spaghettimonster | Canyon: Inbox

Guess so. [Figures it'd be a burst through a whole room and not just a few eyes; magical control like that was always more Papyrus's thing, and anyway, the kind of magic Sans has now is... Intuitive, if he was going to describe it in one word. It's not that monster magic doesn't have that element to it, especially once you get it down, but (not angel) this magic... It enhances all the emotional, connection-based parts of monster magic. If Sans didn't also find some similarities in quantum mechanics to grasp at, he's not sure he'd be very good with his new magic at all.

Sometimes he wonders how he'd be able to handle his magic in a fight. He tries not to think about that, but he can't completely set the idea aside, between what happens here and how he died. But he's going to stop thinking about that now.]

Now if you try to sneak in and clean up my socks, I'll know.

[Intuitive has been, to an uncomfortable degree, the right word for his increasingly robotic body. Engineering was fine, if something of a hurdle to get used to human electrical engineering. Programming took some doing, but once he started treating it like magic and directing devices like he might bones or blasters it's been going smoothly. Other than, well, the question of how to fight like this. It's not like there's no need to know how - not all humans are harmless, they knew that from the get-go. It's not even like most humans are harmless, from the amount of police scanner chatter he overhears, or reports on what the police themselves get up to, or...

The point being, he wonders about how to fight with their new bodies and powers, too. If he had his healing magic back, he'd be the first to say they should spar a bit and figure themselves out. As is...]

S-So, you're saying you don't even see the mess, huh?

Just my sock collection. 'S not my fault you don't appreciate it. [Really, Sans knows he's messy, but he can't work up the energy to care about it.

As far as fighting, Sans knows his extra arms double as attacks. He knows they feel similar to his bone attacks when he lights them up. He hasn't used them like that yet, though, which is fine by him. Sans has never liked fighting. It made him nervous when he was a kid; whenever the other kids would drag him into something, he'd always hit too hard. He doesn't really have a speed that isn't fighting like his life depends on it, except for when he was helping Papyrus figure stuff out when he was a kid. That's different, though; Papyrus wouldn't hurt him. He's never been entirely able to trust that with other people. Comes with having 1 HP, even if intent is theoretically there to protect him from typical monster sparring.]

[As Papyrus takes two attempts to open his door - the first because he reflexively uses the intangible arm - he gives the weak excuse the scoffing sound it deserves. He'd surely notice if someone moved his action figures, even if it was him and he forgot, because he cares enough to notice where they're at! Which... doesn't counter so much as bolster the apathy coming from Sans. It'd be nice if some of his energy for caring about things would rub off.

Still, there are ways Sans's disinclination towards getting in scuffles has been just as well, through the years. Those hints of surviving a fight, with his fragility...]

...At least they won't see you coming! [If Sans really needs to fight, he means. Teleporting, intangibility, invisible and painful arms... His brother's probably safer than he's ever been. (The irony of this will not escape Papyrus, later).

Yeah, that's kind of my thing. [Sans does love lurking, teleporting, and teleporting into places where he can lurk. There's a brief memory of Sans popping into place behind the anomaly and catching them in the back with a blaster, but Sans shoos it away.] Even better if they don't see me coming 'cause I'm suddenly across town.

[Running away isn't cowardly, it's a good idea unless there's no other choice, thanks.]

[It is a good idea, one Papyrus sometimes wishes he'd taken. Right now, he flinches at the more vivid memory of the anomaly... or maybe at how one of his feet sinks a little into the floor at the reminder.]

Oh my god. [How is Sans not constantly intangible, if he idly remembers that fight this often? Papyrus grumbles, gingerly reaching out to Sans for support before he thinks twice about it.

His room's cleaner, especially in terms of dirty (or clean) laundry lying out in the open. It's laid out a similarly to his old room, but with things rotated compared to the door - the closet is longer, dividing the space between the rooms for some sound privacy. The infrequently used bed sits on the far side from the door under a window, neatly made except for a few charging cables spread across the pillow. The majority of the mess is an expanded table space, with another computer, several action figures, and a couple of other RC vehicles - not yet souped up. A couple squadrons of the skeleton figures are arrayed around the layout, several on and in the vehicles. There's a bookshelf, but nearly empty compared to the one underground.]

[Sans hangs on more tightly when Papyrus's foot starts sinking into the floor. When Papyrus thinks about Sans's intangibility, Sans can't help but think about it too. It's comfortable. Sometimes he thinks he prefers it. He's taken naps like that a few times, just drifting around in between existence. But if he stays like that too long, it's hard to get back to reality. He hasn't really talked about how he feels about his intangibility, so he's not really sure how Papyrus is going to take that. Instead, he steers Papyrus toward the bed.]

You should sit down before you try bringing your foot back. [Trying to become tangible again while your foot is inside of something is a bad idea.]

Guess that's... one way, not to roll off a bed. [Floating intangibly, he means. Though it doesn't seem like that's the reason why Sans has been doing that, it does at least explain why Papyrus has found him haunting the kitchen a couple times. And if there's something familiar about the drifting between, from those ideas of being void gods... He shakes his head, takes the last tentative step to rest onto his bed and stare at his foot.]

