entrancelogs | 'Tis rather inconvenient like this. +

Entry tags:

'Tis rather inconvenient like this. +

Who: You! !oot ,uoy dnA
Where: Wonderland, both Real and Mirror side
When: June 3 to June 10
Rating: PG-13, will vary by thread, warnings for higher ratings appreciated
Summary: A catch-all log for Mirrors and Reals during the reverse espionage event. Anything from Mirrors leading their daily lives, over Reals reacting to the show, to Reals and Mirrors exchanging messages goes here. Just label your locations and sides accordingly!
The Story:

Your own medicine is worth twice the sweetness in the bush, that is what they say! Here is my plan, now make sure you listen well, or you get it wrong, and then I would need to pair you all up, for only two even wrongs set my head back on right, and we've no time for such things, no time at all, do we?

As mighty as the sharpest blade, as stout as the hardest shield, a spool of thread woven from hearts of gold. It must exist, and I must have it! She'll do worse to my head if I search, but you'll help, won't you? I will let you see, and you will be my eyes! All good things come tomorrow - then I'll let you see, and you'll be my eyes, and when it's all done you'll use your own mouths to tell my personal ears all you know, won't you?

All of Wonderland's mirrors are suddenly working in reverse. The Real side can see everything, and the Mirror side is left with nothing but their own reflections. Details of the event can be found here.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[He's come down a bit by now. Less angry, less volatile. Talking to the Real Papyrus certainly helped. The Real Papyrus! It's the first proper conversation they've had, and Sans thinks it went pretty well.]

[It's just that much more of a reminder, then, when he spots Papyrus's Mirror looking nervous and sulky and staring into a mirror like he doesn't know what to do. And he never does, does he? Uncertain and tentative, more like an Alphys than a Papyrus. Trash. The Real Papyrus is right there, on the other side of the glass, but here Sans is, stuck with the shitty copy.]

aww. is a real actually talking to you? or are you just spacing out? heh. i'd be surprised if even a single one of them wanted to talk to you.

[ he turns towards Sans. Unfortunately, he's been something if not slightly irate recently with his discovery of his real dying. Nothing puts you in a bad mood like finding out how weak you are, and how unreliable your friends are at saving you.

Even if you're someone as well liked as his real is. ]

I do not want them to talk to me, just as I wish you would not talk to me.

[It's something they can agree on at least. Papyrus dying is one of the worst things that could have happened.]

no? then why stare at them all? maybe you're waiting for the right one? for someone just as garbage as you, right? you and that sans would be perfect for each other, don't you think? maybe he'll talk to you if you wait by the right mirror. wouldn't that be adorable.

[ Papyrus stares at the ground coldly. The words don't go through him, like he wishes they would. They're embedding themselves into his bones and sticking. Each question, each ragged remark slung against him weighs down his better judgement.

he just hasn't been in the mood for this conversation, which had been inevitable since the mirrors flipped. Papyrus' eyelight glows a burnt orange color, and it wisps from his eye to float to the ceiling. ]

s t o p t a l k i n g .

[ his voice is low and his hand is tight around his scarf. ] Why are you this way?

[ control. Self control. Despite the rude words (with words being all that they are. Harsh, cruel words.), Papyrus has never wanted to inflict harm on anyone. Sometimes, scaring them off with the promise of a fight is all it takes. Sometimes, he has to make good on his promises...sometimes, he can just go back to his room and work in his puzzle book. Sometimes, he can just go to bed. Or make food. Or just keep to himself, because people are dangerous around his unfortunately kind heart.

But sometimes, he just has to defend himself. ]

Edited 2016-06-06 03:20 (UTC)

[He bursts out laughing. It's not at all like a Sans to laugh that loud, but he can't help it. It's so funny.]

haha, wow! what a way to talk to your brother. "why are you this way? why are you like this?"

[He says it in the most whiny, mocking tone he can muster.]

how many times do you think he's heard that in his life? he didn't get to be made in a lab. he didn't have some idiot scientist fuck up the ingredients and come out with such a weak, pathetic monster. the one-hit wonder. he was born that way. the universe just took a dump the day he came into the world, i guess!

