Headcanons, Writing, and Fanart

[A transcription of a fic I found while looking through my old school notebooks]

Note: WHEN DID I STOP BEING THIS FUNNY? WHERE DID IT GO

Also I was 13 when I wrote this

--

Deciding to live in orphanages was the greatest scam of my life. Not only do I get free food and shelter, but I get to meet families! Basically, it’s the perfect cover for an immortal who looks like a little kid.

I mean, yeah, occasionally I’ll get a shitty orphanage or a shitty family, but I can always just skip town and find a better one, you know?

So I live in an orphanage right now, though I’m looking for a family to adopt me soon, because boooriing you know?

I’m minding my own business, as per usual, you know, just doodling in my sketchbook, when a couple of skeletons walk in. Now, I’m not so racist as to be startled by the presence of monsters, since they’ve been up on the surface for half a decade now, and anyway, I’m old enough to remember when humans and monsters last coexisted peacefully. No, the fact that they’re skeletons doesn’t surprise me a bit. Their identities are what startle me, and telling you why would ruin my air of mystery.

Welp, if they’re here to adopt, you better believe I’ll play every card I’ve got to get them to pick me.

It’s time… to be really fucking cute.

The two skeletons make a beeline for the front desk. The shorter one is wearing a blue scarf and armor, while the taller one is wearing an orange hoodie and sucking on a lollipop. (How does that work? Does he have a tongue?)

“MISTER OR MS. DESK HUMAN, I WOULD LIKE TO ADOPT A CHILD.” The small skeleton announces.

Eeeeexceelent. I flip to a blank page in my sketchbook in preparation for my plan.

“Oh! Um, would you like to meet some of the children, and see if any seem right for you?” The person at the desk asks politely. They seem slightly startled by the skeles, but not hostile. I always knew they were a good kid.

“THAT SOUNDS EXCELLENT,” agrees the tiny skeleton. Seriously, he almost seems shorter than me. Well, anyway, I walk up to the short one and tap him gently.

“YES, TINY HUMAN?” Holy shit, he’s adorable. I ‘shyly’ point at my sketchbook and then at him. The request hangs in the air for a moment before his face just lights up. I am definitely keeping him.

“YOU- YOU WANT TO DRAW ME, TINY HUMAN?”

omg. He looks so excited. I nod and make a small smile, before looking at him questioningly.

“OF COURSE YOU CAN, SMALL HUMAN! MWEH HEH HEH!”

Heh. Seems I’ve been upgraded from ‘tiny’ to ‘small’.

If I can get this drawing right, they’ll be a lot more inclined to adopt me. I’m totally going to draw him sitting on his brother’s head. Hehehe…

A few minutes later, (with the adorable skele watching over my shoulder the entire time, and, surprisingly, staying silent) I have finished my picture.

It depicts the small skeleton sitting on his brother’s head while his brother smokes, and as I write the caption, the skele gasps in horror. It reads: “You guys are smoking hot.” When he hears the gasp, the tall skeleton comes over to see what I’ve drawn. He chokes on his lollipop.

“tibia honest, i think me and my bro are a little old for ya, buddy.” I’m totally taking this as blanket permission for more puns. Speaking softly, I state,

“Was- was it at least…?” I trail off, amplifying the shyness. 

Then I grin almost as wide as him.

“Humerus?” He chokes on his lollipop again. The tiny skele makes a face.

“P- BROTHER! HOW HAVE YOU CORRUPTED THEM SO QUICKLY WITH YOUR TERRIBLE HUMOUR?” I giggle. These guys are just too damn cute. The tall skele gives me an appraising look.

“y’know, bro, how about we get to know this human a little better, maybe introduce ‘em to the others.” Yes! I mentally pump my fist. That means they’re seriously considering me! The small skele smiles, and holds out his hand. I take it and shake.

“MY NAME IS BLUEBERRY AND THIS IS MY BROTHER STRETCH,” he announces.

“My name is Sol,” I respond quietly.

“SOUL?”

“S-O-L. Like the sun,” I say, before continuing, “that’s why you should adopt me, actually,”

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND?” the berry looks confused. I snicker, and he tenses.

“WAIT, DON”T EX-”

“Because I’ll light up your life,” I interrupt.

