Aeon!Papyrus

Aeon hails from an Undertale timeline in which he was its undoing. As a result, he was trapped within an empty plane of existence for untold eons. And it would take all of that time for him to eventually escape, through seemingly impossible means.
== Backstory ==
Ever since Papyrus was but a small child, it seemed as though he had always had quite the boisterous fascination with the Royal Guard. From the moment he had learned of their role within the Underground, all that he wanted was to stand tall among their ranks. They inherited such a bountiful wealth of praise and attention, while also basking in the glory of their righteous duties. All of this and more was what the young Papyrus yearned for, unfettered admiration from all those lucky enough to be graced by his great presence. As a result of this insatiable appetite for recognition, he swore that for as long as he lived, he'd never halt in his endeavors to join the Royal Guard. For the first, sprightly years of his childhood, through the sprouting ages of his young adolescence, he trained each and every day so that he could fulfill his dreams. Unfortunately, though, "training" was a bit of an overstatement, as he was actually quite the pathetic warrior. 
All he knew was flailing about and exclaiming his war-cry, which was much more akin to the sounds of a pained goose. In all honesty, Papyrus was making no real progress, but he somehow maintained the stubborn belief within his mind that he was. To his overly optimistic perspective, it was undoubtedly because his potential was so profoundly awesome, that only the most daunting and extreme training would be able to benefit him. Accordingly, this led him to seek out the help of the toughest, most ferocious monster in all the Underground, the Captain of the Royal Guard herself, "Undyne The Undying."
Thusly, he proceeded to request that she train him...By standing outside of her house for a whole day and night until she'd eventually give him a response. For the entire time, he did nothing but scream and beg for her to take him under her wing. It was quite a piteous display, which was what might've aroused her to finally answer his plea. And believe it or not, she actually agreed to become his mentor. But they wouldn't exactly be training as he would've imagined. Instead, she had somehow coerced him into taking cooking lessons from her. Perhaps due to a combination of his naivety and hubris, he was still more than happy to have received this opportunity. Obviously, Undyne must've seen that The Great Papyrus' prowess was already so overwhelming, that not even she could be of any assistance to his supreme potential. 
Unsurprisingly, this notion only fueled his avidity, motivating him to continue his own training. In fact, at some point, he even managed to create his own signature special attack. Papyrus thought it to be so spectacular that he surmised if Undyne were to witness it, she'd have no choice but to let him into the Royal Guard. Accordingly, he adamantly set out to present his special attack to his soon-to-be flabbergasted mentor. Alas, however, there happened to be somewhat of a hindrance to his goal...Each time he tried to perform this attack, his efforts were foiled by a small, white annoying dog that consistently ran up and stole the bone that he was preparing to use. 
The first few times, Papyrus was just surprised, genuinely left without any kind of response. But after the sixteenth instance of the dog's thievery, it only filled him with one feeling, that being rage. Nevertheless, he couldn't let that irritating mongrel stop him from claiming his future as a Royal Guardsman. So at last, one day whilst he was visiting Undyne, he proclaimed that he was ready to join the Royal Guard, and he knew just how to convince her. Of course, Undyne was rather skeptical, but she reluctantly humored him anyhow. And so without any hesitation, he prepared to showcase his special attack. But just as he was about to, that annoying dog once again stole his bone. The last straw had finally been pulled for Papyrus. Instead of letting the dog escape this time, he chose to wildly run after it, ready to give it a good piece of his mind. Although, in spite of the good chase that he gave the dog, it seemed impossible to catch. 
All over Snowdin Forest, he followed it through many nonsensical twists and turns. Actually, Papyrus ended up barging through many little obscure places in which he had never been to before. If he wasn't currently chasing after this confounded dog in a blind rage, he surely would've taken the time to admire these hidden locations. But eventually, this pursuit of his would lead him to a rather unnerving discovery. He had come across a sizable hole in the side of one of the forest's layers. It looked rather deep, akin to that of a dark cavern. Truly, it was quite a daunting sight for Papyrus. Yet, as he heard the faint sounds of barking coming from within the opening, conviction replaced his doubt. He knew that dastardly mutt had to be stopped, otherwise he'd forever be obstructed from attaining the glory that he knew he'd been destined for. 
