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It’s dark… Dark all around him… Voices yell at him through the darkness.
“He’s fading!” “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” “BROTHER!”
That last scream, it feels important. It fills him with warmth, only hearing that single shout. But he also feels despair, because the voice is sad. He doesn’t want it to be sad. The darkness is getting darker, continuing to swallow him. are the voice inside the darkness? Then he wants to go there.
“PLEASE STAY WITH ME! SANS!”
Sans…? Oh, right, that’s his name. But why is the voice telling him to stay? He’s coming to them isn’t he? This darkness is where he’s hearing them so they must be in the darkness too right? It’s… calming. A calming black. It’s like he’s in a warm embrace, lulling him to sleep. He doesn’t hear the voices clearly, only a faint murmur in the background now. Soon, he doesn’t hear the voices at all. Why did they go quiet? Didn’t they want him to come closer to them? …. Was it the opposite way?
Suddenly, the darkness doesn’t feel as inviting anymore, dragging him down even faster than before. He feels pain, an enormous amount of pain. Burning him, cutting him, making his body melt at the heat.
Wait- He has a body? Why didn’t he notice it before? His fingers are curling and he can feel a tenseness in his face. The pain engulfed his whole being and a silent scream is ripped from his mouth. What’s happening? Why is this happening? He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember anything at all.
The pain stops suddenly when he lands on the ground. He get the feeling that landing from such a long fall should hurt a lot more, but it doesn’t. He’s lying on something, but his body doesn’t feel the same. How did his body feel to begin with? He doesn’t remember… Maybe he can see, he has eyes, right? Then he should be able to see.
So Sans (that was his name, right?) slowly opens his eyes, he can still only see darkness. He ‘turns on’ his vision, something he knows how to do out of instinct. The moment he sees the white surroundings with a huge symbol right in front of (above?) him, he feels a dull ache in his skull. It’s like he has seen that symbol before. He wants to look closer at the symbol, because it’s important somehow. Does that symbol holds all of his answers? He stretches out to touch it, discovering quickly that it’s too far away for him to touch it. But then, he notices his hand. It… doesn’t look right. Not at all.
His hand is black, dripping with some sort of substance. It has the outline of a hand though, so that’s some reassurance, but he gets the feeling that his hand isn’t supposed to be black. And it isn’t supposed to be dripping either. He’s supposed to be solid. While he’s looking at his hand, the symbol starts to disappear, fading out of the white space around him. When Sans looks back to where the symbol was, it’s already gone.
He looks back at his hand, his arm is getting tired of being held in this position. So he sits up, studying his hand closer. He sees that his legs and body are in the same state as his hand, black, dripping but still looking solid. There’s a small black puddle around him. His body isn’t supposed to look like this, right? But why? How is it supposed to look like?
A flash of white and a wide grin passes his mind, making a sharp pain appear in his skull. Confused, Sans brings one of his dripping hands to his skull and holds onto it gently. What was that? A face? His face? Was he white before? Perhaps that’s why this feels so wrong, that this body feels so wrong. He's supposed to be white. Hard. A hard white.
As if following his thoughts, his body shifts, getting a white color to its form like the white space around him. It’s bone. He recognizes this. He flexes his hand, feeling relieved at the clanking sound it makes when the bones rub against each other. This is definitely how he looked before.
Sans can then picture a hand holding his, a similar skeleton arm and hand as his but larger. Next time he blinks, that hand is gone. It must have been the memory of someone important to him. He really wishes he can remember sometime. Who those voices were. Especially the one who called him brother.
Sans stands up and stretches, feeling a sort of release when his bones are cracking in his stretch and making his body relax more. Sans continues to look over his body, tapping his bones in curiosity since he still can’t clearly remember how a body like this feels like. When he’s done examining his body, he instead looks at his surroundings. The area closest to him is pure white, but further away where he can’t reach, there are a range of different colors. So many colors, making him smile wider as he looks around. This place is pretty cool in Sans opinion. But… No one other than him is here…
He looks down at the ‘floor’, where the puddle of black is lying. He can see a small shape in the middle of the puddle now that he didn’t notice before. So Sans crouches down, gently picking up the small object and making his white bones get black stains on them.
