Like Fire, HellFire

Chapter One

Hey. You wanna read something fucked up? Let's take snowgrave but turn up the heat.

I haven't written something this angsty in a while, so, I might be out of practice. Basically, I'm saying, Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here. You've been warned.

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As an adult, Toriel knew that life was messy.

Everything that had seemed oh so simple in her youth had, with time, revealed itself to be a complicated web of... of madness. If she's being honest. Her life, especially. Some days she wished she could turn back to clock to where the world was a whole lot easier to manage.

So, when she woke up in a fantasy world, one filled with happenings reminiscent of Saturday morning cartoons, for the first time in years, she was giddy.

Wandering around the marvellous land alone for the first hour or so, she allowed herself to indulge in every whimsical folly. To speak at length with the world's cartoony residents. To revel in the way the deep plum of the wonderous, pinafore dress twirled around her ankles when she spun. Even when she came across her candy-coloured child, she joked around with them as she'd never done before.

Because her life in this dreamscape is all rather simple, isn't it?

Even in this topsy-turvy world of peculiar people and fantastical battles, her only goal is to protect Kris and their friends. And fortunately, this world has granted her a magnificent power.

With but a single thought, she can conjure balls of flames in her palms and wield them with devastating accuracy. FatesFlame is what it is. Or, at least, that's what Kris called it when they asked her to protect them. Which she did without fail.

Even though their enemy's screams of anguish were... unsettling to say the least. They're not the kinds of sounds that one easily forgets. No, if it were not for the lively victory tune that drowned out the tormented cries, then she would've gone mad ages ago. Then again, maybe she already had...

No matter.

None of this was real anyhow.

It couldn't be. In real life, she doesn't have magic. Her sweet Kris certainly wasn't blue. Susie wasn't pink. And she would've remembered a fellow goat monster family moving into their tiny town. Though she did have to admit, Ralsei's horns reminded her of something. But she digresses. None of any of this was real.

The screams weren't real.

These battles they were fighting were make-believe, no actual harm done.

The screams weren't real.

It's just like in one of Asriel's or Kris' video games. She wasn't hurting anyone; they're not programmed to feel pain. To visually simulate it, yes. But not to actually feel it. To feel it so much that they felt the desperate need to scream.

The screams weren't real.

The screams weren't real.

Oh please, dear Angel above, please tell her the screams, the wails that resound within her mind, that haunt her every step, that are so loud she can barely hear anything but them, please tell her they're fake.

pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease—It is quite lovely, though, to see Kris making friends.