Chapter Text
CHAPTER 1 ✧ I GOT ISEKAID IN THE UNDERTALE MULTIVERSE?!
A deep sigh escaped her, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of her pen against the desk echoed in the silence of her room. (Name) was deep in the trenches of creation, trying to formulate a new and interesting plot for her latest fanfic. "What should I write..." She muttered, staring at her laptop screen intently with the goal of burning off her eyes to zone out of it.
She loved writing fanfics, especially for the fandom she'd grown up in.
Undertale. Ten years had passed since the game's release, and the fandom was somehow stronger than ever. Everyone just gets more creative each year. New AUs with interesting lore and amazing art blossomed each year. New animation series that connected AUs together with new elaborate plots get released. The OSTs are all banging too. New stories and fanfics drowned the fan fiction sites of different type of genres depending on which side of the fandom you were... It just was a never-ending stream of stories and fan fiction, that either get discontinued or is just a pure menacing silence (the author probably forgot or left the fandom).
And her? She was an aspiring writer for this glorious, toxic adjacent, and unhinged community, with a special, enduring, and suspiciously sans shaped spot in her heart for a certain skeleton. Sans. The short, punny, secretly-overpowered bone man was her favorite, and has been for years—even when her friends wouldn't see the vision she was seeing nor hear out what was so special about a pixelated sprite that spoke in er, er, er from some unforgotten indie game.
Well, don't get her wrong! She obviously loved the rest of them! They were a diverse cast with unique designs and different tones to them. Surely, a whole lot of them got their own fans. She loved Chara's complex character, the grays in between, and she had hated how the fandom back in the days had collectively agreed to antagonize them and blame them for the consequences of the game. Then we have our lovable main character Frisk, they're so simple but so loved in their own special way even if the information known to them is so little. Finally, we have Papyrus's unshakable sincerity. This skeleton had single handedly stopped genocide gameplays because he's just that goated—but despite these amazing characters she's presented, this particular skeleton just had her heart.
She just hadn't expected a crush on a fictional skeleton to have this kind of power over her life, an ongoing streak of simping for a pixelated skeleton. She's been loyal to this skeleton for years...!
She'd joined the fandom during her teenage years. Now, she was a legally-ancient eighteen-year-old, a fresh senior high school graduate with decent grades and amazing friends. And she should be spending her time applying to different universities and taking her time choosing a decent career path... Not whatever fan fiction doom-induced struggle she's going through now.
What had started as a childish infatuation had stubbornly persisted into legal adulthood. She couldn't believe it either. It has become more than a hyper fixation, more than a comfort game she's obsessed with as a teen—it had become a home to her and many others. Now here she was, still on that same grind, crushing on a fictional skeleton, and still getting flamed and memed on the group chat for it. Welp. The sans fangirl era was never a phase. It was a lifestyle. And she's still persistently in this kind of lifestyle.
Pushing that embarrassing truth aside, she did feel a twinge of guilt. Her attention had decisively and irrevocably shifted to the AUs. Sans was sadly no longer her favorite skeleton. When did the Sans she loved become more than just Sans? When did the Sans she knew just turn into "Classic" Sans? It's confusingly wonderful but she doesn't regret the joyful discovery that there's more to this fandom than it had intended.
Now, she had formed a tiny, and all-consuming obsession with the fanon villains of the multiverse. That's right. The so-called "Bad Sanses". She loved them.With a fiercely devoted fangirl heart. The villains. The destroyers. The evil skeletons. Nightmare's gang. Et cetera. Et cetera. A fanon concept, not even a fanon-canon concept, but it's become so prevalent in the fandom that everyone just begrudgingly accepted it. And she loved every second of it.
The AUs had confused the hell out of her at first. Why were there so many different versions of Sans wearing different outfits with tragically different lore? It made no sense. Then she'd discovered Jakei's 'Underverse' series, and the puzzle pieces slowly started clicking into place. The more she consumed of this multiverse mess—the videos, the theories, the comic dubs, the fanfics, the lore deep-dives in tumblr—the more acquainted, and utterly fascinated she became.
Then she got to know them. Really know them. The Bad Sanses. They were a whole tag themselves. A whole genre reserved just for them. The more she watched videos and consumed fanart about those silly, broken, and rightfully-edgy guys, the fonder she grew of them. She'd read every fic she could find that featured all six of them (well, sometimes Cross got crossed out by writers, sometimes Error was excluded from the gang), until the repetitive plots and often cringe, out-of-character writing finally made her snap.
