to Greg, who looked up. "Stay after class, will you? There's something I need to talk to you about."
“Oh great...” Greg sighed, before turning and beginning his assignment while most of the other students discreetly tapped at their phones or played table football.
------
A dirty blonde, shaggy haired boy stood behind the school, leaned up against a wall. He was slightly taller than the average sixteen year old, and had a good build. He was desperately trying to rub away a lipstick mark on his arm, but to little avail, before he decided to give up and concealed it with his sleeve. He was standing a few meters away from the double doors into the cafeteria, which were pushed open by his two best friends; Frisk Dreemurr and Gregory Favian.
"We haven't hung out here since the middle of last year." Greg commented, his eyes clearly showing he was beginning to reminisce about their freshman year.
Terrence Anoma grinned widely, looking from Greg, to Frisk, before his grin widened even more.
“There’s the birthday girl,” Terrence said, winking. “The big one-six, Frisk, how’s it feel?”
Greg’s face flushed. “That was today...?” he looked ashamed and embarrassed at the same time.
Frisk awkwardly chuckled. "Uh... fine. I guess." She usually wasn't much of a shy person, anyone knew that. However, she always did get shy when receiving direct compliments or congratulations of the sort for reasons nobody really knew why. Frisk herself didn't wasn’t even sure. That’s just how it was.
“Trust me, Frisk, this is a whole new chapter for you. You know, driving, independence, uh... driving. Yeah, mostly driving.”
“So... why did we come out back here?” Greg wondered.
“Because I can’t wish anyone happy birthday with a crowd,” Terrence rolled his eyes, gesturing to the door.
Greg bit his cheek as he looked through the door's windows, watching a group of pretty girls at a nearby lunch table glance repeatedly at Terrence.
"Well, let's stay out here for a little longer." Frisk said. "I have an update about the... about the… it. A thing about the thing."
“Oh, geez,you mean the thing?” Terrence’s friendly attitude seemed to sink into a worried one. “What happened?”
“The same as usual,” Frisk said, “but I think it was staring through my window this time.”
Terrence sighed. “You gotta be kidding... like, directly at you?”
“Yes.”
“When did they leave?”
“I don’t know.”
Terrence bit lip. “You gotta tell Toriel. Or call the police.”
"I know, I know..." Frisk sighed. "It's just... I don't know. For some reason, my heart is telling me not to. Like somehow, that by not telling my mom, I'm saving her from something."
"If you don't, we'll come over to your place." Greg stated. "She needs to know. We want to help, but you need to let an adult know about this guy."
“Come on, Frisk, think about this logically. Creepy stalker man outside your house. If you tell Toriel, the chances of that man going away increase, because she’ll either A) have him arrested, or B) kick the shit out of him, because your mom is really cool. Not telling her is like inviting this guy to keep coming back, you know?”
Frisk folded her arms. "I know. I know all of that. I know what I'm supposed to do. I know what I want to do... but I have... trouble."
"Then we'll come over to help you." Greg offered.
“Yeah, as cheesy as it sounds, we’re your friends. And friends don’t let their friends lose sleep and get creeped out by stalkers all the time, you know?” Terrence smiled. The girl chuckled. "Yeah." She looked toward Greg, then back at Terrence. "Thanks. I'll tell her tonight, then. Or as soon as I can. Right now, though, I'm hungry."
“Wanna eat some garbage cafeteria food, or go down to Grillby’s and get some good stuff?” Terrence asked, looking smug as he stated the obvious choice. He’d become a Grillby’s addict ever since he’d been introduced to Sans.
“Grillby’s,” Frisk said without skipping a beat.
"If we can make it back in time." Greg said, rubbing his thumb nervously. "You remember what happened the least time we went, right?"
“Ah, come on, do you want this girl to eat cold, wet tater tots on her birthday, Greg?” Terrence asked charismatically. “My treat. What do you say?”
Greg pursed his lips. “...Fine. But you’d better hope your time management has improved.”
------
"Thanks Grillbs." Frisk smiled at the fire monster, who gave her a courteous nod of his head, and walked away from their table, swishing a rag in a shot glass, a service dish tucked under his armpit.
He'd just delivered the three shakes they'd ordered. Frisk had a classic chocolate with chocolate-flavored whipped cream, Greg had mint cookie with classic whipped cream, and Terrence’s shake was also chocolate, but with extra sprinkles and no whipped cream, because he often claimed the cream ‘got in the way’ of enjoying the shake.
“Wow, he gave you a nod? Last time I tried to call him Grillbs, all I got was a cold stare... or a hot stare, maybe.” Terrence shrugged.
"I've told you a million times." Frisk giggled. "He respects me. The only other people I've ever seen Grillby give a crap about has been Sans and his daughter, Fuku.”
There was the sound of a short choke, then a wet splatter, and Greg rose his face up from his shake, mouth covered in cream as he coughed. "Grillby has a daughter?"
"Yes. Do you guys never pay attention?" Frisk blinked. Greg gulped, grabbing a napkin and wiping the shake's contents from his face. "We do! It's just... distracting in here." He shrugged, glancing about. "So many different people and monsters. They all have so many interesting things to say."
"So... you eavesdrop all the time?" Terrence smirked. Greg only shrugged. "It's easy. Nobody notices me anyway, I can get away with it."
“Speaking of Grillby’s daughter, isn’t she the green fire-lady with the, uh... uh... someone, someone help me out, I’m drawing a blank,” Terrence said, snapping his fingers as though that would help him gain a better train of thought.
“Her name is Fuku,” Frisk informed them. “She goes to our school. How do you guys not know her?”
“Well, is she in our grade?” Terrence asked, taking a sip of his shake. Frisk shook her head.
