you know my name [open]

[skelebro]

Who: Sans, Sans's double, and Y O U
What: Doubles. It gets bad. Responses from Sans's double will come from fibia.
Where: All over Hadriel
When: 1/16 - 1/25
Warnings: Things are gonna get messy. Since it's Sans, basic warnings for depressive mindset and self-hatred ratcheted up to 11. In the case of his double, threads may involve heavy manipulation, physchological abuse and cruelty, and of course your typical fare of potentials for violence and gore. Proceed with caution!



1/16 - 1/18; just the big time fucko; arm yourself because no one else here will SAVE you

[The crack and pop of flexing knuckles, and his skull rolls on his cervical vertebrae with a series of satisfying popping of air sacs. His phalanges pull in and out again, clenching into loose fists and then - back out. His smile is a fixed rictus, just the same as the monster from which his mold has been cast. The lights buried in his eyesockets glint coolly as he takes it all in - the rock of the walls and ceiling, the light of hte lamps, the staleness of the air.

He rolls his shoulders smoothly.

Tangibility. Weight. Resonance. What a beautiful fucking thing.

For a time, anyway.

He ambles about the city for a time. There's no visible difference between him and the Sans you might know. He smiles, he nods, he's pleasant. He stops to peruse the shops, and passes by the garage full of mopeds. There's no real obvious changes to any one thing as he passes, and he sure don't stop and loiter about long enough for him to have done anything but - you might notice a few changes. Maybe the bolts and bits of your moped are a mite loose, and kicking it to life will cause it to fall apart on the spot. Maybe that can of food you just picked up from one of the shops has had holes pocked through the bottom, causing its contents to leak out all over the shelves. Maybe a few cobblestones have been loosened to trip you up in the streets, or a shelf in a shop is rigged to topple the instant you pick an item off of it.

But it's probably nothing, right? Just a...coincidence.

Sans is a nice guy. He wouldn't put people in harm's way like that.

Right?]

1/19 - 1/21; FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT; you can't deny the prize, it may never fulfill you

His time here is limited. That much is pretty damn clear. In only a few days, he'll cease to have ever happened; a footnote in somebody else's story. And, heh, while the regular ol' Sans might be content with that, this Sans certainly ain't. He'll live forever, one way or another. He'll preserve his legacy.

It's just a way of making sure that people know what good old Sans is really capable of. The monster in question is doin' a real good job of avoiding himself. Afraid of what he'd find, most likely. Or maybe he knows that he wouldn't be able to stand to look at himself for longer than five seconds. Always hates what he sees in a mirror, that Sans. Too many flaws and not enough motivation to a damn thing about 'em.

So the next step, obviously, would be to lure the guy outta hiding.

He waits in a secluded corner of the city and waits for someone to pass by. Anybody, really, he ain't picky. Just take it one at a time, that's all he asks. And should someone be coming his way all alone, he'll tip his skull in greeting, smile patiently, talk 'em through their concerns that he might be the evil clone. It's doubtful that'll work, but that's just fine.

He's not looking for conversation.

[ooc: Sans's Double will be raring for a fight with this prompt. As his cast has dibs on actually killing him, I ask that you only pick this prompt if you're eager for your character to get Dunked. Though since this Sans has a good deal more than 1 HP, you're free to land a few hits.]

1/22; double trouble; the odds will betray you and i will replace you

By the time the real Sans drags himself outta his miserable little hole to check up on the stirrer of the chaos, the causer of the ruckus, the inciter of scurries, it's already approaching the End. That's all right, though. It's excusable. He's lazy. It's one of the defining points of a Sans.

He kicks a pebble across the ground with the toe of a slippershod foot and watches it clatter over the rock, his smile nothing short of utterly neutral.

"So this is me." For the first time, he appraises his double with an upraised supraorbital ridge. "A LOVE-hungry killer bent on destruction."

"You don't sound surprised." The words rumble in his doppelganger's lack of a throat, and his grin approximates a sneer.