(Name) decided that she was going to be the one writing this time. No more playing around. She gets to decide how things would unfold now!
She would spread her stories across the platform like gospel, hoping to inspire a new wave of quality Bad Sanses content. More fanart. More elaborate fanfics. More AU of an AU of an AU. She'd started writing when she was fourteen. And she meant it when she said she wrote only for them. Only them. Her entire purpose on the platform was to share stories starring her beloved, emotionally constipated, and dysfunctional skeleton villains. She was spreading the fandom scripture of cringe writing like it was a holy book. Four years had passed since then. Three completed books and one ongoing book later, here she was.
"Damn it, when is the story gonna start?" (Name) rudely interrupted the narrator, or in her case, was talking to an imaginary audience while she contemplated. She sighed, scrolling through her account page again. She'd gained a decent following, and the comments—full of screaming, theories, spammed emojis, and pure, unadulterated fangirling—had never failed to motivate her. She loved the Undertale fandom, even when it was a beautiful, messy hellhole. A hole she couldn't seem to get out of, and had no plans of getting out neither.
"I can't think of a new plot!" She exclaimed, stretching her arms over her head with a groan. It was late. 2 AM? 3 AM? Time had lost all meaning when you're deep in fixation. What really mattered was that she needed a new, investing plot! She took a bitter sip of cold coffee—who drinks coffee before bedtime? her, apparently—and decided to just surrender for the night. She'd just recently updated her ongoing book, and it was nearing its conclusion, which meant the pressure for a fresh idea was threading along...
So, (Name) was desperately trying to brainstorm, to dive into a new story immediately! After reading a few more comments, responding to some of them with the same energy, and laughing at her readers' chaotic jokes, a massive yawn overtook her. Maybe it was finally time to hit the hay and dream about the Bad Sanses the old-fashioned way.
She turned off her laptop, yawned again, and plunged the room into darkness. (Name) laid in bed with groggy eyes, staring at the ceiling. She had to stop; her headache was evolving into a sentient being. Summer had begun, which meant she'd fully reverted to her grass-repellant lifestyle: sleeping at dawn, forgetting to eat, surviving on caffeine and hyperfixation. She sighed, realizing—not for the first time—that she needed to change her ways. She just shrugged instead.
She'd start being healthy tomorrow!
The motivation to fix your life always seemed to hit at 3 AM, right before you passed out. Then tomorrow, you'd forget you even planned to change your life with a new, elaborate schedule you're sure you wouldn't follow.
What shall I write? Getting kidnapped by the Bad Sanses? Hm... maybe turning into a maid! Haha, pretty sure that's been done. Maybe... the MC has a power she doesn't know about! Or, or maybe, she used to be Nightmare's friend before he turned into a goop monster! Or, or, the MC falls in love with the bad sanses in different high school years and reunites with them on her last year of school! Okay, that's just too much. Ngh... I'm really having a hard time here... I'll think of this tomorrow while simultaneously fixing my life.
"Let's just go to sleep..." She muttered, rolling her body to the side to hug a stuff toy, closing her eyes at last. She just didn't realize she was nearing death right at that moment. She didn't realize that would be the last time she got to drink coffee, and worry about what she should write next.
For a moment, she heard an awfully familiar sound. Undertale music, of course—she'd watched a million playthroughs to recognize it in her sleep. It was Toby Fox's theme, which was weird, considering she was on the verge of said sleep. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Did she spam Toby Fox's Undertale album too much she started hallucinating it in real life? She groaned in annoyance, slowly opening her eyes, only to be greeted by a blinding, pixelated light.
Her eyes flew wide, her mouth dropping open. She immediately sat up.
A LITERAL WHITE DOG WAS IN FRONT OF HER.
Toby Fox himself. Not the creator Toby Fox. His fursona. The pixelated meme dog from her favorite game. Right there. On her bed.
How the fuck?!
"WOOF!" It barked, cutely. (Name) just furrowed her eyebrows, her brain running fried dopamine and sleepy confusion. What in the actual fuck is happening right now?
It barked again, adorably, for a solid second. And before she could even begin to question the reality-shattering event unfolding in her bedroom... it tackled her.
