hai haiii tis is i... triglycercule: resident mtt freak ◕‿↼) you checked my blog youre ever so slightly interested in me,,, so read this first!!!
💙 - basics ✧*。٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و✧*。
i'm triglycercule, or whatever you wanna call me :9 i have no preference for names, use any pronouns, am a MINOR!!!! and agender + aroace ദ്ദി(๑>•̀๑) my boundaries are pretty simple: just dont be an ass!! no homophobia racism sexism etc etc
asks are ALWAYS open (and very welcome!) i try to answer them as fast as i can but sometimes i get distracted/forget,,, so sometimes i may answer late ᯣ_ᯣ pls dont send drawing requests, i dont do them as they stress me out, thank you
💜 - trio timeeeee ☆*:.。.o(≧▽≦)o.。.:*☆
as you can tell, i am a Normal fan of the murder time trio!! aka killer sans, dust sans, and horror sans!
my takes take place in my triglycerverse of sorts. mostly everyone is rewritten to fit my very specific tastes so this is VERY canon divergent (but still adjacent). analyses: killer dust horror epic sanses
YES i ship mttpoly AND the duoships (horrordust, kist, horrorkiller) YES i will make everything about these three and YES sometimes i might post about darker topics such as murder, abuse, gore, toxic dynamics, and other dark topics associated with mtt. please block me if you want to avoid those topics.
mttpoly are my otp!!! or in this case, ot3, which means i dont ship them with anybody else nor do i like other ships aside from mttpoly/the duoships involving them. i won't disrespect you/people but i might speak badly about ships that fall under my dislike criteria, so if you can't handle that, please feel free to block me 🙏 also i don't block often but if i see youre an unpleasant person imo/ship something i dont like you will be blocked yes this shipping stuff gets SERIOUS!!!
Why Do I "Hate" Killer Sans: My Answer
❤️ - my blog/creations ♡~٩( ˃▽˂ )۶~♡
- #tricule art if you scroll down too far youll see my art go through a live time regression
- #tricule write all of my fics are crossposted onto ao3
- #tricule analyze occasional mtt analyses?
- #tricule hc my headcanons!!
- #tricule rant for misc stuff (but some posts will be privated in due time if i feel it's cluttering up the blog)
- #tricule asks where you will be dumped into if you click that ask button😈
- #tricule rb my reblogs :3
- #triglycerpals MY AWESOME FUCKING MUTUALS ‼️
- ao3: micromacuole got a couple mtt fics on there :3
- tiktok: playlist of mtt tiktoks no longer updating (bc i deleted tiktok) but 2.5k-ish videos on there!!
- infobase: my mtt archive because i gotta find a way to remember these guys lore SOMEHOW
- songs: list of songs in cases of inspiration or other suches
- murder time trio week!! yearly on august 1-7 i host a week dedicated to mtt :3 tags for every year: #mttweek2025
- swapinverse: it's almost time (^ω~)
so ya thats me. nothing but a humble mtt enjoyer who is their ship kid and adores these three extremely...
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killer is some flavor of west asian, maybe arabian peninsula? murder is east asian. and horror could be southeast asian (indochina maybe) to me because i think he fits the environment there best. go free with your cropped tank tops, horror <3
ok so ive innovated and reycled this idea because its good for the mtt ecosystem in my head anyways. I THINK IT WOULD BE FUCKING HILARIOUS if stage 1 left horrordust to redeem himself with complementary crew... only to come back to them to try and redeem THEM like some sort of proselytizer. bro youre not getting them to be good people you yourself arent even fully recovered yet and you wont be for a long time... this redemption arc is not going to work if they dont want it 😭
BUT IT'S FUNNY THOUGH... and also leads to prime mttpoly moments. because i was struggling with a deficit in my brain on how stage 1 mttpoly could even work because in any case 1 would not want to be near them!! at all never ever nuh uh because... because that's what i was lead to believe in the past but FOOLISH FOOLISH ME! anything is possible as long as i'm mttpilled enough!! so yeah i can imagine such a scenario...
