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TRANQUILIZERS ([personal profile] robbies) wrote in [community profile] logsville2020-12-01 06:00 pm

DECEMBER 2020 EVENT - PART 1


CHAPTER ONE, PART 1: A HOLLY JOLLY HOLIDAY

Do you hear what I hear?


DECEMBER 5th | A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE | THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...

DECEMBER 5th

Don’t you hate to be the last to know?

Out of the windows of your brand new homes, you spot families trotting along in their happy, nuclear units. Stores and restaurants have closed early—on main street, where jingle bells hang from every door, the only souls to be seen are heading toward the town hall, where wreaths hang around the stone lions’ necks. A stage, awash in string lighting, has been erected with three chairs sitting empty behind a podium. Policemen with their smiles and baby-blues stand guard before it; they too are not allowed beyond the velvet ropes. Twenty feet tall—near to reaching the tip-top of the clock tower—a mass is hidden by black tarps. This is the most guarded of all, ringed by no less than twelve junior policemen standing vigil around the clock.

At sundown, you start to see what’s to come.

As the crowd swells, bundled in their coats and scarves, the ladies with silk scarves drawn around their perfectly coiffed hairstyles, three figures take to the stage:
Chief of Police, Dale Harding, who must constantly slip away and bend his ear to listen to one of his boys, giving orders with long sighs, firm words, and grumbles as he takes his seat again. Occasionally one sees a flash of silver moving from his lapel up to his lips, but surely that must only be his policeman’s badge that he kisses, because he loves his town so very, very much!

The Happy Homes Association—or at least, their junior representative. Her bright and shining pin of office sits hidden behind the tremendous fruit basket poised upon her lap, where green and scarlet cellophane cannot quite hide the fruitcake inside the way it does her name. How does she keep her teeth so white and her lipstick so clean and red? Subscribe to their newsletter and read Cathy’s Cosmetic Can-Dos! column to find out!
Mayor Phillip Clarke—well, Phil to his friends. He takes his place at the podium, his top hat inky black, leather gloves oiled and bright, and draws all the town’s breathless attention. He taps the microphone. Once—the crowd inhales—twice—their eyes shine as they look up—three times

“Gooooood evening, Santa Rosita!”

The crowd goes wild as Clarke bellows. Eventually, he raises both arms and gestures for them to quiet down.

“I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out, especially on a school night!” Like the admonishing parent, he wags a knowing finger at several teens in the crowd. “Believe you me, on a night like this, I know how tempting it is to stay home and curl up on the couch with a good book. And,” he adds with a wink to a woman in the front of the crowd, “maybe some of Margie's famous hot chocolate.”

Laughter ripples through the crowd. Again, Clarke patiently waits until they’re finished before continuing, “But that's exactly what makes our little town so special. No matter the time, every day of the week there's always someone out there who will sacrifice something for the better of the community. Be it the energy to get this terrific tree set up—” he gestures to the tree, “—the patience to string twenty yards of lights up—which, I might add, have been generously donated by our pals at Honeybees—or even just time.”

Clarke’s tone turns solemn, but his face remains fixed in a winning smile. “Santa Rosita isn't just a town. It's a family. Each and every one of you out here tonight is a valued member. Even all you new faces out there!” He points to several newcomers in the crowd in what might almost be an accusatory manner if not for the smile on his face. “Don't think I can't see you! Tonight, you have become part of that family. Santa Rosita is your home now. It's through our traditions that we endure, and it's my sincerest wish that you, all of you, will join together with us and help us keep them alive for years to come.”

The crowd applauds, everyone turning to face the new families. As Harding takes a swig from a flask he pulls out of his pocket and the HHA representative continues to beam at the audience with her too-white smile, Clarke fully turns to the tree and pumps his fist in the air, riling the crowd back up.

“And now, without further ado, let's RING. IN. THE HOLIDAYS!”
As his words come to a close, at last the tarp is pulled away—revealing twenty feet of pure, polished, brilliant...

...aluminium christmas tree.

Quick as the busy bees they are, the Happy Homes Association is there to announce that you can buy both table-sized and home-use duplicates for your own homes! The cost is $8 for the little ones and $18.50 for the big trees—get your wallets ready!

As the crowd stampedes toward their own tiny and/or six-foot silver replicas, the three figures on the stage are hurried away. The HHA representative presents their gift basket to the Mayor. He kisses her on both cheeks, rubbing his belly in anticipation of the deliciousness to come, and hurries on. Chief Harding takes the rear, casting back a sour look, and before you have a chance to see if the three could answer any questions, the stage is empty again.

...well, get in line! You want those trees too, don’t you?

↑ back to top ↑


A MYSTERIOUS VILLAGE

The days are getting colder and the entire town seems to be getting into the holiday spirit, between the tree lighting ceremony and the decorations your neighbors are putting up. But something seems to want you to get into the Christmas spirit as well—you haven’t done anything out of the ordinary, but when you open the door, you’re met by a burst of frigid air carrying the scents of gingerbread and peppermint on it.

Stepping through the door, you are not in Santa Rosita any more.