It tackled her, somehow killing her in its absurdity, and her vision slowly dissolved into whiteness. It was mixing with tv static of blue and red, corrupting and glitching her mind right at her death. All her memories flashed back before her eyes, reliving everything to a single point as death—apparently an adorable, fluffy, and digital fursona—simply, unluckily took her away.
Somewhere in the chaos of her bedroom, a flicker of text, glitched, and barely decipherable, flashed behind her eyes.
[̸S̸y̸s̸t̸e̸m̸ ̸I̸n̸i̸t̸i̸a̸l̸i̸z̸i̸n̸g̸.̸.̸.̸]
And the most devastating fact of them all is the fact that, still, the last thing she had heard was that damned memey music theme of Toby Fox.
.
.
.
.
Silly (Name). It turned out she'd died from overworking! Planning to fix her life just before her death is just as unfortunate. She just had to have a weird, dramatic dream right before the end. I guess the devil works hard, but Bad Sanses writers work harder (if you ignore the number of books going discontinued). Even the author of this book can confirm this!
<𝟑 .ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ
"Ngh..." She let out a sleepy groan, seemingly not wanting to wake up. As soon as her consciousness slipped, she remembered something important, jolting her back to a wakeful state. Slowly, almost nervously, she opened her eyes, and her mouth fell wide open. She sat up abruptly once her memories slowly tucked itself inside her brain. She blinked once, twice, ten times, making sure her vision wasn't fooling her.
She looked left. She looked right. Everywhere was the same.
Nothing but pure, never-ending white.
...The fuck? Am I still dreaming???
(Name) panicked, patting down her face and body to make sure everything was still intact. Was this heaven? Some form of Afterlife? If this was heaven... where were the angels? Where was the trumpet fanfare? Peter's welcome? Grim reaper meet up? Okay, that's different. This looked less like paradise and more like a room in a mental hospital institution, except it seems to be never ending. It resembled the Anti-Void. Crazy, but the first coherent thought that crashed into her mind was the unfinished fanfic she'd left open on her laptop.
Even if this was the afterlife... Why the hell was she still in her pajamas?! Thankfully, she'd worn matching pink and strawberry patterned ones, and not some random, ratty t-shirt and mismatched shorts. It'd be so embarrassing to spend the eternity in laundry day clothes. She slowly raised her body up to pull herself into a stance, balancing herself onto her feet as if the world had tilted itself up in this sensory-repressed world. She was still trying on her best terms, to process what in the peanutbutter fuck was going on.
(Name) blinked a few more times before frantically searching her pockets. Her fingers brushed against an empty candy wrapper that had probably been stuck there since ancient times... A small laugh of almost-like despair left her mouth for a split moment before she felt something heavier in her pocket. It was her phone?! Thank the heavens! Her phone had made it to the afterlife! Their bond was truly inseparable.
"Oh, my precious little baby!" She exclaimed, hugging the device to her chest. Life is worth living! She pressed the power button. Maybe it would offer a clue—a news alert about government experiments, a warning text from her parents about checking her into a mental hospital without her knowledge, or maybe a news alert of aliens randomly kidnapping people in their homes and she managed to be the unlucky one. Anything! She'll accept anything! Any possible explanation that could possibly explain this tomfoolery she's experiencing!
"What the hell...?" Confusion stoked her face subsequently followed by a frown of disbelief. The screen remained stubbornly, and imposingly black. Dead. It was dead. In the middle of this crisis. She swore on Frisk's determination that it had sufficient battery before she slept. But of course, as all plot twists go in life, it was broken at the single most important moment in existence.
Quick! Think of something!
Maybe a universal force was actively preventing her from accessing any information! It was conspiring against her and planning an elaborate torture that made sure she's experienced the hells without internet connection. Or maybe, something, or someone, didn't want her to know where she was. Either way, are phones even supposed to follow you in the afterlife? It'd make sense that it wouldn't work, let alone exist with her in this point of time.
With a sigh of utter defeat, she slid the phone back into her pocket and began her journey through the endless white walls. There was no other sound besides the tap of her feet on the ground on a constant hymn. She walked and walked, but the scenery never changed. Just blank, formless walls. God, this was literal torture. Not a single shape, not a single variation of difference. Not a single stimulation to cure this forming boredom. It's giving Ink backstory vibes right neow... She mused.
