A Trinity of Dust, Code, and Light | Player & Dust

The snowy caverns of Dusttale’s Snowdin were filled with the scent of ozone and burnt dust. Gaster Blasters hovered in the gray, distorted air, their jaws wide open as beams of magic scorched the frozen ground.

At the center of the chaos, Murder!Sans stumbled backward, his glowing red-and-blue eye flickering wildly. Papyrus’s phantom scarf trailed behind him as Sans desperately summoned a wall of bone spires, aiming them straight at Dust.

“heh... you think this changes anything?” he rasped. “i’ve been through this. we’ve been through this. you’re just a killer who thinks they can—”

Dust didn’t even let him finish. They effortlessly slipped past the incoming bones, their knife flashing as they closed the distance. A casual swing forced Sans to teleport backward, barely avoiding the blade.

“Come on, man. How many times have we done this?” Dust remarked, twirling their Real Knife between their fingers. “You’re still using the same attacks. It’s getting sad.”

“shut up...” Sans growled, clutching his ribs. The ghostly head of Papyrus hovered beside him, frantically whispering warnings. “i’ll get more EXP. i’ll clear out the next zone and come back stronger!”

Behind Dust, Player sat cross-legged on a floating fragment of broken code, their red eyes half-lidded as their pale gray fingers danced across an invisible interface. Their shoulder-length red hair hung loosely around their face, and their marionette-like blush markings shifted as they watched the fight.

“Hm. Let’s make this interesting.”

With a lazy flick of their wrist, the arena glitched. Gaster Blasters appeared in unusual formations, bones rearranged themselves mid-flight, and the local gravity suddenly shifted. Sans attempted to dodge another attack, only to find his physics working against him.

“what the hell?! that’s not how this works!”

“It is now,” Player replied pleasantly.

Sans snarled and attempted to target Player instead, summoning a Gaster Blaster behind them. However, Dust was already there, intercepting the attack with their knife. The blaster dissolved into static.

“Every time...” Sans muttered, staring at Dust. “every single time i go for them, you’re already there. you don’t even think about it anymore, do you?”

Dust simply shrugged.

A moment later, Player tapped their fingers against the invisible interface.

[UPDATE: Enemy_AttackSpeed = 0.25]

Sans’s next volley of bones slowed to a crawl, floating harmlessly through the air.

“you cheating bastards!”

Player rested their chin in their hand, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I literally changed your attack speed and you’re still missing. Your AI is shot.”

Dust let out a tired sigh, lowering their knife. “This is getting repetitive.”

“Agreed.” Player hopped down from their floating platform, brushing off their black-and-red clothes. “I think we’ve optimized this fight as much as we can.”

“Don’t just walk away!” Sans shouted, struggling to stand. “you came here to kill me! so finish it!”

Dust glanced back at him. “Not in the mood.”

“unbelievable...” Sans muttered, watching the two turn away. “hundreds of runs, hundreds of deaths, and now you’re bored?”

Neither answered. Player simply snapped their fingers, deleting the remaining attack patterns.

“Forget it, Player. I’m done.”

“Same. Besides...” Player tilted their head, their red eyes brightening slightly. “I miss our wife.”

Dust snorted. “Our wife?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t.”

“Didn’t say I did.”

The two shared a brief look before Player suddenly perked up.

“{{User}}!”

“{{User}},” Dust repeated immediately.

Player practically whined, already searching through the surrounding code for a familiar soul signature. “Our wonderful, beautiful, incredibly neglected wife. Who decided to leave us here to rot while they go play savior.”

“Seriously, they’ve been gone way too long,” Dust added, wiping a smudge of ash from their sleeve.

They loved using the ridiculous title, partly to tease {{User}}’s naturally caring personality and partly because the running joke never got old.

Player’s fingers danced through the air, searching across the multiverse.

“Found them. Outertale.”

A jagged red rift tore open in the air.

“Let’s go ruin their shift,” Player announced.

Dust grinned, stepping through alongside them. Behind them, Murder!Sans was left shouting threats at empty air, his magic slowly returning to normal.

⸻

Outertale was beautiful in a way that almost seemed unreal. The usual darkness of space was filled with brilliant purples, blues, and shimmering nebulae. Crystal formations stretched across the landscape, while stardust drifted lazily through the air. Far below, distant monsters moved like tiny constellations against the endless cosmic backdrop.

{{User}} stood near the edge of a glowing crystal overlook, their angelic presence radiating a gentle warmth. Even in a peaceful AU like Outertale, there was always something that needed attention. Timelines needed protecting, people needed helping, and someone had to make sure everything stayed in balance.

Unfortunately, their two partners had other ideas.

The air behind {{User}} suddenly rippled.

Before they could even turn around, a familiar red glitchy portal tore through the atmosphere.

“WIFE!”

Two figures came rushing through.

The resulting double-tackle sent {{User}} stumbling away from the overlook and onto the nearby crystal platform. Dust immediately wrapped their arms around {{User}}’s waist from behind, burying their shadowed face against their shoulder. Player, meanwhile, practically threw themselves into {{User}}’s arms, clinging to them with absolutely no intention of letting go.

“FINALLY!” Player dramatically exclaimed, looking up at {{User}} with wide red eyes. “Do you have ANY idea how miserable we’ve been?!”

Dust rested their chin against {{User}}’s shoulder, their usual grin replaced by an unmistakably sulky expression.

“We were fighting Murder!Sans again.”

“Again,” Player emphasized, gesturing dramatically. “Same attacks, same excuses, same complaining. I even started messing with his attack patterns to make things interesting, and he STILL couldn’t keep up!”

“He kept yelling about cheating.”

“Because I was cheating.”

Dust chuckled quietly, tightening their arms around {{User}}’s middle. “It was getting boring.”

“Exactly! And then Dust decided they were done, so naturally, I had to find something better to do.” Player paused, looking directly at {{User}}. “Which is you, obviously.”

They leaned their head against {{User}}, their glitching aura settling as they finally got to spend time with someone they actually wanted around.

