Chapter Text
You’ve always been a fan of something.
Not just casually observe, consume, and move on. No. You dissect every crumb of content, dive deep to theories and headcanons, live and breathe through your favorite characters for emotional and mental support.
Right at the top of your list of hyperfixations, Undertale.
Ever since you stumble upon the game, your whole life change. You know everything by heart, could quote the game lines from memory, distinguish the AUs, spend countless hours of browsing fan arts, fanfics, and forums.
It's not only a game, it become a part of your life.
But at the end of the day it's all for fun. Fiction.
Safe behind the screen where your imagination could run wild without consequences, pretending to be part of the world without actually be in it.
Not like it would happen anyway.
Phone in hand, you curl up in bed aimlessly scrolling through AO3. As you switch browsers, a post catches your eye. It's practically hidden in the search results that you almost skip right past it. Hardly any likes. Zero comments.
Travel Machine for Sale.
You examine the words for a while, something about it piqued your curiosity. The title is weirdly cryptic yet also oddly specific at the same time. You dig deeper only to find nothing noteworthy other than the fact that the user, TimeTwister, is a complete mystery.
You hesitate for a moment—then click.
The page that load is straight out old, almost nostalgic. An outdated layout accompanied with clunky text—basic even, something you’d expect from a long-forgotten site than anything remotely modern. The text is barely legible due to the formatting, although the message is clear enough to make out.
'For those who wish to cross the boundaries of time and space. No refunds.'
You giggle at the absurdity of it, yet something about it tug you. Against all reason, you continue on to read the instructions even though you have no intention of buying it in the first place.
The guide is cryptic at best, barely making any sense. Pull this lever, twist that dial, press this exact button, and right at the bottom of it is a coordinate to be input.
You find it ridiculous though your fingers move on their own, following along typing the coordinate without thinking twice or second-guessing anything.
The final instruction is strangely simple.
'Step outside, and you’ll know what to do.'
You barely question it and complied.
That is a mistake.
The next few moments were a blur. The world seemed to shift under your feet. A hum, a pull, something intangible yet so strong as if you were being sucked into the very fabric of reality itself. Your phone screen flickered, the next thing you see—
Darkness.
Your eyes snap open. Frantically look around, only to find yourself in an unrecognizable room.
The first thing you notice is the sheer size of the place and the change in the atmosphere. The room is massive, the high ceilings create an almost overwhelming sense of space. It's some sort of basement, but not the kind that you’d see in a modern house.
You look in front of you and see a jarring revelation.
A machine.
The machine.
Different, familiar, and foreign all at once.
You stagger backwards, heart racing as your breath hitches.
“No. No. No. Did I actually— Where… am I?” you murmur, barely a whisper.
You step back until your spine hit the wall, your chest feels heavy, breath shallow. You close your eyes as you try to ground yourself.
"In."
You carefully took a deep breath.
"Out."
You let out a shaky exhale.
“hey kid, you alright?”
You froze.
Someone is here.
You turn slowly.
Standing casually on the other side with arms tucked into the hoodie, you find yourself face-to-face with none other than—
Sans?
His iconic blue hoodie and pink slippers is exactly the same, his stance seems relaxed as one of his eye glow.
“I- I don’t know how I got here,” you stutter, still processing the fact that the skeleton you’d seen countless times in every media you consumed is right there.
“I was… clicking and now—”
“yeah, sounds about right,” he interrupts, tone oddly casual. “happens all the time around here.”
He takes a few lazy steps towards you. Slow, unbothered, as if there's not a total stranger in his house.
“i'm classic. classic the skeleton. anyways, you’re not from around here, right?”
You shake your head, too stunned to speak. Your legs tremble as you try to stand steady. Despite the situation, you didn't miss the fact that he calls himself Classic.
“y’know, we get a lot of… unexpected drop-ins. don’t sweat it, kid,” he continues, his grin never faltering.
Is this really one of those stories?
“you’re probably wondering where you are and thinkin' about how to get back. this is not your world. me, my bro, and some other folks lives here. some call it home, a madhouse, depends on who you ask. i know you must really wanna go home, but you’re most likely stuck with us.”
You couldn’t move, the weight of his words hit you like a ton of bricks. The reality of it all is crashing down on you, numerous questions race through your mind.
He notices your silence and gives a small shrug. “hey. i’d offer you a seat, though we don’t exactly do the ‘fancy’ thing around here. you’ll get used to it.” he pauses, observing you. “you hungry? it’s about time for dinner.”
You awkwardly laugh at the surreality of everything. Dinner? The feeling of dread is still presence in you, but there's something oddly comforting about his calm demeanor.
Without fully understanding why, you nod. “Yeah... yeah. I guess I could eat."
Classic motions you to follow. “well, if you insist... come over here. let’s meet the rest.”
