Souls and Spaghetti

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Your Perspective

After a night filled with dreams of blood-covered knives and empty-eyed monsters, you're back at the house of the skeleton brothers. You and Sans are vegging out on the beat up old couch in their living room, just like you have been for the past four or five hours. In fact, you're pretty sure that if you were to stand up, you'd find an impression in the shape of your butt.

True to his word, Sans has done absolutely nothing all day, while you've been furiously typing away on your new laptop. Even though you have no way of accessing your Quotev account, you just can't bear to abandon your old stories.

Frisk sits on the ground in front of the couch, playing on an old Nintendo 64 that Papyrus had apparently found in the garbage dump. She's been alternating between Mario Kart 64 and Majora's Mask, and she's made significant progress in both.

You take a break in your writing to watch Frisk as she plays Majora's Mask. She has Link standing in the middle of Clock Town, and she has him watching the moon as it slowly makes its descent on the final day. She waits until the last moment to play the song of time, and the moon nearly falls on her before she resets the game's timeline from the beginning.

How exactly does she reset time? you wonder. Last you checked, your sister wasn't in possession of a magical ocarina. You almost want to ask her, but you don't think Sans would be thrilled with you if you do that—he had said not to mention the resets to her.

You shrug the thought away and return to your story, trying to figure out how best to move it along without boring your (now nonexistent) readers in the process. The next major plot event is coming up, but you have no idea how to reach it without some kind of filler...

"What'cha writing?" Sans asks, leaning in as he looks over your shoulder.

You stiffen, trying to resist the urge to slam the top of your laptop down. You can handle it when people read your stories over the internet, but having someone read it in your presence, where you can actually see their reactions... well, it's downright terrifying. And embarrassing. Especially since your story has a strong romantic undercurrent.

"N-Nothing," you say, subtly shifting the screen away from him. "It's just a story."

"Oh yeah?" he asks. He completely ignores your body language and shifts just a little bit closer to you, so he can see the screen better. "What's it about?"

That question is the honest-to-god bane of all authors. How on Earth are you supposed to explain the depth of your plot to someone who hasn't read it for themselves? It's impossible—summarizing, by definition, is impossible. However, seeing how it's Sans that's asking...

"Well... it's basically about these two people with magic powers," you say slowly, trying your best to explain. "One of them has absolute control over water, and the other one's a cyborg with the ability to shapeshift. The two fall in love, and the girl tries to help the guy with his amnesia..."

You trail off when you notice that Sans' white irises have a kind of distant look to them.

"...It's complicated," you finish lamely.

"Sounds like it," Sans says, raising a nonexistent eyebrow. "Humans with magic powers, huh? That's a scary thought."

"But humans can use magic... can't they?" you ask.

"Pfft. What? Of course they can't," he says. "Not on their own, anyway—they'd need a monster soul."

"But if that's true, then how does...?" You look pointedly at Frisk, hoping Sans understands your question.

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