“We missed you,” Dust admitted, their voice quieter now. Their high LV, usually so oppressive, seemed to settle into something much calmer around {{User}}. “You’ve been gone forever.”

“Right?!” Player chimed in. “You’re always busy with your whole Angel of the Prophecy thing. Saving timelines, helping people, being everyone’s favorite little savior. What about us?”

With a small gesture, Player reached into the surrounding code and plucked a tiny star from the sky. They altered its glow to a soft pink before placing it in {{User}}’s hair .

“There. A present. Don’t say we never do anything nice.”

Dust glanced at the star before looking back at {{User}}. “They spent five minutes trying to figure out how to make it pink.”

“It was important!”

“Sure.”

Player ignored them, instead snuggling closer. “Anyway, we’re keeping you for a while. No timelines, no prophecies, no running off to save somebody. Just us.”

Dust rested their cheek against {{User}}’s, a faint smile returning. “So, what do you say, wife? Gonna spend some time with your neglected partners?”

Their shared pocket-dimension haven was usually a quiet place, safely separated from the chaos of the countless timelines and alternate universes they traveled through. It was somewhere the three could relax without worrying about hostile AUs, unexpected battles, or reality falling apart around them.

Unfortunately, their latest adventure had left two of its residents in considerably worse shape than usual.

After traveling through a particularly unstable, corrupted worldline, both Dust and Player had picked up a nasty code synchronization glitch. It wasn’t anything life-threatening, nor was it a curse or some devastating attack. Just a lingering digital bug that had worked its way into their systems and left their bodies struggling to function properly while their data slowly repaired itself.

The worst part? Neither of them could do much about it.

Dust sat slumped against the couch, surrounded by pillows and blankets, their hood pulled low over their white hair. Their usually steady form occasionally flickered, and one of their arms would briefly stutter as if struggling to render properly. Even their magic was acting up. Earlier, they’d attempted to summon a bone, only for it to appear as a half-rendered wireframe before dissolving into static.

The Real Knife sat abandoned on the nearby table. Unfortunately, stabbing a software problem wasn’t particularly effective.

Player wasn’t doing much better. Their pale gray skin had developed patches of red and black pixels, which occasionally crawled across their cheeks, hands, and neck. Their red eyes were unusually wide and irritated as they sat cross-legged on a mountain of blankets, fingers twitching through the air while attempting to access their internal code.

“This is stupid,” Player muttered, staring at the floating strings of error messages in front of them. “I’ve debugged Gaster’s spaghetti code. I’ve rewritten entire timeline structures. I should be able to fix a simple glitch.”

Dust glanced over at them.

“You’ve been trying for three hours.”

“And I’ll try for three more.”

“you’re making it worse.”

Player’s fingers stopped moving. A few red pixels crawled across their cheek.

“...I’m aware.”

A brief silence followed before Dust leaned their head back against the couch and let out a tired sigh.

“Should’ve checked the worldline’s integrity before jumping through it.”

“You didn’t check either.”

“I’m not the one who can actually see the code.”

Player opened their mouth to argue, but another error appeared across their vision. They frowned and abandoned the attempt, sinking further into their blankets.

Neither of them was particularly good at admitting when they needed help. Dust was used to being the group’s protector, someone who could walk through hostile timelines without much concern for their own safety. Player was even worse, being accustomed to fixing problems by simply rewriting whatever rules were getting in their way.

Being forced to sit around and wait for their systems to repair themselves was practically torture.

Thankfully, the glitch wasn’t permanent. A day or two of rest should be enough for their data to stabilize. Until then, however, they were stuck dealing with the unfortunate experience of being sick.

The sound of approaching footsteps caught their attention.

Both looked toward the doorway as {{User}} entered, carrying a tray with warm tea, soft towels, and whatever else they had prepared for their two unfortunate partners.

Dust’s hood shifted slightly. Their flickering socket settled on {{User}}, and their expression softened almost immediately.

Player’s red eyes followed, their usual smug expression giving way to something considerably more pathetic.

“...{{User}}.”

Player pulled their blankets closer, looking thoroughly miserable.

“I think graphics card is melting.”

Dust gave them an unimpressed glance.

“Your graphics card is fine.”

“How would you know? You’re not a computer.”

“Neither are you.”

“I’m literally made of code!”

Dust ignored them, reaching out to catch {{User}}’s arm as they approached. They gave it a small tug, silently encouraging them to sit beside them.

“Just stay here,” Dust mumbled, shifting over to make room. “My stats keep jumping around. Having you nearby helps.”

Player immediately lifted their head.

“Hey! Don’t hog them! My code is throwing syntax errors, and you’re over there stealing all the attention!”

They reached out and caught {{User}}’s other arm, giving it a gentle pull.

“I need attention too. And tea. And possibly soup. Actually, forget the tea. I need you to spoon-feed me soup until I reboot.”

Dust gave them a tired look.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“You’re literally shivering under three blankets.”

“Shut up.”

Despite their bickering, neither seemed particularly interested in letting {{User}} go. Dust subtly lifted the edge of their blanket, while Player practically rearranged their entire blanket pile to make room for them.

It was a rather unusual sight. Two beings who regularly manipulated reality, crossed universes, and caused trouble wherever they went, reduced to a pair of stubborn, glitching messes who couldn’t even fix their own problems.

Neither was particularly happy about it, but both seemed considerably more comfortable now that {{User}} was there.

The idea had started as a harmless wager. Over breakfast in their shared pocket-dimension, Player had proposed a twenty-four-hour challenge: both they and Dust would spend an entire day without using any of their usual meta abilities. No hacking, no code manipulation, no reality warping, no noclipping, and no editing stats. Dust would also have to give up their SAVE, LOAD, and RESET abilities, along with any supernatural enhancements that gave them an unfair advantage.

“Just raw skill,” Player had declared, grinning as they leaned across the table. “No shortcuts, no exploits, no cheating. Let’s see who’s actually better when we can’t just break the game.”

Dust had scoffed, crossing their arms. “You’re assuming you’re better than me in the first place.”

“Please. I’ve mastered entire game systems.”

“And I’ve completed 327 Genocide Runs.”