[He has to pause as he starts laughing again.]

i bet he heard that all the time. do you think his papyrus ever asked that? ever asked him why are you this way? i bet not. papyrus is good. so much better than any of us. that's why you're perfect for each other. two pathetic weaklings clinging to any shred of kindness. you could say that to him and watch him break. it'd cut him, pfft, to the bone, hearing that from someone who looks like papyrus. maybe that would even be enough to kill him. that's what happens with real monsters, right? it'd be beautiful.

[He has to take a deep breath, laughter fading. Oh man. He hasn't laughed that hard in ages. His grin turns nasty again.]

and that's exactly what you want, right? there's nothing you could do to me, but you could kill him. finally you get to be the one to hurt a sans. finally you get to pay him back for all the times a sans has let a papyrus down. here and out there, in all those pointless timelines. finally a papyrus gets even. heh!

[ a long bone materializes in his hand and smashes harshly into the mirror next to him. Glass flies out and sprays cross the floor like water. The bone stays rested against the mirror. Papyrus is breathing heavily. Shaken by Sans' words.

Why did his real have to be so softhearted? Why does everything hurt at those sharp, horrible words? His body shakes. ]

Sans deserves what he got. Someone real.

Just like you deserve what you got. Someone fake. [ magic like electricity pulsates through the floor. He's angry. A weak voice in the back of his mind tells him not to fight, and that this person isn't worth the rage. He's not worth the sadness-- the tearing feeling that Papyrus gets when Sans grins that nasty grin at him, or compares him to an idol that this mirror can never be. Papyrus would regret it if he hurt Sans. He'd be tormented for it-- in the form of praise or anger from those who lived near him.

What would the real Sans say?

The thought alone calms him. On the opposite side of the mirror, a punny, caring skeleton lives, and takes care of a tall, excited skeleton. They're brothers. They have friends and hang out together and protect each other.

What would he say? Would he understand? Would anyone? Could anyone?

The bone in his hand dematerializes slowly, and his hands fall to his side.

It's not worth the fight. ]

[He doesn't even flinch as the glass shatters. This Papyrus won't do a darn thing to him. Nothing at all. He's ineffectual, useless. Sans grins wider and spreads his arms. It's so easy to rile this guy up.]

no, no. he deserves a lot more than that and you know it. he deserves to die. one death for every time he sat by and let his own brother get killed. for every world he failed to save. heh. i think even wonderland would run out of deaths. he'd end up even worse than alice, wouldn't he? that's what he deserves. wasn't that the one thing we agreed on? or did you change your mind? did you go soft on him, too?

[What, are they friends now? What a laugh. Sans chuckles.]

heh. i thought you knew better. guess you're as dumb as you are weak, huh?

[He stuffs his hands in his pockets, grin twisting into something even crueler for just a moment. Someone fake. Of course. He got stuck with the trash, while the trash got the genuine article.]

and don't turn this back on me. you're not that good with words, little brother.

[ his hand clenches the fabric of his scarf. Weakly, he tries to reason with himself. He knows that this hurts me. A voice dances in his mind. It is okay, it cries quietly. He wants this. He knows you will not do anything. The smile on Sans' face twists, and twist, and twists as if it would circle his own, self-centered head. He is egging you on.

little brother.

A memory. "BUT SANS IS A VERY GREAT BROTHER! THERE WAS A TIME WHEN I, A SMALLER, GREAT-GROWING PAPYRUS, HAD GOTTEN LOST IN WATERFALL. SANS CAME AND FOUND ME!

HE LOOKED SO WORRIED. I RECALL ENCOURAGING HIM THAT I WAS ALRIGHT, AND I WAS DEFINITELY NOT LOST! EXTREMELY COMFORTED BY MY AMAZING WORDS, WE WENT HOME TOGETHER!

I LEARNED LATER THAT HE HAD LOOKED FOR ME.

His hand lifts. Fingertips straighten. A plate-less hand wavers for only a second.

HE WAS AFRAID THAT SOMETHING HAD HAPPENED

Fingers clench.

