Skeleton Ghost

By FireladyofInk

30.8K 1.5K 3K

Reset after Reset, a meek ghost is finally sick of watching them all die. Genocide after Genocide, a depresse... More

The Endless Lööps
A Confrontation
One Final Dance
Change
Troubled
Humans with T e a
Revelations
Lost Half
You Just Got Pranked
Explain In the Sunlight
Haunting
Beast of Bone
Dragons
False Ambassador
Gaasyendietha
Kinepeikwa
Saecshiun
The Serpent of Lake Erie
A lot of timeskips and POV jumping because I'm as lazy as Sans
Out of Title Ideas
Once One is Three
The Deep
Recollection
Frightened Flowers
Cult?
Villicon
Misinformation
Knowledge Becomes Chaos
A Soul Made Whole Once Again
Dear Little Goat, What Lies In Your Heart?
Hungry Goat
History of the Cloud Riders
Into the Dragon's Den
To Be Not Alone
A Rocky Restart
An Idea
A Glimpse of Culture
A Taste of Culture
Spooky Scary S-
To Feed a Dragon
To Understand Dragons

Nothing and Everything

255 13 58
By FireladyofInk

Monsterkind is a strange race. It's peoples come in a variety of forms. Their bodies are of magic, formed by their enigmatic, gleaming Souls.
Perhaps the most important thing about monsters is that they are connected to humans. That is common knowledge.

What isn't is how they are connected. Many great minds have tried guessing whatever this bond may be. There are other races that are notably far closer to humankind than monsters. Even races that best fit somewhere between monsters and humans.

Of these races, it is known that they are magical breeds of human ancestry. Their lineage is clear, for traits of the strange people are always prevalent. Mers often appear like a smooth amalgamation of human and a fish. Other mer subspecies still maintain humanoid halves, if not distinctly identical.

Dwarves are close enough to pass for miniature- if not often muscular and hairy- copies of humans. The same went for elves but on the opposite end of the spectrum, with the addition of pointed ears.

Lamias were land mers of often cold-blooded serpentine traits rather than fish, much less avidly social than their seaborne counterparts.

Even arachnotaurs had more in common with humans, solely due to having upper human bodies instead of spider heads like titantula, though even that species had mouths, unlike their much, much smaller and less magical relatives that relied on liquid diets.

So why would the wide and varied race of many, many subsets be the one considered closest to humans with no apparent reason why?

It was simple, really. The truth was a secret hoarded by the most ancient of races, collectively known as the Old Ones.
Even then, most of them knew little of the secret, whereas a majority of the truth lay hidden in their few history keepers and most ancient people.
Monsters were descended from humans.

How was this possible? Humans were the only race that didn't have their own inherent magic. They couldn't express themselves as other races could. They relied on more mundane forms of expression, in art, which inundated all human cultures.

Why would anyone think monsters could be related to a race so vastly different?
It takes a deeper knowledge on the ancient past and natural manaphysics to understand why.

Of course, being forced outside of time and space itself has its perks in uncovering the truth as well.

Magic is automatically drawn to sentience. In fact, a good portion of the most erratic, powerful and incomprehensible mana types were sapient themselves. Magic itself could almost qualify as a form of life.

But if it is sentient and alters reality as it does, then why? How? Where does it even come from?
Only it can say.
And if there is any indication to be seen based on the past, then it is either unwilling to or simply unable to communicate.
He rather believed it couldn't.

But nonetheless, magic is automatically drawn to sapience outside of itself. And in this attraction, it is known to alter sentient beings more drastically than simple creatures, even going so far as to connect them to one another via it's lesser variants- or rather, lesser parts.

His experience has taught that all forms of magic may very likely not be separate, similar things but in fact, different parts of the same thing.
One truly enormous, interconnected thing that operates on its own rules outside of physics and toys with life like idle playthings.

Perhaps there is a reason. A purpose. An unforseen goal.
Is this what humans call God? Is magic older than existence?
Evidence suggests that much at least.
What a frightening concept.