Stretch chokes on his lolly again. I wonder how many times I can get him to do that…

--

The two skeles come by a few more times, and we discuss our various hobbies and interests, as well as the other skeletons who live with them.

Apparently, there are quite a few. 12, to be exact.

Boy am I one lucky fucker. I’d only predicted about 8. Today, they’re going to introduce me to two of them.

The door swings open to reveal Stretch as he lazily snuffs out a cigarette and chucks it into a trashcan.

One of the skeletons behind him does the same. He’s a skeleton, obviously. He’s a little taller than berry, with… distinctive cracks in his skull. One from his crown to his left eye, one from his right eye to his mouth. 

He’s wearing a snazzy black coat with white trim on the hood, and… Well, lets just say that I’m cursing the fact that I look like a ten year old and leave it at that. Because that is one sexy skele. The last one, (berry couldn’t make it today) might manage to look even cooler.

He looks a lot like Blueberry, physique wise, but the way he dresses is… well, it’s very anime.

He’s got a long coat on, purple with a black hood. Somehow, he’s managing to pull of basketball shorts with knee high boots, under it. He also has an absolutely wicked scar on his right eye. Sorry smoker skele, my life for you was fleeting and I’m going to dream about this man. Sweet jesus in scandalous socks, he’s hot.

Once I’m done ogling, I power walk over, grab my new crush, and present him to Stretch.

“Stretch,” I say. He makes an expression that implies that he is trying very hard not to laugh, and asks,

“what is it, kiddo?” The skele in my grasp wriggles slightly, as his mind attempts to make sense of the situation. (To make Sans of the situation? Lol)

Characters:

Ranboo as Frisk

Wilbur/Ghostbur as Chara

Dream as Flowey

Tubbo AND Eret as Toriel

George as Napstablook

Techno as Sans

Tommy as Papyrus

Jack as Gaster AND Dogamy

Niki as Dogaressa

Puffy as Grillby

Fundy as Monster Kid

Sam as Undyne

Bad as Alphys

Schlatt as Mad Dummy

Quackity as Mettaton

Philza as Asgore

DreamXD as Annoying Dog

Skeppy as amalgamate?

I AM SO TEMPTED TO MAKE JACK ALSO BE BURGERPANTS

Sam AND Tommy as Muffet

Philza and Asgore:

Dad energy

Dead kids

Extremely questionable responses to aforementioned dead kids

Depression

Dead kids who are not all the way dead and also don't like them much

Wilbur and Chara:

Fandom tends to either baby them or treat them as irredeemable

Mental illness

Fandom demonizes them when they show mental illness in destructive ways

Can be reasonably argued as a hero or a villain

Down with murder

Ghosts!

Not convinced they deserve redemption

Dream and Flowey:

Stinky

Start off pretty nice before totally going off the deep end

Don't understand why emotional attachment is important

No friends

Irrationally obsessed with one specific person

The villain but a lot of the fandom erases all the wrongs they've done in favor of blaming it on mind fuckery

Ranboo and Frisk:

Do they have a past? No one knows

Ranboo forgets things while Frisk makes other people forget

Main character energy

Voices in their head

Have the potential to be really good or really bad

Power of friendship

Straight up a child but no one around them notices or acknowledges it

Badboyhalo and Alphys:

Made terrible mistakes and then made the worse mistake of not telling anyone

Cinnamon roll

Everyone trusts them which is a Terrible Idea

JUST CONFESS ALREADY

Foot in mouth syndrome

Tommy and Papyrus:

Fandom assumes they're stupid

Loud

Tend to assume the best of people and get hurt because of it

Manipulated by "best friend"

Want to be popular

Stronger than they look

Power of friendship

Technoblade and Sans:

Depression

Jaded as hell

Firmly believe that absolute power corrupts absolutely while holding a not insubstantial amount of power themselves

Fourth wall breaks

Everyone loves them

Absolutely terrifying when riled

Care a lot but refuse to admit it

Defeatist attitude

Sam and Undyne:

Have the potential to fuck you up if they want

Armor

They honestly aren't that similar I just did it like this because I think Sam in Undyne's position would lead to some very interesting plot beats

Mentor

Tubbo and Toriel:

Kind but not naive

Looks like a cinnamon roll but will actually kill you

"The ends justify the means but only when I do it"

Have one person in particular who they want very dead

Led a country at one point

Quackity and Mettaton (MEXICAN DREAM):