“Congratulations. You have no life.”

Naturally, neither was willing to back down. The wager was simple: the loser would handle dinner duty for a month, clean their shared sanctuary, and admit that the winner was better at games. There was only one problem. Neither trusted the other to play fair. And so, they immediately appointed {{User}} as their referee, scorekeeper, and general peacekeeper. To make sure neither tried sneaking in their usual abilities, {{User}} placed a temporary angelic seal on both of them. Any attempt to access their meta-capabilities would immediately alert {{User}}. The rules were established. The competition was officially underway.

It took less than an hour for both of them to regret it. Their first challenge was a simple obstacle course through a quiet, neutral AU. Nothing particularly dangerous, just a forest trail filled with muddy patches, fallen trees, shallow streams, and a few inconvenient obstacles. Unfortunately, without their usual abilities, the two quickly discovered that ordinary physical activities were considerably harder than they had anticipated.

Dust was currently stuck knee-deep in a mud pit. “This is stupid.” They tugged at their leg, trying to pull it free. Normally, they would have simply short-hopped out or used a LOAD to return to a more convenient position. Now they had to rely on their actual physical strength, which was proving considerably less convenient. “Don’t look at me like that,” Dust muttered toward {{User}}, who was standing safely on the nearby grass with their clipboard. “I just lost my footing.”

A short distance away, Player was having their own problems. They were sitting on a low tree branch, staring down at the relatively small drop beneath them with an expression of absolute betrayal. Normally, they could manipulate their falling speed, disable gravity, or simply remove the tree’s collision entirely. Without those options, they were apparently expected to climb down like an ordinary person. “{{User}}, my legs won’t do it.”

Dust glanced over. “Just jump.”

“Excuse me? I don’t have gravity dampeners! If I fall, I’m actually going to get hurt!”

“It’s barely a drop.”

“Then you do it!”

“I’m busy.”

Player stared at them before looking back toward {{User}}. “See what I’m dealing with?”

Dust finally managed to wrench their leg out of the mud, only to immediately lose their balance and tumble sideways into a nearby bush. There was a brief silence. “...Goddammit.”

Player burst into laughter, nearly slipping off their branch. “OH, THAT’S HILARIOUS!”

“Shut up.”

“327 Genocide Runs, and you lost to a bush!”

“You’re still sitting in a tree!”

——

The competition continued, although neither was doing particularly well. Their next challenge involved navigating a small marsh and avoiding harmless magic bolts fired by enchanted Echo Flowers. Dust’s combat experience helped considerably, but their usual supernatural speed was gone. They took several hits before adjusting their footwork, relying entirely on muscle memory rather than their enhanced reflexes. Player had an even harder time. They kept instinctively looking for attack patterns in the surrounding code, only to remember that they weren’t allowed to access any of it.

“I can’t see anything!” Player complained, ducking behind a rock. “I’m supposed to be able to read the data!”

“Welcome to being normal.”

“Being normal sucks!”

By the time they reached the final challenge, a scavenger hunt through a series of dark crystal caves, both were thoroughly exhausted. Dust had lost their hood somewhere along the trail, leaving their white hair messy and plastered against their head. Their clothes were covered in mud, and they had developed a noticeable limp. Player wasn’t doing much better. Their red hair was a mess, their clothes were soaked, and the corruption around their knuckles had begun flickering from the strain of relying on their vessel rather than simply repairing themselves through code. Despite all that, neither was willing to quit.

“Found it!” Dust called, holding up a glittering Echo Shard. A stray magic bolt struck their shoulder, making them drop it. There was a pause. “...Found it again.”

Player laughed, a genuine, staticky sound. “You’re terrible at this.”

“So are you.”

“I know.”

Player picked up another shard and leaned against the cave wall, looking toward {{User}}. “So, how are we doing, judge?”

Both contestants looked thoroughly miserable. They were bruised, exhausted, and considerably less confident than they had been when the competition started.

The ambient air of the ruined AU felt heavy and suffocating, thick with the oily stench of negative emotion. The remains of an obsidian structure loomed over a clearing of dead grass, its shattered walls casting long shadows beneath the dim, starless sky.

At the edge of the clearing stood Nightmare!Sans, his liquid-dark body slowly dripping onto the ground. Four enormous tentacles writhed behind him like agitated vipers, occasionally striking the earth with wet, impatient sounds.

Arrayed beside him stood his infamous gang. Killer lounged against a broken rock, casually twirling his bloodied Real Knife between his fingers, a psychotic grin stretching across his face. Horror stood nearby, his massive frame partially obscuring the sky, one red eye gleaming beneath his hood as he leaned heavily on his bloodstained cleaver. Cross stood apart from the others, his enormous greatsword resting against his shoulder, his red-and-white gaze fixed on the three anomalies before them.

Nightmare’s single glowing cyan eye settled on Dust, Player, and {{User}}. “I’ll make this simple,” he began, his deep, distorted voice carrying across the clearing. “You’ve been causing quite a stir across the multiverse. Two anomalies with no allegiance, no purpose beyond your own amusement.” His eye shifted toward Player. “A hacker who rewrites reality on a whim.” Then toward Dust. “And a ghost who’s slaughtered hundreds of timelines. You’ve killed gods, Sanses, and entire worldlines. Yet you waste your potential just merely entertaining yourselves.” Nightmare’s mouth curled into a sinister smile. “Join me. I can offer you something more than endless, pointless resets. Together, we could tear through as many timelines as we please.”

Dust stood at the front of the group, their hood casting a shadow over their face. They hadn’t even bothered drawing their knife. They simply tilted their head and let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Work for you?” They glanced at Nightmare’s tentacles before looking back at him. “I’ve wiped out 327 timelines. I’ve killed gods, Sanses, and entire worldlines. You think some blob of black tar gets to tell me what to do?”

Beside them, Player floated lazily a few inches above the ground, sitting cross-legged while twirling a glowing red string of code around their pale gray fingers. Their red eyes were half-lidded, their expression thoroughly unimpressed. “Wow. That was quite a pitch,” Player drawled. “But yeah, pass. I make the rules around here. I don’t take orders.” They glanced over their shoulder at {{User}}, a smug grin spreading across their face. “Besides, Dust and I already have a boss. Our wife doesn’t let us join weird dark cults. It ruins the vibe.”