Something that sees mundane creatures achieve something it possibly thought only itself capable of and decides to integrate itself however it can.

And in the case of humans, he could see, looking back in time from his own existence, it appeared to collect the Souls that refused to shatter after death and transmute them.

Without the thick, dense bodies protecting them in life, human Souls are free to be changed and even rehoused. It made him shudder.
The first monsters were an early form of ghosts, struggling to remain visible and interact with anything at all due to low magic levels. They had eerie humanoid forms, the earliest even having wounds apparent as remnants of their former existence.

They were early humans being forced into bodies completely alien to them, many of which maintained their memories as well. It was a dreadful fate that occurred often as it began to take more and more evolved forms.

They began to resolve into rounder shapes as they gained visibility throughout the test trials performed on them by magic itself as though humans were.. "lab rats", was the term.

They resolved into the familiar shapes of the ghosts he knew today, taking on more vibrant colors and lacking memory of their former humanity as they stabilized and gradually increased in numbers.

Eventually these early ghosts began to encounter each other, and this led to relationships.
The first generation of non-human ghosts was born.

This first generation was not born with the inherent need to inhabit a body, unlike today. No, instead they would only do so out of the simple desire to experience reality like others of more physical forms.
He was shocked to learn that it was from this that led to the birth of monsterkind.

They would inhabit anything they could find, even dead bodies and remains- leading to the birth of the first skeletons and others. As these early ghosts fused with their bodies, it became who they were- no longer ghosts, but new races.

At first, the early skeletons more closely resembled humans. But as time went on and they had generations of their own, they too evolved into something more removed from humanity. Something more familiar.

Just like skeletons came to be, many animalistic and plantlike monsters came into existence due to these early ghosts taking the bodies of almost dead animals and plants. In time, these too evolved, but not like skeletons did, no. They evolved into more humanoid forms rather than away.

For such a forgotten races as it was, ghosts were practically the sole reason monsterkind existed at all. It was fascinating, if one ignored the morbidity of how it all came to be.
Monsters were remnants of humans, transformed by magic into magical forms.

One could almost say that monsters were human themselves, in a way.
Looking into the past can teach one many things, but perhaps one should shift through time and find something less dark to study.
Like perhaps the escape plan and his only tie to any sense of linear time.
The dragon that was also his son and a ghost and a human.

It was so strange to think that the silly, energetically naive, giddy babybones was not only grown, but also part of a dragon he had met, one older than him by centuries.
He couldn't decide how to feel about that.

Where…
Ah, he had lost his reference. Billions and trillions of scenes from scattered moments throughout future, past, present and never were flowing in and around him aimlessly as he searched for a strand to focus on.

What was that? A thought flitting by amidst the sea of static and ungrounded time.
What wholeness? Solid form like? Coherence, keep it. Need. Wait. Link. Find. What is when? Everything is nothing. Fading.. fade.. gone not gone is gone forever never always end.

Another consciousness touched his own.
¢@®€ +0 πøt $e ¥øu®$€l£ ¥€+. We @®€ $+ill +i€[) t0 ®€ali+¥. ©øm€, I h@√€ +im€poīπt. W€ ¢ l0ø[{ tõg€+he®.

Like a lense passing over his mine, his confused and scattered thoughts were quieted as he latched onto the line of time and the world that experienced it linearly.

.̵̯̦́̐͊͊͑̇̏̾͠.̵̊̓͊̃T̸̄̈́̂h̶́A̷n̶k̵ ̶͔̖̹̗͎̜̼͇͖̊͌̅ͅyƠ̴̈̾́́̎̓ú̷̈́u̴̧̞̣̳̤̗̍̊́̊̓.̷̿̓.̸̨̟̘̜̝̥̙̯̏̈̅̔͒̑̚͝ͅ. He struggled to speak, the thousands of streams passing through him becoming audible through his voice, like a radio tuned to a horribly staticy channel.
¢øu®§e, öl[) £®i€πd. H@πg øn. W€ $+ill ha√€ ¢öπ+a¢t +h liπ€a® +im€. W€ wīll ße §a√€d

He forced himself into a shape of a bit more substance, still forgetting what physics he once operated on, oozing into the empty, zero gravity space around them.

