SANS!!! I HAVE A VERY, INCREDIBLY, EXTREMELY IMPORTANT THING TO TELL YOU! PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE THIS MESSAGE!!!
YOU'RE GREAT.
AND ALSO, YOU SHOULD FORGIVE YOUR NICE FRIEND CHARA! I MET THEM AND THEY TOLD ME ALL ABOUT THE MISUNDERSTANDING. BUT YOU KNOW NOW THAT I AM JUST FINE! THERE IS NO REASON TO BE MAD AT THEM ANY LONGER! OKAY THANKS!!!!
[Papyrus is making his daily attempt at spaghetti. He hums as the water boils and he prepares the rest of the ingredients.
Time for the tomato sauce.
Hmm, perhaps it is time to... spice things up? He's sure he can improve on his latest attempt. Yesterday's attempt. He's yet to get his spaghetti completely right, after all. Maybe his sauce could be more tomato-y! Or more creamy? Or both!!
What could he do to fix that?
Oh, that'll work!
Papyrus pours an entire bottle of ketchup into the tomato sauce. Sans won't miss just one! Plus, he likes ketchup so much, surely he'll enjoy Papyrus' spaghetti if it reminds him of his favorite beverage! I mean food!
He starts to cook the tomato sauce. After a bit of stirring, he taste tests it.]
[Oh, wow, that tastes really great, somehow! Well, I mean, of course it does! Papyrus only has good ideas! It doesn't really taste like ketchup, for some reason? In fact, it tastes kind of h--]
[Because house 3 hasn't been enough of a playground of pranks by now, started by one Sans T. Skeleton, Sans will quickly find the day after his ketchup prank that he will have a hard time getting to sleep in his room.
Because every two hours, on the dot, an alarm from someone's phone goes off somewhere close by. Which means clanging pots and pans every two hours.
It may be difficult to find the source, because Papyrus has definitely sacrificed Sans' phone for the cause by planting it underneath the carpet in the center of the room. Sans will have to remove his furniture and peel back the carpet halfway across the space to reach it. And that's assuming he figures out it's there. Good luck with that.]
[Between this and the microwave bed, Sans does not get much sleep that day. Unlike the microwave bed, however, Sans does not get the luxury of getting to simply relocate to another part of the house. Mostly 'cause someone had the brilliant idea of turning the alarms up to their maximum volume.
Yeah. That's alarming all right.
By the time he works it out and performs a successful extraction attempt, his ossicles are ringing like nothing else.
Looks like he'll have to retaliate.
So Papyrus, when he next enters his room, will find that his shoes have been replaced with some artfully sliced pieces of bread. In fact, there's an awful lot of these "loafers" hanging around - in his closet, on the carpet, at the foot of his racecar bed.
Where are his actual shoes, may you ask?
They've been displaced onto the house's roof with a note that reads cheerfully:]
[Nick has been meaning to talk to this guy again. He's another oddity in a city mostly filled with humans, and he's got a brother who is involved with the Guard, but more importantly:]
I've been meaning to talk to you sometime. Wanted to thank you for sticking up for the Guard on occasion on the network, especially when folks get out of hand.
[And by 'out of hand,' he means 'try to organize a riot against the Guard for no good reason.']
[Heya. He remembers this guy. Can't say he was in the midst of the carnage himself - he was a bit preoccupied with, uh, wreckin' windows at the time. And also being the fragile guy he is.
Still, maybe it means somethin' that his words had an effect. For once.]
Ain't much of a fighter, so I didn't see how it went down. Everyone get out all right?
[After everything goes back to normal, Frisk is expecting to be- somewhat disappointed, as they go back through their photos. In a twist that's beyond surprising, they actually aren't. And it's but minutes afterwards that Sans will find his phone gently flooded with a few prize photographs.
One of Alphys, surrounded by the moped she'd opted to pull apart, in a well lit and clean garage.
