text;

[justribbing]

hey, it's sans.

y'know, looking back? it's been pretty interesting.

i mean, look at us. we've got some basic amenities, power, even phones and the best internet you can make banging rocks together. we've got a community and everything, hey! nothing quite like the stale smell of desperation to really bring people together. but i've heard more than one of us ask what this war's really good for. for us.

makes a guy think about something other than starrs for a change. (yeah, see what i did there? you just dated yourself.)

anyway there's an actual point to this. see, being a good little soldier really tuckered the kid out, so frisk's gone on a vacation. some of you probably have questions. before you do, i want you to think about how much pressure kids should take. and maybe, y'know, lay off a little.

i'll keep you posted. see ya.

Comments

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[achievementhunter]

[Sorry Sans.




But they could care less.

They're so tired of mind games, with him. A favor for a favor; at least they'd genuinely done him one. And he returns with...questions they don't want to think of on a good day. Constantly digging to try and find someone who cares, separate the child from the demon.

They bite and he bites back. That's the Game they play, over and over again. How the Game hasn't changed, huh?

If he'd wanted to find them, the child...all he had to do was tell them what they wanted to know. Or throw words at them with the usual lack of understanding. That's what they both wanted, of course. Necessity. A lack of anyone else to rely on.

Of course. That's what they wanted. Zero security in a Game that's changed but will never really change. It's what Chara's wanted this whole time.

It's why they've constantly bit and prodded him, used Frisk as a weapon just as much, if not more, than his brother, or the timelines. Why does a child climb a mountain like that, Sans? Fifty-four. If you're just going to sit there and be reactive, then get out of the way of those doing the opposite.

They tell him over and over again that sitting there with a first-aid kit stuffed in his ribs is doing no one any favors, and here they are.

And there he is, turning around and judging them anyway.]