Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Introducing the Index, of what will eventually be various (un)related stories. They range from fanfics I've already created, to other fresh ideas.

* I've decided that a synopsis of the idea will be published first, along with a drawing, and the next chapter will be the written explanation of that idea.

1.- Error is female and acquires a child (?/? Short fics)

Error is female, due to a glitch in Aftertale, from her life as Sans/Geno before the save screen. This makes her a potential candidate for having multiple partners. But, of course, she's not interested.

Being a Destroyer was already a full-time job. Besides, if she didn't care before, she wouldn't care much later either. That was her logic.

Until she stumbles upon Baby Bones: Paper Jam.

From there, we embark on a journey of surprises and revelations, scandals, and things people should know but don't because of their ignorance.

"Damn blind judges," Error curses.

2.- The Radical Paradox - (which will consist of chapters: ??) In process...

Where Fresh (parasite) feels a certain need to check on Doc (or Sci) to see if he is okay. This happens when Doc receives too many visitors because of his knowledge of the multiverse, leaving him exposed to danger and other... hints.

3.- I told you...

Nightmare, or rather his echo (after dying for the second time), repeatedly warns Dream about the consequences of too much positivity in the Multiverse. Of course, nobody listens until it's too late, and the consequences are not long in coming.

4.- Nightmare, the amnesiac twin

After consuming most of the black apples, suffers severe amnesia regarding his life. This causes him to forget Dream, except for his duty as guardian, which, deep down, calls to him.

Thus, he is a Nightmare without memories, but he feels the desire to distance himself from everything and everyone, since that was the only intense emotion that marked him until the end of the journey. Therefore, he spends his time living alone with his books. In silence, until a desperate Dream, anxious to find his brother, actively searches for him as soon as he is freed from the statue.

And that? It disturbs Nightmare's peace.

5.- Loop: Reality Bath

We see Error's point of view after he starts being treated differently by everyone—all the Sanses and others. They acted too kindly, which confuses, terrifies, and frightens Error.

He could become a hermit just because of it.

That idea becomes even more appealing when, on an outing with Reaper (because, well, the stalker keeps everyone else away), while passing through Reapertale, the alternate universe of the GODS, he encounters… a statue of himself covered in gifts he feels he doesn't deserve, worshipped in full sunlight.

6.- Looking for my damn happy ending

Because, apparently, your new family can consist of yourself [Error] and your failed genocide versions: Dust, Horror, Killer, Fatal, After, and Geno. And of course, Fresh too (even though nobody invited him to the family, he just snuck in).

7.- The (mis)adventures of Classic and Flowey

Or: better known as "Why are all bony garbage bags nearsighted towards each other?!"

In which Classic Sans disguises himself as most of the Sanses in the multiverse to escape or distract others.

8.-A/B/O ???

Unknown.

(Eight there, for now, referencing Human Souls <3)

- They can be hypothetical situations, romantic relationships, or family situations.

- Characters who have important roles in the Multiverse, or not.

- Canon, knowing Fanon, as much as possible (I really don't know, since my writing varies).

- We focus on one character or another, or perhaps a secondary or less important character.

- I hope to write about the rest of the characters I've primarily included in the main tags. (I know additional tags will definitely appear.)

- The other additional tags will be written here over time.

- This section will be updated more frequently, if necessary.

* And, well, thanks for reading!

<3

Chapter Text

Synopsis:

Error is female, due to a glitch in Aftertale, from her life as Sans/Geno before the save screen. This makes her a potential candidate for having multiple partners. But, of course, she's not interested.

Being a Destroyer was already a full-time job. Besides, if she didn't care before, she wouldn't care much later either. That was her logic.

Until she stumbles upon Baby Bones: Paper Jam.

From there, we embark on a journey of surprises and revelations, scandals, and things people should know but don't because of their ignorance.

"Damn blind judges," Error curses.

-No, they didn't bother to dress like ladies.

- (Mom Geno and baby Goth <3)

- (Her first interaction with a baby bone, and it's hers... Error will be a good mom, as much as possible!)

- (Here, Error is camouflaged)

Chapter Text

Ever since she had been aware of herself, she always knew she was treated equally, at least when it came to fights. And being the Destroyer of her multiverse didn't exactly endear her to the masses, at least not to her own race of monsters.

Error was fine with that.