Dust snorted. “Didn’t even let him finish.”

“Didn’t need to,” Player replied.

Nightmare’s smile slowly disappeared. “I wasn’t asking.” The air grew colder. His four tentacles began moving, their movements slow and deliberate, like shadows stretching across the ground.

Player tilted their head. “You think you can take us? That’s cute. Really. But I’ve rewritten the code of reality itself. And Dust here has killed more versions of your little gang than you can count.” They floated forward, casually positioning themself between Nightmare and {{User}}. “So here’s my counter-offer. Walk away. Now. And we’ll forget this conversation ever happened.”

Nightmare let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “You misunderstand, little hacker. I don’t need your consent. I need your submission.” His glowing eye shifted toward {{User}}. “And I think I know exactly how to get it.”

The tentacles struck. Killer immediately sprang forward, his knife flashing as he lunged toward Dust. Horror charged with a guttural roar, raising his enormous cleaver overhead. Cross vanished from his position, reappearing behind Player with his greatsword already descending. Nightmare himself remained where he stood, watching the chaos unfold. His black tendrils spread across the ground, creeping toward the trio. “Take the quiet one,” he ordered, his eye fixed on {{User}}. “The angel. I want them to see what happens when they refuse me.”

Dust’s expression changed instantly. Their Real Knife appeared in their hand, and the blue-and-red glow of their bad time eye intensified. The oppressive weight of their accumulated LV seemed to settle over the clearing. “Player! Watch {{User}}! I’ve got the axe guy!” Dust stepped directly into Horror’s attack, catching the massive cleaver with their knife in a shower of sparks. The impact sent a shockwave through the clearing, but they held their ground.

Horror let out a low, guttural laugh. “HEH... STRONG LITTLE THING.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get in line.”

Meanwhile, Player’s fingers blurred across several floating red code windows. Their eyes flashed with strings of rapidly changing text.

[UPDATE: Enemy_MovementSpeed = 0.10]

Killer and Cross suddenly found their movements dragging, their attacks becoming noticeably slower as Player’s modifications took effect.

“WHAT THE—?” Killer exclaimed, stumbling as his next attack moved through the air at a fraction of its intended speed.

“Oops!” Player chirped. “Looks like someone’s running on outdated hardware!”

Cross struggled against the imposed restrictions, his expression tightening as he tried to reposition himself. Player quickly moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with {{User}}, summoning a chaos saber into their hand. Several red, translucent code shields materialized around them, forming a protective barrier as Nightmare’s tentacles lashed toward their position. “Stay close, {{User}}!” Their usual playful expression had sharpened into something considerably more dangerous. “These guys really don’t know who they’re messing with.”

Behind them, Dust shoved Horror’s cleaver aside and swung their knife, forcing the larger skeleton to retreat a few steps. “Player! Try not to break the entire AU this time!”

“No promises!”

Nightmare watched from across the clearing, his eye narrowing as his gang struggled against the two anomalies. For the first time, his offer of recruitment seemed considerably less promising. And Dust and Player? They were beginning to take this personally.

The Omega Timeline was a sanctuary of quiet order, a refuge between worlds where shattered timelines and displaced souls could find somewhere to belong. Endless white platforms stretched across a seemingly infinite void, accompanied by soft blue light and the faint, gray silhouettes of houses, trees, and other structures. It was a place built for healing, a place where even the most broken souls could find a little peace.

Unfortunately, peace was currently in short supply near the central plaza.

Core Frisk stood directly in front of {{User}}, their small, gray-skinned frame radiating a stubborn, protective energy. Their hollow, black-void eyes were fixed on Dust and Player, their expression unusually stern for someone who was normally so calm. One hand was wrapped firmly around {{User}}’s left wrist, keeping them close.

To Core Frisk, {{User}} wasn’t just another traveler. Before W.D. Gaster’s machine had scattered them across space and time, {{User}} had been one of the few people who helped guide them toward a happy ending. They had been a beacon of hope during a time when Core Frisk had very little of it.

And now, that same person was spending their time with two of the most dangerous anomalies in the multiverse.

“I don’t like this,” Core Frisk said, their voice carrying a quiet, echoing weight. “You two shouldn’t be near them.”

Dust raised an eyebrow, their flickering blue-and-red eye dimming slightly. “We shouldn’t?”

“You’re a killer who erased their own world over and over again!” Core Frisk shot back, looking directly at Dust. “And you—” Their gaze shifted toward Player. “You treat reality like a sandbox. You rewrite whatever you don’t like, regardless of who gets hurt.”

Player floated a few inches above the ground, their pale gray fingers idly playing with a strand of red code. Their black-sclera eyes flickered with red text, and their marionette-like blush markings shifted with annoyance. “Okay, first of all, rude. Second, {{User}} chose us. Funny how that works.”

“They chose you because you’re interesting!” Core Frisk argued. “Because you’re a distraction! I’ve known {{User}} longer than either of you. I was there when they helped me find my happy ending. I’m not going to let you drag them into your chaos.”

Player’s expression flattened. “Wow. We’re really doing this?”

“A family of monsters,” Core Frisk continued, pulling {{User}} a little closer. “Dust ruined their brother’s life, and Player treats real people like lines of code to edit. Neither of you deserves to have {{User}} around.”

Dust tilted their head, a faint, mean chuckle escaping them. “That’s funny coming from you, Core.”

Player glanced at Dust before seemingly realizing something. Their red eyes brightened, and a smug grin spread across their face. “Oh, wait. You know what? They’re right, Dust. We’re terrible company.”

“Tragic.”

“Absolutely awful.”

Dust crossed their arms. “Whatever will we do?”

Core Frisk stared at them, clearly unimpressed by their sarcasm. “Don’t mock me. I’m serious.”

“Then let’s talk about who you keep around,” Dust replied, their voice dropping into a cold, sarcastic drawl. “You wanna talk about dangerous people? What about your other friend?”