...Have you tried? [Becoming tangible again, while within something else. For all the vivid impressions he's increasingly getting from Sans tonight (it's getting worse, it's getting stronger and more consistently), he didn't catch a sensory impression. It'd be uncomfortable for Papyrus, but he could if need be replace a foot. (Most of him is a little expendable, that way.) (Not really expendable, but... replaceable. It's fine.)]

Nah. [Sans figured the best case would be it not working and the worst case would be getting his body parts crushed and/or sliced off. Not worth the risk. Sans sits down next to Papyrus.] No point in maybe hurting yourself for no reason. [Papyrus better not try that right now, Sans does not consider any of Papyrus's body parts expendable.]

Of course not no reason. [He wasn't sincerely thinking to test it out, even with his curiosity what would result. Injuries are possible consequences in cool fights, or something that comes from preventing even worse injuries. Like the controlled damage he did to his skull, to prevent the fracturing Sans went through. Or hypothetically protecting Sans or someone else, from something bones couldn't stand up to but metal could. His modular parts are expendable, of course they are. There's already pieces he's swapped out and replaced, pieces he's designing with that intention...]

[Sans's thoughts skitter away from that thought about Papyrus opening up those ports on his skull like they could cause physical damage. Not that the idea of Papyrus taking an attack for Sans is that much better, even if Papyrus isn't wrong that he's more durable. Papyrus has always been more durable. That didn't really help back at home, when--no. He's not going to think about that. He's not thinking about it. He's locked down his expression entirely, leaving it in its usual blank grin.

Papyrus's parts are fixable, that's the point. Sometimes with replacement stuff. But expendable's the wrong word.]

Okay, so, let's work on getting your body parts back on this plane. [Sans is going to think about that instead.]

[Papyrus doesn't flinch with Sans's feelings as badly as Sans does, fortunately. He doesn't go even more intangible with the impulse to avoid it all. But his attention hovers obstinately on the difference about fixable and expendable, because it's... it's... He'd normally be the first to insist every part of him matters, even the removed parts, wouldn't he? To insist despite his own doubts about it. But...]

Y-Yeah, okay. So I... sit here, very solidly, thinking about... old times? [There's a lot of thoughts flowing around, and focusing on Sans's quick explanation about the transition back is difficult.]

Good ones. [Not something he might have to specify to Papyrus under different circumstances, but their shared thought space is kind of weird right now. Sans is aggressively focusing on just this one moment in time. No past thoughts, no future thoughts.] Ones that'd make you want to come back. [Intangibility isn't quite leaving, but it feels very similar to Sans. Going maybe half a step away from reality.]

[Papyrus doesn't even bother trying to hide the concern that brings about in him. Intangibility as a way not just ghosting around spookily and comfortably - without bumping into things - but ghosting reality itself? Kind of alarming! Kind of concerning Sans makes a habit of it, and Papyrus is already accidentally starting to do it.

He sits back a bit, kicks his solid leg against the bedframe. Hanging out in bed for the occasional story, or getting up after an hour or two's snooze to simulate battles with the action figures as props... Or, mostly, just playing with them as toys. Working on the battle body together, in anticipation of the costume party...

His foot solidifies, the weight dragging it against the bedframe with a soft thunk. Solidifies in the sense of being tangible again, at least.]

Hey, see, there you go! [Sans is scraping the edges of his consciousness for enthusiasm and he's surprised by the amount he finds, even if he's a little strained with all the thoughts that were happening a little while ago. It's easier when Papyrus is thinking about bedtime stories and the costume party.] You got it fast, it took me a while to figure it out.

[It was mostly Sans drifting around his bedroom thinking "wow Papyrus is not going to be happy if I'm stuck being invisible forever". He'd gotten it in the end, though. Maybe that's what matters? Well, what matters right now is making sure Papyrus finishes solidifying.] Okay, hand next.

Heh heh, natural talent. [Papyrus grins, but somewhat awkwardly, especially with the vividness of invisibility having been a problem at some point. Glad he's not invisible! But it's harder to maintain a bragging demeanor when Sans can overhear everything going on, and credit where credit's due:] And, learning from your learning experiences.

[He tests the hand against the blankets to confirm it's still intangible, before continuing to mull over good things. Sans is being reliable and helpful, and maybe it's Papyrus rubbing off on him after all, but he's here making sure he's okay. They're both trying to make sure they're okay. Looking out for each other, to get it right this time.]

You've always been great at controlling your magic. [And maybe Sans did actually provide some useful tips? A small allowance, so Sans guesses he can accept that. Sans spares an eye socket to check that metal wing, to make sure it's not doing anything weirder than just existing. He's kind of getting used to it, though, so--

And then Sans smacks abruptly into Papyrus's side as the arm he was touching Papyrus with goes all gooey and sticky.]

[The collision rocks them both, but Sans's bones having so much less mass than Papyrus, they don't fall over.]