Morally questionable

Want power

Naked

Hide their actual personality behind flamboyance and flair

Pretend to be more corrupt than they actually are but are still kinda corrupt

Care more than they let on

Schlatt and Mad Dummy:

It would be hilarious

George and Napstablook:

Somehow managed to sleep through the apocalypse

Fundy and Monster Kid:

It would be HILARIOUS

Captain Puffy and Grillby:

Mom friend

Jack and Gaster:

No one remembers they exist

DreamXD and Annoying Dog:

Duh

Jack & Niki and Dogamy & Dogaressa:

Yes I know I put Jack as Gaster but I swear I have an explanation

Why do we stand on opposite sides?

(You smile wide)

It’s because I hate you

And all your kind

(But your grip shakes on your knife)

You know, you aren’t the only one who smiles to hide the pain

You’re not the only one who tries and tries in vain

Why keep going, kid?

We both know you’ve nothing to gain

Part one here

--

“Why’d you shoot fire at him?” I ask, partially to fuck with her and partially out of genuine curiosity. He hadn’t been attacking me, after all, so it was odd that she’d intervene. What did he do to get her to set him on fire just for being near a human?

Toriel purses her lips, and I note that her hands are clenched tightly. Must’ve been bad, then.

“He hides a wicked nature behind a congenial facade. Please, my child, keep your trust out of his reach,”

Oh, she’s just as formal in person! That’s honestly kinda cool. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one I know who’s ever used ‘congenial’ in a sentence, but for her it just seems natural.

“I definitely have more questions about that, but first, can you not call me your child, please? We literally just met,” Seriously, it’s weird. I know she’s grieving, but spontaneously adopting every child that falls without their approval or consent is kinda messed up. 

If I manage to free the monsters, the first thing I’m doing on the surface is sticking them all in therapy. Seriously, these guys are worse than me, and I really don’t say that lightly.

Toriel’s face falls slightly, though she makes a valiant effort to hide it. (Seriously, what were you expecting me to say?)

“A-Ah, I suppose that is reasonable. May I ask your name, then?” Ok, people who are definitely reading this because I am 100% egotistical enough to assume y’all want to hear about my life. Listen up, because I’m going to say this as many times as the author wants me to. I know this is normally the part where I’d say ‘y/n’ but I want to make it clear that y/n is for reader inserts.

I am a self insert, which I know because no reader insert would ever have this much personality, those boring fucks. As a self insert, I am free to call myself Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and dye my hair black with purple streaks if I so desire.

(I don’t, I really don’t, My Immortal is a fun read if you want something to laugh at but no way in hell am I emulating that MC in any respect other than our shared enjoyment of MCR.)

ANYWAY, back to my conversation with goat mom! I’m not saying my real name because I’ve resolved that if I ever end up getting isekai’d I’ll go by my middle name, due to its general awesomeness. (My first name is also awesome, but it has a different vibe and aesthetics are everything in fantasy worlds)

“My name is Solena,” I say, responding after a reasonable pause in actual time and a weirdly long one in mental time. Now, my name looks like it would be pronounced ‘sol-een-a’ but it’s actually ‘sol-ain-uh’ which I’m stating because again, I’m fully confident that these thoughts are being written down somewhere by some enterprising author who is also very likely me from another timeline because no one else in existence is fully capable of conveying the Wonder that is Me.

“Thank you for telling me, Solena. My name is Toriel, and I will be your caretaker while you are in these ruins,” Toriel says, conveniently leaving out the fact that she’d prefer to keep me in these ruins forever, probably because I’ve already demonstrated some leeriness towards her.

Now, I could bring up Flowey again, seeing as her explanation for fireballing him was more than a little lackluster and I’m still pretending not to know this world inside and out, but I already know stuff about Flowey and there are things I’m significantly more curious about.

“Cool! Toriel, got it. Hey, if you live in a cave underground, how did you get such a nice dress? Do you have farms down here? Livestock? Do you harvest fibers from animal monsters?” 

Haha, you thought I’d ask more about the magic? Hell no! I’m way more curious about how society functions down here!

Toriel does a double take, her expression implying that she’s revising all of her expectations towards me. (Again)

“There are small plant farms in some areas of the underground. We have no livestock down here, as we were delivered to this cave system in a bit of a rush, but we do harvest some fibers from willing monsters, yes. How did you guess it?”