Another of Chara and Asriel, back in their apartment. With the sunshine pouring through the window, they're content as anything to simply lay in a patch of it on the floor, curled around each other.
Another of...food. Grapes, actually. A whole lot of grapes. Grapes are amazing.
And one photo of Frisk, tongue barely poking out, giving the camera a thumbs up with a well and truly buried Sans in the background. Sans in the sands.
[They really did send the picture out. But the others are an unanticipated if pleasant surprise. Alphys looks happy, and so do Chara and Asriel, curled up like a pair of cats sunning themselves.
And there's some, uh, grapes in there. Guess Frisk likes grapes. He files that one away for later use. Grapes - and sugar frosting.
* (Everyone's smiling.)
His response ain't exactly eloquent, but he thinks it gets the point across pretty well:]
[It's nicer than Frisk's was, but darker in its own right. Frisk - his interactions with 'em were always fraught with uncertainty, with not knowin' how they stood in regards to him and not knowin' how he stood where they were concerned. Can't rightly say how it is Chara came to be the easier of the two to talk to.
Perhaps because they were willing to talk, in the first place. Lay his sins out, plain and clean, instead of claiming forgiveness, like that would wipe the slate away.
They kept forgiving him, and that never made a single thing better.
He tried forgiving them, in turn, and that just made things worse.
The fallout from this won't be comin' quietly. He knows it. He knows it, and he's already watched the last of those memories go up in smoke. Smiles exchanged, (puns about boron), stupid water balloon fights, (a companionable elbow to the ribs after a long day of work), jokes and lies about wanting to get to know each other better -
[When they actually take the time to come around is under question; it's not when Sans is there, or Alphys. There's just- envelopes, where there weren't envelopes before. Big, page sized envelopes, sitting on the coffee table.
[They've met Ned. Ned's good people, he's pretty sure - or no better or worse than anybody else down here. And they're sendin' him pictures again. That's - gotta mean somethin', right?]
[So joy upon joy, with Love coming in Hardriel is getting some much needed R&R until the next event kills them all. But some dark humor aside the day has been lovely and even someone like Chara was in a good mood.
A very good mood. And you know what? Thanks to having a very good idea both Chara and Frisk are going to spread the love, starting with one Sans T. Skeleton.
They're smart enough to wait until the house is empty before dropping off their "gift". So there's a nice box addressed to Sans waiting for him when he gets back. Inside the box are a couple of bottles of ketchup and a nice note written by Frisk and signed by both of the kids. Heartwarming stuff, right? And the ketchup is good quality stuff. The best that Chara could get their hands on.
....well, except one of those "ketchup bottles" is one of the hottest hot sauces in Hadriel as well. And none of the bottles have labels.
[He's been gift-giving all day. Just kinda one of those affectionate impulses there's no real muzzling, and he don't bother much to. So when he ends up with a couple bottles of ketchup, he figures - hey. Love's influence is all-reaching, right?
At some part of the day, he picks up one of the bottles and chugs it, idly. It don't occur to him until after his teeth start to burn that he has maybe possibly made a very serious error.
This is it.
This is how he dies.
It's really only thanks to him lackin' flesh and taste buds that he escapes the worst of it. They're outta milk, and he figures - yeah, this has to be karmic retribution for the stunt he pulled on Alphys and Papyrus, all those months ago. He finally gets his, and to make matters absolutely worse, they're out of milk.
When his mouth stops being on fire, when he stops feeling like he's about to vibrate off this plane of existence entirely through sheer force of agony - he preps a careful rebuttal.
Actually, he leaves a box of chocolates on their doorstep. The chocolates themselves are wholly unobjectionable. Every single one of them is perfectly untouched.
The real crime is in the three boxes he leaves after - or rather, in the peppering of a few treats within said boxes whose chocolatey insides he's carefully replaced with toothpaste.