killer (after getting split stage'd) would go his own seperate ways. 1 would go off to be with color and delta and now this new guy joining them as well cross! they go off across the multiverse (because delta's really the only one pushing for it) (who are they to deny the guy everyone knows he's got his own survivor's guilt and such might as well be there for him during it) and help people with all of their qualms and complaints. killer with all of the determination that he has is FINALLY putting it to use for something GOOD instead of just hurting others again and he's reaally really happy for that
he learns how to re-feel and accepts his emotions instead of shoving them down now that he doesnt have to do bad stuff that would require that. the cynicism and disregard for others also probably fades seeing all of the good and actual impact he's making instead of it all being reset or repetitive (and especially without 3 there to antagonize and make fun of him for that LOL) and most importantly he has ACTUAL FRIENDS NOW who he also looks up to as role models! delta is so brave and focused towards doing good and color is a calming anchor during storms and epic seems to know how to deal with similar issues that killer has with experience and familiarity and with cross killer can challenge himself for both of them to improve!! granted every single one of these guys gives him shit for fucking. killing and torturing people at levels none of them are ever going to be familiar with. but hey killer kinda needs that reality check instead of denying any involvement in what happened in something new by deluding himself with a false belief of his 'sans'ness and who the original sans really was. so overall comcrew is just great for killer to improve and become a better person!!! isnt that great
although he probably hangs out most with color and cross. because 1) epic has a LIFE back at home in epictale so he can't hang with comcrew all the time 2) delta really can't seem to get over the grudge he has against both him AND cross he really should get that checked out delta's tried to kill both of them multiple times already. but its ok killer has been working on this wonderful thing called EMPATHY and FORGIVENESS that color's been preaching so he can forgive delta... somewhat. apparently killer had been dismissing other people's free will just to do what he thought was right even though it wasn't immediately violent (if you think i sound stupid saying this reminder that he thought resetting something new and killing himself would be the Best thing to do for without considering how that would impact everyone. although 1 has good intentions he doesn't have good execution and the absolute control that being the most determined gives him definitely still affects him just as it does with 2 and 3.) killer definitely beats his ass back in exchange tho. what just because he's stage 1 he's not gonna be typical violent killer? delta started it...
anyways although he thought he'd been hiding it well unfortuntely half of the rest of comcrew is continuation sanses so they've got sans undertale's perception and the other half is constantly guard and an ACTUAL guard. so killer's avoidance of A LOTTT of stuff from his past does not escape any of their watchful eyes LOL. dealing with the stuff from something new is fine for him though that's expected but comcrew can tell (especially because the episanses had SEEN killer with them before) that killer is avoiding the elephant in the room (Adress Me): horror and dust.....ooh his exesss ok they were never together but let me make that joke ok
anyways intervention time its finally time they discussed the elephant (Now Adressed). unfortunately for 1 he's being sent back to the shelter he was miserable in before... horrortale... and having to see THOSE guys again... he hasnt been dust and horror or even any of the other killers in forever because like i said he's got that typical killer sans avoidance and also the narrative was actually on his side that time instead of coincidentally making them meet. so yeah it's awkward but you know what! 1 is a different guy now! he's more confident and sure in who he is and what he wants and how he's gonna accomplish that #selfempowerment so he has nothing to worry about TRUST it'll all work out fine. in fact he may or may not have betted with cross that he could get dust and horror to have as much character development that he himself had. so like... his ego's also on the line here yk
ok well that poor little ego that he'd just started to let grow again MAYYY be getting trampled on by not 1 not 2 but 4 other versions of himself. because why is stage 2 here. why is THREE here. why is 2 so close to horror and dust (even though they don't seem to reciprocate his strangeness (1 let out an internal sigh of relief (WHAT he immediately takes it back after realizing that))) (for context. i think 2 would kinda just hover around hrdt and follow them because without 1 and 3 he's lost so he uses his limited brainpower to make horror and dust a replacement 'sans' and determination for the time being) (and in typical killer fashion he does not do this normally. how the fuck did this guy develop a fixation on licking them. why does he make himself act like a cat knowing damn well how to at least stand) and 3 is THREE. being himself and so... obnoxious and instigative and invasive. any progress that 1 could possibly make with hrdt would immediately be undone with 3's mere presence HE'S MAKING THIS SO HARD!! because of course 3 who has fucking death touch and destroys and sucks out the life of anything he finds interesting would do such a thing. and of course 2 is there only making things worse cus that stupid empty husk of a killer sides with 3 half the time or makes his own form of trouble. NOT TO MENTION...
dust and horror are PAINFULLY uncooperative with stage 1. i personally don't think either of them want to be 'saved', not one bit in the SLIGHTEST LMAOOO. both are too guilt ridden and have too much self blame to accept a true satisfactory ending for them so of course they'd be pissy during 1's attempts of having open conversations and creating safe spaces or whatever therapy bullshit slang he learned from color. at this point in the triglycerverse timeline i think that horrortale's core would've been repaired and functioning somewhat but there's still a lot of work to be done to restore the underground its pre-shut down state. BUT at the very least this does mean that dust and horror have simmered down somewhat (horror especially). dust's new 'goal' has been achieved and horror's progressing in making up his wrongs towards monsterkind. their promise has been fufilled!! but that doesn't get rid of the million other issues they have or just the incompatible personalities LOL
