heya.

An Isola Radiale-affiliated RP blog for Sans from Undertale. 18+

[raudrraven]

"So, there aren't many humans where you're from? Wow. I guess that makes sense, if you deal with monsters all the time."

It makes him think idly of Panne and how she had avoided humans for her entire life (for the most part) - maybe it was similar. He wouldn't poke too much about it for the time being.

"An entire place of magic monsters...man, that sounds like the dream." He sighs a little, content sounding, as he watches Sans wave his hands and explain more jokingly about nature of monsters and how they came to be.

Not very many skeletons, but -

"Dogs? Like - dogs? You're right, I definitely would get along with them and want to meet them."

He laughs bright at that, his hands on his hips.

"I don't know any dog-folks, but I do know a giant rabbit and a couple of dragons."

[fontlocked]

"pretty much. no humans underground for the short of it." He's aware of the the whole 'other worlds' thing, but it doesn't make it feel any less funny to be explaining something that's so elementary. Guess he'll be doing a lot of that around here anyways; might as well get used to it. "mostly." Sans doesn't bother to elaborate.

…The guy's enthusiasm is downright infectious.

"yep. that pack really knows howl to have a good time— and snowdin's pretty popular with the fuzzier folks. or guys without skin." Sans is hardly the only category of monster without something as simple as that, after all. There's a family of rocks just down the street.

"giant rabbit, huh? pretty much everyone i know is pretty regular-sized." What, exactly, he qualifies as regular-sized goes unclarified, grin lax.

[computerqueen]

A red "F" appears on Queen's visor on behalf of the mouse cursor head guy. (The "F" stands for "Fhacker.")

The skeleton's puns earn a snicker from Queen, who is quickly warming up to the guy.

* No Problem * And You Can Call Me "Queen" BTW * It's Short For "Serial Number Q5U4EX7YY2E9N" * Bonus Points If You Can Repeat That Without Me Having To Say It Again

* And Yeah 3D Printing * It Allows You To Create 3D Models IRL * As Long As You Have A Valid STL Model, A 3D Printer, And Material

* I'll Have To See If Constantine (My Student) Has Come Up With Anything At Our Next Meeting * And Obviously Let Me Know If You "Ink" Of Any Good Ideas

[fontlocked]

His bare hand props back up underneath his chin with a clack like porcelain while the now-named Queen chatters away, content to take a momentary backseat in the conversation. Sans falls quiet for a moment, eyesockets slipping shut. He, for once, opts to make an actual measured effort to commit the string to memory— it's closer to a password than it is a name in his opinion, but hey. Who is he to judge computer naming conventions?

"serial number q…" tap tap tap, bone against bone. "5u4ex7yy… 2e9n, right? really rolls off the tongue." He cracks an eye back open. "welp. queen it is."

"mines pretty tough too." Blatantly untrue. "you see, it's…" He takes a completely pointless dramatic pause as he holds the hand that still has a glove on out for a handshake. The whoopee cushion trick never gets old, and he's going to run that joke into the ground until he's caught every single person in the isola with it.

So, basically: forever.

"sans the skeleton. seventeen characters is crazy, amirite? who's even got the space for all of that?" Not even his real full name. "and hey, feel free to keep me updated. sounds neat."

[charadrxxmxrr]

being twelve is the worst thing in the fucking world. Chara would say it with their full chest if they were asked what being twelve is like.

Especially since they’ve been twelve for — well. A long time. It gets old, being twelve.

“. . . no hard feelings,” they repeat, though it’s anyone’s guess as to if they believe that or not. Chara doesn’t look too sure about it.

Because — Sans doesn’t know, that Chara was half of Frisk. And that whatever Frisk Sans dealt with was more than likely to have a Chara roaming the back of their head. It’s — complicated, and exhausting to explain, and part of them thinks Sans might not even believe them.

They’ll just have to keep going.

Bundling themself up in Sans’ jacket again — vaguely aware that they’re getting ketchup stains on the inside lining — Chara moves to stand, on two wobbly little legs.