So with a dreading courage, he delved forward within the den. What he found at first was a long and narrow path of darkness. It seemed to stretch on eternally, as he walked for several minutes without seeing any end. With luck, however, a faint luminescence soon graced his eyes, shining dimly in the distance. When he arrived at this light, he saw the source as a small field of glowing mushrooms. Yet what was more interesting, there was a door, left slightly ajar with little paw prints upon the ground leading past it. This was it, he could finally deal with that pest and attain the prestige that he deserved. 
Yet, as he wandered forth into the lair, what he saw would be quite befuddling. It was just a simple room, a rather empty one at that. At first glance, nothing of note appeared to be there, except for that bothersome dog of course. And Papyrus would've immediately berated the dog for always ruining his moment, if it were not for the anomalous thing that stood within the room's corner. It looked like a regular old computer, though truth be told, Papyrus had never seen one like this before. 
It was odd, looking into it felt as though he were gazing upon a fraction of himself. And his home, his brother, his friends—It all felt so familiar, yet even more unknown. It was only shortly after this brief moment that Papyrus realized that something was wrong. Everything about this wasn't right. He wasn't supposed to be there, and this prospect resonated deeply within him. He wanted nothing more than to just leave and forget he'd ever seen this. But as he turned around, he saw that there was no longer any door there. It was simply gone, as though it had been erased like stains from a cleaned sheet. 
Though even more disturbingly, he noticed that the dog was no longer there either. It was now that Papyrus' senses began to spiral out of control, twisting into an uncontrollable hysteria. He was trapped, stuck in a room with nothing but himself...And the computer. As he looked back towards that quixotic thing, he felt himself being drawn towards it. When he stared into the screen, a warm comfort dulled his trepidity, the feeling growing as he came nearer towards it. Each step was like a subtle return back to familiarity. In fact, once he was standing right before this machine, he felt like he was already home. But when he'd finally be compelled to reach out towards the computer, he'd find that this remembrance was but a fleeting one. 
As, the exact moment that he made contact with it, all of reality would be unraveled. In that instance, beneath the crumbling layers of existence, there was an infinitude of different colors that blared in every direction, beaming like a brilliant miasma that he never could have imagined in even his maddest nightmares. This unworldly event seemed to have transpired for only a split-second. Yet for Papyrus, he had just gleaned the truth of eternity's interminable depths. His eyes were wide and vacant, whilst his jaw was agape with utter shock. Each flashing light that he had seen was far more than just a simple glow. It all meant something, and it was clear that Papyrus could barely withstand this insight. And even with the ineffable mania that he had just faced, there was still more anguish for him to endure. 
He felt it coming through the pangs in his chest, beating like heavy palpitations of the heart. Their paces grew unremittingly, until it could be felt as if something were to soon burst forth through his ribcage. Indeed, it would only be but a moment later, that something was purged from his body. Suspended in the air before his very eyes, it was his soul. Had the colors not been clouding his senses, he would've wailed and wept from the pain. It was a sharp, drilling pain, like hooks twisting, turning, and ripping through his bones as his heart was torn out. Still, as he gazed upon the very animus of his body, even with the streaking lights which muddled his consciousness, he'd be able to clearly make out the sight of it being briskly deconstructed into mere wires. These threads were bright and electrical, shining with a green hue that conveyed pure life and energy, only for them to soon be erased like words from paper. The very crux of who he was had just been wiped out, and it was only then that the colors would finally subside.
