skelebro: (how bout i do anyway)
sans. ([personal profile] skelebro) wrote in [community profile] dankmemes 2016-04-21 02:35 am (UTC)

sans | undertale | will match prose/brackets

fear;
[Come on, now, he doesn't even have flesh. But maybe these things are jealous, easily riled up. Don't like another bony thing sharing a turf with them.

Well, alright. Sans can play a game of keep-away. He might not be very fast, but he has his ways around. Takes a shortcut down an alleyway, takes another to a more secluded part of town. Underground city, huh? That's nothing new.

Monsters aren't either, but he's not sure these things fit the bill for that one. They're a little bit less articulate than the monsters he's come to know.

The problem with taking so many shortcuts is it starts to tire him out pretty quick, sweat beading along the ridges of his skull the more he snaps himself out and away. All that he can run, but he can't hide business.

He's actually panting a little bit by the time he leans up against the nearest wall, sandwiched between two spire-looking buildings, smile a bit strained at the edges.]


You guys're given me a real workout here, huh?

[Apparently they heard that, because one of the wizened things lurches at him with a ghastly sound. Welp. Sans snaps himself out of that alley and...oh boy...right into the space available for him. Which may or may not result in him crashing right into some other innocent soul.

Whoops.]
hope;
He catches onto the caveat right after he gets his prize, a horrible little cheap plastic joy buzzer that looks like it'll buzz itself to an early death after one try. He's too amused to bother being miffed about the obvious joke at his expense. Looks like this place has a sense of humor.

It's not a whoopee cushion, but it'll do in a pinch. Sans ambles along unhurriedly, wedges the toy in his sleeve in just the right way, then parks himself right up against a wall and waits for a likely target.

When that target comes along, Sans waves them over and sticks out his hand in greeting. They'll never see it coming.
wildcard; exactly what it says on the tin

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