“— okay. I might get a little dizzy, but I will persist.”

frisk usually was the one taking shortcut duty, but only because Chara damn near threw up the first time (and did throw up after eating near all those monsters they didn’t know, but that’s a different issue.)

“They let you keep your shortcut power? You are lucky.”

[fontlocked]

"you got it. it's that easy." Sans winks and tucks his hands into his pockets as he watches Chara pull themself to their feet, keeping a careful eyesocket out just in case they tip over again or something. He isn't a big guy or anything, but they look kind of tiny in his coat with how much extra padding there is stuffed into the inner lining.

"yep. bit of blue magic, too." That much is obvious, given how inclined he is to use that instead of picking his lazy bones up off the chair long enough to grab literally anything. "pretty convenient."

He isn't sure if he would leave the house nearly as often without it, honestly. Having to go places on his own two feet is kind of exhausting. Must suck for people who have to do that all the time. Lucky indeed.

"c'mon. just this way." Sans turns to amble off from the stand, scanning for the darkest spot nearby. His stand is right on the fringes of the park space— the town proper isn't too far a trot away, thankfully.

"might be easier if you watch my back," he adds with a glance over his shoulder as they go. He's picked a few things up on how other people react to being dropped through a shortcut over the years, even if his sample size is pretty limited. Usually the less they're paying attention the better.

"hey. how do flowers get to work?" Sans asks the kid over his shoulder as they go, one and two and…

They step through.

"—they take their beehicles." This cobblestone alley is pretty much exactly the same as the one they were just in, but conveniently only a street or two down from the block of townhouses all the poor shmucks keep getting dropped into. There's a few things that are different, sure, but hey. They can't all be winners— he got as close to a smooth transition as he could.

[handfulofdeerteeth]

@fontlocked // starter

He's reading the obituaries, once more kind of hoping to see that the store owner croaked so Bill could have an excuse to find a new job. Or maybe just take over the joint since the owner didn't have any family and it isn't exactly a chain. He could run a convenience store.

Probably. Not well, but he could try and maybe get a tax write off.

...

Does anyone even pay taxes in Spirale?

The bell jingles over the door, and Bill doesn't look up from the newspaper he's scribbling in. It's late at night, and there's only really a few people who come in at that hour. Unless it's someone trying to rob the place. Which hasn't happened yet (unfortunately), but he can hope it'll happen someday.

"Welcome or whatever." Bill says, finding the most gruesome death in the obituaries and crossing out every mention of the guy's name and replacing it with Stanley Pines. He's not holding a grudge, what makes you say that? This is therapy. Or just cathartic.

He looks up over the news paper. Oh, he knows this guy. Sort of. Not that many skeletons in town, so of course he stands out. "Are you gonna spice it up and add some flamin' hot chips to the mix finally? Oooor we got some pork rinds in. They're only a couple weeks off, but they're probably fine."

[fontlocked]

Sans has made something of a routine out of swinging by the exact same convenience store on his way home from the stands as of late— when he can actually be bothered to, anyhow. He's not quite sure when exactly he'd become such a creature of habit, but hey. Here he is.

Browsing aisles of snacks he doesn't even really want. This is just his life now, whatever it is.

Gotta love it.

There's a small monster that's taken up the night shifts here recently, always sitting on the front counter and looking like they want to be absolutely anywhere else. Probably not the most riveting work in the world. He can sympathize.

And hey, would you look at that. Even feeling chatty today.

"welp. variety is the spice of life, i see your point. why not?" Sans shrugs and plucks the aforementioned hot chips off the rack with zero intention of actually eating them. Some kind of freeze dried fruits being advertised as 'space food', too. Is it any good? Who knows. More importantly, is it neat? Yup.

"just those." Sans plops both bags down onto the counter, halfheartedly eyeing the headlines on the newspaper in the stranger's hands. He hasn't quite cared enough to go looking for those himself yet— didn't really seem like there would be much important happening, and he's already tripping over reading material at every turn anyhow.

"anything neat in there?"

[computerqueen]

* Unfortunately No * You Can Program As Much As You Like But The OS Is Notoriously "Impossible To Crack" * Bad News Out There For The Guys With Mouse Cursor Heads Who Wander Around My Mansion (Sad)

She isn't sure if she's heard of MonstAX before, but it sounds like a homemade OS. Maybe he's more of a software guy than he claims, Queen thinks to herself.