Let me tell you, the high I’m getting right now from those theories being correct? Very similar to what happened recently in the BNHA comic with Dabi’s true identity. I am living for this, just absolutely vibing with this new knowledge.

“Well, I don’t see how else you’d do it. How do you get the dyes?” Because I don’t see them having access to chemical dye, and it’s not like humans trash a lot of the stuff unless this is one of those illegal dumping spots, so what gives?

“Excellent question, Solena! There are professional tailors who transfer dye from clothes that fall from the surface! Many also simply wear clothes acquired from the trash, though mine are hand-crafted as befits-” She cuts herself off before she can let slip her (former?) royal status. I let it slide because I really don’t see a need to step on trauma landmines here.

“As befits someone who’s! Affluent! Anyway, we’ve entered the Ruins proper! There are many dangerous puzzles here, an old monster tradition, so I’ll need to focus more on guiding you!” Damn it, we’re at the first puzzle already? I completely missed the staircase room, which sucks because not only did I miss out on seeing one of my favorite rooms, I didn’t notice whether there was a save point!

Fuck!

I walk to the sign by the door. “Brave ones, foolish ones, both walk not the middle road. What’s that mean? I obviously get it in the proverbial sense, but it’s near this puzzle, so is it supposed to be a clue?” 

It straight up took me until my second playthrough to understand that sign, man. 

Toriel’s face just lights up. She looks absolutely delighted, and I remember that she’s always wanted to be a teacher.

“It is a misdirection! The sign tricks the reader into thinking about it metaphorically, when the answer is actually quite literal!” She demonstrates by stepping on all the buttons but the center two, before turning to smile at me.

“Oh, that’s genius! Because you’re supposed to ignore the tiles in the middle! It works as a puzzle while also having an easily remembered solution if you’re in a hurry!” It’s honestly my favorite puzzle in the game for that, even if you’re never given the opportunity to solve it yourself.

“That is exactly what I was thinking when I created it! It is wonderful to hear that the message came across to someone, even if my- my, ah, my friends had consistent difficulty with it!”

We continue chatting about puzzles as we walk into the next room.

Toriel explains the spike puzzle here and how you’re supposed to memorize the layout of the first room to safely traverse the spikes. She also explains that she locked the ‘incorrect’ spikes permanently in the ‘up’ position so that no one would get hurt, stating that puzzles should be fun, not dangerous.

Honestly, she’s giving way more exposition than she ever did in the game, probably because I’m a slut for knowledge. I only really half hear her explanation, though, because what comes next is going to be very important to knowing the kind of experience I’m going to have down here.

See, we haven’t gone down the hallway to the spike room yet, and I know full well there’s a Froggit waiting there to ambush me.

I have a few questions that this pseudo fight will hopefully answer.

One, are there options like there are in the game? Because if the battle system is the same, it could severely limit my choices when it comes to conflict resolution, especially if I have the same options as Frisk.

Two, do I have a narrator and is that narrator Chara? TwoA, do they have control over me in fights, as in some fics, or am I fully autonomous? TwoB, if they are here, are they evil or are they a person, because that’s also something the fandom intensely and frequently disagrees about. TwoC, can they hear my thoughts? I’m going with ‘probably not’ because I’ve made zero effort to exclude spoilers, but there's still a possibility and I need it confirmed. TwoD, can they hear thoughts deliberately directed at them? I hope so, it would be a huge pain to only be able to talk to them when no one’s around.

Three, are Froggits secretly cats because there’s a meme comic about that and I need it in my life.

I am sitting in my room, not doing much of anything, (as per usual) when I look up and notice that my mirror has apparently transformed into a solid wall of inky darkness as I’ve been spacing out.

And well- it’s not like I can not poke it, right? There’s a high chance I’ll seriously regret it, if my life has become the isekai it appears to be, but there’s a 100% chance I’ll regret it forever if I don’t touch it, you know?

Everyone always assumes I’m risk averse, that I like to play it safe, but the truth of the matter is I’ve just never found something I really want to take a risk with.

So, I push myself out of bed with a hand and go grab my shoes, because there’s no way in hell I’m touching something that might be a portal with no shoes on. Thankfully, I’m actually dressed for once, rather than being in my bathrobe like usual. 