"Why should I be?" A weary lift of Sans's shoulders, and he chuckles. "Always figured that's why a guy like me doesn't have it in him to give a damn. Why a guy like me takes it easy."

"You always take it easy." The admonishment should be laden with disgust, but it emerges lightly, like dispensing criticism upon an amateur writer for using too many semicolons.

"Yeah." The pair of skeletons eye each other warily. Sans smiles. And he smiles. "But it was always my choice to. Shit choice, sure, but at least it wasn't 'cause I couldn't."

His clone doesn't reply. There's the faintest stir of a spark in his gaze, a glint of something akin to a cold fury, but it dissipates in the same moment it forms. There's all matter of LOVE caked about his SOUL. He don't have to think about something like that. He's above that. But Sans reads it well enough, and they both know it.

He could judge him, but it'd just be redundant.

"LV 19," says Sans, the real Sans, heavily. "You've been busy."

"So you know what comes next," says the other. The words are conversational, almost companionable, as easily as if they might be discussing the weather. It is, after all - a beautiful day outside. There's no birds about, and certainly no flowers, but both of 'em know that, statistically, there's bound to be birdsong trilling out there somewhere, a few petals opening themselves to a sun's warming rays. There's bound to be a world where a Sans grins beside a Frisk who's surrounded by their friends, living happily on the surface, contented and unafraid.

"Yeah," says Sans.

"Only one monster in the Underground takes you to 20."

"Yeah," says Sans.

His eyesockets slip closed.

It's a beautiful day outside.

And with the charging roar of a Blaster and the bright span of bones springing into existence, the space between them erupts.

[ooc: This last prompt is a two-for-one deal. Characters can try and intervene, cheer from the sidelines, place bets, whatever you like!]

1/23 - 1/24; the real sans; if you take a life do you know what you'll give

[All right, all right. So he's maybe - maybe slightly concerned at this juncture. He was lucky enough to get outta that first confrontation with his life, and there's no guarantee that his double hasn't already gutted a few unlucky bastards.

He's gotta find him and cut him off before he does anything worse. It ain't like anybody he knows is handling this any better but god damn - he hopes voting Confusion in was worth it, that's all he can say.

Sans blips through the city with a remarkable speed and alacrity, popping into shops, houses, checking every inch of the place he can in search of his cruel, LOVE-happy self. Hope you haven't run into the asshole in the meantime and assumed that the real Sans is subsequently out to get ya, 'cause that would be real unfortunate for the skeleton with 1 HP. Just a real awful, terrible, no good thing.]

wildcard; try to hide your hand, forget how to feel

[ooc: Not a fan of the prompts? Hit me with whatever you like! I'll match prose or brackets, either one. Questions and concerns? Hit me at arcaneswearwords on AIM or over at arrpee or with a PM and let's discuss!]

Comments

2 - let's knuckle down and ruin everything =)

[somuchlove]

[Chara has been wandering, in search of Frisk and Asriel. They know a little about the doubles by this point but it was more concerning that there was another them here in Hadriel. Once they figured that out then all bets were off and they dived into the city to find their Partner and Best Friend.

Chara was bad on a good day. Things may have changed in Hadriel somewhat but at the end of the day they were still a LV 20 demon. What could be worse than that...? Another them, or something....more. Chara didn't know what that could entail and

They wanted to know.

They didn't want to know.

...moving on. They had been running as fast as they could, so focused on their goal that Chara nearly missed Sans. Chara skids to a stop but the doubles are fresh in their minds.

* You equip the Real Knife.]

Sans.

[It's clear that they're being cautious. Can you blame them?]

one;

[iustitiae]

Hey, asshole.

[it's just a guess, of course, that his ugly moped has been damaged by sans who he definitely watched just walk away. well, "sans" - doubles can recognize doubles so he knows it's not the original sans, but whatever. who else would've purposefully loosed the screws, though?

so yeah, it's completely circumstantial evidence, but whatever. he takes a few running steps to catch up with the skeleton.]

Having fun?