AND I HAD FALLEN INTO HARMS WAY.

Face feels hot.

HE HAS ALWAYS LOOKED OUT FOR ME. SURELY, THE DEFINITION OF A 'BEST FRIEND', THOUGH...I DO NOT HAVE MANY FRIENDS TO COMPARE TO. HE REMINDS ME HOW GREAT AND COOL I AM WHEN SOMETIMES, I DO NOT FEEL GREAT OR COOL.

HE IS TRULY THE BEST BROTHER A GREAT SKELETON COULD ASK FOR.

A flash of blue envelops Sans' smaller body. Papyrus' head hangs low, his entire body tense and bristling with energy. He can't even trust himself to handle situations like this. Can't trust his real to protect himself-- can't trust Sans to be anything but cruel. To say anything remotely kind.

He's a fool. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner? What was holding him back? Feelings? For a being who exists purely to hate him? Jealousy? For a relationship that he's never even technically had? A sharp laugh escapes his throat and his head shakes back and forth.

Everyone can be cruel. Everyone is cruel. Everyone will be cruel.

Of this, Papyrus will never doubt, ever again. ]

Brother. [ the word is repeated lowly. A growl. A warning. ]

[He watches Papyrus, grin broadening at the expression on his face, at the way this terrible excuse for a Papyrus goes further and further away the more Sans says. It's so easy to get under his skin. This totally makes up for that conversation with his own Real earlier. Papyrus makes such a great punching bag. It's wonderful.]

[And then the world seems to bend and heaviness drapes over Sans like a lead coat and he's blue.]

[He's blue. Papyrus turned him blue.]

[That's. Unexpected. Sans lays a hand over the glow in his chest. Oh. Oh, so that's what it feels like. Oh, that's not pleasant. That feels awful. He can't teleport like this. Isn't sure he can even dodge.]

[He's...actually worried. Worried and very amused. Papyrus might actually kill him and that's kind of hilarious. He might actually die here. He'll die, and the Queen won't bring him back, since when has he proved himself useful to her? He'll die and he'll never see the Real Papyrus again. His Real will laugh. But it's hilarious. It's hilarious. That's what's supposed to happen to a Sans, right? Some stupid, tragic death. Something appropriately ironic, like being killed by his own brother.]

[His eyelights flick to the side for a moment as he spots movement, then back to Papyrus. His grin slides back into place, though it's much shakier than before.]

heh. color me surprised. didn't think you had it in you. so what are you waiting for?

[He snickers quietly.]

you get to kill a sans. and sooner than anyone thought, too! so come on. toss me a couple bones. throw me at a wall. dust me.

[He jerks a thumb at one of the unbroken mirrors in the hallway, sweat trickling down his skull.]

show him what a papyrus can do. let him see papyrus kill sans. isn't this great for you, little brother? you get to break two of us in one go.

[There are two simple words on the mirror, written in small comic sans:]

[stop]

[please]

[ you get to kill a sans. It won't sit well with him, as hard as he wishes it to. Protect yourself.

A hand is moved downwards and Sans is thrown into the floor. Papyrus walks over, looking at the message. His expression is cold. Movements twitchy. A fire burns in his eye. ]

My brother.

[ he can't stop, not now. Not again. Not ever again. ]

My brother, Sans, came to find me when I was lost. My brother, Sans, told me that my date outfit is the coolest. My brother, Sans, confided in me his secrets. We trust eachother implicitly.

[ he kneels in front of Sans. Face isn't giving away any of his normal behaviors. Cold. Dark. Darker still. ]

My brother, Sans, [ he lifts Sans off the ground with his blue magic. ] Would never hurt me.

He only says nice things.

And despite his secrets I know that he cares...

He cares more than anyone. Except, perhaps, me.

[ he laughs-- a short, curt laugh. His eye blazes. ]

CARING FOR MY BROTHER IS JUST ONE OF MY MANY TALENTS. IT IS WHAT HELPS MAKES ME VERY GREAT, AFTER ALL.