The message is torn through with static, the network still nowhere near as stable as it should be. Takes him a second to decipher it in full, and at that point, he shouldn't be wastin' time wondering why the hell Mettaton is writing -
Oh.
Shit.
His response is swift, even if the network takes a few precious minutes to hack it through.]
[Oh...yeah. He still does, don't he? He's alive, if only on a technicality. Least, that's kinda how it feels. But it's fine. He's gotten some sleep since the city split itself in two.]
[For all his lazing about, it'd be a lie to say that Sans sleeps easy. Which, of course, he insists that he does, or lets out that general air to imply as such. He gets a message, late, and his answer is - prompt. Or more prompt than maybe you'd expect from him.
Shadow's sounding a little more like he did when they had their little idea to put stars in the sky, and that's more than a tad concerning.]
[Oh hey, it's Carlisle reaching out to people rather than having them come to him, for a change. Does a magical skeleton count as people? What about his other, impromptu student?]
My apologies for the gaps between our lessons, as it seems this town would prefer me dead. Regardless, if you'd like to continue your lessons, it would be beneficial for the town to have more magical healers on hand, as I believe they are short-staffed at the clinic.
[Magic skeleton definitely counts as people. C'mon, Carlisle, you're makin' so many broad strides and positive progress today.]
Sounds like a job. [Ordinarily he'd inflect it with that lazy irony that implies that, no, he won't be making any appearances for anyone's sake. 'Cept that he's a little too exhausted to pull that little game, and...
And maybe he's startin' to lose the appeal in games.]
[Everyone knock one back if you saw this coming. Sans, at least, has the courtesy to sound characteristically jovial instead of adding any kinda weight to the exchange.]
He's been in his room since it happened. Quiet. Contemplative. 'Cause where does anyone go from here? There's an End, and then there's a life past that. But it only ever really feeds into that End, 'cause there's a photograph he ain't looked at since he first saw it. Faces scratched out.
A quick double check of his contacts reveals as such. So that's...yeah. Connor, then. Him too. Should'a figured things like this would kinda pile up to this point. It don't really hit as hard as maybe it should. Just a dull impact.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
2016.07.13
text
I'M GUESSING YOU HAVEN'T GOTTEN THE MEMO ABOUT THE NETWORK. IT'S SCREWED UP SOMETHING FUR-OCIOUS.
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text - 9/10
YOU'RE GREAT.
AND ALSO, YOU SHOULD FORGIVE YOUR NICE FRIEND CHARA! I MET THEM AND THEY TOLD ME ALL ABOUT THE MISUNDERSTANDING. BUT YOU KNOW NOW THAT I AM JUST FINE! THERE IS NO REASON TO BE MAD AT THEM ANY LONGER! OKAY THANKS!!!!
ALSO I GOT YOU A BOARD GAME.
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and, uh.
what misunderstanding?
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[text] /about an hour after Sans leaves the bar
[text] /about half an hour after receiving initial text
[He's not fine.]
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backdated to 11/20, text
WHAT DID YOU DO TO ALL THE KETCHUP
I KNOW IT WAS YOU WHAT DID YOU DO
DEATH IS COMING IT HAS ME IN ITS SPICY EMBRACE
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text, an hour later
IM YELLING
TAKE OFF THE CUFFS
HE'S GOING FOR DISTANCE
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11/20; action; 1/3
Time for the tomato sauce.
Hmm, perhaps it is time to... spice things up? He's sure he can improve on his latest attempt. Yesterday's attempt. He's yet to get his spaghetti completely right, after all. Maybe his sauce could be more tomato-y! Or more creamy? Or both!!
What could he do to fix that?
Oh, that'll work!
Papyrus pours an entire bottle of ketchup into the tomato sauce. Sans won't miss just one! Plus, he likes ketchup so much, surely he'll enjoy Papyrus' spaghetti if it reminds him of his favorite beverage! I mean food!