Time was still straight, yes, for he could see it in frames at a time, not a continuous stream of future and past.
Yes, he will be free soon.

.. What was soon, again?

. • ° . • ° . • °

Sans casually walked into the building in an attempt to look like he belonged, despite glancing back repeatedly at the automated doors.
You really got to innovate over the years, huh?

Honestly, Ebott's a small town. Not a lot of big chains there other than McDonald's and shit. No name brand. Also this is Florida. It's gonna be crazy.
A bunch of nutcases using spoons to rob banks, absolutely. Hey, I should try that later as a joke! I should use strawberries..
Why??
Because it's a strobbery.

Despite being left behind all the way on the beach with the waves to stare at, the dragon let out a sharp honk in surprise, chortling with its talons over its face.
That was terrible. Frisk muttered despite being just as amused.

Admit it. He started, wandering into a section full of racks of various clothes. He wasn't sure what section it was, but clothes are clothes and he was at least close to where he needed to be.
My jokes are top rack.

Bottom tier. Frisk remarked while drawing his gaze to an area deeper in the maze of clothing stands, ignoring the human staring a few feet away.
Only the best bad puns here.
You just contradicted yourself!
Did I?

The human was struggling to find a good response when Sans caught sight of a gray sweater on the end of an aisle separating sections.
...Funky looking thing there. Looks old school.
Oh. Uh. I think that's one of the expensive, made of pricey fabric types. Frisk explained hesitantly.
Sans reached out and touched it.

Immediately, his eyelights widened.
It's soft?? This looks like wool but softer?
...Uh.. probably cash. Some soft stuff that started with with cash.
It must be so expensive. He remarked while taking it down.
I wouldn't put it on yet.
I know.

With that, he quickly ducked into the new section, intrigued by what other soft, cashy things there were here.
Almost too soon, he spotted hoodies, neatly hanging on four circular racks.
Oh yes.
He skimmed through them, in awe at the selection as he looked.

He eventually settled on three, a large black zip-up, a dark gray with nearly white faux-fur inside, and a pullover hoodie several shades darker than his own with an almost purple fuzz lining.
This is amazing. Paps would almost be jealous! He grinned while holding up the last one.

I actually can't imagine that. Frisk admitted.
What, Paps jealous?
Yeah. He doesn't seem capable of it, you know?
Don't worry, he is.

With that inner conversation out of the way, Sans turned and regarded the other racks he hadn't yet looked at, fascinated by their range of options.

As he started shifting through one rack, Frisk asked. Don't you have a lot of different clothes in the Underground? To fit different kinds of monsters and all that?
That's the thing. It's to fit different types. Most just think of something they want to wear and go to a nearby outfitter to order it. It's kind of necessary when no one fits any particular standard. If you can fit in human clothes, you can salvage the dumps for free, but finding a size that fits is a gamble in and of itself. What I've got? Years old. The best pickings I ever lucked upon.

So you're proud of them?
They're exactly my style. Sure, it took years to get it all- but it's the best thing I've ever found other than our flag.
.. That's pretty cool.
Thanks.
"Oh!" He uttered a lone syllable in surprise at the shirt before him.

It was a light, pale cyan, with art of a generic human in orange shorts and a lighter orange board surfing on a wave on the front.
Why can't it be plain? He asked rhetorically as he grabbed it.
You're still taking it.
Surf aside, it still fits my style swimmingly.
Bruh.

The one-word response had him snorting quietly, adding the shirt to his pile, turning to regard more shirts and instead spotting gray sweatpants.
"Welp, I found the pants of my dreams." He decided as soon as he touched them.

You know you're in the clearance section, right?
These are all the cheap ones? Dang, that's awesome.
I guess there are different ways to look at it..

