You wake on a bed of golden flowers. Looking around makes you spot a familiar door.

"Bloody hell." - you mutter dejectedly.

You realize you're in a fanfic. There is no end to the groaning.

Marching into the next room, you see a flower. Oho.

"Howdy! I'm Flowey the-" - the yellow nuisance chirrups sweetly. So sweetly, in fact, owners of sugar companies around the world probably collectively shivered in fear, as a mere recording of this voice could probably be used as a substitute.

"Okay, shut up," – you say, startling the weed with the malice in your voice – "To lay it flat: you get in my way, and I'm going to cut you up into so many pieces your own mother won't recognize you when I'm done".

The flower gulps.

"Not that she can anyway, hmm?" – you smirk knowingly, and the weed burrows under the ground, uttering apologies to someone whose name you fail to catch.

"So, these puzzles are traps, yeah?" - you ask Toriel. She nods, pleased with your curiosity, for some reason.

"...and I assume they're traps for all those humans that fall down?" - Oooh. She's less pleased now.

"So, the monsters' entire human-catching plan from centuries ago depended on some switches and couple floor tiles, with instructions on how to clear them plastered all over the place?" – She pointedly ignores the question. Same goes with other logical fallacies you try to bring up.

Phone get. It's a nice gift.

So antique, it's gotta be worth a pretty penny now.

You arrive at Toriel's home. She tries to put you to sleep, which you're glad to accept – being kind of knackered - but you soon find out the bed's too small. Well, shame. At least the pie is still there.

The pie is no longer there. Yes, you take the whole thing. Why the heck wouldn't you?

"Soooooo, as nice as this is, I think I'm going to go home now." – You say, fully knowing what's coming.

"My child, what do you mean? THIS is your home now!" – She looks at you, with a happy, but beginning-to-get-worried look.

"Alright, now, listen," – you say, pinching the bridge of your nose – "The last thirty minutes may have been some great freakin' bonding time, I won't dispute that" – moving closer to the door now – "But you're total nuts if you think anyone would just up and accept that they're family after that. Utter bonkers!" – You make wild gestures with your hands, moving ever so closer to the door, but trying do to so not so fast she guesses your intentions.

It doesn't work. Also, note to self: If you ever become an American Football coach, consider goats. Their tackle is pretty ferocious AND they run pretty fast.

Well, getting burned to death would suck. In a moment of desparation, you remember the pie you took and lob it straight at Toriel's unassuming face.

Her bewildered expression is priceless, but you have no time to investigate it closely, as you take advantage of the moment to escape.

Aw crap, should've taken some spare clothing. Snowdin is cold. It feels like you're down in a deep cavern, or something crazy like that.

You wave at the hidden camera. It doesn't wave back. Rude bugger. Won't ever have another chance to do so, either; hard to when destroyed.

Sans looks like a midget. He doesn't seem to appreciate being asked how skeletons can get fat. Damn, wrong first impressions. Claiming the whoopee cushion was juvenile probably didn't help any, either.

You laugh a bit too hard at the next bone pun he makes.

He notices.

...You probably won't die. Hopefully.

Your ears celebrate the departure of Papyrus. You look worried around the cave, thinking his blast-like voice might be a hazard to the overall structure of the entire complex.

Sans mistakes your worried expression.

"aw, don't worry, kiddo. my brother wouldn't hurt a fly-bula!" – he chuckles, grin a bit forced, shooting you what he probably meant as a reassuring look.

You stare and inform him that you're not a fly. He finds this hilarious. Score!

You were never a dog person. You're not going to be a dog person, ever, now. Axes being swung at you kind of ruin that.

You run through Snowdin Town hoping to evade Papyrus. His puzzles are cute, and all, and your ears have certainly gotten used to the nuclear blasts leaving his face, but you decide that avoiding sparring sounds like a good idea in general, what with stray Sanses on the lookout.

The mist's getting thicker as you try to l - aaaaaaaaaaaawww craaaaap.

Snowdin Town gets a lot more lively that day, watching a veritable hide-and-seek game starring Papyrus.

Yes, just him. It's this one-sided because you spend the entire day at his house.

Afterall, he's "not gonna go home until he catches the human". So be it. You leave when he goes back to patrol the forest.

You spot Sans at his Waterfall sentry spot. You try to pass as nonchalantly as possible.

As you step into the Waterfall itself, and suddenly get reminded of a certain rambunctious fish lurking nearby, ready to violently relieve you from the need to breathe.

You, as nonchalantly as possible, sprint at full speed back to Snowdin, past the sentry station. It's time to reconsider the strategy.

The River Person denies you entry on the boat.

Hmm.