When he mentions that he goes to the library for help, Queen smiles in appreciation. As a library computer, she wholeheartedly approves of this endeavor.

* Good For You

Then she watches as he reveals his skeletal hand and tries to make use of the human-oriented touchscreen. She notes his lack of a passcode and barebones home page, but keeps her comments to herself.

* ... Yeah * I Had To Go Through The Same Thing

She wiggles her fingers.

* Plastic Hands * Wouldn't Recommend Using A Hotdog As A Stylus (Unless You Like Screen Grease) Just For The Lulz

* Not Sure If It'll Work Out For You || Your Phone * But You Could Switch Out Your Mittens For Texting Gloves * And Use An Actual Stylus And/Or Voice Commands * That's Worked For Me, YMMV

It's a shame the phones weren't designed for the likes of the two of them in mind! This is something she should write a comment about on one of those marketplace terminals.

[fontlocked]

"saddest thing i've ever not seen." He opts to take a brief moment of silence for the aforementioned 'mouse cursor head guys', whoever they are. What a shame.

Probably.

"hey, solidarity." Plastic, bone, and a world of little inconveniences apparently.

"maybe screen grease is just how i roll. just leave it out in the sun after anyways, right? i heard dawn is pretty tough on grease." Sans winks. He is absolutely taking the piss on that one— he usually just wipes it off on his shirt after, which, while probably not the best choice of action in the world, is still at least something that's a step up from just leaving several layers of hotdog juice on the screen.

Most of her ideas were… nnnnice. He'd have to actually find those things, though. And finding them kind of necessitates looking for them. And looking for them means just enough pointless effort to put him off of the idea. A stylus would probably be easier— he's kind of got small hands even for his size— but…

….Eh. Not like it's a huge deal. Something to worry about some other day if he really has to— it's not like he's texting anyone on the reg' around here. He didn't particularly want to use it anyhow.

Sure does suck how like, basically everything important is on there for some reason though. Digital currency. Yuck.

Voice commands, on the other hand…

"huh. well, oil be damned. that does sound pretty convenient." He hadn't actually looked at any of the system stuff— definitely not long enough to realize that was a thing, anyhow. What was he gonna do with hotdog fingers? Configure his digital wellbeing settings?

"guess i'll keep an eyesocket out. thanks for the hot tips, lady."

...

"...so, wait. what was that about 3d printing?"

[charadrxxmxrr]

Sans is, unsurprisingly, belated to the party.

The gift he has isn't really wrapped either, per se— it's something hard and square loosely tied up with a heavy-looking red striped scarf, a solid handful of unfamiliar flowers tucked up into one of the folds. They're from places all around the Cotes ward; there doesn't actually appear to be more than one of any single kind of flower in the whole bundle.

"heya. congrats on another big year."

The big 'square' proves itself to be a book of absolutely unwieldy proportions. The cover proudly proclaims itself to be a... cursory guide on the flowering species of the Isola, complete with illustrations and color keys.

Sans has left a note on the inside…

The real flower press that seems to have manifested itself in the corner of the livingroom goes completely unremarked on by him. He's pretty sure someone will stub their toe on that later and it'll get back to Chara.

“Sans? You came too?”

Chara looks — absolutely delighted. This is probably the happiest he’s ever seen the kid, and that includes in whatever memories he might have of them underground. Because Sans came — even though Kris doesn’t like him, and more than that, Sans doesn’t like Frisk — he still came to celebrate. He still came to . .

To celebrate . . . Chara.

It’s a weird feeling, still. Chara doesn’t know what to do with it, so they fold it up and push it to the back of their head. Like they’re supposed to. Instead, they focus on gently untangling the scarf — the flowers laying in their lap — and they pull up the book, though their little arms tremble with the effort.

“—— !!!!

it is perfect!!!”

It’s exactly what they needed. Because this might be able to tell them once and for all if golden flowers exist in this place. Chara looks up at sans, fingers clinging around the book, and beams.

