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[There's just envelopes, where there weren't envelopes before. One's addressed to him, and there's no missin' who that looping, childish script belongs to. Truth be told, he weren't expecting anything from them anytime soon.
He weren't expecting anything at all. But as he slides each drawing out from the envelope, the story plays out.
Stories of a little red star that wasn't okay, but could pretend it was.
A little red star that maybe expanded at the heat death of the universe, pushing outward 'cause that was just the way of things went, 'cause it weren't given any other way to go. Seared the edges of some worlds and torched others entirely, leavin' nothing but rock and rubble in their wake.
A little red star that did a lot of things that weren't okay. Not 'cause it meant to. But just 'cause that was the way it was.
A little red star that touched a couple planets that were too far out to ever feel the warm fingers of any sorta sunlight, that never knew what it was for a star to stroke the edges of an atmosphere and breathe a world of life into somethin' that never knew it.
A pretty special kind of LOVE.
But a pretty special kind of love, too.
...does that make sense?
Maybe not.]
He weren't expecting anything at all. But as he slides each drawing out from the envelope, the story plays out.
Stories of a little red star that wasn't okay, but could pretend it was.
A little red star that maybe expanded at the heat death of the universe, pushing outward 'cause that was just the way of things went, 'cause it weren't given any other way to go. Seared the edges of some worlds and torched others entirely, leavin' nothing but rock and rubble in their wake.
A little red star that did a lot of things that weren't okay. Not 'cause it meant to. But just 'cause that was the way it was.
A little red star that touched a couple planets that were too far out to ever feel the warm fingers of any sorta sunlight, that never knew what it was for a star to stroke the edges of an atmosphere and breathe a world of life into somethin' that never knew it.
A pretty special kind of LOVE.
But a pretty special kind of love, too.
...does that make sense?
Maybe not.]
[No response really feels adequate.
It's a couple of hours before they get a response. When they do, it's in the form of a photograph. It's a clumsy shot of a room that was once Papyrus's, now unoccupied (definitely unoccupied; the beanbag chair he's dragged into it and finds himself sleepin' in more often than not definitely don't mean anything, no sir). The frame ain't wide enough to take in the entire bed, but it should be clear just from the frame and the sheets that it's Papyrus's racecar bed.
Atop it is a collection of objects you could really only call keepsakes, even if you're someone who blithely insists you ain't sentimental. A skull-print sweatervest. Somethin' that looks a little like some head of an android or another. A hot dog truck. A plastic tomato. A couple books. Two books of constellations. An eclectic assemblage of things left behind by the people that ain't here anymore, and the people who've stuck around long enough for him to know they're too important for him to lose.
At the centerpiece is the sheaf of papers that comprises their story.
Which is to say - he'll treasure it.
And then, a text.]
thanks, frisk.
It's a couple of hours before they get a response. When they do, it's in the form of a photograph. It's a clumsy shot of a room that was once Papyrus's, now unoccupied (definitely unoccupied; the beanbag chair he's dragged into it and finds himself sleepin' in more often than not definitely don't mean anything, no sir). The frame ain't wide enough to take in the entire bed, but it should be clear just from the frame and the sheets that it's Papyrus's racecar bed.
Atop it is a collection of objects you could really only call keepsakes, even if you're someone who blithely insists you ain't sentimental. A skull-print sweatervest. Somethin' that looks a little like some head of an android or another. A hot dog truck. A plastic tomato. A couple books. Two books of constellations. An eclectic assemblage of things left behind by the people that ain't here anymore, and the people who've stuck around long enough for him to know they're too important for him to lose.
At the centerpiece is the sheaf of papers that comprises their story.
Which is to say - he'll treasure it.
And then, a text.]
thanks, frisk.
[It's not something he has to respond to at all, and certainly, what little response is received doesn't get responded to in kind. It's not even something they see straight away; not until the end of the day, when they've delivered everything they need to- spread little seeds of hope about the city as much as they possibly can.
So it's not seen until that night, when one small, tired child has shuffled their way into their baggy sleeping shirt, checking their phone out of habit prior to turning out the lights.
It's not something he had to respond to, and certainly, what little response is received doesn't get responded to in kind. But they look, and they know that bed, and they know that hot dog truck. The plastic tomato. A couple books. Two books of constellations.
