ribticklers: (036)
Sans ([personal profile] ribticklers) wrote2020-11-28 05:39 pm

Inbox

INBOX text / audio / action username: sans
[Distant trombone noises.]
art credit code credit
spaghettimonster: (NYEH HEH HEH!!!)

December 25th

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-26 03:06 am (UTC)(link)
[Sometime in the last couple days before Christmas, when Sans is out of the house, a gift-wrapped box appears in the Undertale fridge with a card reading FOR SANS - OPEN CHRISTMAS MORNING

The attentive nose would catch a whiff of something reminiscent of hot dogs, and for very good reason - it's an experimental cold hot dog pie whipped up by master chef Papyrus!! It may or may not be to Sans's taste. Fortunately, there's also a gift-wrapped book under the tree of a cook book for far less experimental pies, as prepared with the "modern" techniques available in Santa Rosita.]
Edited 2020-12-26 03:07 (UTC)
undiagnosed: (pic#14468631)

text

[personal profile] undiagnosed 2021-01-08 05:12 pm (UTC)(link)
i'm going to carbonate mayo
they have soda streamers ray!!!
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SLEEPY)

Backdated: rescue day

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2021-04-25 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[Rescue is an undeniably good thing, Papyrus reminds himself through the escape back to Loomis Drive. Even when he's aching in ways that the healing power of time... might not mend. Or when he's jumping at shadows and strange sounds through the tunnels, with Sans pausing and pointedly avoiding certain areas.

Or when they finally emerge into the light of day, the brightness leaving his eyes watering... with tears stinging from salt in the rawness of his face, and the renewed realization he can't wipe them off. Thankfully nobody can see them, especially if he turns his face up to the sun and lets it dry them while he pretends just to be glad to see the sky again.

As he recovers and they continue, the city looks the same as it had, however many days before. (Papyrus doesn't ask how many days it's been, and Sans doesn't offer the information. Acknowledging things like that... not yet. Not yet.)]


S-so... I don't think I asked. Where to? Do we have some, fortified base, to lay up in? Ringed with puzzles, and traps...?
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: RELIEF)

February 16 mid-afternoon

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2021-05-04 05:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[When Papyrus woke the next day, it was in a different place than expected - but in a good way, with warm soft blankets (clean!) on a bed instead of cold bars and limited mobility. The aches and pains multiplied overnight, as he was finally sleeping in a different position, but the sunlight out the window (a few hours after dawn) made up for in a lot of ways.

Try as he might, Papyrus was still moving slowly. Offered to make soup or something, chatting - slowly - with the people around the house. Maybe insisting on an outing to Daybreak's hospice setup, to bring some food and check on everyone's recoveries, before ducking out again. Sans, likely following along the whole while, with that watchful slouch of concern neither comments on.

Eventually, Papyrus has his wrist radio back and some relative privacy, to check what sorts of worried messages people might have been sending over the last... several days. (He might have started to check first thing, heard the start of Sans's story - and immediately stopped it, to listen to later.)

He'd be lying if he said he didn't cry a bit listening to his brother's rambling stories, the way they got more tired and worried with each night - good thing that's all taken care of. No sense dwelling on that helpless fear, when they can focus on proactive things like littering the yard with apples, and other more dangerous traps. And to avoid lying, he just doesn't say anything about any tears or followup washing that came with them. A keen listener might notice his voice being a bit choked up, when he calls back, but why would anybody be reading that much into the tones of such a cool skeleton, anyway.]


Hi Sans - I got your stories. The recordings. Uhhh... I couldn't hear them, at the time, but. I hear them now, so that's like I heard them then. Incredible, the marvels of outdated technology.

...I appreciate them! And. You telling them. That... I'm glad you all found us.

...But! Uhh. Outside any nostalgic tears I'm not crying. Just so you know. Those stories could use, a little improvement? For one... you got the voices all wrong! For two. Do you even remember, how the story goes?? Here, let me tell you, it's more like this:

[It's been more than enough times, over the years - he has it memorized. Stumbles on a couple points, still adjusting to his face, but nothing that anybody needs to comment on.]