"Say," – you ask the ice-chucking wolf – "where do these, ah, beauties go, exactly?"

He stares at you as if you were a complete idiot. You realize that, yes, indeed! You are! Hooray. Good blending in, there, bucko. Not knowing the thing every single person from around here does. Genius.

Oh well. Roll with it. You stare expectantly. He sighs, as he takes a break from his work.

"Core. Cools it down, or whatever. Dunno the details, I just get paid." – he says, resting against one of the cubes.

"Aha. And could you, say, ride one there and then safely get off at some point, perhaps?" – you ask, hope lighting your eyes.

Laughter is your response.

This is a bad idea.

This was a bad idea.

You notice the River Person whilst balancing precariously on your icy lump.

You jump on top of his boat and throw him off. He doesn't see it coming at all.

As you float away, you make a few rude gestures with your hands. His eyes widen, for some reason.

You step out near Hotland, feeling the change in temperature. You make a few steps and get a face full of fish.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the punk-a-roo!" – Undyne greets you. You say your last prayers. But then, the incredible happens.

"You know, riding that ice cube was pretty cool!" – the pun is accidental, you're sure – "And dangerous. And, I'm not even going to bother with you. You're going to get yourself killed at some point pulling stunts like that anyway, so... why bother?" She leaves.

Ah.

This must be three universes to the left from the one you know, then. The convenience of this quickly resolved plot point, thanks to which the need to write a fight with Undyne was avoided fills you with... I dunno. Probably not determination, though.

Alphys exists. She seems a bit upset with you breaking her cameras.

You leave before Mettaton bursts through the wall.

Not like there's anyone stopping you.

You can't avoid the cooking show. Or can you?

After you're introduced, you start loudly listing off the most foul swears you can recall, in various configurations. On air. Mettaton looks at you dejectedly, before the camera crew pulls the plug.

It's a good thing monster broadcasts are PG-13.

You don't have the money to buy the Spider Donut. You also didn't have the presence of mind to get one at the ruins.

Fire it is, then.

Thankfully, there's a lot of it around Hotland.

You throw all the fake bombs into the lava. Except the dog. You're not over the trauma quite yet, but that just seems mean.

"Darling, we have our editors looking at your lips, ready to bleep out any profanity that might interrupt this wonderful occasion~!" – Mettaton looks at you with utmost glee, standing in the middle of the CORE entrance. He thinks he has you cornered.

You smirk. Swearing follows, and increased intensity from before.

Mettaton's grin slips. Turns out, it's hard to host a show when the other person is being bleeped… constantly.

Judgment Hall. Sans looks kind of conflicted.

"well, kiddo. you haven't earned any LOVE, it looks like, but it seems you've not earned any love, either… "

Utterly predictable. You interrupt.

"Hey, Sans, this is a pretty cool room you've got here. Where is this light filtering through, exactly, anyway?"

His eye twitches. The exact logistics of an eye socket twitching escape you. You're about to ask about that, when…

"it doesn't matter. listen, pal, you've not killed anyone here, but at the same time, I'm not sure I shouldn't just take your soul." – He says, threateningly - "you've made no friends… helped no one… I've never seen my bro so dejected… Undyne is apparently going out-of-character just by looking at you… Muffet barely evacuated... Mettaton got his show pulled off the air and it was the ONLY one on air " – he sighs – "you've somehow found a way to screw everything up, while technically doing ab-soul-tely nothing I could judge you for".

Your mask of indifference towards everything finally slips.

"Make friends? You're kidding, right?" – you bristle – "Look, bonehead, I'm not sure which school for making friends you go to, but it's kinda hard when everyone is trying to murder you!"

"aw, kiddo, if ya just tried a little bit more, I'm sure…" – Sans begins,

"No. Shut up! I don't care that wiggling your left toe at some random monster might do something!" – you shout - "Let's imagine the situation is reversed. One of you monsters, say... your dear brother, starts the fight by sparing me. I decide "oop, nope, gonna fight anyway". Where would that put me, huh?

Sweat beads form on his skull. Somehow.

"I'd be labelled the worst scum on earth, wouldn't I? Razing this place to the ground wouldn't be entirely just, but certainly more than just turning the other cheek like you expect me to!"

"so you think total genocide is the answer?"

"Justice, you numbskull! You know. Responding appropriately to the situation at hand, not setting out to do something in particular right out of the gate." – you reason - "And you! You're supposed to be a judge! Those are meant to look at all of the evidence at hand, not just the end result! Extraneous circumstances! Ring a bell?"

Sans starts looking unsure. You think you're getting through, when…

A dog appears. What?

It looks displeased.

"Hey, my world, my morals!" – it barks.

And then, you disappear.

Damn dogs.