tin soldier

Somehow, you and Chara have come to understand each other.

You can't pretend that you share their destructive nature and obsession with knives, but their love of chocolate tells you that there's still an innocent child inside; just a deeply troubled child plagued with the ghosts of scars, seeking their own happiness. So you try to look for the best in their character.

To your surprise, you find that you have more in common than you thought. You have similar fashion choices (you own an entire collection of colorful striped shirts) and share a love of chocolate. On the rare days when Chara returns to their old destructive personality, you make a trip to the worn-down shop on the street corner and buy twelve different kinds of chocolate, which you have discovered can appease them.

But, as Chara is quick to point out, their personality is not all flowers and rainbows. They still mock you for believing in the cheesy things like the power of friendship and they claim you act so nice it makes them sick. Sometimes, they still whisper cruel things in your head about knives and blood, about killing everyone you love.

You have learned to ignore them.

Besides, you can tell that your time befriending everyone and gaining love instead of LOVE has softened them. They are no longer completely bent on world destruction and instead have become content to stay in your head, making snarky comments about everyone and everything you encounter: from Papyrus's disgusting love of spaghetti to Sans's horrible, cringe-worthy jokes to the utter incompetency of all the idiots you call "friends."

You have developed some sort of love-hate relationship with Chara, but you try to love them like you love everyone else, Toriel and Sans and Papyrus and the others. This can be hard sometimes. They definitely do not want to be loved, least of all by you, but you try not to let this bother you. After all, you've always been filled with a special kind of determination.

You tell Chara frequently that they are one of your best friends. If you could hug them, you would try. They scoff and mutter that love is empty and worthless, but their complaints sound a little less scathing than usual. You smile.

You always were too nice for your own good.

pacifist frisk is so nice it hurts