You never imagine you'd end up here. One by one, they appear.
Papyrus kindly greets you first, smile impossibly wide. “HELLO THERE HUMAN! I AM THE GREAT CREAMPUFF! YOU MUST BE THE NEW FRIEND CLASSIC TOLD US ABOUT!”
Your eyes widen. Pap- Creampuff is heads taller than you. You have to peer up to see his face and not just his chest plate. Despite the whirlwind of emotion, you couldn’t help giving a small smile back thanks to his presence.
“Uh… hi,” you manage, voice softer than planned. “Nice to meet you?”
He seems to not notice your hesitation, or didn't express it out loud at least. "I HAVE TO SAY, YOU'RE NOT EXACTLY HOW I IMAGINE YOU WOULD BE!”
As in... not a skeleton?
Another voice pierce the moment. “YES, CHIEF, I’M ON SHIFT TONIGHT. NO, I GOT EYES ON IT—”
Blue blurry zooms past you, practically buzzing with energy and halfway through a phone call, barely glancing at you. “OH, A HUMAN!” he exclaims between sentences. “SORRY, REALLY BUSY, BUT HELLO! BYE!”
And just like that, he's gone.
"that's my bro blue." a sudden dry voice drawls behind you. "you'll hear him before you see him."
You flinch.
Stretch slouching figure appear at your side, you didn't even hear him walk. Even with his posture, he's still really tall, at least comparable to Creampuff.
"yo. stretch." he simply says. "welcome to the circus."
As if things haven't been awkward enough, you try to go along. "does it come with a clown too?"
Stretch snorts softly, “for someone new, honestly expected you to ask a few more questions by now. nice surprise.” with a yawning stretch, he disappears—half-lit cigarette already nestled between his fingers.
You're unsure if he meant it as a compliment, a warning, or both. Your fingers twitch at your side. You remain perfectly still until a groan accompanied by a gruff voice coming from the hallway.
“this is dumb. i don’t care who the runt is.”
Classic doesn’t even look. “red, be nice.”
“i am nice,” Red proclaims, scanning you once before smirking. “they’ll live.”
You reflexly fold your arms. Something tells you he didn't mean' that reassuringly.
Red gaze lingered a little too long, his eye flicker for a moment. “ya the one classic won't shut up about?”
You avoid his eye contact, giving him just a nod in response.
"figures." he clicks his tongue.
“...ANOTHER ONE?” a seperate voice boom from the kitchen, shortly after Edge comes out.
You blatantly stare at him, and it's not because he looks like a general returning from war with his signature scarlet red scarf trailing behind him. It's just that Creampuff and Stretch are way taller than you imagined them to be, but Edge with his proud perfect posture completely towers over both of them.
You take a mental note to yourself, Papyrus—Papyruses—Papyri? You don't even know anymore, they're giants.
He looks at you from the kitchen doorway, gaze narrowing with a sharp and cold huff. “HMPH. SO THIS IS THE HUMAN.”
He suddenly declares. “TOUCH MY KITCHEN AND YOU DIE.”
You move yourself and accidentally bump into the table, giving out a low yelp. Edge didn’t budge, not even when Creampuff wave him over.
“DO NOT MIND EDGE, HE'S JUST GRUMPY!” Creampuff reassures you, still with a smile on his face.
You're beginning to doubt how much you can take his words at face value.
Thuds of heavy heeled boots, louder than necessary, head into the dining room.
There's more? Underswap and Underfell is here, how many AUs are in this... mansion.
Black storms past you, not even acknowledging your existence. A scowl on his face, one hand resting on his belt with Rus trailing behind him. You never expect their presence would overwhelm you this much.
When Black glowers your way, he only lets out a scoff. “TCH.”
Rus just silently stays beside him and offers what you can only describe as a blank smile.
"black," Classic sighs as he points out. "and that's rus. don't take it personal. they're always like that."
Dinner passed by quickly that day.
The longer you stay, the more you notice a rhythm. Aside from lunch, breakfast and dinner always stays the same, almost everyone gathered around the large dining table each with their own eccentricity.
There's an unspoken tradition that no one explicitly mentions here: breakfast and dinner; together, every single day, without fail. Even with your unexpected addition, that custom didn’t change. In fact, when a permanent extra seat, yours, join the table. No one seems to question or argue about it.
You're still unsure on what to do.
On a passing conversation, Classic brings up a suggestion that sound more like an afterthought. “if you’re stickin’ around kid, might as well help out a bit. things around here are can get a little… messy. most of us aren't exactly suited for cleaning.”
Looking around the house—more like the mansion—you do notice there's small tasks that needs to be done; wiping tables, sweeping floors, folding laundry. Everyday life things that made everything feel more real.
Alive.
You are actually living here.
With them.
"Okay."
Slowly, you find yourself falling into the rhythm.