unfortunately for 1: this sucks balls. because he himself isn't really in a proper state to deal with this as well cus his redemption arc is still half baked LOL (do you really think a guy with as much dust on his hands as killer would be able to redeem himself with just a few months of philanthropy? he's gonna need to devote his whole life to make up for it smh) and with hrdt reminding him of all the things he hated and 2 and 3 dragging him straight back into the state he was in pre-comcrew (3 especially. you know how bad he must be for 1? 3 is literally 1's dark intrusive thoughts personified and made WORSE...). basically what im saying is stage 1 is going through anti character development just by being with horrordust and their freaky cats and oh no what's this he's just realized. he has also become one of those cats. erm
yeah just so i can torture 1 more and cus i think its funny he probably ends up falling in love with dust and horror and now hes like FUCKKKKKKKK NOOOO crumbles to his knees. 2 and 3 pat him on the back <- also have weird affections for those two (but not in the more conventional love way that 1 has (those guys have their own flavors of "love")
i think i've mastered it... the fabled stage 1 mttpoly... is real... THE ONE POLY IS REAL!!! also per my tastes there's potential for like a million humorous situations here with 1 being the bullied for all of them (but jokes on those guys he can just comcrew up and hrdt and 2 & 3 will get blasted off the face of the earth with how GOOD and HEALTHY (?) they are!!! is it time i finally think about my alcoholics inc group of dust horror fell geno and after... is it time for me to find a Proper explanation for them... hmmm
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In the last rant I mainly talked about how MTT relationship wouldn't work in canon
But I was originally meant to talk about how Dust & Horror have been basically out of character within the fandom, so I went a little of tracks lol
To at least continue off that I know like some of the creators have said they would get along with each other
Like in these post from Rah blog
Ask 1 Ask 2
Funnily enough in terms of what the ask-dust blog has said, Dust would kinda be mostly neutral to Horror, or would understand Horror, or Horror not liking Dust cuz he killed his brother
In terms of Killer, the dust blog has said this and this , which I find very interesting since in a way Dust would see Killer (in my opinion) a failure of himself or the chance that Dust would become like Killer which I see being why he would hate and despise killer, not enough to attack him but will stay an distance from him
I don't believe sourapples has made any comments about Horror reaction to Dust & Killer (tho correct me if I'm wrong)
While I tend to agree with a creator statements on their creation, it just seems to me that none of the creators really have knowledge on the canon of the other characters or use their own headcanons
While the Dust & Killer relationship makes sense in Dusttale-blog take
Dust & Horror wouldn't make much sense kinda, I agree with at first (Dust wouldn't really know who horror is and what's his deal) Dust would be neutral to Horror, but if Dust really ever found out what Horror did in his timeline
I don't think Dust would ever like Horror again (Same with Killer tho you can argue in Killer emotionless state, he wouldn't really care all too much)
I also want to go over the fact that well Nightmare exist, he wouldn't be keen on having the MTT having a good relationship
So even lets say Dust wanted to know more about Killer and tried to connect with him, Nightmare would just stop that and tell Dust what Killer has done just so Dust would hate Killer
Their also nightmare negative aura that will bring out the worst in Dust and Horror
Now going back to the original topic
Dust & Horror from what I've been in some comics/stories or many artworks have been "simplified"
Like basically fanon Horror can be described as Big brother character who acts like MTT proper dad figure
And Dust the edgy middle child who doesn't like to do much
Like at least with Dust, you got part of his character
But Horror is just a completely different character
Killer was also like "simplified" as well but it can excused with him not getting fully fleshed out before Rah came back
But with Dust and especially Horror, all the important stuff that makes then who they are, get left behind like their insanities and why the way they are
The opposite sometimes happens mainly with Dust just being simplified to Sans but he murders people which extends to other Aus and stuff despite Dust not liking/doing that in canon (can happen to Horror too but he is just reduced to basically being a big Chihuahua lol)
Horror in my opinion is the worst of this case since it seems you ignore all the evil stuff he's done, just to make him a good guy
Like ignore the fact that he destroyed the core, told all the monsters to eat humans to survive and feed papyrus human meat so that he would go crazy and eat humans as well
So basically Horror would responsible for not only the starvation of monsterkind but also the deaths of the MANY humans that fell into the underground
and what's worse is that, by joining the MTT, he would be leaving all of that and next thing you have him do is eating regular food and being comfortable....wow Horror would be the worse.
Anyway thats all I have to say lol
Thanks you for listening to my rant lol
No hate on anyone who makes the MTT fun loving guys and etc, I do genuinely enjoy seeing/reading those comics/artworks
I just wish we see more of their canonselves being protrayed or agst in the team
horrordust to close off the deadend mtt poly... for now :)
At midnight, the harbor smells like diesel, salt, and dead fish.
Murder must have walked past hundreds of boats and ships by now. Big oil and cargo ships are parked next to smaller, cruder fishing boats, like a hodgepodge of cars anyone would find at a festival parking lot.
Murder doesn't look at anyone's eyes when they stop and blink at him, sticking out like a sore thumb, what with him fully-clothed and too sluggish to walk upright. He's not nervous per se; it's just his first time seeing Horror's workplace. His eyes -- dull white -- peek under his hood, darting around to catch a familiar sight of cracked bones.
Eventually, he spots it: Horror, crouching besides a bollard with thick ropes at his feet. Murder stops a couple feet away on the boardwalk, looking down at the pier where Horror is. The other skeleton sports a tank top, bit torn at the arm holes. His jacket is tied around his waist, smudged with oil and grease. He looks focused, with a frown between his eyes that Murder dares call cute. Horror wouldn't like that though.
And, the one-eyed monster stirs a little at the new presence he cannot see just yet, but his expression twists into one of annoyance. He throws the rope on the ground, grumbling.