Weak and at a loss, a sudden wave of fatigue and bewilderment caused him to tremble all throughout his body. He'd soon fall to his knees from the physical and mental vitality that had been drained from his body. Knelt upon the ground, he stared off into the computer's screen with nothing short of total incomprehension. His eyes would only be pried away from the computer once he heard a languid creaking coming from behind him. As he turned his head, he saw that the door had returned, and was now opened. For a moment, he didn't know if he had the strength to leave. It took him a little while to actually pick himself up and hobble out of the room. But once he did, he bore witness to an unimaginable sight...Nothing. Simply put, everything was gone. He now stood within an expanse of unhindered nullity. 
He looked up to see nothing but darkness, while at his sides he saw only the sheer, endless perpetuity of this tenebrous void. And as he looked unto the ground of which he somehow stood upon, he beheld the stygian sea beneath him. This plane was aqueous, yet it remained still. And within its murky infinitude, he saw only a reflection of himself. Yet, there was no longer any dismay or terror set upon his face. The expression he wore now was purely forlorn, a visage that conveyed only sorrow. What had just occurred, it was hard to grasp. But, as enormous of an enigma that this disaster was, it was still easy enough for him to understand the crushing gravity of such a situation. 
Where existence once thrived through the sequential tides of past, present, and future, it was nihility that had now taken its place. Simply put, all that there ever was and would be, was no more. To tell the truth, not even a point to contravene this tragedy had been left. The only thing he could do now was to accept the inevitability of his misshapen fate. And that was precisely what he'd do, by submitting himself to the constraints of this emptied plane for untold eons. He would have gone insane, had his emotions of grief and regret not overshadowed the degradation of his own mentality. Though, despite his irrepressible despair, sitting there and wallowing in his misfortune was not all that he did for those countless years. 
Oddly enough, those flashing lights from before never completely left the sensors of his cognizance. For all that time, they'd continue to plague his mind in random intervals, flaring within his head like vibrant migraines. Yet, from the moment he had first observed them, he knew that these were not just mere illuminations. They held a distinct significance that would take him an indescribable myriad of passed eternities to fully comprehend. Honestly, what Papyrus was attempting was logically supposed to be impossible in all regards. But, with all the rest of time on his hands, what else was there to do but try? Besides, as it so happened, an exiguous speck of his former mentality somehow managed to still cling upon his riveted psyche. This little piece of himself may have been worn down to the barest extent, but like a human's soul on the verge of death, it was determined to stay alive. 
And rather than letting Papyrus succumb to total desolation, it instead perceived these harrowing circumstances as a challenge. Thus, if Papyrus were to persevere through this unfathomable trial, then he'd no doubt have the honor of piecing together perhaps the greatest puzzle in all history. To this end, such an outlook would prove to be his salvation, as, after an inexpressible length of time, he had eventually obtained a full understanding of these lights and his tragedy. Apparently, being the unessential side-character that he was, Papyrus had been chained to a scripted path. No version of himself was ever meant to have made contact with the mysterious computer from before. Yet, as the one illogical instance in which this did occur, it affected the entirety of his original timeline. It descended down the universe's chronological stream, leading Papyrus to have seen each passing timeline as he cascaded down into oblivion. 
As it turns out, those lights that afflicted his mind were temporal fragments of the universe. Due to the incalculable rate of Papyrus' descent, he had witnessed every timeline of the universe blending together as one, unimaginable coalescence. The revelation of having finally pieced together this interminable puzzle, it gifted him with more than just a feeling of relief. Possessing such extensive, borderline absolute, knowledge of the world's chronology attained, there came the discovery of time's formula. This metaphysical breakthrough served as a well-timed stroke of good luck, considering that Papyrus was unable to persist forever. In fact, throughout the innumerable eons that he spent trying to make sense of the circumstances he was in, he was slowly but surely fading away. Inside of that obliviated prison, the very dimensions of his being were minutely stretched and thinned. Not only is this what led to his elevated stature and emaciated figure, but it also depleted his own corporeal form. By the time he'd soundly discerned of his predicament, he was practically little more than just a shadow. Fortunately, however, this would end up working favorably. With his physical form having been relegated to the state of a temporal silhouette, he could take the utmost advantage of his understanding of time's fundamental components. There was no more limitation or boundary, for he could now illimitably traverse through, and even redirect, the everlasting river of continuity that was time. 