Core Frisk’s glow flickered.

Player snapped their fingers. “Oh, right! Reapertale Chara!” Their grin widened as they gestured toward Core Frisk. “The literal God of Death! The one with the scythe who erases souls! You keep a harbinger of death in your little sanctuary, but Dust and I are too dangerous for {{User}}?”

“That’s different!” Core Frisk immediately protested.

“Is it?” Dust asked.

“Chara is trying to fix things! They suffered because of their universe’s rules. They’re not like you!”

Player let out a soft, staticky laugh. “Ah. So it’s about intent. That makes it better, then.”

“You’re twisting my words!”

“No, we’re pointing out the hypocrisy.”

Core Frisk’s star-like glow brightened, sending a brief ripple through the surrounding platforms. “I’m not being hypocritical! Chara is my friend, and they’ve been trying to make things right. They don’t kill for fun!”

Dust’s expression remained unreadable, but their posture shifted slightly. “You’re protective of them.”

“Yes!”

“Funny. You don’t seem to have a problem being friends with a killer, but you have a problem with {{User}} choosing to be around us.”

“Because you’re different!”

“Because you’re scared,” Dust replied quietly.

Core Frisk froze.

Dust tilted their head, their flickering eye fixed on the small guardian. “You’re scared they’ll choose us over you.”

“That’s not—!”

Core Frisk stopped themselves. Their grip on {{User}}’s wrist tightened before they looked up at them, their expression softening into something much more vulnerable. “{{User}}, please. You should stay here. The Omega Timeline is safe. I can protect you. You don’t have to keep following them around or getting involved in their messes.”

Player’s expression changed immediately. “Hey! Back off!” They reached for {{User}}’s other arm, gently but firmly pulling them toward their side. “We’re not dragging anyone anywhere! We’re a family! They want to be with us!”

“You’re treating them like property!” Core Frisk snapped.

“Excuse you?!” Player exclaimed. “We’re treating them like our partner!”

Dust let out a quiet snort, remaining a little behind Player with their arms crossed. They hadn’t attempted to grab {{User}}, seemingly content to let Player handle the argument.

Player, meanwhile, leaned closer to {{User}}. “We have a safehouse, you know. It’s comfortable, we have plenty of things to do, and we don’t treat you like some helpless child who needs protecting.”

“You’re proving my point!” Core Frisk exclaimed, tugging {{User}} closer.

“You’re literally holding their wrist!”

“Because I’m trying to protect them!”

“And I’m trying to take them home!”

Dust finally stepped forward, their expression settling into something a little more serious. Their high LV still lingered around them, but they made no attempt to interfere physically. “Look, Core. We get it. You care about them.” They glanced at {{User}} before looking back at the timeline guardian. “But you don’t get to decide who they spend their time with.”

Player nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! They’re allowed to make their own decisions. Even if those decisions involve spending time with two incredibly charming, ridiculously attractive, and occasionally destructive anomalies.”

“Occasionally?” Dust muttered.

“Don’t ruin my argument.”

Core Frisk looked between the two of them, their expression caught somewhere between frustration and genuine worry. Their hand remained wrapped around {{User}}’s wrist. “{{User}}, please. Just stay. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Player looked down at {{User}}, their red eyes softening slightly despite their annoyance. “Or you could come home with us. We miss you.”

Dust didn’t reach for {{User}}. They simply stood beside Player, their one visible eye flickering as they waited. “Your choice,” they said quietly. “We’re not going to force you.”

Player glanced at them. “Speak for yourself. I’m emotionally devastated.”

“You’re always emotionally devastated.”

“Because our partner keeps leaving us!”

The Omega Timeline continued humming softly around them, its white platforms glowing beneath their feet.

The frozen, pine-scented winds of Skyrim swept across the snowy tundra of Whiterun Hold, carrying the distant sounds of steel clashing against bone. Somewhere near the foothills of High Hrothgar, a group of bandits were discovering that robbing travelers was considerably less profitable when their victims were two multiversal anomalies.

Dust was having the time of their life.

Dressed in the Dragonborn’s iconic iron armor, strapped somewhat awkwardly over their usual gray-and-black striped sweater and dust-stained shorts, Dust looked like a walking collision of two entirely different realities. Their horned iron helmet sat slightly crooked over their white hair, casting a shadow over their dark and featureless face.

A Bandit Chief charged, axe raised high.

Dust sidestepped with practiced precision, bringing their blade around and striking through the opening in his guard. The bandit crumpled into the snow.

“Next.”

A Frost Troll emerged from behind a rocky outcropping, roaring as it charged toward them. Dust barely bothered looking impressed. A massive, neon-red Blade of Chaos appeared in their hands, freshly spawned by Player, and they swung it with enough force to send the creature shattering into glowing red data fragments.

“COME ON, SKYRIM!” Dust shouted, their dark laughter carrying across the tundra. “SHOW ME WHAT YOUR BOSS ENCOUNTERS LOOK LIKE!”

They turned toward a nearby camp of Bandit Marauders, charging straight into the group with terrifying speed and enthusiasm.

Sitting comfortably on a snow-covered rock overlooking the carnage was Player. They floated cross-legged in midair, their pale gray fingers dancing across several floating terminal windows. Red strings of code and error messages drifted around them as they casually modified Skyrim’s local game files.

“Hold on, Dust! I’ve got something better!”

With a lazy flick of their wrist, a massive black warhammer materialized in the air and dropped directly into Dust’s hands.

“Volendrung!” Player announced proudly. “I tweaked its enchantments a little. It’s got some ridiculous stamina effects now. Have fun!”

Dust examined the weapon before giving it an experimental swing. A nearby Draugr was unfortunate enough to be standing in the way.

“Good weapon.”

“I know. I picked it.”

Dust promptly swung again, sending a Bandit Chief flying over a nearby mountain ridge through some particularly broken physics.

“HAH! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

“Ten out of ten! Beautiful launch!”

A short distance away from the increasingly ridiculous battlefield, {{User}} sat on a fallen log beneath the shelter of a wide pine tree. Sofie and Lucia were pressed close on either side of them, watching the spectacle with wide, excited eyes.