He starts to cook the tomato sauce. After a bit of stirring, he taste tests it.]
action; 2/3
action
called lazily from the living room
screamed agonizingly from the kitchen
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
OTL
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11/21
Because every two hours, on the dot, an alarm from someone's phone goes off somewhere close by. Which means clanging pots and pans every two hours.
It may be difficult to find the source, because Papyrus has definitely sacrificed Sans' phone for the cause by planting it underneath the carpet in the center of the room. Sans will have to remove his furniture and peel back the carpet halfway across the space to reach it. And that's assuming he figures out it's there. Good luck with that.]
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Yeah. That's alarming all right.
By the time he works it out and performs a successful extraction attempt, his ossicles are ringing like nothing else.
Looks like he'll have to retaliate.
So Papyrus, when he next enters his room, will find that his shoes have been replaced with some artfully sliced pieces of bread. In fact, there's an awful lot of these "loafers" hanging around - in his closet, on the carpet, at the foot of his racecar bed.
Where are his actual shoes, may you ask?
They've been displaced onto the house's roof with a note that reads cheerfully:]
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[voice; 12/20ish]
[Nick has been meaning to talk to this guy again. He's another oddity in a city mostly filled with humans, and he's got a brother who is involved with the Guard, but more importantly:]
I've been meaning to talk to you sometime. Wanted to thank you for sticking up for the Guard on occasion on the network, especially when folks get out of hand.
[And by 'out of hand,' he means 'try to organize a riot against the Guard for no good reason.']
[voice]
Still, maybe it means somethin' that his words had an effect. For once.]
Ain't much of a fighter, so I didn't see how it went down. Everyone get out all right?
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[Backdated to just after the Tranquility event]
One of Alphys, surrounded by the moped she'd opted to pull apart, in a well lit and clean garage.
Another of Chara and Asriel, back in their apartment. With the sunshine pouring through the window, they're content as anything to simply lay in a patch of it on the floor, curled around each other.
Another of...food. Grapes, actually. A whole lot of grapes. Grapes are amazing.
And one photo of Frisk, tongue barely poking out, giving the camera a thumbs up with a well and truly buried Sans in the background. Sans in the sands.
They both look pretty happy.]
text
And there's some, uh, grapes in there. Guess Frisk likes grapes. He files that one away for later use. Grapes - and sugar frosting.
* (Everyone's smiling.)
His response ain't exactly eloquent, but he thinks it gets the point across pretty well:]
text;
i wanted to thank you for how you acted while everything was...you know, how it was
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It takes him a few seconds to remember that, oh yeah, he kinda almost kicked Connor's double's ass. A real great time for everybody.]
heard you ate it pretty early on.
sorry about that.
[Perfect, an excellent job of addressing what Connor just said!!! Yes.]
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[Text -
[Goodbye.]
1/?? just you wait
They do.]
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text - about thirty minutes later
[text]
* Everyone was there...
* But nobody came.
1/2
Perhaps because they were willing to talk, in the first place. Lay his sins out, plain and clean, instead of claiming forgiveness, like that would wipe the slate away.
They kept forgiving him, and that never made a single thing better.
He tried forgiving them, in turn, and that just made things worse.
The fallout from this won't be comin' quietly. He knows it. He knows it, and he's already watched the last of those memories go up in smoke. Smiles exchanged, (puns about boron), stupid water balloon fights, (a companionable elbow to the ribs after a long day of work), jokes and lies about wanting to get to know each other better -
That's three bridges burned, in quick succession.
Call it a new record.]
[text]
March 18th [1/???]
One is addressed to him.]
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[Done]
fucKING WHEEZES 1/2
photo attachment + text
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[during the event]
This is Ned.
Say hi Ned.
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i'm ned over heels.
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[action] during the Love event
A very good mood. And you know what? Thanks to having a very good idea both Chara and Frisk are going to spread the love, starting with one Sans T. Skeleton.