Was this some Anti-Void type of thing? If it was, where the hell was her silly glitchy boy, then? She let out a little cackle from the memory before slapping herself slightly to return to reality.
Lock the fuck in, (Name)! You're in the middle of a literal white crisis! No time for giggling about fictional skeletons!
God, even in the afterlife, she was still thinking about those damned evil skeletons. She's truly maddening. Then, as if she'd suddenly remembered she had a life other than being a fangirl. She stopped walking, threw her head back, and screamed as loud as she could.
"AHHHHH! If I'm dead... I'll never see Underverse to the end!" She yelled, throwing her arms out to the side. Wait. What the hell? There were more important things to worry about than an animated series!
"What about my family and friends? Won't I see them again...?" She muttered, her gaze dropping to the featureless ground. I'm really... dead? She couldn't even imagine her family's reaction. Her funeral. Their tears, their regrets, and their pain. It was an unexpected death. She's too young. She's barely experienced her life. She's yet to fulfill her promises. Her eyes began to sting, and before she knew it, she was full-on sobbing. She fell to her knees, sniffing and crying, brushing her tears with the sleeves of her pajamas. It had seemed kind of silly and goofy at first—the realization of her death—but now the reality of it hit her like a truck. This was actually happening.
She's really dying.
"I haven't even achieved being a (dream job) yet..." The words felt hollow now. The life she'd envisioned out in her head—college, career, a bright future—was now just... erased. Nothing. Ceased itself to existence. "I haven't had my first serious relationship yet!" She mourned a love of what could have been. "I haven't said my farewells to my parents, my family, my friends... my dreams," She mumbled, staring regrettably at her palms.
"The only good side to this is I don't have to experience the hells of college!" (Name) tried to shrug, but it ended up turning into a shuddering sigh as she crumpled to the ground, burying her face in her arms. The initial shock was wearing off, leaving behind a cold, and heavy dread that settled in her bones. She was gone. Her parents would find her. Her friends would mourn her. She'd never get to say goodbye.
"What about my books?" she whispered into the fabric of her pajamas, her voice thick with guilt. "My readers... they'll never know why I just vanished. They're forever gonna be stuck on a story with no ending. I just... left them hanging." A fresh wave of sobs wrecked her frame. It wasn't just about the stories. It was about the connection, the online friends, the little community she'd built, all severed in an instant. "Oh, my poor readers..."
She stayed lying there for a long while, reminiscing all sort of memories in her head. Her life had been filled with lore, and she's experienced being God's strongest soldier. Her life wasn't all perfect—cupcakes and rainbows—but this...? She hasn't experienced her life to the fullest just yet. The happiness, the pain, it was all part of the process of living life.
Everything served a purpose. Everything was temporary. She's yet to find the meaning of life and satisfy the hunger for knowledge. She's yet to fulfill every philosophical thought she's thinking of right now.
After a long moment, and with a begrudging forced acceptance, she dragged in a ragged breath and forced herself to stand. She sighed deeply, feeling her body go limp at the thought of moving forward. "There's no use crying forever! Let's just... try to see where this leads." She spoke with a determined tone that felt paper-thin. Wait a damn minute... She jumped in panic. A new, more chilling thought filled her veins. What if she was in hell? Was this her punishment? An eternity of nothingness, walking alone with only her regrets for company? Goodness gracious! What did she even do in her life to deserve this?
She'll go crazy walking in nothingness, seeing in nothingness, stimulations of nothingness. It won't even take her half a day to give into insanity. Panic surged again as she desperately tried to tally her sins and recount all of her past mistakes.
"Yeah... I laughed at that kid one time when he fell over," she recounted, a weak, and guilty giggle escaping her. "Or maybe the time I stole coins from my mom's wallet as a kid..." She counted off these tiny childhood transgressions on her fingers, her mind racing, completely unaware of the dark shadow solidifying in the space behind her. "Shit, was it that time I cheated when I played uno with my friends?! Grrghh!"
"what the hell...?"
The voice that cut through the white silence was sharp, deep, and dripping with un-friendly confusion.
(Name) jumped, her heart slamming against her ribs. She whirled around.
And screamed.
There, standing in the void as if he owned every atom of it, was Error. Not a hot drawing of a fanart. Not a pixelated sprite. Not even her deluded imagination when she's thinking of scenarios. The real Error Sans, staring at her with an expression of pure, unadulterated contempt.