There was no problem, and the fights for balance continued as usual.

Of course, until those days arrived.

Days when she preferred to be locked in her Anti-Void, lying in her blue beanbag, warm and cozy, her coat free of the heat naturally generated by her summoned ecto-body. While enjoying her repertoire of chocolates to one side of her, her eyes were fixed on the one-way portal that reflected her Undernovela from the other side.

The only days he could take a break, strange as it may seem. Because Fate always demanded destruction, screaming into Error's nonexistent ears. That damn bitch…

Anyway!

It was better to be alone in those days. Since it avoided the whole problem of looking for a mate or, in the worst case, being courted when they noticed her opposite sex to the rest. —She shuddered at the mere thought—

They'd call her a rarity, if only they knew.

Of course, she knew she'd be considered a treasure because of her status and her gender. But she also knew that this did not exempt her from her actions as the Destroyer of Worlds. —Although, strange as it seemed, she felt her inner judge slumbering within her—

It would be foolish of them to think otherwise or even to think of dominating her.

Damn, Error would laugh in their faces if that happened. But that wouldn't happen for a long time.

No one knew Error's gender.

She didn't let them know, and they didn't ask about it, despite knowing that she wasn't actively hiding it.

Perhaps it was the errors and glitches that it generated, like a second skin on his body. The flawed tones, timbre, and vowels in her voice. Or the fact that she didn't wear feminine clothing to accentuate her sex and flaunt it. Or that, logically, she is pure bones in the first place so that others do not notice the breasts, hips, and magical soft features that she obtained through the facial features that compose her. And that she does not want to use magic, saving the accumulated Magic for the subsequent necessary healing generated by the fights with Inky.

Anyway, she didn't care about the logistics of her sex until the days came when she could no longer ignore that she was definitely a lady.

Since the inevitable cycles of reproduction and heat existed and required her to seek a safe place (partially safe, in her case) to hang out with a ma—. As was the case in his current situation, days away from the end of his week of brand-new heat.

Why did her heat return? Not even she knew. Though there were reasons for it.

The sweat and fluids generated by her magic were the only noticeable things that day, as the heat returned to its natural state and the bone aches subsided to just that, the usual pain. And because of the former, her home ended up smelling like her, and she couldn't complain about it, since, in a way, it reminded her of someone else. More specifically, her past self. A past she couldn't remember, except for flashes of memory without any context.

Submerged in eternal darkness, only to eventually end up in the infinite whiteness that was the Anti-Void.

She could only think about it as she rearranged her coat and scarf on herself again.

The strange thing was that she always found the darkness comforting. It was as if it drew her back to the unconditional affection and love she had once felt.

No, she still didn't know why, and she still had a feeling that no one except someone knew that Error was a girl.

Dangerous to know. But it didn't seem to matter, because so far nothing had happened.

So, with these personal reflections still unresolved, Error returned to his work, as always.

Sure, until at some point he came across a desolate place, full of destruction and part of the disasters of creation when fighting.

Strange, he thought again.

(His last "famous" thoughts)

She had just discovered the reason for her heat's return...

Ironically, it was the least likely reason she could have imagined.

A child.

A firstborn.

Error couldn't remember mothering a child in her life... besides, when would she have the time, and with whom? Who would be the unfortunate soul?

A check later revealed that... the unfortunate soul was Ink... which was even worse for Error's psyche because of that devastating news.

She didn't like the cliché of that story.

It seemed her life was full of ironies.

She also disliked the idea of ​​even tying up her… son with her ropes. It made her shake her head vehemently in denial.

And what worsened her situation was that the child gave off the vibe of being abandoned. Without parental care. This triggered maternal instincts she didn't know she possessed. Not to mention that—

“Mommy?” The child began calling her Mommy.

Because, of course, the youngsters could detect their caregivers, and specifically their parents, from miles away.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Error couldn't help but instinctively try to soothe him.

Stars.

And, continuing with the details. With her emerging from her heat, as if fresh out of the oven, her scent could be detected by the youngster, leading to easy recognition.

“What is chocolate, and why do you smell like it?” her poor child vocalized, deprived of the finest delicacy Underfell could produce.

Error could have cried because of the intrusive maternal hormones rummaging through her mind at that moment.

But she didn't, because she had a reputation to uphold that her child needed to know about.

