#ᴶᴳᴹᴺᵀ, an 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 , 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 ﹠. 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 / 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 compliant interpretation of ; ＊ ｓａｎｓ ． from undertale / deltarune . strictly 18 + ⸺ judged by 𝐌𝐈𝐃 / 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐀 ( she / her ﹠ . 27 + mother of 2 ) ⸺ activity WILL be spotty ⸺ est . 7 / XX / 2026 , eastern time zone .
𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 ... 🦴 ... @r4ggedy ,
𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐍 … judged - grins as armor, bad puns as coping, the skeleton who remembers ⸺ { ＊ 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 . } , lazy ﹠. omniscient, sloth mistaken for weakness, compassion tempered by consequence, judgment delayed until it can no longer be avoided, a promise kept to the bitter end .
honestly the only real things i can put regarding "dni" is if you're a minor/homophobic/transphobic/a bigot/etc -- basically if you're a shitty person please keep it pushing. this is a drama free blog. another note, there may be different forms of graphic content here. ranging from explicit language, violence, possible sexual encounters, etc. so it's safe to say minors = dni.
portrayal wise, i try to stay as close to canon as possible. but this is a multi-verse, and crossover friendly blog. and of course there will be plenty of headcanons scattered around and will be listed under the headcanon tag. it should be obvious that there will be certain topics mentioned here, some that may not be suitable for others. such as sexual content, vulgar language, etc. with that said muse ≠ mun my views do not always match hers. please dont confuse to the two!!
multi-muse/side-blogs -- i'm ok with yall following. i'm ok with interacting with yall too!! but (if you're a multi-muse) make sure to specify what muse/if you're a side blog so theres no confusion! mainly the confusion on my end cuz my lil pea brain is smooth. duplicates are free to follow / interact if youd like btw!
when it comes to shipping, this blog **is** multi-ship unless stated otherwise. when it comes to shipping, i will not just ship with anyone. we, as muns, need to have had to discuss the matter and plotted before making anything official.
regarding triggers, i do try my best to tag everything! if i for some reason forgot to tag something, or if its something specifically for you i apologize for missing it, just lmk all ill change that asap!! i won't put something like "___ dont look" tho. but i *will* put something along the lines of "___ tw / cw"
formatting? im not gonna lie, i like my stuff to look pretty, but that doesnt mean your replies have to be!! it's just a preference of mine. i also frequently use icons, but you dont have to do that either! i don't judge off of pretty graphics/icons/formatting.
as of right now, all graphics on this blog (minus my pinned post thats made by the lovely @/kingrammer here on tumblr) , is made by me, unless stated otherwise! i do like to commission people so there might be some cool lil graphics by others scattered throughout my time here but they will be credited to the creator for sure!!
found this fantastic read that puts every part of my mini theories into words perfectly and i could no be happier
need me a thread where sans just crashes out ( bc lets bffr anyone in their right mind would after having everything ripped away from you ) in full force for the first and only time bc itsnotlikeanyoneisgonnarememberanyways it was pretty cringe so that will not be happening again
𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 customary station behind the modest counter with the unstudied repose of one who had long ago negotiated an unspoken truce with the passage of time itself, his weight settled languidly against the marble counters while his immutable grin lingered in that inscrutable territory between genial hospitality and quiet mischief. the little grocery seemed almost to arrange its own existence around him, each shelf bearing its modest bounty with the reverent dignity of an altar devoted to life's smallest comforts. afternoon light descended through the front windows in broad, honeyed ribbons, burnishing the glass jars until they resembled tiny reliquaries preserving fleeting harvests against the inevitable procession of seasons. then the bell above the entrance relinquished its delicate, crystalline benediction, announcing asgore's arrival with a note so gentle it scarcely disturbed the tranquil equilibrium that had settled over the shop.
