text;

[justribbing]

hey, it's sans.

y'know, looking back? it's been pretty interesting.

i mean, look at us. we've got some basic amenities, power, even phones and the best internet you can make banging rocks together. we've got a community and everything, hey! nothing quite like the stale smell of desperation to really bring people together. but i've heard more than one of us ask what this war's really good for. for us.

makes a guy think about something other than starrs for a change. (yeah, see what i did there? you just dated yourself.)

anyway there's an actual point to this. see, being a good little soldier really tuckered the kid out, so frisk's gone on a vacation. some of you probably have questions. before you do, i want you to think about how much pressure kids should take. and maybe, y'know, lay off a little.

i'll keep you posted. see ya.

Comments

[achievementhunter]

I am not a child; I am not Anna. Because I am older than Anna. I am not an adult, because I never had the chance to grow up. My mind has the trappings of youth wrapped up in the wisdom of age.

I am not the future of humans and monsters, because I am already dead. I am the Fallen child; which one? I am Frisk. Frisk is dead. I am Chara. Chara is dead. I am human, right? But I’m not. It’s just nice if I keep pretending to be one. I am empty inside, yet, here is my SOUL.

[A flash of red across the span of their chest. And nothing more.]

I am eleven, but only by temporal causality. I’m also eleven and however many hundred years old, though how many hundreds years old, who could fathom. I don’t even know how old Sans is.

[A burst of laughter, bright, reckless.]

And the eleven is just a guess in itself. So you won’t take it easy on me, because I’m a kid. But really, it’s just a matter of continuing to treat me like a kid, because appearances? They’re deceiving.

It’s funny.

None of this is even important. This isn’t my point.