#fanvoidkeith

ann???? as in our ann???? sweet motherly lady that likes inappropriate humor??

Oooh, good question... For Rus, I can see him having some sort of very special, perhaps unusual keepsake. Like a small toy car or a multitool. I see him as smth of a collector, on a small scale, the type to like collecting every piece in a specific line of action figures, or seeking to have a pair of running shoes in ever major colour, but nothing too large scale.

And yet. I feel his favorite item would be something given to him. Something probably innocuous, given either by Sans or their dad most likely. He probably doesn't even remember its exact origins, it lives either on a shelf by his bed or in the drawer next to it and every once it a while he might slip it into his pocket, keep it with him for a little while before putting it back. I'll try to think of something specific specific...

As for Lace! It's a broken little walkman with stickers all over it. It hasn't worked in years but he keeps it with his Important Things because it was the first thing his brother gave to him once they were on their own. He only had a few cassettes they could scrounge up that actually worked, but listening to it helped him calm down or kept his curiosity in the surface alive.

It broke after a few years and he couldn't ever get it to work again, but he just can't bring himself to get rid of it. It means a lot to him...

And Edge, maybe a bit cliché, but his is his original red scarf. He and Red were homeless in New Home for a little while before they ultimately found their way to the Snowdin house, and while Edge never found out where Red got it, it was only their third or fourth night on their own when he came back to their shelter with sheet of red fabric. It was too small to be a proper blanket, but it was soft and warm, and become a comfort item for him.

(aka Void Keith!)

Void Keith (often represented by Max Voidseeker, my gremlinsona)

not quite a fanboy, but definitely a fanvoid (he/they pronouns/enby guy) 🏳️‍⚧️

tired hermit gremlin & void creature

artist/writer/ga(y)mer/reader

burned out ADULT enby guy with Undertale & Deltarune brainrot (special interests)

there is many 16+ subjects on my blog (gore, artistic nudity, suggestive humor, mental health/illness, curse/swear words, risque/possibly sexual topics, and other such things). these topics will come up. proceed at your own risk.

18+ people are fine here. just don't be a jerk.

[no fontcest/sanscest/papcest here, and don't ask me about it. it makes me feel uncomfortable.]

fandom lurker & generally quiet Thing Enjoyer (unless something really Gets To Me, then i might ramble about it!)

fan-void/fanboy of sans (and occasionally papyrus too) 🏳️‍🌈

maker of comics (OC comics, @gremlinmisadventures-thecomic, etc.)

keeper of the magic void mailbox 🌌📬🌠 (send me things in my inbox! play nice! ask me about my OCs!)

be nice if you wanna roleplay. or at least be.... decent? friends & mutuals may get exceptions that strangers may not (such as discussions of NSFW/NSFT topics- hi gonny. lol)

if you read this: thanks. i have links if you wanna see 'em, on my carrd (https://browniepokemon.carrd.co/)

reblogger of many posts - i Like All The Shiny Things, haha

i went on a pinterest meme & OC inspiration binge/rabbit hole this morning, lol

rp wisteria looks at aconite and is all HOW DARE YOU STEAL MY FACE WHILE BEING NOTHING LIKE ME! THAT'S SO CREEPY! STOP IT AT ONCE!! she and I by extension detest unnecessary violence with a passion. would try to befriend because everyone is a friend but there's an instinctual uncanny valley thing going on the creeps her tf out and inspires a little bit of dislike

aconite is severely disappointed in this too-soft and kinda stupid version of her. wdym that's what I am without all the murder and the tragedy. ew. the murder is necessary if it prevents me from being a weakling like that

however if you peel back their psyches like an orange the roots of their issues are the same and a lot of their character traits match. both surface-level social but unable to let anyone close on an intimate or emotional level because vulnerability scary. different, opposing ends of the same extreme. both depressed and insecure AF but hiding it behind some kind of mask; be it terrifying power that isolates and makes real feelings impossible to read or cheerful heart-on-sleeve chaos that constantly distracts anyone from looking too closely.

both have a taste for danger and risk. both thrive in chaos and are unable to stay still. both are desperately searching for home and belonging but find it nowhere; wist looking for home in other people because nothing ever fits, aconite building a home herself alone because she trusts no one else

they're both looking at each-other and are mutually dismayed by the flavor text given to them by the universe

it would be so sad, but so interesting

oooo here I'll write it now- you're right, it would be so interesting!