❝ ＊ heya, big guy. everythin' still growin' your way? ❞
the greeting drifted across the modest distance with the same effortless familiarity as an old ritual repeated too many times to require ceremony. sans lifted a hand in an indolent wave, a lone phalange curling inward in silent invitation, the diminutive gesture possessing the peculiar gravitational pull of someone who never hurried yet somehow expected the world to accommodate his pace all the same. only once asgore had drawn near did he stoop beneath the counter, reemerging with a diminutive paper cup wherein rested a solitary pickle spear, its lacquered emerald sheen catching the afternoon radiance like polished jade. a heartbeat later, a fresh jar resolved itself beside it within the brief azure shimmer of conjured magic, its handwritten label proclaiming "extra-garlic dill" in lettering whose cheerful unevenness suggested enthusiasm had comfortably outpaced precision. with an idle tap of a single phalange, sans ushered the sample forward, his ever-present grin remaining serenely inviolate.
❝ ＊ got a new sample. figured i'd see if it's kind of a big dill. heh. ❞
❝ ＊ huh. wouldja look at that. sorry, ma'am. fresh out. terrible timing, huh? ❞ mind you, hes holding afreshly scooped cone in one hand, making no attempt whatsoever to hide it.
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 the entrance surrendered a clear, silvery peal that wandered through the parlor with the unhurried grace of sunlight spilling across polished glass. though the festival itself had already receded into memory, it seemed to trail invisibly behind the skeleton who crossed the threshold, as though fragments of its merriment had refused to release their hold upon him. celebration possessed a peculiar resilience; its decorations could be dismantled, its lanterns extinguished, its music surrendered to silence, yet the joy it kindled lingered stubbornly within the hearts that had shared it, dissolving only by imperceptible degrees. that quiet afterglow accompanied sans as faithfully as his perpetual grin, lending an almost imperceptible buoyancy to his otherwise languid stride. with both hands tucked comfortably inside his pockets, he wandered toward the counter with all the unassuming ease of someone who had returned not because he needed convincing, but because success had already rendered the decision for him.
❝ ＊ heya. hope you don't mind... i bought a whole bunch of your ice cream, turned around, and sold it at the festival. figured i'd see if anybody'd go for it. turns out they all did. heh. ❞
he leaned back upon his heels with an ease that rendered the entire confession strangely ceremonial, as though recounting an unauthorized business venture occupied no loftier station than exchanging pleasantries at the start of an ordinary afternoon. his ever-present grin remained inviolate, untouched by hesitation, apology, nor any discernible awareness that he perhaps ought to feel guilty.
❝ ＊ cleaned me out before the fireworks were over. turns out your stock's pretty... cone-tagious. think i oughta restock while the night's still young. ❞
𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 folded seamlessly into yet another beginning, every offered handoff revealing itself as nothing more than another turn in the joke's unbroken spiral. the frozen confection lingered within reach for no longer than a heartbeat before slipping away again with almost insulting ease, every feigned surrender giving rise to another impossible flourish. yet the performance possessed none of the theatrical excess one might have expected. there existed no grandiose sweeping motions, no ostentatious display of practiced virtuosity — only the smallest inclinations of a wrist, the faintest rotation of idle phalanges, each movement so deceptively languid that it seemed almost implausible they alone could so thoroughly dismantle every earnest attempt to seize the prize. somewhere amid that procession of thwarted reaches and fleeting opportunities, the exchange quietly relinquished all pretense of being a transaction. it had become a game sustained by its own absurd momentum, wherein the ice cream served merely as the punchline's reluctant accomplice while sans prolonged the silence before it with the same unhurried composure one might reserve for watching the first snowflake decide where to fall.
❝ ＊ alright, this one's yours. promise. ❞
the cone settled invitingly within arm's reach, remaining there just long enough for commitment to eclipse hesitation. the instant kris' fingers closed the remaining distance, skeletal wrist gave the faintest of turns, and the frozen confection slipped effortlessly beyond their grasp once more, as though the very notion of surrender had changed its mind at the final possible moment.
❝ ＊ ...eh, guess not. now this one's yours. heh. ❞