"What? I told you. I don't know where Marc kept the fucking tool box. Just--" He turns halfway and meets Murder's eye with his singular de-powered one. His rant cuts off. "... What the hell are you doing here?"
Murder shrugs, hands in his pockets still. "Can't I visit?" he asks, voice muffled behind his mask. Horror cleans his hands with a filthy rag before tossing it aside, still frowning at Murder.
"You've never done it before," he says.
"I'm doing it now," Murder mutters, suddenly feeling out of step. Maybe he's doing wrong, coming here without saying anything. Maybe he's made a mistake.
... As if he'd never done it before. Ha.
A voice sounds behind Horror. "One-Eyed, who's this?" An arm slings over Horror, but the skeleton just scowls and slaps it away. The stranger, probably Horror's coworker, laughs and whistles at Murder. "Well, shit. That your beau? You have someone cook and bring breakfast for you, Rory? Kiss you goodbye at the dock like a wife with sailor at sea?"
"Shut your bitchass mouth before I knock all your teeth off," Horror grounds out, but barely any true malice behind the words, just pure annoyance.
The other fisherman just keeps going anyway. "Color me surprised, I guess. Didn't think anyone would tolerate your ugly ass long enough for a relationship. But hey, one man's trash, another man's treasure." He looks up at Murder with a crooked grin. "Sorry you got stuck with this guy, man."
Murder shifts, mostly from the cold. His hand adjusts his mask. "It's fine," he replies, almost mechanically. "I have shit taste, I know."
The fisherman laughs again. "He's such a miserable little shit, yeah. How did you two get together anyway?"
Horror turns fully towards his coworker, a storm taking over his face. "Go the fuck back to work."
"Can't. Busy talking to your mysterious boyfriend."
Horror picks up an anchor. A real metal anchor that scrapes loudly on the wooden boards.
The other guy takes one look at it and immediately backs off, hands in a placating gesture.
"Okay, okay. I'm backing off. Chill, man."
Horror only lets out a gruff, "Leave."
"I'm leaving."
"Don't bother me."
"You're such a charming guy."
"Die at sea."
The coworker laughs all the way down the dock. Murder watches his back, then turns his attention back to a still-fuming Horror.
He distinctly remembers what Killer told him before dropping him off here. You guys should hang out more, the tar-streaked skeleton crowed. You look really cute together, you know? And so, Murder is here, staring down at Horror and not knowing what he should do except existing in the same space as this specimen of a Sans. So confrontational. So antisocial. So unlikable. Murder could see how others eye Horror here. And in a sense, he could relate to that acute sense of alienation -- he's not exactly the best person around either.
Still, he feels the need to give unsolicited advice. Not like Horror can't tell him to fuck off.
"You should be nicer," he says.
Horror scoffs, "Fuck off." Yup, he was right on the money.
"Just saying. People will like you more."
"I don't want people to like me."
"... I want people to like you."
Horror sends him a look, the same one that carries so much silent derisive judgment. Murder resists the urge to duck his head, feeling stupid again, even though he knows he shouldn't. Still, being with a person like Horror -- being with someone who is so socially challenging -- sends his nerves all jittery. He wants to be with Horror. He does. But Horror is always making it hard to be seen with him. Always so brash and brutish and ill-mannered--
What kind of person thinks of his partner like that.
Murder winces to himself, not turning his head at the disembodied voice. Somewhere, far away yet too close at the same time, he can hear the droning of his incompetent therapist, listing out what's wrong with him specifically, as if no one also has these floating thoughts about others.
At least, unlike some people, he does go to therapy.
He doesn't say anything though, just idly watching Horror do his work. The skeletal fisherman scowls at something, muttering to himself before jumping into his boat, ropes slung over his shoulder.
"--the fuck..." is all Murder could make out amidst the mumbling. The wind disperses the rest in the night.
"What is it?" Murder asks, just to fill in the silence. Horror just frowns deeper.
"Nothing."
Murder stays quiet afterwards, shuffling his feet as Horror goes back to his task once more. Awkwardly, he steps closer to the ledge and leans against the bollard.
"... You heading out all night?" he asks, lamely. He knows the answer anyway, but feels the need to talk.
"What do you think fishing boats do?" Horror grumbles.
Murder tilts his head. "Fish?"
"There. You're learning."
What an asshole. And yet, Murder cannot stop thinking fondly about it. There's something refreshing about such a disarmingly, unashamedly boorish Sans. They don't allow themselves to be such across universes much, but still Murder wants to cling onto some remnants of his old self.
Why though. You hate Sans.
"Do you usually take so much time preparing?" he asks another question.
"Yeah. Because I don't want to get stranded at sea. Shit's creepy."
"Is it?" Murder looks up at the horizon. "Looks peaceful to me."
"From here, maybe," Horror scoffs, finagling with some metal hooks. "Out there, the mistress' a bitch."
"Careful," a gruff voice chimes in, startling Murder. Fuck, are they all creepy silent in the dark like that? "Don't talk about her like that. Bad luck."
Horror snorts. "I can talk about it as much as I want."