“No. She’s a year ahead of us, I think... wait, Greg, how often do you eavesdrop on people? Do you eavesdrop on us, too?” Frisk looked curious.
"Sometimes. I try not to with you guys, though. Since..." He paused as Frisk frowned at him. "I uh... respect you guys. More than other people... Why?"
“Just wondering,” Frisk shrugged, taking a sip of her milkshake.
“We have twenty-five minutes left for lunch,” Greg informed them, eyes glued to a watch on his arm. “It’s about an eight minute walk back, so-“
“Relax, we’ll be alright. And even if we’re not, it’s not the end of the world,” Terrence said, seeming unbothered. “We have plenty of time.”
"Not the end of the world for you, you mean." Greg sighed. "I have a perfect attendance, and-"
"Relax." Frisk repeated Terrence's advice. Greg pursed his lips, then sighed and took a sip of his milkshake. "Alright." He submitted.
“Listen, think about it this way, if it’s an eight minute walk back,” Terrence said, leaning back. “We have twenty five minutes total, that means we have seventeen minutes to get out of here. Grillby doesn’t usually dawdle, so we’ll get our food, eat, and leave, and then get back for some boring lectures with time to spare. See, I’m a bit of a mathematician.”
"I know all that." Gregory huffed. "Last time you said all of that, though, you made us stop at the mall because you claimed there was something you wanted at Hot Topic." He paused as Frisk snickered in remembrance of it before Greg continued.
"It wasn't even there."
“Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know that that magazine was from 2012? Besides, if it had been there, it would have been great. But apparently they don’t make them anymore.”
"Yeah, sure. Then-"
Greg was cut off as Terrence rose up in his seat, grinning. "Guys, let's go to the mall!"
"What!?" Greg paled. Terrence placed his hands on his hips. "It's Frisk’s birthday. Let's get her something special."
“You’re joking!” Greg said, eyes as wide as saucers.
“Joking? Why would I be joking?” Terrence looked genuinely confused. “Come on, we should get her something, and what better place than the mall?”
“Why can’t we just do it after school?” Greg questioned, looking uneasy.
This time, it was Terrence’s turn to pale. He scratched the back of his head. “I, uh, don’t actually have time after school, until like, seven thirty.”
"Neither do I." Frisk added. Gregory appeared extremely conflicted, biting his cheek and looking between the two individuals, unsure. “Okay... okay, but... I need to be back in class on-time.”
“If we go, we will definitely be late,” Terrence shrugged, leaning back. “I think it’s a small price to pay.” Greg winced, slumping in his seat as he began to ponder his options. "Um..." Gregory bit his lip. "I... I don't know..."
“Come on, you can afford to miss one class. Besides, if we have a good enough excuse, they won’t mark you late or absent,” Terrence said as Grillby approached with a tray of food.
"I... really can't..." He got his lip. Frisk let out a sigh and shrugged. "Then it's okay." She stated. "We can go some other time."
Terrence looked annoyed, but he also wasn’t willing to start a full-blown argument right now, so he dropped it. Grillby began to set the plates of food down.
Greg appeared relieved as Frisk was quick to dig into her meal. Before he began to eat, Greg awkwardly stated; "Sorry guys. I just... I really can't."
“And... why not, exactly?” Terrence asked, raising an eyebrow as he ate a fry. "...I um..." He took a bite out of his burger. "Can't miss anything." He chewed lightly, then slowly swallowed. "Anything."
“Whatev,” Terrence sighed, taking a bite of his pasta, which was noticeably shaped like a certain skeleton’s face... sort of.
Greg seemed to shrink into his seat as he ate silently. Frisk shook her head. Her two best friends hadn't even known each other until they'd become friends with her. They were just so very different, and so were their motives.
Frisk knew that Greg felt strongly about academics and knowledge. He was devoted to his grades, attendance, and anything else of the sort. Not to mention, he had a rather poor home life. Terrence on the other hand, was popular, a magnet for attention, and wasn’t very careful about his grades, but as for his home life, he’d never really told Frisk much about that aside from ‘complicated’.
They finished their meal in awkward silence. It was unfortunate, but not unknown. Terrence and Greg butted heads a lot, despite the fact that Greg was as shy as they came.
They made their way back to school in silence as well, and when reaching the building, Greg quietly departed from the group to go to his class while Frisk and Terrence remained together, their next class being Algebra II.
“Man, Mr. Kay’s gonna hand it to me today,” Terrence said as they stood outside the classroom door. “I didn’t do my homework.”
“What’s going on? You haven’t done your homework all week,” Frisk asked. “Usually, you at least get it half-done.”
“Busy week, is all,” Terrence replied, but he was a terrible liar.
"Right. Totally busy. Lounging at pools, wandering the streets. Homework is supposed to be at home. You never get it done because you're never home." Frisk stated matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, well,” Terrence looked away. “I don’t really like it there, is all,” he said as they neared the classroom door. Mr. Kay was standing outside, checking off student’s names on the attendance sheet as they entered the room.
"You've never said why." Frisk replied as they got in line. "I'm your best friend, Terrence. You may not want it, but I care for you more than just inside this school building."
“I get that, you know I get that. But seriously, my problems are trivial. You don’t have to worry about me, if I had something really bad going on, you’d be the first to know.”
That much was true. His situation at home wasn’t ideal, but it was too familiar for him to consider it very bad. He was... used to it.
Frisk gave Terrence a long stare, before turning away from him as they neared the front of the line. "Nothing is too trivial. I know you'll tell me when you're ready." She shrugged.
Terrence bit the inside of his cheek, but didn’t reply as they were both granted entry by Mr. Kay., a seedy old man who took his class very seriously. He was generally a friendly teacher, nonetheless.