Once I’ve got my shoes on, I grab my coat from where it hangs by my dresser and walk straight into what used to be my mirror. I hope my parents aren’t too worried by my disappearance. Maybe I’ll be lucky and this will be the kind of isekai that retroactively erases me from existence? That would be kind of nice, to exist without tethers.

The portal (because that’s what it is, I’m pretty sure) feels cool, but not unpleasantly so. Like when you first put on a fleece sweater and it takes a moment to warm up.

If this were a stereotypical isekai story, things would quickly become very unpleasant in this dark void, and some godlike being would reach out to grant me power beyond my wildest imaginings.

I’ve never been one to cave to expectations, though. Not even my own.

The darkness remains cool and comforting, and I continue walking forward because there’s no chance I’m going to turn back now, with so much possibility awaiting me if I only continue long enough.

Eventually, I feel as if I’ve passed some threshold, and something definably changes within me. Can’t say what, though. I’ve always kinda sucked at interpreting what my body is trying to tell me, so I’ll probably have to figure it out on my own.

At some point the darkness and walking grows boring, and so I do what I often do when bored, and curl up to go to sleep. This place isn’t cold enough for me to need a blanket, and I’ve got my coat with me anyway, so I’m fine. Sleeping on hard surfaces isn’t unpleasant, in my opinion, merely a bit annoying, since if you pick the wrong position you’ll inevitably wake up sore.

As always, consciousness takes a while to fade, so I occupy myself with grand imaginings about all the wonderful (and terrible, I’ve got anxiety okay, I can’t help it) things that might await me.

==

When I wake, it’s immediately obvious that something is different. There’s light now, for one, and for two I can feel something soft and organic beneath me. Judging by smell alone… Flowers? Waking up on a bed of flowers in a lit room… Well, I’ve always wished I could live in Undertale, if only so I could chew out the characters for bottling up their feelings so damn much. Hey, maybe if I’m lucky, that one headcanon I have about Sans secretly being a teenager will be right and I’ll be able to flirt with him without it being creepy.

Oh come on, like everyone attracted to dudes and not overly hung up about species concerns doesn’t want to kiss that guy, are you kidding me? Plus, I love puns and I’m depressed, surely we’ll get along.

Oh boy, I’m definitely going to die, huh? Thank fuck for my high pain tolerance and ridiculous resistance to trauma, am I right?

Finally, I open my eyes, because I like to wake up slow and I see no reason to alter my existing routine simply because I’ve apparently been yeeted into my favorite video game. Hey, speaking of favorite video games, will I get to visit Hollow Knight next? No, wait, that would probably suck, wouldn’t it. Ah, well.

The cave is just as beautiful as I always imagined it would be. Though it looked lovely in the game art, there’s truly nothing that can compare to seeing the sight in person, those marble pillars in a half circle around me, that single spot of sunlight in the ceiling far (far, far) above. Not to mention the lovely flowers I’m laying on at this very moment and- there’s a dead body under me, isn’t there. Is Chara going to show up, or am I left to be alone in my head?

Though their narration doesn’t actually start until you meet Flowey, in the game, so I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see.

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

Which human soul am I taking the place of right now? Because I read a fic once where the protagonist wasn’t the seventh, even if it was a fakeout, and I very much do not want to be saddled with the fate of those poor bastards.

Though, maybe I’d be able to talk my way out? There’s no one who’d call me diplomatic, for sure, but I’m pretty great at knowing exactly where to aim an insult to utterly break someone’s spirit. (Unusual skill, I’m aware, but in my defense I was bullied growing up)(I say “growing up” like I’m not still doing it, like I’m not fourteen and trapped in a world where it’s an accepted fact that the protagonist will die, and several times over, too)

My first order of business is Flowey, before I can take the time to freak out, to hold myself tight and weather the sheer panic that Toto, I am not in Kansas anymore.

I get up. I give a last fond look to the beautiful cave I’ve “fallen” into, and I walk to the next room, hoping all the while that I’m not signing my own death sentence.

Once I’m a few feet in, there he is, in all his fucking glory.

Flowey the flower, the soulless remnant of prince Asriel Dreemurr, former hope of the underground, possibly still holder of the ability to control time itself.

Yeah, I’m definitely going to mess with him. Self preservation is for losers.