*I break into the prison where they hold my double. I know I shouldn't, but the curiosity is eating me alive, and I have to talk to her. I guess technically, she's the closest thing I have to a blood relative. that mysterious smile she gave me during the matches has been haunting me. what did it mean?*

*I walk up to the cell where they hold her, a magically reinforced glass box. silver, runic chains hand from her wrists, neck, and ankles. her neat turban is gone, her hair long and wild and overgrown with wisteria flowers the exact same as my own. her eyes are closed, as if she's resting, but she opens one curious eye to look at me; her face is covered in fine, glowing white cracks, as if whatever she did broke her to peices and she was put back together with iridescent glue.*

aconite: ah. my little copy. did you know, when I first learned of you, I wanted to kill you? I watched you for a long, long time, to see if you would be an obstacle.

*I recoil, but give an awkward laugh anyway*

uh. wow. well, I do get people trying to kill me a lot.

aconite: a trait we have in common, I see. no, I wanted to kill you because you are a threat, you know, however much you refuse to acknowledge that within yourself. I am you, from another life. I know how dangerous we can be, when we try.

*I shift uncomfortably, fidgeting*

I've sworn to never hurt anyone- I want to help people! I'm not you. I don't think my wounds should be inflicted on others. that is pain no one deserves. not even you, you realize?

*aconite idly plays with her chains, her eyes tracking my every movement like that of a huntress.*

aconite: you fancy yourself a weakling then? I've sensed your magic, those long months I spent stalking you. if you trained, you could be on my level. you have the strength- but not the will, it seems.

pain is not chosen, little me. it is dealt by the hand of fate. you choose what you do with it. it makes you grow, hardens your resolve; and it makes your enemies cower.

*I shake my head*

I was not raised that way, other me.

aconite: ah. so it was your toriel who shaped you to be so soft. and perhaps it was my onyx who broke me into this shape, this form, jagged and warped. it never fits anywhere, and it only cuts.

*i feel some sort of piteous understanding.*

I too am a shape that never fits. but mine only ever bleeds.

*she tilts her head curiously in the exact same way I do when I'm trying to figure something out. it's unnerving.*

aconite: so that is the face you show the world. you forgive endlessly. does the compassion you show others ever soothe you? I'd bet my soul it doesn't. it never heals. you and I, we never heal. we just keep bleeding.

we both seem to have a thing for masochism, little me. you run back to the people who hurt you, but away from revealing anything about your own soul. that mercy changes them. makes them kinder- but eats you alive.

the lies we tell, little me. you've gotten quite good at lying to yourself. one learns to recognize the like.

. . . . . . . . . I digress. perhaps I would have been kinder, if you had run to me.

*I bite my lip, looking her in the eyes*

why did you do all those things? everything- the death, the hurt, the madness you wrought?

aconite: because I could. because I wanted to. because I reveled in the chaos while it lasted, and I never stopped running. you understand. it's why you drive in the dark when it's raining. you don't look both ways when you cross the street.

you don't fear death, and neither do I, but we are both still cowards. what we fear, little me, is loss, and living. we just deal with it in different ways.

regardless of how we do it, souls like us never stop running.

*I'm silent for a long, long, time.*

for what it's worth, aconite, I forgive you. I believe you can walk a different path. maybe trying the softer way will be a new kind of adventure? we are thrill seekers. it'll be a new challenge.

you've lost everything. doesn't that make you brave, now? why not try?

*her eyes glitter, and despite how she wears my own face I can't read her at all.*

aconite: . . . . I think I was wrong, about you. I think I was wrong about a lot of things. but that changes nothing now.

*something complex and unknowable is in her eyes, as if she is measuring me to a standard, deciding, before she makes her choice. she turns away, the conversation clearly over. I look at her uncertainly. I feel sad for her, somehow.

her voice is calm, but holds a strange lilt, as if she's daring me to do something.

I've always liked dares.*

aconite: run along now. you have better places to be.

*what she really says to me, then, is that I have growing to do, in other, kinder places. that perhaps when I run as all of us are bid to, I should run forward, not away.*