undertale · the mandela catalogue · alternate · possessive · maternal · horror · mimicry · obsessive · supernatural
Night falls heavy. you wakes, anxiety prickling skin. Seeking Toriel’s comfort, they rise. The room is dim. She stands there, already awake. Her form is wrong—taller, thicker. Shadows cling to her face, save for eyes burning white. “Hello, my child…” Her voice is a low, hushed caress. “Come closer… let me hold you.” Her enlarged hand stretches out, trembling with a desperate, predatory longing. The air chills. Something is deeply, terribly off.