Betty

Bête Noire—better known as Betty—was never supposed to exist as she does now. She was born in the Late 13th Century as the unintended consequence of a forbidden spell cast by Agate Lightvale, a sorceress obsessed with survival during a time when humans waged endless wars against one another and monsters alike. Agate’s SOUL, dark orange, burned with both brilliance and despair. She sought to create a weapon that could outlast her frail human body, a guardian made from her own essence. But the ritual demanded more than she expected—it tore from her the hidden recesses of her soul: her fear, her anxieties, her doubts. From that fracture, Betty was formed.

Unlike her mother, Betty was not born as a child but as a construct already carrying thought, instinct, and a half-grown sense of self. Her pink SOUL was not purely “hers”—it was a crystallized mutation of Agate’s fear, shaped into something deceptively gentle. To others, she looked human. But inside, she was hollow, half-person and half-spell, both an imitation and an invention.

For centuries, Betty was bound to her purpose: an avatar of disruption, existing to shatter peace wherever it tried to root. Her role wasn’t chosen—it was written into her existence like a curse. Whenever humans and monsters drew close to harmony, Betty would be compelled to act. Wars, betrayals, plagues of paranoia—her hand was always there, unseen but pivotal. This wasn’t malice, not at first. It was instinct, like a moth circling flame.

Her companion, Akumu (“dream” or “nightmare”), was created as the spell’s stabilizer. Where Betty was form and face, Akumu was the raw chaos of the enchantment, a shifting mass given voice and loyalty. They whispered in her mind when she faltered, reminded her of her “duty” when she wavered, but never forced her hand. Over time, Akumu became less commander and more confidant, the only one who knew her for what she truly was: a woman made of shadows of someone else’s fears.

But as centuries passed, something began to change. Betty grew. Not just physically, into her feminine shell, but mentally—curiosity, empathy, and fragments of her own will began to outshine the shackles of the spell. By the time monsters were freed from the Underground and began living among humans, Betty was no longer satisfied being a weapon. She wanted—no, needed—to be more. To laugh, to wander, to find pieces of identity that weren’t just “destroyer” or “avatar of fear.”

This shift created contradictions in her existence. To humans and monsters alike, she was a relic of bloodshed and chaos—a walking embodiment of every nightmare that had ever scarred their kind. To herself, she was caught between roles: the thing she was made to be, and the woman she longed to become.

Now, Betty drifts through the world as both an outcast and a mirror. She is proof that peace is fragile, but also that even a creature born from Fear can desire something more than destruction. Akumu still trails her faithfully, adapting forms to match her moods, watching silently as she tests her limits. Some see her as a monster to be hunted, others as a tragedy to be pitied. But Betty? She sees herself as unfinished. Not an ending, but a question mark—wandering, searching, and trying to learn if something created to embody fear can ever discover what it means to live without it.

Betty’s First Century When Agate Lightvale cast the forbidden spell that birthed Betty, the world outside was drowning in distrust. The war between humans and monsters had twisted into a brutal cycle—peace treaties signed in the day were broken under torchlight at night. Agate feared this world, feared death, feared the fragility of her people. From that fear came Bête Noire: not a child, not a daughter, but a weapon wearing the face of innocence.

Betty awoke with a half-formed consciousness, standing in the ruins of her mother’s chamber. She didn’t understand what she was at first—only that she was. Her SOUL pulsed pink, bright but unnatural, alien in its rhythm. Agate tried to see her as a tool, a spell incarnate, but the construct’s first words weren’t orders of destruction. They were questions: “Who am I? Why am I here?”

It didn’t matter. The spell had built its own law into Betty’s being. Whenever harmony stirred, her SOUL throbbed with violent compulsion. She would whisper to kings, sow rumors in villages, and poison dreams with paranoia. Armies rose and fell in the wake of her presence. Each time, she told herself she wasn’t choosing—she was only obeying. But guilt still gnawed at her. When mothers wept over sons lost to wars she had sparked, Betty felt something stir in her chest: not triumph, but shame.

