[Sans is silent, staring at the television. The eyes in the living room are all called to attention as well, each one's gaze settling on that same point. Piratical broadcast is probably the best description, except maybe everything else is a pirate broadcast? Okpaza was here first, right? So maybe this is all just borrowing things that belong to it, and--
There's a tug on his soul.
All of Sans's extra arms flare to painfully bright life, coiling themselves around his soul like he means to hang onto it. His left arm flings itself out wildly, and the television lifts up and smashes into the wall, tearing some cables out and sending the more tightly attached accessories skittering across the floor alongside the ruined television.
Sans is pressed as flat as he can get against the back of the couch. Light is dripping out from under his hoodie, pooling where he's sitting.]
no subject
There's a tug on his soul.
All of Sans's extra arms flare to painfully bright life, coiling themselves around his soul like he means to hang onto it. His left arm flings itself out wildly, and the television lifts up and smashes into the wall, tearing some cables out and sending the more tightly attached accessories skittering across the floor alongside the ruined television.
Sans is pressed as flat as he can get against the back of the couch. Light is dripping out from under his hoodie, pooling where he's sitting.]