It’s a small paintbrush…
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Sans wakes up from another long nap, yawning and rubbing his eye sockets. It’s nice to sleep, but it’s getting pretty tiring when it’s basically the only thing he can do in here. Sure, he has his little paintbrush, but the Ink from his ‘start’ didn’t last that long. Sleeping sometimes makes him dream of his brother, which are always nice. Papyrus was his name, always calling him lazy and cooking him horrible spaghetti. But Sans still doesn’t know why he’s in this place, how he came here and what went ‘wrong’.
Sans sighs, sitting up and looking around at his rainbow white surroundings. It’s become so dull in here. He doesn’t know how much time has passed either. After waking up from his dreams, he always feels so alone. His recent dream was really nice… But he doesn’t have any ink left to draw it down so he can remember it.
He stands up, looking around at the white floor where he has drawn different scenarios, different dreams he has had. Looking over charts with the lizard monster, Alphys. Sitting at the bar with the fire monster, Grillby. Sitting at a kitchen table and laughing with the goat monster, Toriel. But most of the dreams are about his brother, Papyrus. Helping him cook spaghetti, making Papyrus smile, making Papyrus’s ‘battle body’ for something, building snowmen. So many happy memories he has drawn but he himself can't remember dreaming about them all. It might sound strange, but-... Sans… Doesn't miss them. He likes the memories of them, who wouldn't, but he doesn't miss these people specifically. He misses company, but he can't miss his previous family and friends. His memories are vivid at best and the clearest memories he can get are through dreams. But dreams are easily forgotten. He tried to miss them since they were important to him, he did, but now he has given up on trying. You can't miss someone you don't remember.
Sans crouches down, gently brushing his fingers over the very first thing he drew. A picture of himself from what he can remember. It's wobbly and his worst work yet, but it was the start to all of this. The start of drawing his memories. The start of having something else to do than sleeping eternity away. He removes the paint brush from the belt he has created, looking at its dry surface. This little brush, he could create clothes from this but he doesn't remember how. Only that he did it. He dipped it in the ink his black body left, thought about clothes and with the swipe of the brush clothes emerged. He tried to do things similar to that after but it didn't work. Now, he's not sure if it will work at all since he doesn't have any wet ink left.
He looks over towards the rainbow part of his surroundings. Perhaps he can try to get through those portals again. And if it doesn't work, he could always try to find some ink he can use. So with a small smile, Sans stands up and walks toward the blue part of the rainbow, the scarf around his neck moving slightly behind him. Once he get better at his powers, perhaps he can use them for something. He doesn't know what, but they have to be good for something. He has come to love painting stuff so maybe something in that part. His personality has changed a lot from what he remember about himself from dreams, but it's hard to stay the same when you don't know how you ‘should’ be. So he just takes everything as it comes and accepts it.
As he comes closer to the blue area, he can see those familiar small windows inside this space. Excited to what he’s going to see, Sans runs over and look into the first window. Nothing special about this one. Just a wooden roof and a paintbrush covering his sight from time to time. Someone must be painting in this window. He can turn the next window, since it’s inside a bottle. It’s a cozy little store and he can see the back of a rabbit lady. Someone trips as they step into the building and he laughs slightly when he sees a monster kid with no arms. Seeing that kid fall on his face when he steps inside, it was hilarious in his opinion. The next window is also something that he can move and he blinks in surprise when he sees the person present in this room. Then he starts to smile and laugh loudly
It’s another Sans, another him, and he looks like an absolute dork with those weird goggles sitting on the top of his head. He’s mumbling to himself as he’s looking over his notes, making Sans grin. Now, he can have another conversation!
“Hey there, I’m Ink. Well, Sans like you but it would be confusing if we’re both called Sans. What are you doing?”
Sans on the other side mumbles some more, frowning as he scratches his head. He soon sighs, putting down the pen he was using.
“There has to be a way to contact that void, there has to.”
Ink Sans looks around himself, he can’t really call this void since it has different colours,but the centre is certainly a void. Ink wishes he could fix that and make it more colourful, but he doesn’t know how… It’s getting unnerving for him to see so much white when he’s there but he’s always drawn to it somehow. Drawn to it like a fly to a light some would say. He looks back to the window, pointing at himself.
“Hey, are you trying to find me? Do you know where I come from?”
Other Sans just sighs, looking to the side of the room. Ink turns the window in that direction and sees a large machine, a kind of terminal. Ink turns the window back towards Sans.