“You’re a flower with a face,” I say before he can start with his usual greeting. I have it memorized anyway, so it’s not like I’m missing out on anything.

He makes his T-T face, so I know this isn’t how he thought this would go. 

“Wow, human! What gave you that impression?” Ooh, sassy. Literally his only positive trait.

“Well I have eyes, see,” I was planning  to ask him probing questions, but honestly this is just as good. His expression doesn’t change as he says his next sentence, nor does his ever cheery tone, (and holy fuck his voice is just as vaguely creepy as I’d imagined, all that childlike innocence paired with the fact that he’s a mass murderer)

“Well howdy, human with eyes! I’m Flowey, flowey the flower!” He says. I don’t interject.

“You’re clearly new to the underground, and it looks like I’m the only one around to show you how things work around here! Are you ready?” 

…

“I’m really not, to be honest. I’ve got no idea what’s going on,” So my plan here, basically, is to stall until Toriel gets here. Mostly because I’m hoping that if he doesn’t get the chance to do his betrayal, he’ll keep pretending to be nice, which will be hilarious since I’ll know he’s faking the whole time.

Admittedly, this significantly increases the likelihood that Toriel won’t come to save me when he inevitably finds a secluded place to murder me, but if I think too hard about the long term right now I’m going to scream, so.

“Well you see, human, you’ve fallen into the underground, a land inhabited by monsters! Don’t worry though, we’re quite nice,” Oh right, conversation. I wonder how much info I can get out of him…

“What’s a monster? Like, I know what it means on the surface, but that definition is pretty vague, and I don’t want to be accidentally racist,” 

His face pops back to the usual smile. (Side note: his face looks like it was drawn on with sharpie and it’s totally messing me up)

“A monster is a being made of magic!” Ok, that’s… a bit vague, but not really inaccurate. I guess he doesn’t want to get into the science, which is a damn shame, since he probably knows it backwards and forwards due to all his reset shenanigans.

“Woah, cool. Magic is real? How does it work without breaking thermodynamics?” Finally, the question I’ve always wanted to ask. If energy can’t be created, how the fuck does Toriel shoot fireballs from her hands? What is she drawing on, what is the fire burning, how hot is it, how does it keep being on fire, etc. etc. repeat for every magical display in the game.

“Well, a lot of it isn’t super understood. Scientists have mostly been pinning it on ‘dark energy’ like they do with every other phenomenon they don’t totally understand,” I wonder why he’s so willingly entertaining my time wasting antics. I know, in game, he didn’t realize he’d lost control over the timeline until after his first talk with Frisk, so maybe he’s just waiting it out to see where it goes? And then of course he must be planning other things to do with me before he takes my soul and goes to the surface…

“God, I hate dark energy in science. I know they just call it that because not much is known about it, but I’m thirsty for knowledge, you know?” Actually ‘thirsty for knowledge’ describes my mood like 90% of the time. Huh, actually, I have that in common with Flowey, right? Even if his knowledge thirst is just due to boredom.

“Hey, human, me too! Learning new things is great!” There’s a loaded sentence if i’ve ever heard one. When was the last time he learned something new? He’s supposedly read every book in the underground, but how much information from that did he actually retain?

“Isn’t it? It’s why I love Youtube so much. Free information for anyone who cares to make a few clicks!” Wait, he probably doesn’t know what Youtube is, actually.

“What’s Youtube?” He asks, cocking his head.

“It’s a service where you can upload videos or watch videos other people have uploaded,” Not the most nuanced explanation, but it’ll do for now. Before Flowey has a chance to respond, a fireball manifests next to him. 

I don’t smile because I’m pretending to be shocked, but I’m laughing my ass off on the inside. The face he makes is even more ridiculous in person.

This is a continuation of Don’t Forget Me (Please)

Also, the idea for this comes from this post.

Sans has always been determined. How could he be anything else, to be what he is and do what he does?

If he were anything else, even the smallest iota less secretly stubbornly willful, he would have broken long ago, would have shattered to pieces under the strain of the duty he places on himself.

From the outside, he doesn’t give off the impression that he’d do anything, go against time itself for those he loves. From the outside, he doesn’t give the impression that he cares at all.

In the end, though, his actions will always speak for the truth of him where his words refuse to.

--

A twelve year old Sans sits on the edge of a cliff, kicking his legs back and forth over the steep drop.