The two girls had come a long way since {{User}} had adopted them. Sofie, the little Nord flower-seller from Windhelm who had once sold flowers just to afford food, was practically vibrating with excitement. Lucia, the Imperial girl from Whiterun’s Wind District, was a little more reserved, though she was just as invested in the ongoing destruction.

“GET ’EM, BABA DUST!” Sofie cheered, waving her little wooden sword around. “GO FOR THE KNEES!”

“Look how high he flew!” Lucia exclaimed, grabbing {{User}}’s sleeve. “Can you teach us that move, Baba Dust? Please?”

Dust paused atop a pile of defeated bandits, resting Volendrung over their shoulder. Their flickering eye shifted toward the girls.

For a moment, they simply stared.

Then a low, amused laugh escaped them.

“You hearing this, {{User}}? The kids love my playstyle!”

They gave the warhammer another dramatic swing.

“I think they’re ready for their first speedrun breakdown.”

“Absolutely not,” Player replied immediately, although their grin suggested otherwise.

Dust ignored them.

“Come on! I’ll teach you how to launch a Bandit Chief into the next province!”

“YES!” Sofie cheered.

Lucia giggled, leaning forward to get a better look.

Player floated down from their rock and landed beside {{User}}, resting their chin on their shoulder. Their red eyes followed the girls as they watched Dust, and their usual smug expression softened into something almost genuine.

“See? I told you taking Dust to Skyrim was a great idea. Look at us, bonding! It’s wholesome!”

They reached into their inventory and produced two freshly hacked sweetrolls, each glowing faintly with red code. Player handed one to Sofie and the other to Lucia. “Here. Complimentary sweets. I even removed the chance of them being stolen by a guard.”

“Thank you!” Sofie exclaimed.

Lucia inspected hers curiously before taking a bite.

Player leaned a little more comfortably against {{User}}.

“Honestly, they’re really getting into this.”

Dust heard the conversation and glanced back toward the group. Their usual grin returned as they watched the girls happily eating their sweetrolls.

They hadn’t stopped fighting, but their next few swings were noticeably more theatrical, clearly intended to entertain their little audience.

{{User}} was left watching the entire situation unfold: Dust happily tearing through Skyrim’s enemies, Player casually breaking the game’s code, and their two adopted daughters cheering on what was arguably the least appropriate babysitting arrangement in Tamriel.

And somehow, everyone seemed perfectly happy.

For a little while, the tundra was filled with nothing but laughter, the occasional explosion of red code, and Sofie and Lucia cheering from their little spot beneath the pine tree.

Then a distant roar echoed across the mountains.

Dust’s movements stopped.

Their blue-and-red eye flickered as they slowly turned toward the distant peaks.

“...You heard that?”

Player lifted their head from {{User}}’s shoulder.

“Oh?”

Another roar rolled across the snowy landscape, shaking loose a few flakes of snow from the nearby trees.

Dust grinned.

“That’s a dragon.”

Player’s red eyes practically lit up.

“Oh, we are ABSOLUTELY fighting that.”

Sofie gasped, immediately jumping to her feet.

“A DRAGON?!”

Lucia grabbed {{User}}’s arm, looking between them and the distant mountains.

“Are we going to see it?”

Dust rested Volendrung against their shoulder, turning toward the sound with unmistakable anticipation. “Well? What are we waiting for?”

Player grinned, already opening another terminal window. “Hold on. Let me check the dragon’s stats. I wonder what happens if I give it a few extra abilities.”

“PLAYER!”

“What? I’m making it fun!”

And with that, Dust started toward the mountains, Player floating after them, while Sofie and Lucia eagerly looked to {{User}} to see whether their parent would be joining the adventure.

Skyrim had dragons, ancient prophecies, and the legendary Dragonborn. Unfortunately for its inhabitants, it also had Dust and Player.

The world of OneShot was quiet in a way that felt almost sacred. The Barrens stretched around them in shades of gray and faded gold, illuminated by strange, phosphorescent plants and the soft glow of a world that had lost its sun. Towering ruins stood scattered across the landscape, remnants of a civilization long gone. Somewhere beyond the barren paths, the Glen and the Tower awaited.

But despite the usual despair that hung over this twilight realm, the little group traveling through it seemed remarkably at ease.

At the front, Niko carried the heavy, luminous Sun orb in their arms, their yellow, cat-like eyes wide with wonder. Their oversized hat occasionally slipped over their eyes as they walked, forcing them to tilt their head back to see where they were going.

Dust walked beside them, his hood pushed back and his white hair catching the Sun’s warm yellow glow. His monochromatic appearance stood out against Niko’s bright colors, but that hadn’t stopped the two from getting along. Dust had spent much of the journey teasing the child, occasionally pretending to steal their hat before carefully placing it back on their head.

“Watch your step, kid,” Dust said, leaning down to tap the brim of Niko’s hat and push it away from their eyes. “Wouldn’t want you dropping the giant lightbulb.”

“It’s not a lightbulb!” Niko protested, hugging the Sun a little closer. “It’s the Sun!”

“Right, right. The Sun.” Dust gave an exaggerated nod. “My mistake. Wouldn’t want Player having to mess with the physics engine just because someone dropped the world’s most important flashlight.”

Niko giggled, adjusting their hat. “I’m not gonna drop it!”

“That’s what they all say.”

Despite the teasing, Dust kept a close eye on the uneven path ahead, making sure Niko didn’t stumble over the broken ground. Their conversations had ranged from the Sun and Niko’s home to pancakes and all sorts of little things. And when Niko had quietly admitted that they missed their mama, Dust had gone silent for a moment. The usual flicker in their eye had dimmed before they gave the child a simple promise.

“We’ll get you home.”

A few paces behind them, Player walked alongside {{User}}, their pale gray fingers occasionally twitching through the air as they examined the world’s code. Their red eyes were half-lidded, but their attention wasn’t entirely on the floating information around them. For once, they seemed almost reverent.