He spotted and squinted at a plain black shirt, slowly rubbing it between his phalanges with interest.
I don't know..
It's literally just a black shirt, Sans.
I've never really worn long sleeve shirts!
Maybe it could help hide your identity from people?
He frowned at that, but slowly took it off the hangar anyway.

The texture's off. He noted.
Looks like a sports shirt. That's basically.. anti-sweat fabric? It's good with seawater too.
Oh. If it's good with that, then alright. He took it somewhat begrudgingly, walking in a random direction to see what else he could get.

All in all, this is incredible. I can just.. look at a million choices and see what I want to keep. Amazing.
Never thought about it that way..
You're welcome for the new perspective, then.

He paused in front of strange pants, staring at the selection of different color pallets for the rippling fabric.
.. What is this?
Don't ask me, I just call them hippie pants.

He cautiously took the leg of one, lifting it up and watching it hang down.
The ankles are practically skirts for one leg.
..That one has the same purple as the blue hoodie. Frisk pointed out the one behind the one he was holding.
You know what, I want this.
Dude, why.
Every step is flappy. It just looks fun! Walk around with.. ankle skirts.

But this is girl clothes!
So? Don't humans crossdress anyway?
Most guys don't wear obviously feminine stuff!
I'm so taking this. Humans will never stop questioning.
I thought the point was to not stand out?
On the contrary, this can hide the weirdness my feet have turned into.
I? Don't know how to respond?

He swiftly nabbed the smallest pair with the violet and started walking away, beaming to himself.
I thought you liked the lazy looking clothes…
..You know, I didn't always dress lazily. I just happen to choose comfort over other things.

There was silence in his mind as he studied the new choices, eyeing a long skirt made of heavy fabric and patterned grays. It ironically had the same two grays as the jacket with fur, with the addition of a shade somewhere between the two.

Are you seriously looking at a dress?
You'd be surprised at how comfy they are.
Wait you've worn dresses before-?!
Yep. Pair it with a long coat or robe and it's the best thing ever.
Wh.. what the fuck I can't see you in a dress!

He was already grabbing it as the previously silent Napstablook quietly shared a memory of a much younger Sans in a black skirt with a white lab coat and blue shirt heading into Hotland, something from years ago.
WH-
Oh yeah, I looked good. I can still pull it off. He mused while surreptitiously using blue magic to grab the skirt from the high up spot on the aisle.

A quiet gasp interrupted the loud disbelief that was Frisk as Sans turned and winced at the sight of a woman at the other end of the aisle staring in shock.
Oh shit oh shit oh shit-

"Uh. You okay, ma'am?" He played it off while tugging his hood further down his face.
"You- did you just float that into your hand??"
"Huh?" He pretended not to understand.
"I saw that float into your hand!"
"...You might be seeing things, lady. I'm sorry."

She let out a distressed sound, hand falling back to the handle of her cart.
"How did you get that down?"
"Oh. You know. When you're short, you just find ways."
"Like floating things?"
"Like tugging at the part I can reach." He answered drily.
"I swear, it hovered into your h- oh dear Lord your hand."
He quickly shoved his unoccupied hand into his crusty pocket, wincing.

"..Are you homeless? Your clothes are.." She trailed awkwardly.
"No, I have a home. I was just.. visiting down here and got pushed off the boat." He excused, shrugging. "And my housing situation shouldn't be any of your business, lady."

She stuttered, trying to salvage her pride as he sidestepped out of sight into the next aisle, glancing around frantically for somewhere further away to teleport to.

The woman had the time to call out "Wait!" and start pushing her cart after him when he spotted a distant aisle in a different section of the store, having shelves full of boxes.
He was already ducking around the corner by the time the front of her cart appeared.
She was left looking around in bewilderment as he watched from afar, Soul pounding in his ribs.

As the fairly rotund woman turned into the next aisle, still searching, Sans glanced around at where he ended up.
...What are the odds? He pondered, staring at the aisles of shoes.
I mean, shoes are always kept close to the other clothes. Frisk explained.
Where are the slippers.