“Thank you, Sans. Uh! My dad made hot dogs. You can try them if you like. They are not like yours but they are still good.”

(The flower press itself will be found later — when Chara is half asleep, clinging to Nico’s shoulder as he carries them upstairs — but it will be similarly beloved.)

[fontlocked]

--

[turnpage]

𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐄 💭  𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝚨 𝐓𝚮𝐎𝐔𝐆𝚮𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝚮𝚨𝐒 𝚮𝚨𝐃 𝚨𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒.

[lavenderleahy]

I love being out of the loop #notmyloop

[bitemedotmp3]

"Sure, dude, whatever."

Wait.

"C'mon, if you can sleep in a tree, I'm sure you'll be out five minutes after I leave."

Wait, no, hold on.

"...Uh-huh. I guess the reference went over-"

Uzi stops short as a warning flares in her HUD. It was a necessary app installation even though it wasn't JCJensen-approved software, because a girl needs to protect her sanity when she lives with her middle-aged dad.

"Frickin'- Stop that! You think I'm dumb? You think I can't see what you're doing?" she shouts, her wings flaring out. "We've only just met, and you're trying to torture me? If they didn't nerf me, I'd figure out some speedrunning tricks by using you as a prop to-"

She shakes her head- That's way too wordy, but she'll workshop it later.

"No dad jokes! No puns!" she says, holding out her arms. "Robo-Jesus, if I'd known I needed to watch out for that here, I'd have taken steps to protect my audio receptors a while ago."

After a short progress bar and a notification in the corner of her vision, Uzi relaxes. "There we go, blocker's on. That's worse than anything the Stars ever did to me, and they turned me into a worm."

Mental damage aside, this guy obviously isn't an NPC, because they don't have awareness like that. Also, she's pretty sure she's never heard one make bad jokes; they tend to be more scene filler than anything. This guy's got the camera pointed right at him, literally. Because her eyes are cameras.

"Well, nothing wrong with being a freaky monster," she says, turning her light off. "Heck, I'm one too. Takes all kinds in this weird-ass city, right? And better than being some lame human. Unless you used to be one, then... Well, whatever."

Skeletons are just post-humans, after all. Copper 9 is full of 'em, all frozen over from the core collapse. Of course, none of them could move, and none of them had the gall to point puns in her direction. But they were kinda fun to throw around and stuff. This guy probably wouldn't appreciate it, but if he tries joking around again, she might just have to do it anyways.

"Alright, don't wanna interrupt your nap too much, but what are you doing out here? There's lots of weird things out here, so you're just begging for a pixie prank. They leave me alone 'cuz they don't like iron-" she taps at her chest, producing a dull thunk sound "-but c'mon. Everyone knows the first person to fall asleep at a sleepover is the one who gets pranked. Not that I ever went to a sleepover, but I did get pranked a lot before my ascension to godhood."

[fontlocked]

"wow. tough crowd." Been a while since he's had a reaction that extreme. People don't usually threaten him and call it torture when he makes a joke.

"my bad. just thought you'd be smart enough to enjoy them." He just shrugs, idly digging at some of the lint in his pockets. It wasn't exactly like he was trying to hide the fact that he was making puns. He doesn't go through the effort of italicizing his words just so people can overlook them, thanks.

Blocker. Sheesh. Completely unappreciated.

Wait, hang on.

"they turned you into a worm? that's crazy." He has no idea what the context to that is, and he isn't entirely sure if he wants to open that can of worms anyways. That whole thing with the 'losing the rights to your own body' that he ended up just sleeping through a few weeks ago was more than enough as is.

Actually, maybe that was what the worm thing was about.

"i know i look like a human skeleton, but its pretty much just coincidence, so... nope. no correlation." Sans draws the line right at 'not an ex-human.' He is not explaining the mechanics of monster doxapoesis to some unruly teenager. That's a topic he wouldn't even casually open with colleagues— the precise origin of monsters is always an infinite well of exhausting and painfully circular arguments to be had. TLDR, he's a real skeleton, not a real skeleton. Big difference.