Murder hesitates. "It sounds like a dangerous job," he settles.
"Eh, guess so," Horror mumbles. "Not any worse than back home. Least, the fuckers there weren't as superstitious as these ones."
Horror's old coworker smacks his arm. "It's called having sense, you stupid hotshot. Ain't any of us surviving without precaution!"
Horror rolls his eye, shooting Murder a look that perfectly conveys the message of 'Do you see what I have to deal with?'. Murder just grins back, nodding an amused yes.
Satisfied, Horror continues his work, snarking intermittently at his coworker. And Murder continues to watch, letting the conversation turn into soothing white noise in the background. He shifts his position, leaning backwards slightly so his legs would feel less cramped.
His sneaker steps on something slick.
His foot slips.
The world spins, going terrifyingly dark for a moment. Then--
Splash! Cold, dirty water envelops him. Murder tries very hard to activate his eyelights when water rushes directly into his skull. He floats to the surface, violently coughing out the disgusting water.
Above him, Horror was already shouting.
"--der! Murder!"
"I'm fine!" he shouts back, a bit hoarse. Stars, he hopes he doesn't get some rare viruses from this awful water.
Horror is halfway over the boat rail, throwing down some ladder. "Grab it!" he yells.
Murder flaps his arms to turn around and see the ladder. Good. It's only a few feet away; he can definitely reach it.
He moves a little closer, just as Horror asks loudly, "How the fuck did you fall? Be careful next time, fucking hell. You gave me a fright."
"Stop fretting," Murder mutters back, his fingers grabbing onto the net on the boat's surface. "Was just tired..."
"Ugh, sorry for worrying, I guess." Murder can hear Horror roll his eye. "But seriously, next time, look where you stand, dumbass."
Murder huffs. The cold water has shocked him out of his sleepiness somewhat. He's able to get one foot on the ladder, hoisting his hips out of the dark water at last. He tries to lift his other leg, only to find something snagging at the cuff of his pants.
He blinks. Tries to yank his leg again, to no avail.
"Stop dawdling and climb up here already!" Horror yells.
"I'm trying!" Murder yells back, a bit irritated. "But my leg is stuck on something! Anchor or some shit."
"Anc-- What? We didn't have any dead weight, right?"
"Uh, no?" comes another strange voice from above. "We shouldn't have any anchor--"
Something pulls Murder's leg, hard enough that he slips off the ladder and his head disappears entirely under the surface. Cold water rushes back into his skull. The harbor and night sky explode into bubbles and mushy dark shapes.
He kicks his leg out instinctively, trying to dislodge whatever is grabbing his ankle. The grip only tightens, much to his panic.
what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck is grabbing me
His magic lights up pitifully, snuffed out instantly by the magic suppressor right in his SOUL. He can't form any attack. He can't do any offensive magic. He can't kill whatever thing is killing him. This cannot be.
He tries to use blue magic on himself. Tries to shoot himself back up above the water surface and takes an unnecessary gasp of air. Horror's shouts sound broken mixed with those from others, clamoring at his flailing form in the water.
"Something--" he gasps out eventually. "Something-- Something's grabbing me--"
Hands reach for his raised ones. Some fishermen -- sailors too, he thinks amidst the panic -- hold him tightly above surface as something bubbles near his legs. Just what the fuck is going on?
There's a splash of water. More yells. And then, his leg feels lighter, and he's pulled out of the water. Blankets immediately cover his head and back. He grips onto them, shaking, still hearing the frantic beats of his SOUL, still hearing the rush of water in his skull.
He sits there, in the boat, and only jerks his head when a shadow falls over him. Startled, he looks up, only to see Horror, drenched, a bloodied harpoon in his hand, looking decidedly pissed.
"... You okay?" the one-eyed monster asks, voice uncharacteristically quiet.
Murder nods, mutely.
"You sure?"
Another nod.
Silence. The crew around them runs around, their footsteps and voices loud enough to drown Murder's own hallucinations. For now.
"Oi, Fay," Horror calls out eventually, still staring dead at Murder. "Tell the old piss-drinker I'm not working today. He can bitch at the gulls about it."
"What--" A voice echoes somewhere, presumably Fay's. "You serious, Rory?"
"Yeah." Horror pulls Murder's arm up, the blanket still over his shoulders. "I'm taking my boyfriend home. Tell the decrepit fuck to fix the lights on the ship too. Tell him to stick his money up his stingy ass."
And then, everything goes by in a flash to Murder. He's on the boardwalk. Then, he's in the truck. Horror starts the engine. The harbor disappears from Murder's periphery.
They're quiet. The roads are relatively empty, save for a few other trucks running overnight.
Horror turns the radio. Some horror story podcast is playing. Ironic.
Eventually, Horror says, "Stop coming to my work next time." Bland. Matter-of-fact.