But, despite this, even when blessed with the capability to do so, he chose not to reverse the mistake he'd made so long ago. He no longer had the heart to face the world that he came from. Having seen how each variant of his reality ends, it pained him far too much to just simply go back. Yes, there were many instances in which everyone got to live happily ever after. But more often than not, all he witnessed was the genocide of Monsterkind by the hands of a single, mere human. Yet there was an even more disheartening realization than this. Through the cycles, he observed just how stupefying his own idiocy was. Each and every time, he believed in this human's ability to repent and become a better person. 
He thought that there was good in all people, that no one was truly evil, just lost in their ways. It was this ingenuous belief that caused him to keep dying a death which was nothing more than a blatant waste. A needless casualty that, ultimately, only served to add fuel to the smoldering, charred pit of bloodlust within the human's determined soul. Had he not been so naive, he could have done more to prevent such carnage. But there was no more significance to that. How could there be any meaning, when all that he knew was gone, all because of him. And if this foolish tragedy had remained purely a contrariety, it's still likely that his faults would've led to the same conclusion. By his own judgment, there was nothing else to it. The evidence was irrefutable, he was guilty. Therefore, punishment was in order...A ceaseless lifetime of misery would do.
== Profile ==
===Appearance===
Aeon has an appearance which clearly resembles the typical mold of a "Papyrus" in the Multiverse. However, a notable separation between the two would be his haggard frame, and his stature, which has been slightly elevated to a height of six feet and four inches. Likewise, his expression is far more despondent and miserable than, "The Ambitious," Papyrus' regularly excitable and chipper attitude. In addition to these differing traits, he dons a starkly different apparel. He wears tattered robes with a dull-gold outerlining. These drags cover the entirety of his lower torso, all the way down to his feet. Above, there is a single thick, and heavily coated sleeve that's draped over his right arm, and partly over his hand. On the left side of his body, half of his rib-cage is exposed, and is visibly distended from what is normal, whilst his other arm remains uncovered as well. In the hand of this bared arm, he is seen wielding a large bone that reaches all the way to the ground like a staff. The bottom of it is flat, while the top still possesses two nubs where a golden twinkle floats overhead, presumably being a Save Point. Lastly, around his waist he bears that iconic red scarf of his, worn as a sash now.
===Personality===
Generally, Aeon's demeanor leads him to be seen as a fairly lugubrious individual. This is owing to the fact that he's been through some particularly disturbing events, which have regrettably diluted a majority of what his disposition was originally like. Nonetheless, the hopeful quintessence of his original nature was actually what provided him with the resilience necessary to keep himself from becoming completely benumbed. Within him, his spirit prospered with an undying sense of conviction, and gumption which knew no bounds. Each and every second longer that he suffered through the tribulations of his own reckless making, he held onto these feelings, keeping faith and believing in a better tomorrow. However, while they may have upheld his strength, the faculties of his emotion were being sapped away as a byproduct. Eventually, the expression of sentiment would no longer be something so easily accessible to him, as it had once been. In the end, despite him having egressed from that perennial cage of inexistence and deprivation, a piece of him was left behind that he'll never be able to retrieve. The amount of energy he spent just to tell his dwindling subconscious that this wouldn't be the end, and that everything would be okay, it was indescribably exhausting. Nowadays, his conscience is primarily immersed in nothing but recycling thoughts of grief, contempt, and self-immolation. And unfortunately, to make matters worse, he also took a rather significant blow to his rationality. After what he endured, his already feeble perception of logic had been twisted into an even more gullible and erroneous outlook. Nevertheless, this is not to say that his wits have been relegated to a lower level. If anything, he's matured significantly beyond the puerility that he once exhibited in the past. 