Just like they know those sheafs of papers.
Which is to say - they don't doubt at all he treasures it. Not even slightly.
When they turn out the light, and go to sleep, it's with a thrumming warmth in their chest, that feels a little bit like being loved.
They did a nice thing, today.
Did the right thing.]
So it's not seen until that night, when one small, tired child has shuffled their way into their baggy sleeping shirt, checking their phone out of habit prior to turning out the lights.
It's not something he had to respond to, and certainly, what little response is received doesn't get responded to in kind. But they look, and they know that bed, and they know that hot dog truck. The plastic tomato. A couple books. Two books of constellations.
Just like they know those sheafs of papers.
Which is to say - they don't doubt at all he treasures it. Not even slightly.
When they turn out the light, and go to sleep, it's with a thrumming warmth in their chest, that feels a little bit like being loved.
They did a nice thing, today.
Did the right thing.]
[The text is received and very eagerly showed off. Their new friend has a few things to learn about the way of the world, it seems.]
He didn't understand what you said, but he's flattered anyway.
He didn't understand what you said, but he's flattered anyway.
Well he thinks you're charming.
[They'd be waggling their eyebrows at him if they could.]
[They'd be waggling their eyebrows at him if they could.]
You are when you want to be.
[Don't even try that with them, buster; "natural" charm doesn't come into it at all.]
[Don't even try that with them, buster; "natural" charm doesn't come into it at all.]
[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.
Enjoy your gift buddy =)]
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 =)]
[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.
Magic really is an extraordinary thing.]
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.]
[Sad thing is, is that pretty much everyone who knows Chara knows they love chocolate. So they while they do treat this with some level of caution, the first box goes okay and they somehow miss the landmines in the second one until the third box is started and their luck runs out.
It's not even mint. No, what this tastes like is some unholy combination of cinnamon-clove and that stuff they use for fillings at the dentist's that says it is supposed to be vanilla but just tastes like dirt and broken dreams. Chara spends a long time in the bathroom trying to wash their mouth out with soap. Frisk better watch out because they didn't get a chance to throw out the box.
There's some regret but as it's been stating many times before, they're not above the consequences. Chara started it so they'll go again. Meaning they have to find a microwave.
"Suddenly" there's some nice, small loafs of bread in the fridge in Sans's home. Maybe something thanks to Love. Something bite-sized, good for a midnight snack with or without butter.
They may or may not be microwaved bars of soap in reality. And to describe the taste of them...well, "five weeks of unwashed feet" is being generous.
Spite too, is an extraordinary thing. Also Chara has backup in the form of Frisk. Better make a wise counterattack because after this Frisk is next.]
It's not even mint. No, what this tastes like is some unholy combination of cinnamon-clove and that stuff they use for fillings at the dentist's that says it is supposed to be vanilla but just tastes like dirt and broken dreams. Chara spends a long time in the bathroom trying to wash their mouth out with soap. Frisk better watch out because they didn't get a chance to throw out the box.
There's some regret but as it's been stating many times before, they're not above the consequences. Chara started it so they'll go again. Meaning they have to find a microwave.
"Suddenly" there's some nice, small loafs of bread in the fridge in Sans's home. Maybe something thanks to Love. Something bite-sized, good for a midnight snack with or without butter.
They may or may not be microwaved bars of soap in reality. And to describe the taste of them...well, "five weeks of unwashed feet" is being generous.
Spite too, is an extraordinary thing. Also Chara has backup in the form of Frisk. Better make a wise counterattack because after this Frisk is next.]
Edited 2017-03-26 20:24 (UTC)
[Hopefully Alphys and Undyne don't mind that the "bread" in the house is now something ghastly. Something so incredibly ghastly that he don't have to say a single word before they're already washing out his mouth, so to speak.
All things considered, it'd probably just be safer for everybody if he kept a private stash of food, untainted, just so he don't spend the next hour gagging into a sink and regretting every single life choice that's led him up to this moment. But where'd the fun in that be?
The "no venturing into their room" stricture puts a block on some of his riskier ideas, but it ain't worth trying to find a loophole for the sake of a joke. Less work anyway, and that's far better for everyone.