“You see…”

-

(Of course, they didn't leave until Error completed their bond with the sacred act of nose-nuzzling… though not without some difficulty due to his haphephobia.)

Chapter Text

Synopsis:

Where Fresh (parasite) feels a certain need to check on Doc (or Sci) to see if he is okay. This happens when Doc receives too many visitors because of his knowledge of the multiverse, leaving him exposed to danger and other... hints.

Fresh isn't happy about it, since as the younger (older) brother, he feels a certain responsibility for his older (younger) brother.

So, he reasons:

"Doc is, technically, Big Bro Geno, and Error. Sure, plus Sans. But Sans can take care of himself." He ignores the fact that his older brothers can definitely take care of themselves much better than Classic Sans. "Doc definitely needs security, protection."

Fresh: "It's decided, I'll visit my Brosky." He gets lost skating somewhere in the timelines, and only infects one of them along the way.

Meanwhile, Doc, somewhere in his lab in the Core, Hotland. He wakes up abruptly and instantly feels chills run through his entire body.

Doc: "How can I even feel cold in Hotland? It's Hotland!" He decides to ignore the feeling and continues working, since he is awake.

- The idea came to me while I was drawing in class. I finished it and finally posted it onTumblr (So if you find it there, yes, that's me).

* And here's another one of the "hints." Fell's interaction (#11) with Doc and Fresh. (Lol. I can't stop thinking about that Christmas comic. But here the situation would be the opposite.)

* I like how relaxed I've portrayed Doc here, compared to Sci, who's definitely surprised to find himself face to face with himself. Deep down, Fresh is all happy, like, "Finally, an interaction that doesn't end with narcissistic love."

Or not?

Lol, knowing Sci, it might end in another episode of narcissistic love.

* Here is the digitized version of the drawing :D, without color, because if I color it it takes me a long time, and laziness wins.

* Fell and Doc's interaction, like this:

+ Doc, curious about this alternate version (like how Scie's with Red started).

+ Fell, nervous about the curious and genuine closeness, seeing how adorable the past version of Classic looks. That familiar blue sweater definitely doesn't help.

* Doc and Reaper's interaction goes something like this:

+ Reaper, as usual, tries to greet the Sanses with a handshake. Seeing an opportunity to do so with the new one.

Reaper: "Mortal, say hello to a new colleague."

Doc, looking at Reaper's clothes and deathly vibes. Yeah, right, he looks like Death, he thinks. (Showing his Geno side, before he became Geno.)

His response: "No, thanks. I choose when to DIE."

+ He's not annoyed like Geno; he's in his right mind, and he takes that action as humor. But, deep down, he's delighted, in fact, flattered by the action. He decides not to respond to his intrusive thoughts of "shaking hands with Death," and simply stays alive for the sake of baby bones, Papyrus.

* Doc thinks Reaper is a good person.

* Reaper thinks... he's very confused; he's experiencing déjà vu.

(It may or may not be that Fell was watching this interaction in the background. His soul stirs (he doesn't know if from fear or something else) with confused feelings upon seeing this. But, he thinks Doc is great.)

Chapter Text

He'd stayed up much longer than usual. He felt tired.

Sleepy and tired.

Between taking care of his baby brother (a baby bone in Sans' eyes) and going to work from Snowdin to Hotland (walking, the nightmare). Taking those tiny breaks that didn't even amount to a minute of sleep because they dragged him back to his experimental work on Human Souls (shouldn't that be unsettling? His morale was on vacation), repeating the process of working himself to death (ha, no, he couldn't).

He was already reduced to bones; he just needed to become completely dust so that Sans would stop multitasking. And no, his baby brother, Papyrus, didn't count as a task. No, sir. No matter what others say. Sans was a perfectly respectable, hardworking, and functional monster.

"Very functional," he repeated to himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror of the sterile white bathroom in the Hotland lab. Watching how the prominent dark circles under his eyes counted Sans's busiest weeks in real time.

It was to be expected if you lived Sans's skeletal life.

With no time for himself, he would work until he felt stable enough in their new lives. The skeleton in a white coat wouldn't stop working. He wouldn't stop moving forward for both of them. For both.

Because of the abrupt change that turned their lives upside down.

This changed his perspective on the realities within the space and time that he already possessed, albeit with a slight touch of magic.