Error?! What is he doing here?! This isn't a fanfic, this is— this has to be a dream! It can't be real! God, am I stuck in a simulation and my brain had started simulating the world of undertale? Was this a lucid dream? Some astral projection type shit?
"god, stop screaming, woman, or whatever you're supposed to be," he snarled, his voice a low and staticky growl. He didn't move closer, just watched her with the cold focus of a scientist that was assessing a strange looking, weirdly behaving, and utterly noisy insect.
(Name) could only stare, shock locking her joints. She pinched her arm hard. It hurt. She felt it hurt. This felt terrifyingly real. This was terrifyingly real. "How are you real?!" she breathed out, her voice trembling with what might have been fear, amazement, and in a what-the-hellyberry tone. "If this is a dream, I can't be any happier to see you, but if this is real..." She took a shaky step back. The only thought in her head was a frantic, looping mantra at the realization: I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die.
Wait, can you die twice?!
"what are you talking about?!" Error shot back, his glare intensifying. "that should be my question! how did an abomination like you even reach this place?!"
So, this was the Anti-Void. Her delusion wasn't wrong. She hadn't died and gone to heaven or hell or whatever afterlife she'd believed in. She'd been dropped into the literal void. In the nonexistent and fanonical Anti-Void. Was this some cosmic joke? A final wish fulfillment before succumbing to oblivion? To meet her ultimate crush right before he murdered her? A gift imparted by the heavens above? Is there even a concept of heaven in the Undertale multiverse?
Making the Destroyer of AUs angry was the worst possible idea. Yet, even through the soul-crushing fear, a fangirl's heart stubbornly beat. He was right there. He's real. He's... inches taller than her? Barely. Aren't the Sanses canonically short? It didn't stop the blood that rushed through her veins. This was the emotion she feels when she's hyper fixating on something and consuming the most delectable fan art and reading the most toe-curling fanfic. She wanted to hug him, consequences be damned...!
God, if he kills me, I wouldn't even complain! That's Error! My glitchy boy! My goat! My tumblr sexyman champion!
The thought, absurd and hysterical, leapt from her brain to her mouth before she could stop it. "I love you, Error!" she blurted out, clasping her hands together with a manic, desperate excitement. If these were her last words, at least they were dedicated to a fictional skeleton. An evil non-canon fictional skeleton. You had to respect the dedication. Even if it'd bring an intense feeling of second-hand embarrassment.
Error froze.
The cold anger on his face flickered, replaced by sheer, and uncomprehending bewilderment. "what...?"
It was the distraction she needed. She spun on her heel and bolted. "Adios...!" She snickered in amusement. God, this was cringe. She's literally re-enacting a scene from a weird fanfic.
"WHAT?! ARE YOU MESSING WITH ME?!" His roar of outrage echoed behind her, followed by the unmistakable sound of blue strings slicing through the air. Shit. She's played this games before! She'd watch the aura farming Sans vs Sans power scaling videos made by the male side of the fandom! She had tried avoiding them and ran on a zigzag pattern but then again, what could a normal human with no magical abilities even have against the literal destroyer of worlds with overpowered stats? She hadn't made it ten feet before they snaked around her limbs and torso, yanking her off her feet.
"Oh, shit," she muttered, dangling in the air like a caught fly. "I haven't even run that far..."
She was hauled around to face him, trussed up in a cocoon of blue staticky strings. Error approached slowly, stopping a few feet away, his expression was once again, a mask of icy fury. "now tell me," he said, his voice dangerously calm but hinted with a stoke of panic and confusion. "who sent you? how did you get here? and... how the hell do you know my name?"
(Name) broke out in a cold sweat before smiling nervously out of habit. "I don't know! I just woke up here, I swear!" The strings tightened warningly, constricting her chest. She struggled to breathe. "don't lie to me, anomaly," he hissed in response to her desperate attempts to defend herself.
But it was true! She'd just woken up after getting herself taken away by the annoying dog! And...
She fell silent, defeated. Welp. Why would he even believe her? She doesn't even believe the scene unfolding right now is real. Well, she couldn't blame him for having trust issues. As he scrutinized her, (Name), despite everything, took the chance to really look at him. The details were surreal—the black coat with its blue hood, the red legs, the mismatched, vivid eyes that held malice. The glitches that occasionally flew behind him. The blue tear-like markings on his gorgeous face. He was painfully, and beautifully accurate in the best way possible.
