My Anomaly (An Error Sans X Reader)

Chapter 15 Him

Who was he?

Him.

He knew he was him, but what was he exactly? No one talked about him. No one liked talking about him. Those who remember, avoid the subject entirely. But why? It was an accident. It was all an accident.

The blast, it was never calculated. Never meant to happen. He played god, creating life from nothing and giving them souls real working souls. And affectionately named them.

Sans and Papyrus.

No matter what timeline you found him in, what universe, what reality, this story was all the same. It was an accident. He pushed the limits of time and reality too far. How the explosion happened was always different. And it's outcome always different as well.

One reality, he had an ability to overwrite.

In another, he was too garbled to be able to be physical but ever present.

In another, a mad man lost to his own thoughts but still desperate to help the player.

His ambitions, his alignments, they were all different. Some of him were good, others bad, others indifferent. But him? This him. His consciousness. What was he? The circled back question always looped in his head and while his answer was always, he was him, it never gave him proper clarification.

He wanted freedom.

He wanted to be free. Desperately so. Why he wasn't sure, but it was an insistent need. A desperate need. Almost like it was primal. He's been separated from his body for how long? It was hard to say. He just wanted to be real again. More than just thoughts fluttering in the wind. Like the others.

The other variations of him he meant. They all, no matter how jumbled and glitched they were, had a physical enough form. Even now in the void there was few who lingered but all varying in form though the holes in their hands and scars along your eyes always remained. The original relaxed here the most, he knew that he got to hear his rambles often.

They inspired him.

That's what led to the interest in finding a host. Was he a parasite? He's seen some, though they wear such flashy colors. (He's well award that not all of them do, but the few he's encountered have.) He didn't think he was though. He wasn't going to use the body forever like those parasites. Latch onto the soul and make it his entirely. No no. Never.

He just wanted a body, so that he could reconstruct a body of his own. Then he'd be done. But doing so he'd have to latch on to a particular set of code. He's been thinking about it for a while. He half contemplated using one of his creations as a temporary host.

Papyrus was too noticeable to take, sans was always a good option. But there was a sense of guilt using one of them. Perhaps it was the closest thing he felt to having fatherly feelings. After all though many don't know it, sans and Papyrus were his greatest creations. (The mere idea he had fabricated a monster soul from mere scratch was an achievement he would never glaze over.)

Then, finally, there was you. He's watched you for some time. You were something new. Something unseen in a while. A new creation that, ink, had added to the vast universe. Your story was interesting. And following you he was curious about you.

In truth, that dream you had of the blue strings in the ocean, he may of had a hand at earning you. Though your decision was interesting. He wasn't sure if you made the connection at the time to the strings he fabricated being the ones error wielded, but you seemed to have seen how dire that whole situation was.

Yet, despite it all, you scarified yourself. At first he didn't think you'd last in an anti void. A fresh code taken from its home and made residence in a very corrupted place. But it's been a long time. And you seemed rather fine. Perfect even.