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So, I like Horror Sans, and being a nerd, I've been thinking about him a lot during my recovery with brain damage. A lot of people treat his wounds like brain damage, giving him memory problems, chronic headaches/migraines, speaking difficulties, fugue states, just issues collecting his thoughts. All understandable and reasonable symptoms, but there's something about just what truly horrific, completely life altering, brain damage to such an extent can do to a person that hasn't been explored very much. Yes, he doesn’t technically have a brain, but considering someone with head trauma like him would be in a comatose like start for weeks to a month, we can choke up him taking that hit like he did and being able to walk and talk to that. Plus, we can take inspiration from real injury and science and have wiggle room for it to not be 100% accurate. Anyway-
This is Phineas Gage.
It is one of the earliest extreme cases of brain damage where the patient survived while psychology as a scientific practice was getting on it's feet. If you've taken a psychology class, you've heard of him. He was a railroad worker foreman who had a rod blown through his skull in an accident, destroy most of his frontal lobe.
If you don’t know what the frontal lobe is it's where your ability to reason and make decisions, the ability to control your muscles voluntarily, and your ability to process knew information and recall old information. It's well known for being the part of your brain that inputs logic, the part gives you the ability to remember what happened last time you picked a fight with someone, so instead you choose to walk away despite how much your want to punch them for being a prick.
As I stated before, this man was a foreman, well known for keeping a level head, being responsible, and hard working. After the injury, that completely changed. Everyone agreed he was barely recognizable as himself. He was impulsive, prone to extreme mood swings, impatient, making massive plans only to almost immediately abandon them, and generally seemed to have no control over his desires or ability to distinguish between a want or a need.
Now, let's look at Horror.
I'd say it's safe to say his frontal lobe but also part of his parietal lobe would be utterly fucked. Your parietal lobe controls your ability to process sensory information (mostly touch) and to understand not only where you and your body is, but to process the world around you. You see a massive enough tent, some clowns running around, the right music, and your parietal lobe is what does the work to label that as a circus.
To have these two structures damaged, or the closest equivalent in a monster, would radically alter Sans' personality, his ability to move, his understanding of the context around him, and connect with others.
He'd become rather self centered on his own desires and beliefs, struggling to even have the patients let alone the want to give other people the time of day. His actions would be impulsive, made on his emotions in the present moment and with little concerns other than the immediate consequences. He'd be prone to loud outbursts, not just rage, but any other emotions like sadness or glee with little ability to realize how he's acting may be overblown or inappropriate. Not only could his ability to put his thoughts into words be a struggle, but his ability to say those words could be affected as well. He'd be very present focused, with pass relations or responsibility mattering little as he keeps marching to the beat of his own drum.
That is, if he could march. He'd not only struggle to know where his limbs are or what he's touching, but his sense of balance would be awful. He'd likely have a constant wobble, having to go slowly and potentially hold onto or lean on things if he wanted to move quickly. God forbid how much he'd bump into furniture or trip and struggle actually grab onto something to catch himself. It's entirely possible he'd have difficulty reading and writing or confusing his left and right regularly. He'd need more time to process a situation and could very easily misidentify what's actually going on could likely lead to him acting even more unpredictable as the world around him is so much more dangerous and he's struggling to fully understand what everyone is doing and trying to keep two steps ahead of everyone around him.
But here's the thing. The brain is also incredibly adaptable in ways your wouldn't believe. Phineas Gage slowly recovered over time. He died twelve years after the incident from epilepsy but over time he slowly regaining his social skills and general functionality. He picked up a job as a stage coach four years after the indecent even. He was never quite the same person he was before, but he wasn't doomed to be what he first was after the indecent.
Imagine what this kind of thing could mean for Sans. Not only would the betrayal cut deep enough and the world falling apart put him through trauma that would shred the soul, but people he trust literally damaged his ability to think logically and control his impulses. Of course he's going to lash out, focus on doing anything he can to survive with little respect for what anyone else thinks. Even forcing his brother to do things and refusing to listen to him unless given no other option. All while he thinks the biggest problems after the indecent is how much his head hurts, how his memory is shot, that it's harder or even down right painful to think, and how he's struggling to cling to his independence while never having the patience or resources to give himself the ability to heal. He doesn't even realize how much he's changed. If you point it out Sans would likely get defensive and aggressive, or brush it off as everyone underground being awful people out to eat each other alive.
But then he gets out to the surface. He gets stable food, a safe place to live. His brother is recovering and as the years pass his mind can finally start pulling itself together and healing, finally. Sans begins to regain his ability to think critically on his own actions and others, his emotional outburst and vindictive behavior start to wind down and fade. He's able to think and start sifting through all the shit he remembers.
The guilt of what he did, the people he hurt for no reason other than pettiness. The stupid decisions he made that hurt himself and/or Papyrus in the long run. All the hindsight he has now. Imagine how much he would bury those memories and thoughts. Justifying everything he could and insisting he had reasons, or that it's just how it was and that everyone was as awful and cruel he was. Or just accepting that what Undyne had done to him and the famine after had ruined him, broken and rotted all the good he had and left him vile and malicious. That he'll never have a chance to truly be who he was before.
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i'm going to explode these gays omg they've been on my brains like crazy these days
Killer's used to to tasks, sure. Back when he was new and stupid enough to think that he was too important to be replaced. Back when every day was a set of tasks given to him by the hand that fed. Stand on this corner, they said. Carry this bag. Kill everyone approaching him. Don't ask question.