Frisk started laughing internally as Sans went on the hunt for his favorite footwear, quickly finding an entire selection hanging on the wall behind him.
His entire face lit up in glee, taking a step back just to soak in the sight.

What's with your love of house shoes?
They are the greatest footwear in all history. He stated simply, grinning as he examined his choices.
That looks suitable for outdoor wear. He pointed out a gray pair with cushy white fuzz lining.

Staring for a good moment, Sans decided to take it and the identical pair that instead came in black and white, glancing down the wall at a more traditional form of slipper, fuzzy all around and coming in a variety of colors.
How many you gonna grab? Frisk queried as he strode over.

You know. Sans answered unhelpfully, grabbing a dark blue pair, light gray and the pinkest he could find, albeit it was still paler than his current pair.
Then he paused, thoughtful.
What if I went ahead and got blankets? If clothes are this good, they have nice blankets too, right?

Yeah, there's soft blankets. What's with the soft obsession?
We don't have much in the way of softness in the Underground and it's just the best thing! He explained eagerly, glancing up for any sign of cameras.

Right. There are probably fitting rooms around here somewhere. Frisk added.
Probably?
Not all places have them, and if not, there's always changing in bathrooms.
Stores have bathrooms??
Only toilets and sinks, no one washes in there.
Weird.
You really should have left Ebottown in past Resets.

He didn't reply, wandering the pathways until he noticed a large pole with a sign sticking up from clothing racks, reading "Fitting Rooms".
Convenient.
Literally the point.
Fair enough.

He speed-walked over to the area, surprised at the strange stalls erected in a box formation around a desk, surrounded by mobile racks.

As he was marveling at the strange sight, the woman at the desk looked up. "You need a room?" She asked in a neutral friendly tone, staring distractedly at his salty clothes.
"Uh. Yeah."
"Okay, how many items are you trying on today?" She continued, putting her phone away and messing around on the computer.

"Er." He counted everything in the pile, surprised at how much it was already. "Fourteen."
She typed something in and reached under the counter, holding out a thick plastic card.
Sans took it, somewhat confused as he walked past her and towards the stalls.

He eventually got over the confusion and picked a large one near the back, surprised to find it had a full-length mirror.
You have a lot of stuff in your stores, huh?
I mean, if you're trying on clothes, you want to see how you look in them, right?

He slowly nodded, understanding the logic.
Hard to remember the Surface has access to far more materials.
You lacked mirrors??
We lacked everything.

Having explained that, he quickly took off the crackling and rough jacket, glad to have it off as his shirt soon followed, laying out his choices while idly kicking off his slippers.

He eventually decided on the blue hoodie and black shirt, floppy pants with black and violet to match. Sans outright snorted at his reflection, removing tags and stepping into the black shoes.
Damn, I haven't looked this good in years! He grinned while pulling the hood over his face.

..The pants drag.
Easy fix. Sans fired back while rolling them up at the top, fitting the rim over his hipbones and tugging the shirt and jacket down again. He then kicked out, watching the fabric billow around his leg.
Hell yes.

He quickly folded everything else and teleported his old clothes back to the dragon- still resting and merely observing sleepily as its ribs were used as racks, fresh, tagless outfits soon joining the crusty ones.

𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜. Napstablook noted.
Only a bit. It passes.
Sans then stared at the bundle of tags in his hand, debating what to do with them.

Can you burn them?
What if that goes out of control?
..Hot flame can get rid of it faster.
He slowly sighed.
No, I'll just.. dump them.
So he cracked open the door, spotting the woman on her phone again and a trash can under the desk beside her. He swiftly teleported them in there and peered around her.

Where do you find gloves around here?
They're normally like.. on the edges of the whole clothing section. On small shelves or ends of aisles.
Thanks for the tip, looks like I'll be taking the shortcut out of here. He replied, ducking back in and teleporting to the other side of the wall, leaving the door unlocked.

Sans tensed as he spotted a human almost directly in front of him, completely unaware of his presence as the other was facing away, amiably sorting through the rack.