“Wow, that thing looks complicated. Are you trying to get here or something? I wouldn’t really suggest it since it’s pretty void of things to do.” Ink laughs slightly at his own joke, he’s not as good at coming up with jokes like he was before his change. Memory loss and all. “But if you want to come, that’s okay. We could be friends and draw together!”
The other Sans suddenly stands up and walk over to the machine, making Ink turn the window so he can follow what he’s doing. He could look at the other windows too, but this Sans is trying to reach him. Ink might be able to help in some way if he continues to watch. Can he go through the window?
Ink places a hand against the glass and push. Nothing happens. With a frustrated huff, he frowns and crosses his arms, continuing to watch as this other Sans tinkers with his machine. Is there really nothing he can do? He wants to interact with people! Not just talk to them through a window!
“So you’re trying to contact me? What am I supposed to do? Continue talking? I suppose I could, but it gets pretty boring to talk to someone who doesn’t-.”
Ink is cut off when a loud, tortured scream comes out from the monitor, making him cover his ears in pain. The Sans on the other side is even closer the the machine so he must have it worse, but even through the window, which should muffle the sounds slightly, Ink can still clearly hear the painful screams.
Disorientated, Ink swipes his brush in the air, aimed at the window and begs it to just. Be. Quiet!
When it really gets quiet like he wanted to, his head is still ringing from the loud scream. He’s panting, holding onto his head as he stares down at the shimmering blue floor. What was that? That sounded like… Like another Sans. It sounded like him. Is that Sans in here too? But Ink has never heard any screams. He must be here, because this is the only ‘void’ Ink knows. Or are there other voids…?
Ink looks up, looking around the blue area in search of any window which could lead somewhere white, a window where he can find the owner of that pained scream. He screamed for help. And if Ink can help, he will!
His train of thoughts stop when he looks at the window in front of him. It’s covered in ink, completely blocking out the other side. He looks at his paintbrush, eyes widening in wonder when he sees that it’s wet. An unexplainable joy fills his being as he holds the brush to his right cheek, feeling even more happy when the cold substance spreads over his bone. He can create his own Ink!!
He soon forgot about the voice screaming for help.
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Ink is humming happily on a random tune, painting on the floor of the white part of the void he’s living in. Now, only the floor is white while the space above him is swirling in different colors. It was hard to make, but totally worth it. Now, the only white space he has is the floor, which makes Ink feel really satisfied about himself. Two ‘Gaster blasters’ hover over him, looking over his shoulder to see what he’s drawing. Ink pays no mind to his new companions. Even if they can’t talk, they're great company just by existing. He’s getting the hang of these new powers he has. Since he tends to forget stuff, he has written everything he can do on the inside of his scarf, so he can just pull it out and look at it if he feels like practicing. Now, he’s started to practice more and more so maybe he won’t need those notes. But it’s better to keep them there until he’s certain.
With a proud smile, Ink leans back and looks over his new creation. It’s the many different versions of himself that he has seen in the windows and what he’s made so far. He hasn’t ever thought of it before, but he just knows which ‘universe’ these different Sanses come from. It’s like he has known about it his whole life but doesn’t remember it until he sees them. There’s Underswap, Underfell, Zephyrtale, Aftertale, Undertale, Cattale, Underworld. Wow, there sure are many of these universes. And he loves it! There’s just so much to explore and so much to create.
He gets a sudden glint in his eye, not noticing how the symbol hidden behind the colorful roof briefly glows before disappearing again. Ink runs off towards the purple area of his world, waving at his Gaster blasters to follow him. He doesn’t know why he feels like this out of nowhere sometimes, but it’s just right. He needs to make something. Make something important. When he enters the purple part of his void, he can see a door. Knowing that this is his destination, he dismisses his Gaster blasters, making them return to ink, and opens the door excitedly. He stares around the huge white void with a large grin, knowing that something will happen soon.
And his waiting is rewarded.
Soon enough, colors starts to spring forth, invisible brush strokes creating the scenery around him. Ink laughs happily when he sees the white space get replaced with colors, entering the void completely and his grin widening as he looks at the continuously growing world. This. This is what he was created for.