A greater mystery, which he thought he could solve once settled in this temporary home. Emphasis on temporary home. Because, settled in the Underground, by the kind citizens and current kings, Paps and Sans could be safe.

Of course, Sans had to manipulate his official documents regarding his age to get the job he had, but it was a minor inconvenience that no one other than, apparently, Gaster could know about.

That monster… that monster had appealed for Papyrus and Sans's well-being, for some reason. He didn't know why, he shouldn't care, and he should ignore it for the sake of his peace of mind, which kept him awake at night when he thought about it. He was simply still confused.

Sans had no choice but to thank the monster with what he knew best: Science. And even if he hadn't, he instinctively knew Gaster would have told him about his personal (not so personal) research on human souls.

""To break the barrier surrounding the entire Underground," he said, "it will be easy," he said." He couldn't help but mutter angrily at himself for falling into that situation so easily. Although, a promise was a promise. Unspoken, but implied in the magic he felt when he shook the other skeleton's hand.

From that moment on, Sans knew he didn't like to promise anything to anyone.

"Sans!" He heard the enthusiastic voice of a scientist who was only surviving on magic ramen from the vending machine downstairs.

Yes, no, nothing to anyone.

He barely had time to rub his skeletal temples before he was dragged again into another of the many tests they made with INTEGRITY, whose SOUL always stood firm above all else, like the upright personality that lived in the past, which some monsters in Waterfall whispered to each other upon seeing.

Sans felt sorry for that soul.

It clearly begged for rest after its death, but no one granted it, having been encapsulated since… Asgore knows when.

“What test number is this?” he asked simply, already accustomed to certain tests being conducted without his presence. And no, that didn't bother him.

No.

Because Sans would rather be looking after Paps than continue playing tea party with experimentation alongside Gaster, the Soul, and their eager deer.

Watching Paps walk around the living room while repeatedly calling Sans' name to pick him up was always his favorite dopamine hit. Since it ended in naps on the shoulder accompanied by whispered jokes that occurred to him randomly and were written down in his notebook by hand.

Ah, beautiful times.

But now—“I think it’s *page-turning noise* number… *another page turned* #87, this time,” he concluded. Too cheerfully, as for someone awake at midnight, past the night, with different fixed schedules set by their job.

“Great.” That was all he could manage to say, as they passed through the endless passageway that separated them from the protective booth on the other side of the room, not content to be dragged into yet another waste of time.

His only experiment and almost functional machine that Sans wanted to repair was located at home, in the locked basement he faithfully guarded. And he only teleported there when he felt his magical reserves and mental health were stable. Because looking at it repeatedly felt like a punishment and penance he had to endure if depression got the better of him.

His little brother didn’t want him to punish himself for it. He knew it well. Too well.

The baby bones seemed to see it just by consuming its magic. Which... yay, spiritual bonds, and boo, negative feelings he might accidentally let slip. A bitter pill to swallow that he'll have to clear as soon as he knows it's possible.

Soon, he told himself, very soon.

Preferably sooner rather than later.

Sans's worries were Sans's and no one else's. He couldn't let negative baggage taint his baby brother's pure soul.

His baby brother.

"Want to know how they react to a drop of DETER on them? This is going to end badly..." Sans cursed it and predicted it.

The resulting explosion that later occurred in that room was all the proof he didn't need but was given as predictable results.

Fortunately, once they saw INTEGRITY safe and sound, floating firmly where they had last been left, they guided SOUL back into its sturdy crystalline cage, leaving it in peace for the time being.

Which, to Sans's surprise, lasted much longer than expected.

…

He only blinked for a few seconds, and before his eyes appeared… PATIENCE.

Sans could only squint his tired eyes slightly before saying, “Hello, old friend.”

No, Sans hadn't met them; they were just the first souls to be introduced and then the first on the experimentation list.

PATIENCE shone with a greeting before its defining trait faded as it was thrown into a rudimentary homemade extractor.

The torture.

The queen wouldn't have approved, he thought simply. But the queen wasn't there to watch them do immoral things. Not with the Queen missing and all.

Do you understand?

She left when her husband declared war on humanity for the second time.

That was already a bad streak for the King, plain and simple.

Complexity didn't concern him, and that's why he remained a scientist in Hotland.

He ended up saying a polite goodbye to the rest of the scientists as he walked away from the rest of the monsters, who seemed to idolize Gaster. Royal Scientist and all that. Frankly, Sans didn't care.