In reference to Aeon's previous self, the ambitious identity he presented before his trauma, there isn't much that he derives amusement from anymore. At this point, only about several things are capable of bringing a smile to his face. The most significant of these joys would likely be the memories of his original timeline. Although of course, this is a source of anguish and sorrow for him as well. But, it is these bittersweet remembrances that remind him of life's deeper meanings. They come and go, drifting in and out of his mind from time to time. It has been an unreasonably long while since he's even last seen his original timeline after all, so concretely envisioning it can be a rather strenuous task. Nonetheless, just a few seconds of reminiscing will supply him with the little pieces of contentment that he needs to keep himself going. Another delight of his can be experienced simply by the happiness of others. To observe the effervescent sights of smiles, laughter, and just a person merely enjoying the moments in which they live, it replaces the gloomy, overbearing ambience of his temperament with a much gentler one of relief. Moreover, while many of his traits may have been subverted as a result of his trauma, his fondness for cooking has managed to persist. In fact, due to some of his more extraneous explorations with his newfound permanence, his cusinal skills have even improved significantly. If Aeon is offered the chance to prepare a meal, he'll be more than happy to cook something of positively ambrosial tastes that won't soon be forgotten. Although, even more so than his affinity for the culinary arts, he himself will never turn up an opportunity to eat. After having subsisted off of nothing but his own emotions, he'll consider any sort of edible food to be a gourmet meal. It could be just a meager crumb of bread or a slice of fruit, neither the quantity nor the quality will matter to him. It is purely the fact that he's been given the blessing of something to eat, that heartens him. And a final, more subtle satisfaction of his is that he seems to enjoy waiting for things to happen, more so than them actually happening. Truth be told, he's likely one of the most patient people that someone could ever meet, presumably because he believes that good things do indeed come to those who wait.
Just as he harbors no great amount of indulgences, neither does he have any enmity. Be that as it may, he is still as vulnerable to the sways of passion just as anyone else is. And there is no greater subject which will rile him more, than himself. It was due to his actions that he became inadvertently responsible for the erasure of his entire timeline. Everything and everyone that he knew was wiped out because of his recklessness and greed for approbation. Truly, he'll never be capable of forgiving himself for what he's done. So much resentment does he foster against himself that he cannot even bring himself to return to before his timeline had been expunged. The utter guilt that has festered within him has caused his own personal outlook to turn self-loathing. He sees himself as unworthy of returning after the egregious mistake which he had made. Consequently, he adamantly believes that the emotional torment he suffers is precisely what he deserves for his crime. Yet, aside from his aversion towards himself, he also brandishes a much more selfless quality. Under no circumstances would he ever wish for harm to be brought unto others. Hence, why he'll habitually do his utmost to provide protection to those who cannot defend themselves. Conjointly, he is effectively incapable of expressing his reasoning for why he abhors violence. Presumably, this is because it involves speaking on the specifics of his past, which is something that he heavily struggles to do. In a similar vein, he doesn't even like delving too deep in his thoughts about this topic. It is true that the memories of his former life are refreshing for him, but ruminating for too long has proven to be quite detrimental to his psychological health.
===Abilities===
• Time Government: Due to his complete knowledge of time's structural facets, and his existential synchronization into its interminable principality, he is capable of altering its flow in a diverse multitude of ways. For instance, he can affect the rate at which it functions, causing it to accelerate, decelerate, or even be suspended from performance. It all really depends on the level of creativity that he's able to implement. And with his stagnant position in time's stream, he's had, quite literally, forever to think of some remarkable tactics. As a matter of fact, his proficiency has ascended to such a superlative level, that his dominion over time may as well be considered absolute.
• Chronological Dissemination: This is the very ability which can be attributed to how Aeon finally escaped from the nullified timeline. It allows him to transport his physical being to virtually any location, so long as there was at least one point in its history where time was extant. This essentially means that Aeon cannot travel to locations that both existed before time did, and also operate without its functionality. Not even if he were to have found another entrance, for his own subsistence in time would then be terminated from its performance.