Now he's older, more obsolete in the grand scheme of things, riding a battered moped with a cracked speedometer and an insulated food box strapped in the back. His helmet is full-faced, protecting him from the glaring sun and distrustful eyes of anyone recognizing his much recognizable face. The tasks are different, but somehow the same. Pick up orders. Deliver them. Take photos. Move on to the next. He has no clear boss, but the apps he works for are bossy enough, bombarding his notifications with nearby clients and competitive bonuses and time-sensitive orders that need picking up before others swoop in.
The pay is horrible, but at least he's getting paid now.
Sometimes, he wishes he still worked for his old, much more malignant bosses.
It's raining today, something weather forecast didn't predict. It means more people staying inside and ordering takeout from the comfort of their houses or cubicles, so that's a good thing. The bad thing is that this might affect his date he arranged with Murder afterwards.
He stops at a small parking space in the tree's shade, a small congregation site for all delivery guys his kind to rest from the tepid rain. Some are lying across their old mopeds, taking a short nap from their work. Some are having their late soggy lunches, chatting among themselves like brothers in the same rickety boat.
Killer's phone buzzes not five minutes into his spaced-out break. A new order from a nearby noodle shop. Task received.
By eight thirty in the evening, his shoulders start to ache. He's been working nonstop for 30 hours after all. The app keeps offering tiny bonuses that he can't quite seem to reach, maybe because he's too slow to ensure delivery in the desired time frame. Maybe he should upgrade his moped into something nicer. More efficient. He wonders if he's accrued enough money for that yet.
He'll check once he's done his latest run of delivery. Delivering for 48 hours straight is a fun achievement. Another badge to earn for him, given by himself.
The next order sends him to a familiar industrial district at the edge of the city. Two bowls of pork rice, with extra chili oil. Nice.
He parks outside the front door to an office lot address. In the background, the factories glow in a row of orange heat, smog billowing like breaths from a slumbering dragon hoarding its gold. Like it's sleeping, eternally so.
"Order for... Ivaan?" He knocks on the door where a security guard sits behind. The door buzzes, and he's let in. Ha. These places will be so easy to infiltrate.
A clean-shaven, neat-looking office worker greets him and accepts the order. 10% tip. Not much, but better than nothing. Killer wishes them a good night shift, as per habit, then walks outside. He rides to where he knows Murder is working at, and waits, looking at inane cat videos to pass the time. Notifications from myriads of apps keep coming, but he barely pays them any mind.
Eventually, amidst the crowd, he spots Murder, who looks exhausted as always, even with his face mask on. The dark circles under his eyes are even deeper today, and his clothes look ruffled. He looks like he has only slept for four hours instead of eight, which tracks for his awful 6-to-9 work.
Killer leans against his moped, quickly checking himself in the rearview mirror -- good, he looks presentable especially with his mysterious helmet on -- before honking the horn. Murder turns his head immediately, sockets scrunching up in a smile-grimace.
"Hey there, handsome," Killer grins, waving his head. "You waiting for someone?"
Murder might have let out a huff, but Killer can't be sure. The hooded man walks towards him though, which is a glowing endorsement of his charisma. Killer leans back, smile stretching wider on his obscured face.
"Date stood you up?" he asked, tone cheeky. "Man, who would treat such a treat like you like that? Wanna take a ride... on my bike?"
Murder's sockets curve upwards, just a tiny bit, as if smiling. Killer grins wider.
"Is that a yes? Lucky for you, I have a spare helmet here." He takes off a helmet hanging from a small hook in the front and tosses it to Murder, who catches it with blue magic with ease. Angels inside, he loves his men who knows what to do with their insane command of magic. "Get on, handsome. Let me show you a good time."
Murder snorts as he puts the helmet on, this one without a visor. Killer quickly gets on the moped, and soon after Murder follows. The latter's arms wraps around Killer's waist and his cheek rests on Killer's back as the rider starts the engine. Aw, bunny is real tired today then.
"You wanna be my partner-in-crime today, bun?" Killer asks as he rides out of the parking lot. Night wind breezes past him, and Murder squeezes his arms tighter.
"Mm, sure..." the quiet skeleton murmurs, easily accepting the phone Killer gives him. The white light illuminates his cute face perfectly, but Killer has to focus on the road now.
The city blurs around them in traffic lights and neon signs and too-bright streetlamps and glaring LED headlights from fellow road travelers. Order after order, they pass by restaurants and hotel lobbies and tall apartments. Killer handles the driving and delivering, and Murder just sits behind him and murmurs the directions in a sleepy voice. Occasionally, Killer beams at a spot they see on the way: a cafe he notices just opened, a local game arcade, a spa too expensive for them to even use the parking lot at. New things, wonderful things that keep this city from being too stale for Killer's taste. There's always something to explore here, somewhere he'd like to bring Murder and/or Horror to experience with him.
"Turn right in three hundred meters," Murder says to him as they wait in a traffic jam. Killer laughs behind his visor.