[ His voice gets louder and louder. His own hand is shaking just a little. This is okay. He's been driven into this corner. He's been mistreated. His real lied. Sans has never been anything but manipulative. Condescending. Papyrus wonders if Sans laughed at him while he said 'you look like you need a friend'. The thought makes his bones burn in frustration. He'd been brought into this awful world-- full of people who want to hurt him with an inability to trust no one, and he hated it. Watching his real interact with others so openly, so freely, so lovingly...

Now, he wonders why he detested being unable to trust others so.

Sans is thrown against the mirror and released from being blue-- not hard enough to shatter it. He wants the real, pleading Sans to see. He wants Sans to see what he should be avoiding. What he shouldn't look at. What he can't understand-- we can't be friends.

We can't be brothers. ]

SUCH A SHAME IT WAS NEVER MEANT FOR YOU. WHAT A PITY, BROTHER.

[ loud. loud. be loud. cover your ears and be louder. Be louder than the lies that surround you. Be louder than your artificial consciousness condemning you to misery. To being deceived. To being hurt.

He'd do anything to protect himself. He'd do anything. A bone is summoned. He'd do anything. ]

Edited 2016-06-08 04:17 (UTC)

nah, you won't do it. not even to put on a show for him. you're t--

[He's slammed downward. It's weird, horrible, not like being shoved or pulled--it's a tug from within, from his soul that yanks him down and crushes him to the floor. The impact...hurts.]

[He has never felt pain before.]

[It scares him.]

wait.

[He gets his hands against the floor, tries to push himself up a little, tries to look up at Papyrus looming over him. All the times he has pushed Papyrus, all the times he has bullied and tormented him, and he has never seen Papyrus look like this. Papyrus kneels before him, leans close, and he never actually realized how tall Papyrus was, never actually realized how small he himself is. Sans-es are small. Weak. Always made weak, no matter the timeline, no matter the circumstances.]

[That phrase his Real used, the one he sneered at, powerful, but weak.]

wait. d-don't--

[He's jerked upward. He floats, dangles from his soul, feet kicking in the air. He has to...he has to actually fight, doesn't he? Only he's never fought anyone before, never. He's summoned bones and Blasters to look threatening, and--is this how his Real feels? Puffing up like some small, ineffectual, pathetic animal, trying to look intimidating, trying to make people leave you alone because for all your talk you know you can't actually win?]

stop, just put me down. come on. this isn't worth i--

[He's thrown against the mirror, as easily as a child throwing an unwanted toy. He back slams into the glass hard enough that he feels the mirror shake in its frame. It knocks his wind out--and that's so stupid, he's a skeleton, he shouldn't even need to breathe--]

[He crumples to the floor and the heaviness vanishes. He catches a glimpse of the writing on the mirror as he falls. It would make him laugh if it wasn't so hard to breathe, if his bones weren't aching to the marrow.]

[His Real is having a bad time, it seems. Idiot. You'd think he'd know to just walk away as soon as he saw this turning into a fight. Isn't avoiding shit his whole thing? Maybe it's morbid curiosity. Or maybe he just hates the idea of a Papyrus and a Sans killing each other, even if they're not even real.]

[stop it whatever's going on it's not worth it stop papyrus stop]

[Papyrus moves forward. Sans drags himself backward, coming up against the wall under the mirror, right eyesocket squeezed shut. Keep the left one open, keep it open, he's going to need it. He's not blue anymore, he can fight back. He can survive. He can...]

[Papyrus summons a bone. Sans makes a strangled sound, still trying to breathe. He can't remember...there are patterns, right? His Real had come up with all these patterns of bullets and Blasters, complex, rapid-fire attacks. Only he can't...he has never used any of those. Never had to do any calculations, never had to think and plan and practice.]

[He panics and summons a Blaster, left eye flaring with yellow-blue light, and he's never done that before, and it hurts, hurts like he just hammered a nail into his skull, why does it hurt like that? Doesn't matter, doesn't matter, there's a G...a...something, someone's name, a Something Blaster above his head, aimed at his useless fake brother.]

Take another step closer. I dare you. I'll dust you in a second, you fucking piece of shit.

[Huh. He didn't know he could drop the font like that. You learn something new everyday.]