Instead, he does a bit of dawdling around the back of Asgore's place.
By the time he departs, everyone in the house will discover that the water pressure for every sink, shower, and washing machine has mysteriously begun to fluctuate, varying from a small trickle to an outrageous deluge in the span of minutes.
It'll sort itself out in a few hours. Probably.]
All things considered, it'd probably just be safer for everybody if he kept a private stash of food, untainted, just so he don't spend the next hour gagging into a sink and regretting every single life choice that's led him up to this moment. But where'd the fun in that be?
The "no venturing into their room" stricture puts a block on some of his riskier ideas, but it ain't worth trying to find a loophole for the sake of a joke. Less work anyway, and that's far better for everyone.
Instead, he does a bit of dawdling around the back of Asgore's place.
By the time he departs, everyone in the house will discover that the water pressure for every sink, shower, and washing machine has mysteriously begun to fluctuate, varying from a small trickle to an outrageous deluge in the span of minutes.
It'll sort itself out in a few hours. Probably.]
[Sounds like you're looking for a bed, tim.
Guess who doesn't like the taste of toothpaste? Guess who's never been that fond of chocolate? It's there, and it's open, and one piece seems okay; for a child with a sweet tooth, there's certainly no reason to say no.
And then there's plenty. There's plenty.
Far be it for them to let this injustice rest.
At some point, when Sans as left his abode for a time, Frisk calmly makes their way in for a while. It's amazing what you can find if you try really, really hard, and boy.
Opening doors in the house never sounds better than when a legion of ducks has been jammed at the top of every doorframe.]
Guess who doesn't like the taste of toothpaste? Guess who's never been that fond of chocolate? It's there, and it's open, and one piece seems okay; for a child with a sweet tooth, there's certainly no reason to say no.
And then there's plenty. There's plenty.
Far be it for them to let this injustice rest.
At some point, when Sans as left his abode for a time, Frisk calmly makes their way in for a while. It's amazing what you can find if you try really, really hard, and boy.
Opening doors in the house never sounds better than when a legion of ducks has been jammed at the top of every doorframe.]
[It's a good thing he don't have skin to get scared out of, 'cause the sound of a thousand screaming ducks is, he's fairly sure, a noise that's reserved for the kind of people that are sent to a special level of hell.
But it does give him an idea. Love's presence has included an influx of stuffed animals, and some of 'em are a little flimsier than others. Flimsy enough to be carefully cut open and then stitched back up again.
An unbelievably relevant plush toy ends up at Frisk's doorstep. Cursory examinations will reveal nothing incriminating.
Unless, of course, someone steps on it or squeezes it just a little too tightly.
A familiar screaming duck sound will soon follow.]
But it does give him an idea. Love's presence has included an influx of stuffed animals, and some of 'em are a little flimsier than others. Flimsy enough to be carefully cut open and then stitched back up again.
An unbelievably relevant plush toy ends up at Frisk's doorstep. Cursory examinations will reveal nothing incriminating.
Unless, of course, someone steps on it or squeezes it just a little too tightly.
A familiar screaming duck sound will soon follow.]
[Special level of hell indeed. The push toy suffers for it sadly and a handful of cotton is deposited on Sans's own doorstep.
They'll take a page out of Sans's book. Mainly that if there's a shift from food to toys, Chara's going to follow. So they go hunting for a certain toy and begin to take it apart.
It takes awhile, Chara not exactly a scientist when it comes to this stuff, but they get it eventually. It doesn't go into Sans's room however. While Chara didn't make a promise like he did, it still felt off-limits.
So Sans has a new friend hidden in an obscure spot in the living room. That scream goes off randomly. Enjoy!]
They'll take a page out of Sans's book. Mainly that if there's a shift from food to toys, Chara's going to follow. So they go hunting for a certain toy and begin to take it apart.
It takes awhile, Chara not exactly a scientist when it comes to this stuff, but they get it eventually. It doesn't go into Sans's room however. While Chara didn't make a promise like he did, it still felt off-limits.
So Sans has a new friend hidden in an obscure spot in the living room. That scream goes off randomly. Enjoy!]