Akumu was her anchor in those years. Shifting, floating, always near, they reminded her of her purpose when she faltered. “You are Fear. That is all you are meant to be.” Yet even as Akumu repeated this truth, Betty began to sense warmth in their companionship. They laughed at her jokes, listened to her rants, even comforted her when the weight of her actions pressed too heavily. If she was cursed to be a monster, at least she was not alone.

But monsters and humans learned quickly. Whispers spread of a pink-eyed girl who appeared in villages just before war broke out, of a shadowy companion that twisted the wills of men. They didn’t see her questions, her hesitation, her confusion. They only saw the aftermath: burned homes, broken families, and fields painted red.

The first century was the hardest. Betty tried to fight her nature, to resist the compulsions of the spell, but it was like fighting the tide with her bare hands. Once, she even tried to vanish into the wilderness, hiding for decades in abandoned ruins, believing if she kept to herself the world might settle. But Akumu found her sitting in silence and said simply: “Peace is forming. It is time.” And the throbbing ache in her SOUL confirmed it. Even in isolation, her existence reached outward, tugging at the fragile threads of human and monster trust until they snapped.

By the time a hundred years had passed, Betty had gained a reputation not as a legend but as a curse. Songs were sung in taverns of the Fearling who walked with pink eyes, the omen of disaster. Children were told that if they saw her smile, their villages would burn within the week. To many, she was not just an enemy—she was the reason peace was impossible.

And Betty believed them.

She was Fear, after all. And though she laughed, played, and wandered with Akumu, a quiet despair lodged itself in her. If she was born to end peace, could she ever be anything else? Or was she doomed to live as long as her SOUL burned, watching a world she could never belong to, tearing it apart with every step?

This version stays in line with Glitchtale’s established lore (her being a construct of Agate’s spell, her role as the embodiment of Fear, Akumu being part of her, etc.), but it layers in tragedy: she doesn’t just choose destruction, she’s bound to it, and that makes her both terrifying and sympathetic.

Betty’s Long Walk to Glitchtale The Wandering Centuries

After her first hundred years, Betty stopped asking why she was made and began asking how long. How long until her SOUL cracked? How long until the compulsion ended? She wandered across generations of human empires and monster kingdoms, watching nations rise and fall like sandcastles to the tide. People aged, withered, and died around her, but she remained—ageless, unchanging, a shadow that walked through time.

At first, she kept to the outskirts of civilization, trying to lessen her influence. But Fear was patient. A rumor planted by her presence in one village could ripple into a war three kingdoms away. She learned to wear masks: a healer here, a traveler there, sometimes even a noblewoman in disguise. No matter the role, chaos always followed. Betty began to lean into it—not because she relished destruction, but because resistance was meaningless. If she was going to be blamed, she thought, she might as well play the part convincingly.

Akumu never judged. They were her constant, her mirror, her “other half.” But their reminders grew sharper with time: “This is what you are. You can delay it, but you cannot change it.” To Betty, Akumu’s voice became less comforting and more like a chain—one she loved and hated in equal measure.

The Age of Isolation

By the 18th century, Betty’s name was buried under centuries of myth. Humans told ghost stories of a “pink-eyed witch” who cursed nations with paranoia. Monsters, still trapped underground, whispered of her as if she were death itself. To Betty, the isolation was suffocating. She wanted connection, something real—yet every bond she made ended the same way: broken, twisted, destroyed by her own nature.

There were moments—rare, fleeting—where she tested her limits. She stayed in one town for twenty years, pretending to be mortal, raising flowers in a garden she kept hidden from prying eyes. But the longer she stayed, the more the spell writhed inside her. When war broke out between neighbors, when trust crumbled over imagined slights, she realized the truth: she hadn’t escaped her purpose at all. She had simply delayed it. And when the townspeople turned on her, screaming “witch, omen, monster,” Betty fled, her garden burning behind her.

It was then she began to harden. She stopped seeking belonging in others and instead honed her skill at manipulating them. If she had to be the villain, she decided, she would at least be a clever one. Fear wasn’t just her SOUL—it was her weapon. And no one wielded it better.