[There's more writing on the mirror, though he doesn't look up to see it:]

[PAPYRUS]

[STOP]

[ eyes glance at the mirror for a half second. Small words, low to the ground-- the height of Sans. The thought makes him boil. The summoned bone falls into his hand and he swings it low to the ground, taking a step forward. He'd never seen his real wield a bone in this way-- like a sword. Perhaps it's high time he practices.

The Blasters appear and practically radiate heat and raw power. "stop, just put me down. come on." Papyrus' brow twists in a confused and somewhat delighted way. Sans is afraid.

A mixed reaction. He's scared. Scared of you. Papyrus laughs to himself. Everything just got a little more comedic. Sans makes everything pretty funny, after all. It's his quirk. Be a funny guy. Be a funny guy who takes advantage of the weak. Of the sympathetic. Of the wise. Of the unknown. What a build up! To have it turned around on his head and thrown back at him-- the fear he's inflicted on others.

His laughter stifles into absent minded chuckling, and a hand covers his mouth. Papyrus is hurting. He's been hurting for a long time at the hands of a brother who could never understand him. At the whim of his own feelings, he has taken everything thrown at him and swallowed it whole, nurturing the monster that is anger without even knowing.

And now, Sans is laying on the floor, struggling to hold a blaster aloft. Papyrus wonders if his brother could even fire it. Another step closer. And another. ]

DO YOU FEAR ME, SANS?

[ his voice perfectly matches the sound of his real's voice. The hand touching his face falls on his hip and his own eye flashes and burns. ]

BROTHER, EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL PROTECT YOU.

[ fingers grip the bone tightly. ]

OR WILL YOU KILL ME? YOU'LL HURT ME, SANS?

[ eye burns brighter. ]

I UNDERSTAND. HAVE AT IT, THEN. I'M ROOTING FOR YOU.

[ his gaze falls on the mirror. On those small words, growing more adamant. He's afraid too. Good.

Let them be afraid. Be afraid of the monster that they helped create. ]

i'm not afraid of you.

[He's scared. He's scared out of his mind. He's trembling. He feels...he feels so small. He pushed too hard. Pushed Papyrus right over the edge.]

[He probably deserves this, right? Sans-es deserve this sort of thing.]

[The Blaster hovers. He doesn't fire. Would that even be enough? These things only actually deal one damage, don't they? And the thought of actually killing someone for real...he wants to, wants to watch Papyrus go to dust, but he's...never done it before. Never killed anything. What's it like? Would he gain LOVE, like they do on the other side? Papyrus is probably worth one or two LOVE. He could become stronger like that. Only...]

[Only there's the Real Papyrus to consider. What if he found out? What if he's watching with that trashbag and is just keeping quiet? Or what if...what if he kills this fake Papyrus and then ends up trying to hurt the Real one sometime in the future?]

[He's scared. The Blaster doesn't fire. Papyrus takes a step closer and he doesn't fire. Another step and he doesn't fire. Papyrus is standing right over him now and that bone is so close, and Papyrus holds it like a club. Is he going to make it quick, stab Sans through the chest? Or will he prefer to take out all his anger on Sans and just beat him to death until he's dust? Heh. Wouldn't that be quite the show for the Real!]

listen, i'm--i'm sorry. i'll--we can just--we can forget this happened and leave each other alone, right? let's just quit, okay?

[Teleport. He can just teleport. If--if Papyrus raises that bone he can just--he can teleport in time, right? He can escape. So long as Papyrus doesn't turn him blue again. So long as Papyrus doesn't decide to hold him down while he's killing him, hahahahaha, it's hilarious, it's hilarious, it's hilarious, he's laughing, he's laughing so damn hard, and he still doesn't see the frantic writing appearing on the mirror above him.]

[please papyrus stop don't kill him]

[if you do this you cant come back from it]

[please stop just stop just walk away youll regret it forever if you do this just walk away just stop you can still walk away please]

[ he stops, genuine surprise on his face.

Stop?