[he holds out one of the screws in question, annoyance written over his face. yeah, bro, he's calling you out.]

Fuck your dates I do what I want- wildcard

[calledforhelp]

[There's not too many people they want to play meet and greet with. One or two, here and there. A child who smiles a little too much, a child who stole their face

And him.

He's the easiest to find; probably because, in his own way, he's just a little too predictable. A little too easy to needle; always needing to know what's still under his control.

They don't have to come to him. They just have to go to an abandoned apartment, and wait.

There's pictures on the walls. Colored in by three children. Every bedroom has a tiny flavor of personality to it, if you look hard enough. A dented bat, hidden between the mattress and bedside table. Some broken crayons. So flavorful.

It doesn't interest them at all.

No, no. They aren't in the bedrooms. They're in the kitchen, a pot bubbling away on the stove as they lean over it, stool beneath their feet. One wrong slip, and whoops. It won't be such a happy ending for them.

What's new.]

1, 1/16; startin the event off right

[sciencelizard]

[Something's wrong. Super wrong. He's the first person she looks for in this place when things start to go sideways, he's been here longer and... well, it's Sans. He finds a way to make it okay. And right now, she just needs to find... him. And not anybody else that seems to be wandering about.

However, when she catches sight of a familiar face, she just wants it to be him so badly. Can't keep her guard up for long enough.]

S-Sans? Sans, ohmygosh, there you are. Do you, uhm, do you know what's going on, I mean, h-have you seen-- have the gods said anything about this??

2, 1/21; it's shittalking time

[kairotic]

[Y'know, she'd be more inclined to call this period the time of her life, if it wasn't, well, the only time in her life. But goodness, what fun this has been so far. Getting to run people down, ruin some lives here and there... just great. So when she sees him, poking around a corner, there's a... hesitancy.

She's already spoken to the real Sans. Besides, at least they can tell who's who.]

Setting a t-trap for a certain special someone? Why Sans, I'm awfully f-flattered.

2. (January 21st)

[circumitus]

It isn't like she is looking for a friendly chat, either.

After all, 'Rey' has an errand to do...

While passing by the corner, she is marching with a shovel over her shoulder, whistling an off-key tune. She only stops when she notices the skeleton staking out in this little side of the city.

"How long have you been at this now?" she asks, swinging the shovel over to plant the cutting edge into the ground. Knowing each other, it's plenty obvious that 'Sans' isn't there waiting to shake hands.

Appearance-wise, she is completely indistinguishable from the real Rey. Just like how this grinning skeleton is identical to his equally jovial counterpart. But it doesn't take more than a glance to recognize the differences. She's aware of this now.

1 - 1/16

[ushahin]

[Hear that undignified shriek coming from one of the shops? That would be Ushahin having a shelf fall on top of him. Ow. That hurt. He manages to wriggle out from underneath it. Checking himself over, it appears he doesn't have much more than a few bruises and some hurt pride to contend with. As he looks the toppled shelf over, it becomes apparent that someone deliberately set it up this way.

With a wince, he limps out of the shop. Then he sees Sans with his usual affable grin on his face and hands in his pockets. He had to have heard that commotion Ushahin pushes his hair out of his face.]

I'm fine, in case you were wondering.

[war_itself]

Something's up and it's starting to get a bit more out of hand than when people smashed windows and tried to steal her jacket. Normally Quill would be all for a spot of mayhem; it's an excellent opportunity for observation and a decent boredom relief. But the unpredictable abilities of most people in the cave combined with her damned inability to defend herself with weapons or fists means she's forced to be infuriatingly careful.

So she is holed up in her house, monitoring the network for information and signs of interesting show-downs, when she hears something bumping around upstairs. Prepared to be really pissed about the break-in, she grabs a big knife from her collection for intimidation purposes and then creeps up the stairs to the living room, where she finds...

Ambulatory human remains. In a hoodie. Looking like it just bumped into the coffee table. The shock has her forgetting all caution and she pulls a half baffled, half disgusted face. "Oh that's just not right."