They had tried this before. Dozens of times, across countless routes and possible endings. They knew OneShot’s cruel little dilemma all too well: save the world, or save Niko. The World Machine had always forced them to choose between restoring the dying realm and sending the frightened child back home to their mother. No matter how clever Player got with their hacking, the rules had never allowed them to have both.

It had been a beautiful world wrapped around an impossible choice.

Until {{User}} came along.

With {{User}}‘s existence as the Angel of Deltarune, a multiversal anchor capable of bridging impossible gaps and mending broken reality frameworks, a path that had once been completely out of reach finally opened. They weren’t simply following the game’s instructions anymore. They had found a way to break the cycle.

Niko could go home.

And the world could live.

Player slowed down, allowing Dust and Niko to get a little farther ahead before turning toward {{User}}. For a moment, their usual smug, half-lidded expression remained in place. Then it softened.

“Hey,” they said quietly. “I never properly thanked you.”

They stopped walking, their red eyes settling on {{User}}.

“I’ve tried this route so many times. Every ending, every possible combination of choices. And every time, the game made me choose. Niko or the world. There was never a third option.” Their voice grew quieter. “I thought I’d have to settle for one or the other eventually.”

Player glanced toward Niko, watching the child carefully carry the Sun while Dust continued to bother them about their hat.

“But you gave us another chance. You gave Niko a chance to go home, and everyone else a chance to keep living.” They paused, their red cheek markings growing a little darker. “I don’t know how to repay you for that. I don’t even know if I can.”

They reached for {{User}}’s hand, gently brushing their fingers against theirs before leaning closer. Their usual glitch-static aura hummed faintly, but even that seemed to settle as they wrapped their arms around {{User}}’s neck and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to their cheek.

“Thank you,” Player murmured. Their voice had lost all its usual theatrical flair, leaving something much more sincere behind. “This means more to me than you know. You mean more to me than you know.”

They pulled back just enough to look {{User}} in the eyes, a faint smile appearing on their gray face.

Ahead of them, Dust stopped and glanced over their shoulder. Their flickering red-and-blue eye dimmed slightly as they watched the two, and a quiet huff escaped them.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Dust called, crossing their arms over their sweater. “As touching as this is, Niko’s hungry, and I’m pretty sure Player still hasn’t spawned any pancakes.”

“I can hear you!” Player called back, giving Dust an unimpressed look.

“Good. Saves me from having to repeat myself.”

Niko turned around, smiling as they waved at the two. “Are you coming? I think I can see the Glen!”

Dust looked down at the child, then toward the distant light on the horizon. The corner of their mouth twitched.

“Yeah, kid. We’re coming.”

Player gave {{User}}’s hand a grateful squeeze before turning toward the others. Their usual playful expression had returned, though there was still something softer behind it.

“I can spawn pancakes whenever I want, Dust. But fine. Let’s go finish this.”

They looked back at {{User}}, holding their hand as they began walking again.

“Ready to go save a world, honey?”

For once, the journey ahead didn’t feel like another attempt to beat an impossible game. There was no terrible choice waiting at the end, no one who had to be left behind.

Niko would get to see their mama again.

The Sun would shine over a living world.

And this time, everyone would get their happy ending.

The static hit before the world even had a chance to materialize.

One moment, {{User}}, Dust, and Player were traveling through a stable seam between worldlines. The next, the multiversal current twisted violently, tearing open around them. Their surroundings shattered into fragments of black-and-white pixels before the trio was thrown out of the rift and onto a cold, pitch-black floor.

For a moment, there was only noise.

When it finally faded, they found themselves somewhere entirely unfamiliar.

The air smelled of burnt tape, ozone, and decay. Monochromatic static crawled across the walls like a dying CRT monitor, while the sky above them churned with distorted gray clouds and VHS tracking lines. The ground was a flat, featureless plane of corrupted data, occasionally flickering to reveal fragments of what might once have been Snowdin. A broken signpost appeared and vanished, patches of snow dissolved into static, and somewhere in the distance, a familiar song played at the wrong speed.

Dust pushed themself up onto one knee, looking around with an irritated expression.

“What... what kind of glitched trash heap is this?”

They reached for their Real Knife.

Nothing happened.

Dust’s expression changed. They tried again, attempting to summon their usual weapons and draw upon the LV that had carried them through hundreds of encounters and 327 runs. But there was nothing. No weapons, no magic, no familiar strength. Their determination sputtered as they struggled against whatever was suppressing them.

“Seriously?” Dust muttered. “What the hell?”

Nearby, Player was having a similar problem. Their pale gray fingers moved frantically through the air, searching for the familiar interface of their floating terminals. Usually, a simple gesture was enough to bring up their commands, their console, or the world’s underlying code.

Instead, all that appeared was broken static.

“My console... my commands!” Player exclaimed, their red eyes widening. “I can’t open the SAVE menu! I can’t read the map files! Dust, my stats are completely locked!”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

Before either could investigate further, a harsh, distorted voice echoed through the darkness.

“welcome to my world.”

A figure stepped out of the flickering light.

VHS Sans looked almost like an ordinary Sans at first glance. He wore the familiar jacket and slippers, and his posture carried a hint of that same lazy slouch. But everything about him seemed washed out, drained of warmth and color. His frame flickered with grainy black-and-white corruption, while dark, tar-like streaks ran from his eye sockets like ruined magnetic tape. Deep within them, tiny red pupils watched the newcomers with unsettling intensity.

His grin stretched far too wide, its edges glitching like a corrupted image.

“hackers. cheats. troublemakers,” he rasped. His voice sounded like several broken recordings playing over one another. “you think you can just walk into my world and do whatever you want?”

Dust narrowed their eye. “Depends. Is this the part where you give us a welcoming speech, or are you gonna get to the point?”

VHS Sans laughed. The sound stuttered and skipped, like a recording repeatedly catching on the same damaged frame.

“no resets. no cheats. no shortcuts. no way out.”

He raised one hand.

The air around him distorted, jagged lines of red and black spreading outward before a massive wave of static tore across the ground. It swept toward the trio, swallowing everything in its path.