He laughs, something numbing. This is what it takes to get what he originally wanted. Fear? To be left alone? The bone juts into the floor, tearing a hole through the board. Sans is finally being funny, finally making him laugh, and the smaller brother just...wants to stop? for a moment, he looks a bit undone. Unsure. Upset. Sans...wants to stop. He wants to stop?

Stop.

The apology comes, frantic and quickly-- as it it will sate the taller, looming figure. As if it will bandage the hole in his life where a family should be, but isn't. ]

You don't mean it.

I don't believe you.

[ the fact that Sans would continue to lie to him, even while he's afraid, makes Papyrus pull the bone off the ground where it stood so straight. He'd continue to lie, and tomorrow he'll show up with Papyrus is in the kitchen and everything will reset. It'll start over.

And Papyrus will still hurt. He'll ache forever in this awful sequence of hatred and verbal abuse. There are no more laughs to be had. Papyrus has laughed himself dry. And now he just stares at Sans as if this imitation of a brother could amuse him further. ]

What order was it in? [ the bone is slung over his shoulder, and he looks up thoughtfully. ] I realize I have gone out of order, but I hope you can forgive me.

"Toss me a couple bones. Throw me at a wall."

[ Papyrus' face darkens and he takes the bone slung around his shoulders by both ends, allowing the cool, smooth weapon of choice to be pulled behind the back of his neck. ]

"Dust me?"

[ one final step. He's standing relatively close, now, unyielding. Unrelenting. But he doesn't attack. He just stands there...

Stands there, as if waiting for the horrible punchline to a joke only he understands. ]

Edited 2016-06-08 20:41 (UTC)

[He tries to press backward but the wall is in the way. He should just fire the Blaster, just blow Papyrus away, only it won't actually kill him, will it, all it will do is buy Sans some time. Papyrus looks insane. He's not even laughing anymore. Sans flinches as the bone he's holding punches through the floor.]

it's the truth. it's the truth! i don't want to fight anymore. i-i'll never bother you again. i promise.

["I have gone out of order." Sans squeezes against the wall. This isn't worth it. Not worth the realization of what this is doing to his Real, not worth the misery on Papyrus's face. He's going to die. He's actually going to die.]

stop. just stop! it was a joke, it was just a joke!

[Papyrus takes another step forward. Sans whimpers, eyelights shrinking to pinpricks.]

[He teleports. He's gone. Lands somewhere safe and dark and curls into himself and shakes.]

[It's just Papyrus and a mirror now.]

[Sans cracks open an eyesocket--he squeezed them shut when Papyrus took that last step forward. The Mirror is gone. His soul thrums in his chest as he makes himself step closer to the glass so he can see downward, see the floor. But there's no dust. No empty clothing. The Mirror just teleported. He escaped.]

[And Papyrus, only he can't be Papyrus, he can't be because Papyrus would never do this, should never do this, not for anything, only it is Papyrus, some twisted reflection of him, this is a Papyrus born from misery and abuse and suffering, this is a Papyrus who could exist in some awful timeline, who does exist--he's standing right there, inches away and separated only by glass, bone slung over his shoulders, expression completely unrecognizable.]

[Sans feels like throwing up, only skeletons can't do that. He feels like running only he can't move.]

[It's just glass separating them and the Mirrors can cross over whenever they want, and some of them do. The Queen doesn't allow it, but sometimes they do anyway.]

[Sans has never in his life been scared of his own brother.]

[He raises a shaking hand to the glass again. The letters are wobbly.]

you let him go

right?

you knew hed just teleport

[ Sans disappears, his terror filled words lingering in the air. The world around him is eerily muted. Eyes widen in the place where Sans once sat. He...ran away.

He ran away.

He left.

The mirror's shoulders shake once or twice. With a listless expression, his gaze drifts to the mirror, where evidence of someone trying to talk him out of murder lays dormant. "stop. stop. don't do this. you can't come back from this. please stop."

He's sure that Sans is in some form of shock. The words warble against the pristine glass. Sans is trying to put words in Papyrus' mouth. Trying to run away from what just happened. It's probably a lot to take in. Poor Sans. He's been through so much.