"Which one, babe? There are like a dozen of alleys on the right here."
"The one in three hundred meters," Murder deadpans, then sighs. "Never mind. When you're near, I'll tell you."
"You're the best, bunny."
Murder pauses a little. "... This is kinda romantic," he says, pressing closer against Killer's back. "Guess nothing's more romantic than delivering overpriced lukewarm burritos together on a weekend."
"I don't know," Killer hums, kicking his pedal to start moving once more once the red light turns green. "We're spending quality time together, right?"
"We're working."
"Intimate knowledge of my day, even better."
Murder snorts, but doesn't contradict him. Killer takes that as another win.
At the apartment of their destination, they stop in the front yard as the customer told them to wait there and is taking forever to get down. Killer gets down from the moped while Murder still sits in the back seat, raising an eye ridge when Killer lifts his visor up.
"Nice place here, don't you think?" Killer grins, bonking the top of his helmet against Murder's. "Quiet. Clean. Lots of trees here. One day, I'll get us an apartment here."
"Really?" Murder smiles drowsily against his teeth. "With what money?"
"Mine. Or, well, ours." Killer chuckles. "I'm hard-working. We can get it in, well, maybe ten years or so, if we're saving just right."
"Mm..."
They stay close like that, under the single warm streetlamp casting elongated shadows on the parking lot lines. Their mouths almost brush each other, but they don't close the distance. They never do. Or, more like, Killer never does. He's seen Horror and Murder kiss many times. It's cute, yeah, but not something he feels like doing. For some reason, it feels too real for what he's playing with these two -- a simulacrum of a real relationship.
He's not like them. He has to remind himself that.
When the customer comes down, they profusely apologize while accepting the bag from Killer's nimble hands. Their gaze shifts from Killer to Murder, a hesitant polite smile on their face.
"Uh, sorry to ask but... Are you guys together?" they say. "You're very cute."
"Yep," Killer beams. "That's my boo right there. We're having a date but, you know, no rest for the wicked."
"Oh... Sounds-- Uhm..." The customer shuffles their feet, then reaches inside their pocket. "I have twenty dollars here. You guys should... take a break."
"Aww! Thanks a lot!" Killer smiles, accepting the cash. "Don't forget to leave a good review!"
"Thank you," Murder mutters to the customer, more reticent than his partner. The customer just blinks and smiles at them both.
"It's nothing. Have a good night, you two."
"We will!" Killer shouts as the person goes back to their apartment, then he turns to Murder, whistling. "Twenty dollar tip. We're rich."
Murder snorts, humoring him. "Enough for a yacht, I see."
"And a car. And trip to Bangkok. And a sauna day. And--"
And they keep working, until around one thirty in the morning when there's no more regular orders in the area. Killer stops at a convenience store near the river. One cashier mans the booth, looking bored as they flip through magazines. Killer and Murder pick out some cup noodles (with sausages because they have money today), microwave dumplings, and two cans of coffee. Feeling a bit fancy today, Killer grabs a pack of peach-shaped popsicles he's seen on social media lately, prompting Murder to eye him strangely.
They take the seat by the window, looking out from the front of the store. Murder starts slurping on his noodles while Killer slowly sips on the canned coffee.
"That one tastes like battery acid," Murder grumbles, his own can opened but abandoned on the side.
"All coffee tastes like that, I think," Killer chortles through the sips. "Besides, it's not the taste but the caffeine that makes me like it."
"It's because you have no taste."
Killer hums, a noncommittal noise. The river looks dark, decorated only by the shimmers of lights on its shiny surface. The scene is nothing spectacular, especially with trash bags littering the riverbed, but it's something to look at. Far away, he can hear the echoing horn of a cargo ship. It's time for Horror to go to work, he muses. They have such contradicting schedules, it's hard to organize some meetup between all three of them.
For a while, comfortable silence blankets over both him and Murder. Then, the quiet monster breaks it.
"What are you thinking?"
"Nothing," Killer hums. "Just, you know, work."
"... You ever miss the old one?"
Pause. Killer taps on the can, a habit he's learned from Horror of all people.
"Sometimes," he replies after a while. "I miss not having to pay rent."
"Fair."
"I miss having more people around."
"Mm," Murder makes a sound in his throat. "You have us."
A grin, artificial as ever. "I do."
"... I like you."
The answer comes easy. Practiced. "I like you too."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
A rustle. Murder throws the empty cup noodle in the trash can with terrifying accuracy. Such good talent wasted on working a bone-crushing assembly line job.
"Cool," Murder mutters, not looking at him. Killer can see the side of his skull turning a slight blushing purple.
"Cool," he echoes, grinning. His SOUL is deathly still. "You wanna go home now?"
Murder does.
Killer waves him outside, checking his phone. Almost two thirty, so they've spent around an hour on break. It's not optimal, but having some time with Murder is worth the dip in productivity, if only a little.
The engine sputters to life. Murder rests against his back again as he rides off into the night. He wouldn't mind if Murder fell asleep right here. The wind must be cozy.