The forest continues, so far down below. He can see a small cottage, lit up by some unknown occupant within.

He wonders, silent, what would happen if he jumped. Would he land on a tree, the sharp points of the branches ripping his fragile body to pieces? Would he fall into the snow, his dust mixing with the snow until it became impossible to tell which is which?

What would the world look like, without him? He doesn’t have any parents to miss him if he were gone, doesn’t have any family really, aside from his brother.

And Papyrus would move on in the end, he knows. His brother has always been resilient, has always had something unbreaking at his core, for all his bluster.

What would the world look like without him?

He doesn’t really have any friends. He has associates, acquaintances, but no one in his life he lets close enough to call a friend. He doesn’t have any important contributions to the world, doesn’t have any great accomplishments.

He’s just some kid with low health and more magic than he knows what to do with, in the end.

If he jumped now, what difference would it even make, in the end?

...Well, there is one thing. Just one thing for the world that only Sans can and will provide. The encounter was months ago, now, but he can’t very well forget it.

Without Sans, there’s no one to tell Sienna’s mom that she’s dead, if monsters ever reach the surface. No one down here to remember that soul in a jar as a person with thoughts and feelings.

It’s small, but he promised her. He said he’d remember.

And it’s not like he really wants to kill himself, in the end. No matter the exhaustion and dissatisfaction he feels with his daily life, no matter that he can’t see any light at the end of the tunnel, there’s still a whole world, a whole wealth of knowledge and beauty and despite how tiring it is to exist, he wants to see it.

He wants to see tomorrow, not because he thinks it’ll be any brighter, but because he can’t experience everything the world has to offer today.

It’s this thought that’s still in his mind when the snow beneath him shifts, and he slides right off the edge of the cliff.

It’s the thought that damn it, he isn’t done yet that follows him down the side with the small avalanche.

It’s the complete and utter refusal to die here and now that he holds tight as the tip of a tree impales his ribcage, his body being prised apart by the force of gravity and the surprisingly effective wedge that is the branch beside his sternum.

His last thought as he turns to dust is that he refuses to let it end like this.

--

Sans comes to with a start, dropping back into awareness suddenly enough that he’d gasp, if he had lungs.

He almost falls off the bench, but he manages to grasp the back in time to stay on.

His head feels like it’s been stuffed with dynamite and blown to bits, and he struggles to remember the events that just transpired.

He’d been… talking with that human, right? Sienna? The one who was probably going to die?

...Something about that “probably” feels wrong. He presses a hand to his face, harshly digging his fingers into his skull, hoping the discomfort will clear his mind a bit.

He could swear he’d been in Snowdin a moment ago, but it made no sense. Sienna had only left an hour or so ago. And he knew he’d spent that time thinking, so why did he remember being in Snowdin too?

He presses a hand to his ribcage, just beside his sternum, without conscious thought.

The cloth is perfect and whole.

...Sans is perfect and whole.

The memories of the past three months come back in a rush, and this time he does fall off the bench.

Has he gone back in time? Is that even possible?

Without bothering to get off of the ground, he props a hand under his chin. What are the possibilities here? 

Because while suddenly finding himself back on the bench he hasn’t visited in three months and having difficulty remembering what’s happened since for a few moments is extremely odd, jumping straight to time travel is more than a bit of a logical leap.

First things first: He remembers being impaled and turning to dust, and if he accepts hallucination as a possibility here he’s going to drive himself insane.

...Which kind of does rule out anything other than time travel, actually. Huh.

Ok, so how far back is he? Is he back to just a few moments before his unfortunate tumble, or the whole three months?

Thankfully, this is easy enough to test. He just has to go to somewhere populous and see if there are any monsters around, since there was a lockdown while Sienna was underground.

He teleports to Snowdin, because if someone sees him there they won’t know him to think it’s anything but some reckless teenager.

Looking around, the only footprints in the snow are his own. The shop and inn are closed, doors locked, and he can see the bar is locked up as well.

He teleports back to the bench and considers his next move.

He’s three months in the past. Nothing in particular has happened, since Sienna’s romp through the underground, so it’s not like he has any disasters to prevent or anything. (Aside from that time he told a waiter to enjoy their meal, of course)

It’s odd, he supposes, being in this situation. He’s now in a position to undo all the blunders he’d made last time, but he’s not far enough back for there to really be anything he wants to change.