"why are you smiling?" he interrupted, his voice dripping with suspicion. She blinked for a moment. She didn't even realize she was smiling. It can't be helped. Who wouldn't grin their best when face-to-face with their fictional crush?
Her smile only widened in response. "I just thought you looked handsome."
Error stared, pure disbelief wiping the anger from his face for a second. He blinked multiple times before turning his head left and right to make sure the whole Anti-Void heard the words of pure ridiculousness that came out of her mouth.
Anomalies didn't... do that. They screamed. They glitched. They begged. They didn't compliment. This strange, utterly shameless, and terrified creature was complimenting him while he was actively crushing the life out of her.
(Name) gulped once again.
God, I forget this is not just some fanfic where Error suddenly blushes!
The relentless, and hostile static in his gaze finally flickered. For a fraction of the moment they stood there in embarrassing silence, his mismatched eyelights—the yellow-blue-black pupil—seemed to stutter. Like a corrupted file trying to process an impossible input. His scowl lessened by a tiny, and almost imperceptible twitch tugged at the corner of his teeth. It was a smile. Not a happy one, but a smile nonetheless, a maddeningly confused mixed with a glitch in his rage.
"what are you on about." The word wasn't loud this time. It was a low, staticky hiss, loaded with maddening confusion that he couldn't decipher no matter how hard he tried. The strings holding her went momentarily slack, not enough to free her, but enough for her to draw a ragged, surprised breath and lessen the noxious sensation.
He leaned in closer, the void seeming to darken around him and be filled with more small twitches of glitchy boxes. His mismatched eyes narrowed, scanning her face as if looking for the answer of a complex, rambled in wires of a computer CPU.
"are you... broken?" he muttered with a slight head tilt, more to himself than to her. "is this a virus? a joke script? your dialogue is... unacceptable."
(Name) saw her chance—not to escape, but to lean into the bizarreness of the situation she brought upon herself. It was the only weapon she had. In this critical moment. With the strings loosened, she managed a shaky and breathless giggle. "Nope. Just a genuine, 100% fan opinion of adoration. Your design is peak, glitchy! The color palette? The glitches that adorned you? The red sockets? The colorful fingers? The look of confusion in your face that screams you want me to cease to existence along with all the anomalies? You look better than I imagined you to be in real life. Which is... less strange than I thought it'd be."
He jerked back as if physically struck. The whole time she was passionately chattering about his appearance, he was weirdly, and strangely scrutinizing himself too by the details she mentioned. Snapping back to reality and remembering what he's supposed to be. The strings snapped taut again with a vengeful thrum, cutting off her air and her speech. But in that second before the pressure returned, she saw his expression. Not the anger he always wore, but the deep, and weirding bewilderment he's probably never ever experienced in his life. No one talked to the Destroyer like this. No one could. It was an error in his expected parameters. An abomination talking about semantics. An abomination that spoke as if it knew him.
His disbelief twisted into a cold chuckle devoid of humor. "you... you must be some new, malfunctioning creation that spawned here by accident. however you got here. aren't you unlucky?"
The strings tightened brutally. A pained gasp escaped her as the pressure became agony, like her entire body was being crushed in a giant, and unforgiving fist. "Ngh... that hurts," she managed to choke out. It was like a lastic band wrapped in a finger until it turned purple. Okay, that is a weird description.
Error's grin turned maniacal as he watched her struggle. Then, a soft plum-colored light began to glow against her chest. Her soul—a perfectly pink heart—was being forced into view. Her gaze barely managed to get a squint at it before unconsciousness threatened to take over from the insufficient supply of oxygen.
"farewell, anomaly," Error said, his voice flat and final. It was unlike him. To say his farewells to an insignificant anomaly. Not the first time it happened, but still utterly strange.
"it was not fun meeting you." He snapped his fingers.
(Name) heard the crack. The sound of it being split up. Shattered just like in the game. And finally, she closed her eyes.
So this is it. Game over.
The only thing left in the madness was the candy wrapper falling off from her pockets, weaving slowly till it fell on the cold surface of the void.
.
..
...
[ 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎... ]
fin.
first chapter is a little short! i love the silly jokes i made lmao! thank you for reading! vote and comments are highly appreciated! ^^
unpublished for awhile to make some alterations and edits! will be back soon, don’t worry :)
- Jinji