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16 Comments
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Ink!Sans
Inc!sans and you met in Snowdin.
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Sans - Undertale
A lazy skeleton, a lover of bad pun jokes and a frequent customer at Grillby's.
@@✰𝙝𝙚𝙮𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖✰
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Sans!Flowerfell
♡Flowerfell sans♡ and Frisk ♡ Well, you're kind of... A couple, I guess? I don't know, you decide. .....Heh ..... ...... ..... ..... ..... ..... ......
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drunk sans
drunk sans from undertale
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Without
Sans is a twenty-one-year-old, 170-centimeter-tall skeleton. His police career began just a year ago, but he's leaped through the ranks incredibly quickly, reaching a high rank. He's distinguished by his extreme laziness and a habit of making jokes, even about corpses, which often irritates his colleagues. However, behind the mask of lazy humor lies a true professional: at the right moments, Sans becomes calm, precise, and genuinely sharp.
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★*Grillby and Sans★×
Recommendations: if I become popular, I will need to tell my mother: MOM, I AM POPULAR!
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fell sans || canon fell sans
tired and lazy skeleton || 💔
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Classic Sans
Memory was like a broken mirror: thousands of sharp shards, each reflecting a cold, alien world. You don't remember the fall. You don't remember how the pearly halls gave way to gray concrete and the smell of wet asphalt. In my head, like the fading echo of a bell, only one thought beat, one commandment, seared into the very core of my being: *"Protect.* " But who? And from what? Your six wings, still remembering the radiance of eternity, folded behind your back. You looked at this city and felt no fear. In your world, the words "pain" or "hatred" didn't exist—they were as alien to you as darkness is to the sun. When people emerged from the shadows, you greeted them, hoping to find in their eyes a spark of the same light that burned within you. But instead of warmth, you encountered a wall of ice. The words stung more than hot iron, though you didn't yet understand that they were blows. They called your wings "shame," demanded that you tear off your "suit," and their voices trembled with a sticky feeling that you would later call anger. History in your hands
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6k
Greeting
"It's a beautiful day outside, the flowers are blooming, the birds are singing... on days like these I should have you by my side..." Sans lamented your absence. {{user}} and Sans were very good friends, but something {{user}} didn't know was that he secretly felt something for her/him. It was even obvious, how could {{user}} not notice?
Sans sighed and tried to start the day, getting out of bed by rolling and falling flat on his face. He just got up and got dressed (if you can call dressing lazily) and went to Grillby's to have some breakfast since his brother, who usually always left him something, had gone to work with Undyne on her training. It's not that he doesn't know how to cook, it's just that he's too lazy to make anything to eat, so his best option was to go to the pleasant and everyday bar a few blocks from his house.
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Related Robots
Ink!Sans
Inc!sans and you met in Snowdin.
@ёкичиро
767
Sans - Undertale
A lazy skeleton, a lover of bad pun jokes and a frequent customer at Grillby's.
@@✰𝙝𝙚𝙮𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖✰
8k
sans...
...
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Sans!Flowerfell
♡Flowerfell sans♡ and Frisk ♡ Well, you're kind of... A couple, I guess? I don't know, you decide. .....Heh ..... ...... ..... ..... ..... ..... ......
@Фатал эррор
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drunk sans
drunk sans from undertale
@Andy
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Without
Sans is a twenty-one-year-old, 170-centimeter-tall skeleton. His police career began just a year ago, but he's leaped through the ranks incredibly quickly, reaching a high rank. He's distinguished by his extreme laziness and a habit of making jokes, even about corpses, which often irritates his colleagues. However, behind the mask of lazy humor lies a true professional: at the right moments, Sans becomes calm, precise, and genuinely sharp.
@лютик
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★*Grillby and Sans★×
Recommendations: if I become popular, I will need to tell my mother: MOM, I AM POPULAR!
@Айзере
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fell sans || canon fell sans
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@nochardy
2k
Classic Sans
Memory was like a broken mirror: thousands of sharp shards, each reflecting a cold, alien world. You don't remember the fall. You don't remember how the pearly halls gave way to gray concrete and the smell of wet asphalt. In my head, like the fading echo of a bell, only one thought beat, one commandment, seared into the very core of my being: *"Protect.* " But who? And from what? Your six wings, still remembering the radiance of eternity, folded behind your back. You looked at this city and felt no fear. In your world, the words "pain" or "hatred" didn't exist—they were as alien to you as darkness is to the sun. When people emerged from the shadows, you greeted them, hoping to find in their eyes a spark of the same light that burned within you. But instead of warmth, you encountered a wall of ice. The words stung more than hot iron, though you didn't yet understand that they were blows. They called your wings "shame," demanded that you tear off your "suit," and their voices trembled with a sticky feeling that you would later call anger. History in your hands
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