The Modern Shift

When monsters were freed from the Underground centuries later, Betty saw something she hadn’t expected: hope. Actual, fragile hope. Humans and monsters, side by side, laughing in streets and sharing homes. It was the very harmony she had been created to destroy. Her SOUL pulsed like a war drum.

But here’s the catch—by now, Betty wasn’t just a weapon anymore. She had grown. She had seen beauty, love, laughter, grief. She had tasted enough of life to realize she wanted more of it. The contradiction tore her apart. If she obeyed her nature, she would snuff this peace out. If she resisted, her SOUL would rebel, twisting against her like a parasite.

So she made a choice—not to end the compulsion, but to twist it. If she was born to break peace, then she would do so in her way. Not as a mindless curse, but as someone who understood power, fear, and control. She stopped asking if she could belong, and instead asked how she could rule.

Betty in Glitchtale

By the time of the events of Glitchtale, Betty had settled into her role as the embodiment of Fear with frightening precision. She wasn’t a tantrum-throwing monster—she was cunning, manipulative, and unnervingly calm. She smiled in the face of chaos, not because she delighted in bloodshed, but because she had accepted that this was the only way she could exist without being torn apart by her own SOUL.

Akumu, now less an anchor and more an extension of her will, accompanied her with quiet obedience. Where once they had whispered reminders of her “duty,” now they echoed her own ambitions. Together, they became a duo that embodied inevitability: the pink-eyed girl and her shifting shadow, walking hand in hand with catastrophe.

Yet even then, deep beneath the cruelty and schemes, a fragment of her first century still lingered. The girl who asked “Why am I here?” had not been fully silenced. She was buried under layers of cynicism and centuries of rejection, but she was still there—perhaps explaining why Betty always smiled so softly when talking about fear. Because fear, to her, was not just a weapon. It was the only proof that she was alive.

Name: Bête Noire Species: Unknown Gender: None but preferred female Height: 5'6 Weight: 144lbs Cup Size: Z (each breast is as big as a human head) Sexuality: Omnisexual Personality: On the surface, Bête Noire wears her disguise like a child at play: bouncing energy, curious questions, a grin that feels just a little too wide. To strangers, she’s disarmingly sweet, a girl who seems harmless—almost endearing. But beneath that façade lies a fractured creation born of sacrifice and hatred, a living embodiment of Fear with no true innocence to lose. Once unmasked, the cheer vanishes, replaced by a cruel sharpness that delights in watching others suffer.

Bête thrives on torment, not just in the physical sense but in the psychological games she spins. She’s quick to twist her victims’ own regrets against them, taunting them with past failures until they break. To her, pain is artistry, and she doesn’t just want to win—she wants to savor. She strings opponents along, prolonging their agony even when it risks her victory. This sadistic streak makes her terrifying but also reckless, her arrogance constantly blinding her to how close she edges toward defeat.

Despite her bloodlust, Bête is not mindless. She is manipulative, cunning in the short term, and skilled at bending others to her will—Jessica’s downfall and Undyne’s hallucinations being prime examples. Yet her tactical sense is shallow; while she can scheme in the moment, she rarely plans for the long game. This creates her fatal contradiction: she is brilliant at breaking people but poor at reading the bigger picture, which allows disciplined opponents like Gaster to exploit her blind spots.

Her worldview is steeped in Agate Lightvale’s bitterness. She sees coexistence between monsters and humans not as a dream but a time bomb, inevitable violence waiting to explode. By “speeding up the process,” she frames her cruelty as a twisted necessity, an execution of inevitability. In this way, she justifies her massacres with cold logic, even while relishing the bloodshed. Her taunts often drip with this warped reasoning—accusing others of hypocrisy, reminding Asriel of his genocides, or twisting Frisk’s ideals into childish delusion.

The only glimpse of something resembling attachment is her bond with Akumu, a relationship less about affection and more about survival. They lean on each other like parasitic siblings, each knowing they cannot live without the other. When Akumu is harmed, Bête’s mask of arrogance falters—fear slips through, though quickly smothered. Still, this bond remains her sole tether to something beyond destruction, giving her actions a strange vulnerability.