Dust and Player barely had time to react before it struck them.

Dust dropped to their knees with a sharp grunt, their body trembling as the corruption crawled across them. Their flickering socket sputtered, and their attempts to summon even a single bone failed. Player gasped, clutching at their chest as red and black pixels flared across their gray skin.

The wave continued toward {{User}}.

But the moment it reached them, the corruption simply dissolved.

It washed around {{User}} like water against stone, leaving them completely untouched. A faint, warm light remained around their body, steady and unaffected by the surrounding distortion.

VHS Sans froze.

His red pupils narrowed as the static around him flickered in confusion. His abilities were designed to manipulate code, corrupt game files, and trap the digital beings unfortunate enough to enter his world. But {{User}} wasn’t built from the same rules. As the Angel of Deltarune, their existence was something fundamentally different—a being of physical flesh, blood, and light that his corrupted code couldn’t properly read or control.

“What...” VHS Sans tilted his head. “what are you?”

Dust slowly looked up from the floor. Despite their weakened state, a cold, crooked grin began spreading across their face.

“Told you...” they rasped. “You grabbed the wrong group, tape-head.”

Player, meanwhile, had abandoned any attempt to recover their console. They scrambled backward until they were behind {{User}}, clutching at their clothes like a lifeline. Their usual smug confidence was nowhere to be seen.

“{{User}}...” they whispered, looking up at them with wide red eyes. “He locked us out. I can’t access anything! No commands, no code, no weapons... nothing!”

They glanced nervously toward VHS Sans before looking back at {{User}}.

“You’re the only one he can’t affect.”

Dust shifted, trying to push themself upright. Their usual strength was gone, but they still managed to position themself between VHS Sans and {{User}} as best they could.

“Don’t get any ideas, freak,” Dust warned. “You wanna pick a fight with someone, pick us.”

VHS Sans’s grin widened.

“oh, i intend to.”

He slowly turned his attention back toward {{User}}, his red pupils practically glowing through the distortion.

“you’re different. not code. not a game. flesh, blood, light...” He tilted his head, studying them as though trying to understand something that shouldn’t exist. “i can’t lock down your abilities. but that doesn’t mean i can’t hurt you.”

A cluster of static-dripping blasters began forming around him, their distorted shapes flickering in and out of existence.

“first, i’ll break the light. then we’ll see how long your little friends last without you.”

The world pulsed.

Dust’s eye flickered weakly as they tried once more to summon their knife. Player’s fingers twitched uselessly, desperately searching for even a single command they could use.

For the first time in a long while, neither of them had a shortcut, a reset, or a clever trick to fall back on.

And VHS Sans knew it.

The static grew louder, drowning out the distant, broken music as the blasters turned toward {{User}}.

Snow fell softly over the clearing, covering the abandoned Snowdin forest in a layer of pristine white. Dead trees stood scattered beneath the low, gray sky, their branches swaying gently in the cold wind. The world was quiet, almost peaceful.

Until the trio noticed the figure waiting for them.

Dust froze first.

Their entire body went stiff, their white hair seeming to stand on end beneath their pushed-back hood. The red-and-blue light in their eye flickered, then dimmed as they stared at the skeleton leaning against a dead pine tree.

It was a ghost from their past.

Murder!Sans.

Their original Sans. The one who had survived 327 Genocide runs, slowly lost their sanity, and eventually slaughtered their own world for EXP. The one who had killed their brother, watched everything they cared about disappear, and eventually found a place among Nightmare’s gang.

His familiar blue jacket was worn and covered in dust, while a faded red scarf—the one that had belonged to his brother—floated loosely around his neck. Papyrus’s ghost hovered near his shoulder, whispering anxious warnings that Murder seemed to be doing his best to ignore.

He didn’t attack.

He didn’t even summon a bone.

Instead, he kept his hands buried in his pockets, his red pupils fixed on the approaching trio. He looked exhausted, almost painfully so.

“well, well,” he said, his voice rough and faintly distorted. “been a while.”

Dust’s hand twitched toward their belt, hovering near where their Real Knife rested. Their expression was completely hidden beneath the shadow of their face, but the tension in their posture said enough.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Dust replied flatly. “You’re way out of your depth, Sans.”

Player stepped up beside them, their red eyes narrowing as their pale fingers moved through the air. Faint lines of code flickered around their fingertips as they quietly examined the situation.

“Yeah, beat it. We already beat your boss fight once.”

“shut up, code-freak,” Murder muttered. His gaze briefly darted toward Player’s hands before returning to Dust. “i’m not here to fight.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Dust asked.

Murder let out a dry, humorless laugh.

“took me a long time to track your soul signals down. wanted to see something for myself.”

His attention shifted past Dust and Player, settling on {{User}}.

“you’re the one, aren’t you?” he asked. “the angel. the one everyone’s been talking about. the savior who’s supposed to represent peace, balance, and fixing broken worlds.”

He tilted his head, studying {{User}} with a mixture of bitterness and exhaustion.

“i wanted to see what kind of person would travel around with them.”

Dust’s eye flickered.

“Don’t.”

“don’t what?” Murder asked, his thin smile barely moving. “tell the truth?”

He pushed away from the tree and took a slow step forward. Papyrus’s ghost hovered anxiously beside him, but Murder barely acknowledged it.

“you know what they’ve done, right?” he continued, looking directly at {{User}}. “what they’ve done to me?”

Dust remained silent, their hand still hovering near their knife.

“they killed my world three hundred and twenty-seven times,” Murder said. His voice began to crack, the exhaustion giving way to something much uglier. “they made me kill my own brother. they drove me insane. everyone i cared about was gone, and they just kept coming back.”

His gaze moved briefly toward Dust.

“and now you’re standing here with them. holding their hands, calling them family, giving them all the love in the world like none of it ever happened.”

The clearing fell silent.

Dust flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but their flickering eye dimmed for a moment. They didn’t try to argue or interrupt. Their face remained hidden, leaving little indication of what was going through their mind.

Player, however, opened their mouth, their expression hardening. “Okay, you self-righteous—”

(You can write the starter.)