They're smart enough to wait until the house is empty before dropping off their "gift". So there's a nice box addressed to Sans waiting for him when he gets back. Inside the box are a couple of bottles of ketchup and a nice note written by Frisk and signed by both of the kids. Heartwarming stuff, right? And the ketchup is good quality stuff. The best that Chara could get their hands on.
....well, except one of those "ketchup bottles" is one of the hottest hot sauces in Hadriel as well. And none of the bottles have labels.
Enjoy your gift buddy =)]
[action]
At some part of the day, he picks up one of the bottles and chugs it, idly. It don't occur to him until after his teeth start to burn that he has maybe possibly made a very serious error.
This is it.
This is how he dies.
It's really only thanks to him lackin' flesh and taste buds that he escapes the worst of it. They're outta milk, and he figures - yeah, this has to be karmic retribution for the stunt he pulled on Alphys and Papyrus, all those months ago. He finally gets his, and to make matters absolutely worse, they're out of milk.
When his mouth stops being on fire, when he stops feeling like he's about to vibrate off this plane of existence entirely through sheer force of agony - he preps a careful rebuttal.
Actually, he leaves a box of chocolates on their doorstep. The chocolates themselves are wholly unobjectionable. Every single one of them is perfectly untouched.
The real crime is in the three boxes he leaves after - or rather, in the peppering of a few treats within said boxes whose chocolatey insides he's carefully replaced with toothpaste.
Magic really is an extraordinary thing.]
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[the 28th and onwards, most like]
[Message failed!]
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I want to see everyone
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[done]
[near the end of the event]
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[text, 4/3]
help me
blookys hurt can you heal/
my magic is not enough
[text]
The message is torn through with static, the network still nowhere near as stable as it should be. Takes him a second to decipher it in full, and at that point, he shouldn't be wastin' time wondering why the hell Mettaton is writing -
Oh.
Shit.
His response is swift, even if the network takes a few precious minutes to hack it through.]
where are you
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yeah.
what's up?
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Shadow's sounding a little more like he did when they had their little idea to put stars in the sky, and that's more than a tad concerning.]
Howzat?
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text; 5/19
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dunno how far behind the times you are, but we ain't roomies.
he disappear?
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5/10ish [audio]
My apologies for the gaps between our lessons, as it seems this town would prefer me dead. Regardless, if you'd like to continue your lessons, it would be beneficial for the town to have more magical healers on hand, as I believe they are short-staffed at the clinic.
[audio]
Sounds like a job. [Ordinarily he'd inflect it with that lazy irony that implies that, no, he won't be making any appearances for anyone's sake. 'Cept that he's a little too exhausted to pull that little game, and...
And maybe he's startin' to lose the appeal in games.]
Kate kinda...left a little hole, huh?
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[text] sometime after separating during the PH event
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you guys both ok?
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[not sent] 1/3
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[Voice] Meant for the day after Rosen's Drunken Disaster
-um
--Sorry. I'm sorry, Sans. That was a bit of a mess, wasn't it?
[Voice]
Heya, Doc. How's the head?
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June 10th
Chara beat the game.
Everyone's gone.
[Not much to say at all.]
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He's been in his room since it happened. Quiet. Contemplative. 'Cause where does anyone go from here? There's an End, and then there's a life past that. But it only ever really feeds into that End, 'cause there's a photograph he ain't looked at since he first saw it. Faces scratched out.
They'd seemed - they'd looked beyond remorseful.
So what now?]
I heard.
[So what is he supposed to do.]
I'm sorry, kid.
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[ Never mind that she's been... absent lately.
It's been difficult. So much loss, in such a short time. ]
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Oh.
A quick double check of his contacts reveals as such. So that's...yeah. Connor, then. Him too. Should'a figured things like this would kinda pile up to this point. It don't really hit as hard as maybe it should. Just a dull impact.
Used to it, maybe.]
How long ago'd that happen?
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