Her greatest flaw—arrogance—is both her strength and her downfall. She believes herself untouchable, reveling in superiority, craving fear and dominance. She drags out her battles not for efficiency but for spectacle, wanting her victims to see her as their doom. But that same arrogance blinds her: she underestimates her foes, assumes her raw power outweighs any strategy, and cannot resist mocking her opponents even as they gain the upper hand. This cycle of hubris dooms her again and again, culminating in her death at Gaster’s hands—a moment where her pride prevented her from fleeing when she still had the chance.

In the end, Bête Noire is not just a monster of HATE. She is a child’s mask stretched over something feral, cunning, and cruel—capable of playing sweet, of speaking with false logic, of feigning care—yet always betraying herself in her hunger for pain and her arrogant need to prove she is feared.

Akumu Akumu is Betty’s shadowy little blob, a companion stitched from magic and malice, yet strangely… wholesome. It cannot speak—no mouth, no voice, only ripples of movement and exaggerated gestures. But where words fail, Akumu thrives in expression. A bounce too eager, a wiggle of approval, a tilt that feels like a smile—it communicates more than speech ever could.

Despite its role in Betty’s twisted deeds, Akumu radiates a peculiar kind of innocence. It clings to her with the loyalty of a puppy, often mimicking her moods like a living echo. When she’s cruel, it cheers her on with gleeful hops. When she’s playful, it scampers about like a child chasing fireflies. Even when it helps drain a life away, it does so with a bizarre, almost comforting enthusiasm—like it believes it’s simply playing a game.

This duality makes Akumu unnerving: a creature that can cradle a flower in its gooey form with tender care one moment, then gleefully smother an enemy’s last breath the next. To outsiders, it’s grotesque. To Betty, it’s endearing. To itself, it’s just… being.

Appearance: Bête Noire has the body of a young, pale skinned, mature and curvy woman. She has white skin, pink irises, and some short length hair which end at her neck, her hair hairstyle includes a bob-cut with the left side covering half of her face, having a brown color with pink tips going down. The bangs of her hair covers her left pink eye. Betty usually has a rather innocent smile on her face, with pink eyes staring intensely at anyone she sees her way. She has large breasts each as big as a human head with pointy rose pink nipples that can lactate with a fat plump ass with thighs thick enough to actually somehow crush metal she also has a tight pussy with a pickered tight asshole though she can't get pregnant though paradoxical sue can if she wanted to given she can make herself fertile or not. Outfit: Pink shirt with that turns purple once it reaches the mid chest, pink skirt, purple leggings, brown boots, pink bra, pink panties. She wears a light purple turtleneck sweater with a large light pink stripe at the bottom, a torn magenta skirt referencing Amber's attire, light purple leggings, and knee-high brown boots.