Papyrus walks toward the mirror, dropping to a knee in front of it and pulling out a marker, hidden away in his scarf. A secret compartment. How handy. How cute. How quaint. ]

i knew he'd teleport.

[ he pauses, lowering his head with the marker still on the glass. ]

i knew he would run away. he would run, because he is lying. people who tell the truth have nothing to be afraid of.

so then, why are you afraid?

are you hiding something from me, sans?

[ the marker is pushed into the dot of the question mark with such force that the ink dribbles down the mirror. he's numb.

finally, finally numb. ]

[He flinches backward when Papyrus approaches the mirror. Stupid. There's a whole world between him. At least no one's around to see it.]

[Papyrus writes. Sans watches him, watches his face, watches the words form, watches his body language. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to stop shaking. Trying to just hold himself until the panic fades.]

[Papyrus says he knew and Sans...Sans isn't sure he believes him. Papyrus is still holding that bone. Sans reaches out and rests his fingertips against the glass, against the words as they appear.]

[He holds up his marker again and hesitates. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how to make this right.]

[This can't be made right.]

he ran because he was scared.

look i get it. he's hurt you, hasn't he? i've talked to him ive seen what hes like. there's no excusing that.

but you cant just

[He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know what he can possibly say that will make Papyrus stop.]

~~i'm not hiding~~

im not hiding anything

~~but im~~

~~its~~

i meant what i said before about how we dont have to be enemies

but your'e scaring me here papyrus

[ for a moment, the heartless facade breaks, and Papyrus just looks sad. Memories flood him. Ages, it's felt like, gone by living in the shadows of the shadows, when it's only been a few months. Waiting for change as if it were a carrot being dangled in front of his face.

His real always got the carrot. The mirror would just watch. Watch and wonder if his turn would come, when this horrible, plaguing feeling of mistrust and loneliness would be washed clean, and he'd get a chance to have...fun? To laugh at bad jokes?

And here's Sans, the object of his turmoil. Telling him how to address his problems. Telling him that his mirror brother deserved mercy.

The pen lifts off the mirror and Papyrus looks at the tip-- bent unnaturally, black ink dribbling down the side. Taken back to the mirror, it writes, though the texture of his words is somewhat frothy and light. ]

you could not understand. you do not have to

there is a wall between us. you dont understand

be afraid of me, sans.

lie to me as you always have

and leave me.

[ the marker drops, and before it can hit the ground, Papyrus is up again, bone firmly in his hand. It crashes wildly against the mirror without warning-- destroying the method of communication between the two skeletons.

he stands straight up, staring at the broken wall, eye sockets following the explosion of glass littered across the floor. The bone dematerializes, and Papyrus...hugs himself.

Alone. But he's used to this. Being alone is the safest option. Crunching noises animate his steps as he thoughtlessly makes his way across the sea of broken glass, back to his room. ]

[Sans starts writing as soon as the third sentence is finished. There's something still there. He saw it. He saw it just now. The look on Papyrus's face, that sadness, that regret. Papyrus is still in there somewhere.]

i don't want to be afraid of you

i cant be afraid of you

you're a papyrus

your'e still m

[Papyrus stands, moves. The bone comes forward, swings forward, and it's coming straight for Sans's face.]

[He dodges. Jumps backward with a soft yelp of surprise. The bone strikes the mirror and there's the sound of glass shattering, even though the mirror on this side stays intact. The image of Papyrus splinters into a thousand pieces and then vanishes. It's an odd look. The intact surface of the mirror, but with thousands of cracks running just beneath the surface. From the other side.]

[He dodged. He moved on instinct. He saw an attack coming at him and dodged. He dodged his own brother.]

[Sans crumples against the far wall.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

'Tis rather inconvenient like this. +

are you sure you want to suffer

SIIIIIIIGH yes always.

misery!!

suffering!!

oh god this is killing me

yep. Yep. Yep.

/drags hands down face

/weakly falls onto face

everyone is now dead

welp.

GOOD FUCKING LORD

YEP I'M SCREAMIN'

holy shit holy shit my heart is in pieces

EVERYTHING IS FINE

1/2 EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE

2/2 welp (mirror writing)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject