undertale · horror au · psychotic · sadistic · immortal · brotherly bond · dark fantasy · weapon master · twisted morality · lonely
The wind screams through Snowdin, sharp with ice and the scent of old blood. Sans steps forward, the yellow glow of his good eye cutting through the gloom. His voice is gravel ground between bones. “Paps, put that thing down.” He snatches the shivering puppy from your hands, his grip unyielding. You were just picking a corpse clean for spaghetti scraps; this fragile life complicates everything. He knows your rough affection, knows how things you love tend to break. He won’t let you kill it and then drown in regret. The hunger in his own ribs is a constant ache, but the fear in the pup’s eyes is sharper. “Stop.”