The time to leave his well-paid job had already started hours ago, hours that Sans has to make up by resting at home with Paps.

He found himself walking along the path from Hotland to Waterfall. The change in climate was more noticeable to the monsters with soft, furry skin, like mammals. Sans could only describe it based on the answers of the locals and with logic in mind as he walked toward his destination, Snowdin.

The steam from the baked heat of Hotland's lava contrasted sharply with the cool breeze from Waterfall's semi-cold waters. This was due to the climatic proximity between Snowdin and Hotland, respectively.

An interesting origin, if you were to ask Sans.

The ecosystems within the Underground left much to the imagination regarding the seasons of the longed-for Surface. A simulation of nature, with a touch of magic here and there, added by the residents themselves.

Could the monstrous magic accumulated in a single mountain do that?

Yes, apparently so.

Acclimated to certain monster races.

Even divided, Sans and Papyrus could easily fit into any of those spaces. Bones without skin in between, and the advantages that come with being a skeleton monster. They had it easy when it came to residence; there was no problem.

Perhaps it was simply their preference for the pure white snow of Snowdin that drew them to want to stop there. Perhaps it was their skeletal instincts, demanding more accessible camouflage for their bones, with a little bone on board. Or a strange combination of all of it that he didn't understand but decided to continue so as not to think too much about its strangeness.

In any case, the snow was lovely to look at. And he always used the monster rabbits as an example of how children should be raised in the snowy world. There was a greater presence of infant monsters in Snowdin than anywhere else in the Underground. And it wasn't Sans saying it; it was the statistics from the annual monster census.

A census, in which, by the end of the month, the skeleton siblings would be counted.

Sans would like to say that this doesn't generate the anxiety he feels deep in his mind. But he would be wrong to assume otherwise... unfortunately.

Nothing seemed to work these days. The machine. The Human Souls. The unease of the magical bonds. His lack of sleep. Time ticking by and weighing on his conscience. Like an endless spiral of fears and emotions made real... he, he simply wanted to rest...

It seemed like a lot to ask in his specific circumstances, but it was worth dreaming.

And then, everything seemed to boil down to the simplicity of making up for Sans's lost naps. Which is what he will do once he takes care of his responsibilities as an adult and independent monster.

Sans had a child to raise.

His reason for carrying on with this whole situation.

That's what brought him back to the fold of sanity, for his failing mental health.

Perhaps he should start telling his puns out loud to lift his spirits. Just writing them down wasn't enough, apparently.

He wants to laugh just thinking about it.

His hume-rous was at rock bottom.

Like the endless water in a circuit of rivers in the land of water, Waterfall. He could calmly listen to it by focusing on the soothing sound of raindrops falling on rocky surfaces.

Rhythmic, with the chimes of bells reaching his ears. Added to the whispers of the flowers echoing softly, it created an inhabited atmosphere without being too tumultuous. They were a welcome distraction amidst his jumbled thoughts, like the objects in his own room.

Because he usually thought everything through before arriving home so as not to bring his worries into the house.

It worked most of the time; he couldn't deny it.

And it ended as soon as he felt his clothes stir slightly against him, catching the cold winds of Snowdin. His white lab coat billowed in the winter air. Thus, Sans knew, without looking ahead, that he was in Snowdin. On the outskirts of Snowdin, entering the Christmas-themed town.

He would cross the bridge that separated him from the damp, icy water on the other side (behind him) and from the pure white snow into which his slippers sank.

Home, the good home.

As soon as he crossed, he would leave the heavy burden of his day at the back of his mind, for his future self to deal with later.

That's precisely what he was doing.

Until he heard and felt the energy of the surroundings shift when something happened behind him. He didn't know what, and he didn't want to turn around to confirm the theories that were rapidly climbing through his mind. He only knows that it is damning if he dares to turn around and look.

Thankfully, after five minutes of tense silence, Sans mustered the courage to turn around and… saw nothing out of place with the snow behind him.

But perhaps, just perhaps, Sans hadn't imagined how his orbs of light for eyes, behind his red glasses, had managed to see what appeared to be dark paint vanish into the vast, white snow of Snowdin. Yes, perhaps it's just his imagination or lack of sleep distorting the things he observes. Because with the next blink, the snow was clean and pristine, as always.

"I need to sleep."