And the issue of all those things lurking out here with him… Well. He'd thought he fit in quite well, honestly. Comparatively speaking, at the very least. Those cities are kind of crazy.

"eh. think i blend right into the forest to them, actually. the ambient magic here is kinda weird, but they don't actually uh," how does he put this without sounding like an asshole? Would this kid even notice he's being one? "…notice the difference." Like a bunch of release valves on the side of a dam. He isn't really one to doubt the validity of another monster's existence regardless of small beans like sentience and higher-processing, but he's pretty sure he isn't the only one that's noticed how weird this place is. Nothing acts quite right around here. Believable sometimes, maybe…

"like i said. kinda weird. roommates, amirite?" He would feel a little bad putting so much of the blame of his choice to live out in the woods part-time on that self-professed necromancer if they weren't so weird and perpetually filling the place with bugs and way too many books. It isn't like that guy is the only reason— he just…

Doesn't particularly want to deal with anyone that knows him right now. Including that guy, among others.

"and hey. i can be real quick. can't prank what you can't catch." He can feel this conversation isn't going to end anytime soon. Sans shifts and pushes himself up from his reclined spot with a yawn, stretching in a languid motion. His words are half-mumbled, cheek propped up against the palm of his hand.

Helps that he sleeps on a hair trigger half the time, honestly. Easy to bed, easy to rise.

[fontlocked]

☕ ?

Send me “ ☕ “ for my muse to drink tea uniquely flavored after your muse! [ CLOSED ]

This one comes on a cute little coaster painted to look like an echo flower from Waterfall, all vivid blues and bright teals. The cup itself even has a little knitted cozy so you don't have to touch the hot ceramic directly, even though that's not really something that bothers you. Cute.

You don't hesitate much with this one. There's nothing too weird or suspicious about this cup, just a clear brownish-yellowish color. There's a couple of tiny marshmallows floating in the top like it's pretending to be a hot chocolate instead.

It tastes… really sweet and airy, a clear chocolate aftertaste that takes you by surprise. It's the sort of sugar that sticks to your teeth and lingers way after the drink is gone, soft and warm with a hint of that familiar cinnamon bite you like. Guess it was closer to hot chocolate than you thought on first glance. You don't actually think there's even any real tea in this, but you're also not sure what else it would be.

Mellow and sweet.

"kind of chocola-tea. i like it."

YOU GAIN A MODERATE AMOUNT OF ADDITIONAL HP.

[fontlocked]

☕ !!

Send me “ ☕ “ for my muse to drink tea uniquely flavored after your muse! [ CLOSED ]

"what did you say this was called again? tea-v?"

It's probably the calmest cup of tea you've been given so far. It isn't boiling, or some kind of crazy color, or thick. You even recognize everything floating around in this one: Just a solid stick of cinnamon propped up against the side and a funny little pink paper flower stuck on a toothpick.

It's just a nice, normal-looking cup of tea. Tastes like some kind of strong black brand when you finally take a sip, the caffeine buzzing in your magic. There's a smooth malty flavor accompanied by the distinct taste of lemon and honey; it'd probably be helpful if you actually had a throat that could be soothed. A little energizing, but not too overpowering.

It's pretty nice.

"welp, guess the classics never miss. 10/10."

You're content to just sit back and nurse this one for a little while. Might get cold by the time you're done, but hey, a little chill doesn't make it all that bad.

YOU GAIN A MODERATE AMOUNT OF ADDITIONAL HP.

...You accidentally fall asleep in the middle of your cup. Oops.

[fontlocked]

☕

Send me “ ☕ “ for my muse to drink tea uniquely flavored after your muse! [ CLOSED ]

The cup of tea is still at a roiling boil, so you have to just sit back and wait a few minutes for it to cool off.

And by a few minutes, it ends up actually being closer to half an hour. The cup it's served in is some kind of dingy tin, bent and dinged from years of other people's use. There are suspicious metallic flakes in there that quickly prove to be actual metal shavings instead of any kind of real topping. You're lucky you don't have any squishy insides to hurt with that.

…Honestly, he has no idea what to even call this flavor. It burns at his magic in a sharp acidic bite, yet… kind of umami. Not floral, but definitely… green. More like a handful of weeds than any real tea leaves, and… dirt... . . . ?

Is that just bouillon in there? Why? Aren't these supposed to be teas?

"y'know. starting to think you guys might be trying to poison me. uh, 3/10."

YOU GAIN THE FAINT TASTE OF GRASS AND BEEF THAT WILL HAUNT YOU OVER THE COURSE OF THE NEXT FEW HOURS.

[fontlocked]

☕

Send me “ ☕ “ for my muse to drink tea uniquely flavored after your muse! [ CLOSED ]

The drink is almost completely opaque, a thick yellow-green ombre visible through the clear side of the glass. You give it a stir with the Serious Straw™️ it came with (read: a simple, plain black one with no bends) and find a bit more resistance than you were expecting.

It's…

The tea is… thick? Like really, tangibly thick. Honey-like, or maybe some kind of nectar. It's kind of disconcerting— and you definitely struggle to get any of it up through the straw with all the resistance. It doesn't taste all that bad, just a little more astringent than it looks like it should be from the bright poppy food coloring. There isn't anything sweet about it at all, just sharp herbal tastes and the familiar faint metallic tang of way too much food coloring.

YOU GAIN… AN AMOUNT OF ADDITIONAL HP SO MINIMAL YOU MIGHT AS WELL NOT COUNT IT. YUCK. THICK…

He takes another sip anyways. Maybe he should make someone else try this thing.

[fontlocked]

☕ Tea Time (i forget if i sent this already)

Send me “ ☕ “ for my muse to drink tea uniquely flavored after your muse! [ Accepting ]

"…uh. is that edible?"

You don't like the look of this one. It's actually bubbling first off, a faint crackle like someone put poprocks in it. You give it a go anyways, and…

…It tastes incredibly artificial, like someone spun the wheel and picked fruit syrups based on how chemical-y they all are. You think you smell some kind of cologne, maybe? It gives the oddest sense of being kind of greasy, in a… metallic clay sort of way.

Oh, wait. That's thermal paste. There's just thermal paste in this cup.

Looks like someone even put in a single tea leaf so it would count as tea on a technicality. Pretty funny, actually. It kind of just pings around on the top like a windows screensaver when you tilt the glass cup from side to side, spinning from all the fizz.

"you know." You pause. "i think someone might've blended an actual computer into this. seven out of ten. i like the presentation."

Honestly. He's had worse. And hey, HP is HP. At least it isn't a blended glamburger.

It's got its charms.

YOU HEAL A SMALL AMOUNT OF HP!

…or rather, that's what I would say if Sans had more than 1 HP to spare.

YOU GAIN A TINY AMOUNT OF ADDITIONAL HP, SOMEHOW!

[fontlocked]

☕

Send me “ ☕ “ for my muse to drink tea uniquely flavored after your muse! [ Accepting ]

Sans isn't exactly the most accustomed to teas, but he sort of recognizes the flavor profile of this one— Earl Gray is basically everywhere up here, after all. There are some petals off a flower he doesn't recognize bobbing along the top, and these little dark things… clove, he thinks? The surface kind, not the monster substitution. They make his mouth feel weirdly numb when he bites down on one.

It kind of tastes funny, but it isn't bad or anything. There's just a strange undertone. Maybe the tea leaves used to make it were a little bit stale? Or the flower was old… Tastes okay, either way. The copious amounts of honey someone put in it is more than enough to cover up any second thoughts about taking a second sip.

YOU HEAL… well. Nothing, actually. Tastes okay, though!

[fontlocked]

⭐️

Send "⭐️" for a headcanon about our muses! [ no longer accepting ]

⭐️ Sans is trying not to hold anything against the iteration of the Human he's met here, but it's a lot easier said than done— and way simpler to do when he's busy brushing other people off about them. He just doesn't feel right putting the onus of one person's actions onto another, no matter how similar they think they are. Maybe he would've just outright avoided the kid, but…

Well. He made a promise. He doesn't think the old lady would have wanted him to discriminate between little technicalities like alternate timelines for that.

Maybe he can still follow through on it, in some way. It'd feel wrong not to try.