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The concept of dating Geno only for him to go missing, and return as a complete and utter stranger lookalike is interesting to me.
Especially because I like to think that Geno disappearing causes issues in that universe's code, like he was never there to begin with. So you wake up one day, feeling as though something or someone is missing, photos on your phone look emptier than usual. Photographs on your wall have missing gaps, and a home that once felt comforting and warm now feels..... lonely, and distant.
Something was wrong and missing in your life and you just couldn't wrap your head around how and why.
And then one day while your on a walk perhaps, a skeleton appears in your world, causing destruction. You so happen to be on the scene of the incident and his eyes land on you, squinting at you. Before you know it you're kidnapped into a blank white void.
Just a wee little ramble... I would like to draw more of this perhaps.
was listening to the song by Weezer and it lwk reminds me of toby for some reason, so here we are
"Baby, please? Can we talk?" Toby stood outside your door, pleading with you to let him in. He'd been out there for the past twenty minutes and wouldn't leave, no matter how many times you told him to. You'd even had to pause the show you were watching because of his antics.
"Go away, Rogers," you called from your bed, resolute in your decision to keep him out of your room.
Ouch. Using his last name? That was cold. "Please, I didn't- didn't mean it." A dull thump interrupted his speech as he spasmed, hitting himself in the shoulder and causing him to stutter slightly. Normally, you would check up on him when he got that particular tic.
Not this time though.
You didn't budge. "Just go away. You know what you did." At this point you just wanted to go back to watching your show. It was his own fault he was out there, anyway.
Toby didn't give up though, seemingly determined to get you to give in. "Baby—stop it—I promise I didn't mean it. You know I wouldn't hurt you on purpose. Can you please– please give me another chance?"
You scoffed, "Oh, so you're gonna play it that way? Why don't you just be honest and tell me what it is she has that I don't? I thought I was supposed to be your favorite."
"You are! You're always my favorite, angel," he insisted, desperate for you to believe him.
"Liar. That's not what you said last night."
"I was drunk! I wasn't think– thinking straight. She's nothing compared to you, I swear." His head jerked as he spoke, neck cracking loudly in the otherwise silent hallway.
"Sure, Rogers. Just go away."
"You're not being fair."
"I'm being completely fair," you rebutted.
"Go back to your favorite if you care that much."
He went silent.
A few moments passed and still no answer came. You raised a brow, studying the wooden door. Did he actually leave? It would be surprising if he had. As the silence continued, you shrugged, moving to unpause your show.
Then something banged against your door. Hard. The sound nearly echoed.
"…Toby?" You asked cautiously.
He didn't reply. Weird. Toby always answered when it was him. Was it someone else outside your door then? Slowly, you got up, pushing your blankets aside. Making your way over to the door, you cracked it open carefully.
Though that didn't really matter. The door was flung open the second it opened, and Toby came falling through, latching himself onto you.
"Mmph, Toby!" You stumbled back, caught off guard by the sudden weight.
Toby nuzzled into your neck, arms wrapped tightly around you. "Finally using my real name, Angel?"
You huffed in supposed annoyance, but you didn't pull away. "…Shut it."
After a while you spoke up again. "What even was that?"
"Was what?"
"That banging sound."
"Oh. Hit the door with—stop it—my elbow." Toby didn't seem at all concerned by that fact, too busy with practically smothering you. He began walking you backward until the two of you collapsed on top of your bed.
He lay on top of you, unmoving. Even when you tried squirming out from under him, he just squeezed you tighter, preventing you from moving.
"You're heavy and you suck," you complained.
"I love you too." He didn't verbally acknowledge what you said, but he shifted so that less of his weight was pressing you into the mattress. "Forgive me?"
You sighed, giving up. "Fine…but Toby?"
"Hm?" He looked up at you, chin resting on your chest.
"If you say your hatchet is prettier than me again, you're sleeping on the couch for a week."
He grinned, smiling with that stupid boyish charm. "Roger that."
"God, you're so dumb."
You laughed anyway.
a/n: I also just wanna say that I don't have tourette's, nor do I know anyone who does, so it's possible it's not entirely accurate. I did look up several articles about it—as well as looking up what people who have it have said online about their experiences—to try to make it as realistic as possible, but intent and execution aren't always the same thing. So if there's anything wrong with it, please let me know 🙏 I don't wanna accidentally misrepresent or offend </3
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you need to make more self-indulgent art btw. hyper-specific self-indulgent niche shit that appeals to You Specifically and maybe nobody else will get it or even like it but that's the point.
@teenyagent I’m not sure if this will ever happen, but what if Sans!MC sorta acted as a physical barrier to everybody in case MC was uncomfortable? (After he wakes up obviously)
Also I know MC’s San’s isn’t the jealous type but it’d be so funny if he did this:
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