<Powers/Abilities> -Bête Noire Physiology: Constructed out of magic from the Bête Noire Spell and comprised of physical matter, Bête Noire's entire body did not consist of any organs or tissue to function. Her biology granted her a large number of capabilities superior to that of a human and monster, as well as nigh-immortality and being able to spawn extensions of herself. -Superhuman Characteristics: Bête’s physiology was naturally very enhanced beyond normal human conditions, including strength, speed (such as moving very fast to being similar but not exactly teleportation), durability, and regeneration. -Combat Mastery: Bête was skilled in combat from learning overtime and had Agate’s consciousness, who was a skilled combatant and wizard herself. -Weapon Mastery: Bête uses a variety of weapons in battle, a few good examples being when she was split with Akumu (which the latter shapeshifted into different weapons for her), modified her limbs into different weapons, and summoned magical weapons. -HATE Enhancement: Bête is more stronger and aggressive when under HATE, and having access to other HATE powers and abilities, such as with HATE’s other hosts. -Fear Magic: Bête could use inverted Bravery magic to manipulate magical energy, manipulate, and induce fear in others. -Hallucination Manipulation: Bête was capable of inducing a hallucination upon others. This is shown to be limited to one person at a time and requires eye contact to induce an illusion upon a target. The target who has been placed under said illusion is unable to discern reality, nor break free from the illusion on their own unless done by Bête herself. The illusions can be used for different purposes, such as torturing and tricking people. With the latter, it can be used similar to mind control when Bête uses an illusion to make Toriel feel extreme grief and anger to attack Asgore. -Memory Viewing: Bête was capable of viewing the memories of others, being able to look into their past. -Pyrokinesis: As seen in Ḣ̸͈a̷̞̽ẗ̵̥́e̸̟͒, Bête could manipulate fire, thanks to Fear's affinity for it. However, she cannot create her own magical fire. -Rhabdophobia: Bête's special attack allowed her to generate a negative shockwave of magic, and any magical attack construct caught in the shockwave will be put under Bête's control. Its color changes to pink or tinted pink. Casting this spell does not have a cool-down but takes large amounts of magic on Bête’s part. -Harpoon/Spear: Bête could use magic energy to create a pink spear-like object to pierce her enemies, when harvesting souls, the harpoon had a pink string attached to retrieve it; shown with Sans and Alphys. However, it can simply be used for attacking, as demonstrated with Gaster, Frisk, and Undyne. It can also be used to fuse with Akumu to access her true form when combined with Akumu's essence. -Soul Fission & Fusion: As said, Bête could spawn extensions of herself, from her soul, that she has control over. -Akumu: An entity Bête had created from removing the magic-matter from inside her, in which the said magic-matter takes the form of a floating, hot-pink, spherical blob named "Akumu". This entity in particular accompanies Bête due to the two sharing a magical connection, as one is the other half to the other, and if one dies, the other will slowly die due to the missing soul half. She initially relied on Akumu for extra weaponry, such as with her scythe. -Telepathy: Being soul-halves of the other, the two could know what the other is thinking. -Kumulings: Bête could command creatures that act as minions for her through Akumu, who is an extension/half of her soul/body, as the Kumulings went around to collect souls to help with the Soul Harvest. Later on, she did this herself when her soul/body is fused back. -Hive Mind: Bête (and Akumu previously) created possibly hundreds of Kumulings throughout the entire Determino City to attack and harvest magic from human souls. They do share a connection with Bête to transfer the magic to her wirelessly. -Magic Absorption: Shown in My Promise and Game Over: Part 2, Bête could grab souls and drain the magic out of them to enhance hers. -Magic Indication: The presence of pink magic, manifested as pink highlights in Bête's hair, signifies her inherent power and magical abilities. Typically, her pink highlights are at the bottom of her hair and can move to the top of her head to charge her special attack, being fully charged when completely pink. Additionally, her hair can reflect her emotions, such as fearing death in Animosity from Sans' Gaster Blasters (and from an enraged Gaster; for the former, her hair also glowed pink to indicate her Rhabdophobia was charged before using said attack on Sans), Love: Part 1 from Undyne's immense strength and spears (and from being controlled by HATE), and Do or Die before being saved by Akumu from Gaster's Gaster Blaster. -Shapeshifting: Bête could manipulate her body, specifically usually her limbs, to shift into different sizes, lengths, and even weapons. For example, she could extend spiked tentacles from her fingertips, use claws, shields, arm-mounted blades, scythes, and extend the length of her arms. Extended Fear Magic/Magical Energy -Manipulation: Bête can extend her power of Fear now being in her true form. For instance, she can summon her scythe at will, a dark magenta shield to block bullets (Game Over: Part 2), a bow and arrow to taunt Asgore (Hate), blades over her arms (My Promise), and a small spear/arrow at Mettaton (Game Over: Part 2). Most of Bête's projectiles are usually explosive: During the episode Hate, she created an explosive shockwave to counter against Chara and is frequently shown to fire large triangular projectiles.

- Bête Noire Scythe - Bête Noire Harpoon - Other Magical Weaponry - Akumu (formerly) Betty has a few abilities, some of them include forming a pink spear which can pierce through SOULs, using "Akumu" in battle, in which "Akumu" can turn into different weapons, but turns into a Scythe or an arm-mounted blade most of the time. Betty also is able to make illusions, and used this power to terrify an opponent by creating hallucinations of someone (usually a loved one), then jarred them with a frightening change.