Actually, that raises another question. If he’s gone back once, can he do it again? He’s not going to kill himself to test, obviously. That would probably be a bad idea, but he remembers that desperate determined feeling he’d had as he fell, and wonders if he could replicate it.

He tries as hard as he can to summon every bit of will he possesses, focusing it all on the desire to go back, to start again.

To reset.

His determination rises to a crescendo, his magic howling, and the world goes dark for a moment…

And he’s once again sitting on the bench, thankfully sans the confusion, the second time around.

Woo! Science, baby!

What’s he going to do now? Obviously this is powerful, this ability to turn time itself to his whims, so what great deeds will he undertake, now that he apparently never needs to worry about failure again?

...Holy shit. 

Sans has thought of an amazing idea, one that will change the world as he knows it, irreversibly altering the status quo even more so than this revelation has already shattered it.

This is going to change everything.

Sans pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it to reveal a series of half finished math equations.

He walks to the river a few feet from where he’s sitting and yeets it in, because with this power…

Sans is never going to have to do homework ever again.

From my newest fic, Don’t Forget Me (Please)

Drew a scene from one of my more popular fics, The Third Worst Day.

A twelve year old Sans sat on a bench.

He wasn’t supposed to be there, of course. He was supposed to be in lockdown like everyone else, hiding from the human who’d apparently already proved that they had no qualms about killing monsters.

He personally thought that they probably wouldn’t be doing much killing if they weren’t being attacked on sight. It seemed really dumb to try to kill someone for their soul and then get mad when they fought back.

And whatever, right? He was safe anyway. No one ever found this bench, since it was in a weird place and kinda out of the way. A human wouldn’t find it because they’d be too busy trying to get to the castle faster so they could try to leave.

That was another thing Sans didn’t get. Why have the Royal Guard running around like headless chickens to try and capture a human when they’d have to pass through the palace to leave anyway?

Sure, the humans overall seemed pretty warlike, considering how many separate nations and stuff they had up on the surface, but that didn’t mean that any given member of the species was just some crazed murderer. Judging by the kind of trash that fell into the underground, they had to be pretty technologically advanced, especially since they didn’t have any trash to copy. They had to do it all themselves, so at least some of them must’ve been smart, right?

Sans took a whoopie cushion out of his pocket, inflated it, and blew it at the echo flower next to him so it would make fart noises forever.

That was another thing. Humans had invented whoopie cushions and most of the associated gags. That meant humans couldn’t be all bad, because bad people would never invent something as awesome as whoopie cushions.

Sans continued to idly contemplate humanity, fully believing that his conclusions would never be tested.

I just wasn’t ready for the responsibility.

Every time the plant repeats itself, their desire to rip it out by the roots and throw it to the rushing water that dominates the biome and watch it wash away, never to be seen again- every time it repeats itself, that desire grows a little more.

They want to rend and tear, to turn the whole world to dust and move on.

Instead, they tilt their head back, staring at the crystals in the ceiling with a calm expression that reflects none of what they feel inside.

They want so badly to kill, to hurt, to maim, but what would be the point?

They’ve tried that. They’ve done it dozens or hundreds of times, wandered through the underground with dust on their hands and a knife in their grip.

They’ve left death in their wake in quantities that would horrify the worst people imaginable.

It horrifies them, after all.

They’ve killed too many times to count, and it never leads anywhere. No matter how many lives they end, no matter how many families they rend to shreds, they always find themselves back on that damnable patch of golden flowers.

They’ve destroyed the world, and they didn’t even get a cool T-shirt. Just emptiness until the crushing sensory deprivation gets to them and they go back to the start.

Sometimes they spare a thought for the original owner of the body they inhabit. Chara remembers them with a clarity miraculously undulled by uncountable resets.

Frisk had been young. Older than Chara, but young nonetheless. They’d held a deep love for flirting at inappropriate moments, even as they’d wiped any trace of life from the kingdom.

That first run through, Chara had done almost nothing, up until the very end, at least. They’d sat and narrated as Frisk went through the underground like a hot knife through- well.

The second run through, Frisk had been gone, and they never came back.

“We’ll be together forever, won’t we?” They utter the words quietly, remembering the desperate hope they’d felt the first time they said them.