Quietly, cautiously, Sans made a wide berth around him, ducking into the next section around the aisle, sighing as nobody took notice of him. It seemed that most of the humans in the building congregated around the food section and not clothing.

So, kicking his feet, Sans strode to the edge of the area, finding a sort of walkway separating clothes from walls and walls of children's toys.
"...Wow." He couldn't help but mutter.

A few not quite believing glances later, Sans was refocusing on the task at hand, studying the row of endcaps, seeing mostly socks and other items, no gloves.

He began walking down the side, trying to find gloves when it was at the hottest part of the summer.
The thought crossed his mind, but he still hoped there would be something around here.

Sans scurried through the slightly busier section of walkway, seeing that it was beside the grocer area, skimming across the few options there were and grabbing about 6- four basic cloth gloves and two cheap leather ones.

Pink slippers I get, but pink gloves? Frisk asked as Sans tried on the violet cloth gloves.
What? Gotta match my slippers with something.
...What are you, secretly a fashionista?
Maybe I could try it out. Sounds fun.
Uh. The human had no idea how to answer that.

Ducking into the aisle, Sans discreetly tore off the tags and teleported them to the trashcan he'd seen at the desk, looking up and automatically grabbing the blue and black beanie hanging there.

I'm such a criminal. He chuckled to himself while removing it's tag, slipping it on over his skull under the hood.
"Did you just steal that in public?" A voice spoke up behind him.

Tensing, Sans turned, sockets dark as he took in the considerably taller human behind him.
"Well.. I'm about to pay for it. I just needed a change of clothes. Fell off the boat while joyriding, y'know? I'm.. don't live around here, was visiting. You know how it is." He hoped the lie held up.

The man paused, a little unsure of himself. Then he thankfully shook his head. "Nevermind. Sorry I bothered you, sir." He excused, stepping around and walking away.
Sans stared after him for a good minute, shocked that it actually worked.

That was weird. Frisk noted.
...Yeah. It was. He straightened, blinking at his surroundings and relaxing.
Welp, that ended pretty well. Maybe I can just walk out and no one notice?

I mean.. I think legally employees can't actually stop shoplifters?
Well that's convenient! But also makes no sense. What's to stop literally anyone from just stealing everything?
Guards. And cameras tend to get faces, I think. Maybe stores just don't really care? I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner.

I'm honestly curious as to how you know this.
I tend to learn useless facts instead of what I'm supposed to learn. Frisk said drily.
Sans snorted despite himself. That is just.. so relatable, wow.

And thus, in much higher spirits than before, Sans began to wander on towards the exit, hands in pockets and a spring in his step- even if only a part of his altered feet could really fit in the cozy shoes.

He faintly tensed when he caught sight of the doors, but when nothing happened, he continued on, making sure there were no remaining tags before passing through and pausing.
Nothing.
So he just walked out of the building.

"That was absurdly simple." He commented, glancing back.
You took off the tags and literally teleported around, Frisk pointed out.
You're right. He noted, strolling through the parking lot with the pants flopping around his tarsus.

After leaving the premises entirely, Sans spontaneously chose to stroll through the streets, finding the lack of shocked or frightened stares quite enjoyable.
Damn, who'da thunk it. Hiding who you are does this.
That. That is a painful sentence.
How?
Human society SUCKS, Sans!
My bad?
.. Nevermind. It has its ups and downs.
He shrugged, not sure how to respond to that.

So they both fell silent, wandering the streets rather aimlessly. It was mostly a way to kill time despite it still being before noon.

Eventually all the walking had become a bit of a bore, and they found themselves in a higher end courtyard ringed by tall buildings, a giant fountain in the middle. So Sans sat down, finally deciding to take a break and just sleep for a bit.
Sitting on the floor, he leaned on the edge of the pool, skull hung low as he drifted off.

Thankfully, he didn't awaken in the dragon, no, Napstablook had fallen asleep earlier while they had been exploring. The three were blessedly able to sleep, putting off returning to Moyoletic for a little while longer.

Little did they know what was happening in the very same city that day.

Continue Reading

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