Ink quickly takes out his brush, the brush that has been with him since the very beginning. He covers it with his personal ink, making the brush grow in size until it’s as large as he is. Dispersing the ink, it reveals his new much larger brush. This is what he’s meant to do.
With another happy laugh, he looks up to see the sky being created too, unclasping one of the color bottles he has created and letting the ink stain the floor around him. The area is immediately filled with color, the once lifeless white exploding into the beautiful green color of grass. He places his large brush into the ink puddle, swiping it across the floor and creating even more grass. Continuing to laugh in glee, Ink runs around, swiping over the once white space together with the invisible artist to create a new world. A new universe where people can live. A new green outside universe. He loves the grass and the sky. Soon, he can feel the wind brush against him once enough of the world has been created and it only makes him smile wider. He feels so alive when he’s doing this.
Eventually slamming into an invisible wall, Ink is flung backwards and lands painfully on his back. He glares at the invisible wall but soon starts to grin again and puts his brush against it to fill it with color. The ink becomes brown this time, it’s a cliff wall. Ink looks around, eyes widening when he sees the invisible force draw or sketch something in the middle of this new world they’ve created. Curious, Ink covers the last bit of the cliff in color with a swipe of his brush before he jogs over to the invisible force. It looks like… A Toriel. Or the start of a Toriel at least. With a smile, Ink shrinks his brush to a more manageable size and helps his invisible friend into creating this new queen. Or will it be an Ex-queen again? He has no idea but that only makes him more excited to see the end results.
While Ink creates smooth lines to make out her face, this invisible force starts to sketch out a dress. And it’s absolutely beautiful. Ink and his friend finish this new Toriel together and he grins proudly at their good work. This world is beautiful and the first character is finished. Now, the only thing left to do is to bring this world into reality and this new universe will be created on its own with background and characters without needing his constant assistance. He just know all of this down to his bone.
Looking around one last time, he sees that the invisible person is sketching out the last small details. So Ink stretches happily and walk over to the door he came through to finish the job. Taking one last look at the world he created, Ink walks out and closes the door behind him. He places his hands on either side of the door, focusing on his inner magic and making the door glow in a blue/black hue. The door changes shape, compressing until a ball in the size of a bowling globe is hovering between his hands. This universe is covered in a dark brown, pictures of death flashing inside of it as this invisible person starts to come up with new ideas. They still haven’t come up with a good name.
Carefully maneuvering this new world, Ink walks to the edge of the purple world clashing with the pink one. He continues to stare at the orb, fascinated by all the different pictures appearing inside. One picture stands out to him in particular. And, of course, it’s the version of himself inside this world. That Sans has a long, black robe with a hood. He doesn’t have any light in his eyes, it’s just pitch black unlike all the other Sanses. And he has two scythes hovering around him. He looks so cool but also dangerous. This must be one of those universes that is made to make people sympathize with them.
When he reaches the place where the colors clash, there’s a hole in the middle of this space, a black hole. But he knows this isn’t dangerous, it’s where this idea will become a whole world. Ink stops in front of the hole, looking one last time at the world he’s holding in his hands. One name stands out clearly through the many pictures flashing by it and Ink grins proudly. He loves to see new universes get born!
“‘Reapertale’, huh? Well, knock them dead, universe.”
Ink gently pushes the orb into the hole, the orb immediately disappearing into the darkness. The hole changes its color to dark brown, the same the orb had, and a beam of light is shot from the hole and up into Inks voids roof. When the brown color hits the roof, it spreads out and moves all across his rainbow ceiling and spreading out wide into the world. Ink feels extremely proud over once again creating a successful universe and he turns away from the hole with happy strides.
“I feel like visiting a universe now. I haven’t been to Underfell yet! Messing with them will be hilarious!”
Ink runs across his white floor towards the place where the light blue and blue colors clash. He briefly looks down at his most precious picture and smiles before he passes it. It’s the very first picture of himself that he drew. And beside it, he has drawn himself as he is now, Ink, drawing that horrible picture of Sans while laughing. It’s a message to himself, that he doesn’t need to be who he was in the past. He’s making himself real by creating others. He’s making Ink his own Sans by drawing and doing what he loves.
He was created to create universes. Created to spread color over a blank canvas. And that is what he will do until the end of time itself. Because the worlds he creates, they don’t need to contain another Sans for his creation to be successful.