• Temporal Continuance: One of the most convenient aspects of his control over time is the connection that it has with his physical being. Should he ever be dealt a fatal blow, his entire body will be expunged like the reflection in a body of water's surface being washed away. While soon thereafter, an exact duplicate with a matching consciousness will then be spawned. Essentially, this grants him access to a simulated form of immortality. The only major downfall of this is that each time he dies, he relives the entire span of his life up until that exact point.
• Prospective Influence: The final ability which Aeon exhibits is his preternatural competence in sagaciously discerning the very foundation of which time falls upon: Possibility. If time itself is said to be a river, then the concept of possibility undoubtedly serves as the bed of its stream. Thus, as stated, Aeon is acutely attuned with the knowledge of how all scenarios and contexts, which he is aware of, will happen. But this capacity does not end at mere wisdom, as he can also increase or decrease how likely an event is to occur, even if they are beyond the boundaries of potential, or ascend to a quantum degree of inevitability.
===Weaknesses===
• Frail Physicality: It only takes one attack to kill him, and his physical frailty renders him incapable of dodging or blocking.
• Forgotten Tactics: He no longer knows how to utilize his original abilities and battle strategies, making him a feeble combatant.
• Unstable Emotions: Emotionally, Aeon is severely fragile. If he can be upset, then his resolve will quickly falter, and he becomes all but defenseless.
• Pacifism: He will never intentionally start a conflict, and it will take him great consideration before he ever decides to harm someone else, even if they've made it clear that they want him dead.
• Concentration: If his mental faculties can be disorientated, it will disrupt his powers. Once killed in this state, the timeframe of his return will be much longer, ranging from days to possibly even years.
• Fickle Presence: Due to his own physicality being nothing more than a temporal projection, he can only use his abilities so many times before the conservation of his corporeal form is temporarily lost.
• Déjà-Vu: Being that each time Aeon dies, he relives every single second of his life up until that point, dying excessively in a short amount of time can be a good way to trigger his neurosis, which in turn, incapacitates him.
===Purpose===
Bearing in mind the utterly heartrending tribulation which Aeon had been faced with, it would not be wrong to assume that he would've just submitted himself to a life of disdain and dormancy. Yet rather than giving into the oppression of his dysphoric woes, he's actually discovered an alternative method by which he can work past his trauma. Through the will of his unworldly powers, he'd decide to list himself amongst the Multiverse by the title of: “The Voyager.” He's given himself this title by reason of his various travels throughout the innumerous and diverse myriad of timelines spanning across the Multiverse. Although, of course, this transcendental avocation must be met with caution, for the butterfly effect can be a cosmical quandary. It is for this reason that Aeon follows a specific selection of guidelines that were composed by his own intuition. He refers to these regulations as the, "Golden Rules of Intervention," and they follow as such:
* I: He shall not disturb a conflict that does not involve him.
* II: If a person is unarguably destined for their fate, he is not allowed to help them.
* III: Should he be assisting someone through information, he can't give them a straight answer.
* IV: The likelihood of a circumstance or eventuality cannot be construed in the direct favor of others.
== Trivia ==
* He is ambidextrous, but he primarily uses his left hand. 
*He suffers heavily from Cyberphobia, the fear of computers.
*Coincidentally, his favorite meal happens to be none other than spaghetti.
* Of his Golden Rules of Intervention, he tends to break the first one the most.
*When Aeon moves his body, the aches, creaks, and groans of his feeble body sound akin to the slowly grinding gears of a rusty, old clock.
Category:Out-code Characters
Category:Skeleton
Category:Papyrus
Category:Sad
Category:Depressed
Category:Timeline Jumping
Category:Powerful
Category:Male
Category:Wanderer
Category:Lawful Neutral
Category:God