[Wow, he sure does regret that Love has given them an endless supply of awful noisemakers. Though speakin' of noisemakers, that gives him another idea. Requires a bit more work, but the payoff will be phenomenal.
Once he's done dismantling that damn thing - which is a trial in its own regard, and he ends up havin' to straight-up relocate the thing to the lake, where hopefully it'll die a prolonged and watery death - he gets to reluctant work.
Pickin' apart half a dozen of those little abominations gives him enough parts for some small noisemakers, each no bigger than the end of his thumb. Each one gets a label - numbers one through ten, and ends up secreted at some spot in the Goat Household, barring the kids' rooms.
Only there aren't ten noisemakers at all.
There's only nine.
Have fun figuring that bit out!]
Once he's done dismantling that damn thing - which is a trial in its own regard, and he ends up havin' to straight-up relocate the thing to the lake, where hopefully it'll die a prolonged and watery death - he gets to reluctant work.
Pickin' apart half a dozen of those little abominations gives him enough parts for some small noisemakers, each no bigger than the end of his thumb. Each one gets a label - numbers one through ten, and ends up secreted at some spot in the Goat Household, barring the kids' rooms.
Only there aren't ten noisemakers at all.
There's only nine.
Have fun figuring that bit out!]
[You know the No Mercy run really had nothing on this. Frisk's pretty sure they've almost died a couple of times just from shock, and it's a very disgruntled child that, after gutting the house and ensuring that sweet, sweet silence is preserved, sets about ensuring they get him back appropriately.
He can't hide from it. Eventually, they'll find him, and they'll find him sleeping.
It's at this point he's going to wake up after having a bucket of melted, lukewarm lipstick tossed over him.
The culprit is nowhere to be seen.
Don't worry, Sans, it's in your colour. Plus it's glittery, and everyone loves glitter.]
He can't hide from it. Eventually, they'll find him, and they'll find him sleeping.
It's at this point he's going to wake up after having a bucket of melted, lukewarm lipstick tossed over him.
The culprit is nowhere to be seen.
Don't worry, Sans, it's in your colour. Plus it's glittery, and everyone loves glitter.]
[They're playing dirty. He can't trespass upon either of their rooms, but they're using and abusing that stipulation to their advantage. It's gonna take days to wash this stuff off, and to get it out from his beanbag chair. Least he weren't sleepin' on the racecar bed.
He'd be loathe to ruin Papyrus's painstaking job in smoothing the sheets out, like he did the morning before he disappeared.
In retaliation, something's carefully rigged up outside the door to their room. Water balloons, equipped to fall and thoroughly douse whatever unlucky SOUL opens it next.
Only it's not water inside them.
It's ketchup.
Delicious.]
He'd be loathe to ruin Papyrus's painstaking job in smoothing the sheets out, like he did the morning before he disappeared.
In retaliation, something's carefully rigged up outside the door to their room. Water balloons, equipped to fall and thoroughly douse whatever unlucky SOUL opens it next.
Only it's not water inside them.
It's ketchup.
Delicious.]
[They do not scream, they do not, but they do make a strangled noise when they're doused in ketchup. Chara also has to wash their clothing five times to just get the stink out.
Fine. They'll fight water balloons with water balloons.
The next time Sans opens the fridge he'll find someone stuffed them full of water balloons that are dyed various colors. Have fun cleaning up that mess.
In addition to this, it seems someone has gone after Sans's hotdogs in the fridge. Chara was nice enough to wrap them up in foil so it's not too gross...but they're scattered around the house and in places that are out of Sans's natural reach.
It's like Easter! So get hunting.]
Fine. They'll fight water balloons with water balloons.
The next time Sans opens the fridge he'll find someone stuffed them full of water balloons that are dyed various colors. Have fun cleaning up that mess.
In addition to this, it seems someone has gone after Sans's hotdogs in the fridge. Chara was nice enough to wrap them up in foil so it's not too gross...but they're scattered around the house and in places that are out of Sans's natural reach.
It's like Easter! So get hunting.]
Sans?
[Message failed!]
[Message failed!]
I need you to come get me please me and Asriel want to see Chara
I want to see everyone
[Message failed!]
I want to see everyone
[Message failed!]
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