Uhhh, what... why are.... [He can't get out a full question, distracted by and fixated on their arms as he is. It's quickly clear that Papyrus's arm has gone tangible again, but only tangible enough to melt right back into Sans's. It's harder than ever to distinguish between who's feeling what, mentally, emotionally, physically, as he tries to gently pull apart - gently, because on some level his heart's not in it.

The sensation's not as unfamiliar as it should be, and he's struck with memory of those dreams before the earthquake. Dreams of melting into a puddle, of water or shadow, that could only approximate a skeletal form anymore. He's been a robot all this time, so why would it...]

[Sans's thoughts go back before they ever got to San Benedicto and before the anomaly arrived. He thinks about the amalgamates living in the basement of Alphys's lab, that thing he found out and promised (promised, like he hates doing) not to tell anyone. He pulls back reflexively, but it just makes the goop that was his--their?--arm stretch.]

Uh. [Sans says, eloquently, his thoughts vaporlocked.]

[Thoughts of melting in dreams are shoved away by the very physical present of arms melting together now, radius and ulna and metal blending together into their arm. But there's also more thoughts of melting, in secret promises about... about other monsters, underground? Before all of this?]

You, she...? [He stares like looking at his brother's face will explain more of this without, technically, telling anyone. Remembering isn't telling, what's happening, if he knows what this is then they need to know.]

[Okay, yeah, it's kind of relevant information right now, maybe. (Anyway, Alphys is probably dead.)] Uh--'s amalgamation, I think. [Alphys came up with the term. Sans remembers her explanation, though it had been--uh, shaky. She'd been upset. He'd pieced more of it together himself later.] Usually it just happens if you inject a monster with a lot of Determination. [Or a monster's Fallen Down body. Sans suddenly isn't sure which of those they'd count as, technically.] Our bodies can't handle it like a human, so we, uh--

[The sharp image, unbidden, of Sans watching Undyne melting after the anomaly had struck a killing blow. No, focus.]

We melt. Can't be the exact same, but it's similar.

[Speaking of melting, Sans has lost whole shoulder socket by this point. Sans flaps his wings to try and maintain some sort of balance.]

[Even with the metal wing, flapping has no chance of picking them up - far too much weight. Papyrus shifts his weight to try to keep them balanced, adjusting for the strain he's feeling from Sans as if it's his own strain. But he flinches again at the memory of Undyne... dying, like this? Are they dying?]

Wha... We're not even, super determined about anything right now?? [His voice is a little higher strung than usual, surely a forgivable lapse in cool demeanor. The foot that went tangible isn't quite all the way tangible, again - it hit the bed frame as he shifted, but made more of a soft flump against the blanket-covered wood than a crack of metal, as from his other foot. It's not just where they're touching (is this because they were touching?), it's spreading.

...And it doesn't even feel terrible, which might be the worst thing. Strange, alarming, but he's still happy from being near Sans. Wanting to relax and take a load off.]

[Sans wants to pat Papyrus on the arm or something, maybe try to calm him down, but he lost one of those already. He nudges Papyrus as best he can like this instead.] Doesn't feel like we're dying. [At least, not what Sans remembers it feeling like.] And I'm never determined about anything. 'S gotta be something else causing similar effects.

[Even though he's startled and unsure about what's happening, Sans is kind of surprised he's this calm about it, relatively. When he first learned about the amalgamates it kept him up for a few nights. This isn't nearly as bad as he imagined. He tries moving what was at least at one point his arm again, not sure if he's going to get any movement at all, just move his, uh, goop, or if he'll move Papyrus's, too. It's hard to tell the difference when it's goop.]

[The goop that is their combined arm moves, in a way that shifts their upper arms and shoulders with it. Papyrus stares at it moves, not actively trying to hold it stiffly - making sense of how it almost feels like he's moving it, of what he can feel from it. And he agrees, this doesn't feel like death, for all it seems like what Sans saw from Undyne, or from... Monsters injected with Determination, by Alphys, sometime? If he shoves their own associations aside, just looking at what's happening, what's been happening all night...]

Something like... Like thoughts, and feelings, and everything. Melting... together. [Very literally melting. And even with their arms melting together to where he can't tell one from the other, he wants to lean against his brother's shoulder.]

Yeah, something like that. [Exactly something like that, apparently. Does that mean they're going to become one monster? Are they going to be goopy, or reform afterward? Sans's memories flick through images of the amalgamates he's seen in the lab. Endogeny always seemed to like him best. Of course, the amalgamates were always hard to read, even for someone as good at reading people as Sans.

(It's not something Sans would think to focus on, just background information while he thinks about his encounters with the amalgamates, but one of his memories includes the room that's filled with golden flowers.)]

Uh. How're you... Thinking, I guess? Like--everything's in order? [Sans is being pointlessly vague. He often is, but this time it's especially ridiculous because Papyrus knows what he's thinking. He's trying to check for thought coherency. The amalgamates in Alphys's basement often have trouble thinking straight. Somehow, that seems more important to check on than figuring out if there's a way to detach himself is. Papyrus wants him here, anyway, so he's not going anywhere.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

given he's going intangible out of wanting to avoid things

whoops

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

can't prove they have separate arms in that icon

couch icon has so many uses