Well, technically, you are; you’re just down by Rose Garden Park, before the Old Growth starts. But it’s not where you thought you were going, and it doesn’t resemble the normal streets of suburbia now. You’ve stepped into a charming Christmas village, packed with all sorts of fun winter activities and sights to see! The ground is covered in pure white snow that never seems to melt into slush, and the sounds of high, sweet jingle bells fill the air as a team of reindeer haul a sleigh past. Maybe that’s Santa’s sleigh they’re pulling?
As you walk into the village, a red pole demands your attention, placed in such a way that no one can miss it. A letter is attached to it:

’Twas the month before Christmas and all through the town
The people were smiling; there was nary a frown!
They entered my village, all brimming with cheer
And knew that quite soon, old St. Nick would be here
There's skating and snowmen and light shows galore
There's even a place to make wreaths for your door!
But somewhere inside there's a mailbox to find
And Santa may bring you what's most on your mind…

As the letter suggests, the village is full of hustle and bustle. Santa’s elves—Robbies decked out in red and green costumes with matching tights and jingle bell boots—are everywhere, making sure that there’s always plenty of holiday treats available for visitors to eat and drink. The nearby pond is iced over and the elf manning the ice skate exchange station seems to be able to guess your perfect size with a glance, while reindeer racing courses have been set up encircling the village. All of the buildings and many of the trees have been lined with lights, warm and bright, and there are stations set up where visitors can make garlands or wreaths to take back with them to the real world.

The real world? Yes, of course—that boring place with work and school and vacuuming! Though the door you initially walked through may have turned into a station for making gingerbread houses, you can hoof it back to your home in Shadyside at any time. The public library is just that way, past the baseball diamond! Any time you open a door, however, you run a risk of finding that it leads back to the village, where the elves are waiting to ensure you enjoy your visit. You can try to close the door and open it again, but who knows if your luck has changed?

The organizers of the village seem to be most insistent that you come and enjoy yourself—flyers are all around town, stuffed in your mailbox, and pinned on bulletin boards. Though some signs on lampposts seem as though they’ve been torn down in a huff, you still can spot them on Main Street: “Visit Santa Rosita’s Very Own Christmas Village!”

And visit it you will.

While the elves are happy to welcome visitors to their village, they also have to work. Christmas toys don’t build themselves, you know! The elves will point out Santa’s Workshop to you, where you can buy freshly made candy canes, charming ornaments for your new aluminum Christmas trees (you did buy one from the Happy Homes Association, didn’t you?), and other sundries and stocking stuffers. There’s even a German-style bar in the back serving hot chocolate and mulled wine—non-alcoholic, of course; this is a family event. Just outside of the workshop’s entrance is a mailbox, its post swirled red and white and wrapped in garlands. A small desk sits next to the mailbox with a stack of stationery, envelopes pre-addressed to Santa Claus at the North Pole, and pens on top.

At the top of the stationery, beside cutesy illustrations of hippos and children missing their front teeth, are the words, “What I want most for Christmas is…”

Why not write Santa a letter? What have you got to lose?

↑ back to top ↑


THE MAYOR HAS INVITED YOU...

...to the annual Christmas gala, beginning at 4:00 pm sharp at Santa Rosita’s stately town hall! The invitation appears in your mailbox with just enough time for you to gather all your family and go shopping, because you certainly want to look your best. You simply must. The who’s who of the town will be there, all wearing their finest velvet dresses and shined black shoes. Be warned that the dress code will be strictly enforced by the Happy Home Association—only red and green allowed, or else it simply isn’t festive. Men in bright red or green suits - women sporting taffeta skirts in complementing shades - pinned corsages and matching handbags - no detail left untouched!

You wouldn’t want to be caught standing out from the crowd, would you? In the Mayor’s presence?

That might be a bad idea.

But the holidays do get the better of us sometimes, don’t they? The HHA understands, and if on the day of the party you have found yourself without a red or green garment, they have some loaners to wear. If you’ll simply follow Mrs. Jones down to the coat room, she can show you some options.

  • For the ladies (and female-presenting), they offer up beautiful green or red dresses as loaner. ”It matches the metal trees!” the coat clerk brightly tells you, her own dress as shimmery as they come.

  • For the gentlemen(ly presenting among you), fresh off the rack at the local Sears Roebuck department store, these fetching blazers are available, complete with matching trousers.

In front of you in line is someone who very clearly does not have the Christmas spirit flowing through them, judging by how they wish to argue with the HHA about these “loaner garments.” How rude! But don’t worry—when you see the once-irascible individual later by the punch bowl, there’s a glassy smile on their face and they’re decked out in jolly green and poppy red, happy as—well, a kid on Christmas morning.

Tables are laid out with food and drink aplenty. Even the sandwich loaf has made its effort to match the decor, as red poinsettias and holly berries dot the windows (careful children—they’re poisonous) and rich green pines occupy every corner. Move outside of the room and you’ll find nothing more than locked and darkened offices, with the occasional policemen and night guards shaking their fingers at you to go back and enjoy the party. This is a night to be merry and drink some mocktails, not to go through the filing!

Up by the fine wood paneling and brilliant metal tree stands the mayor himself. Looking dashing as Santa Claus, a cluster of parents flock nearby beaming as their child gets their photo taken with Mayor Clarke! That’s certainly going in the Christmas newsletter! Each of them has a little present—perfectly wrapped, just see Grandma’s Gift Wrapping Guide in this month’s HHA newsletter—to give to the Mayor for all his hard work this year.

You didn’t think that stack of presents by Santa’s chair was for him to pass out, did you?

Between music sets (graciously played by the Frederick Loren High School marching band), the Mayor stands—the hall falls silent, all the little cups and plates still in jolly hands. He has a speech to give you all, you fine citizens, faces old and new:

“Ho-ho-hi there, Santa Rosita! And how are we enjoying ourselves tonight? I see some of our new families were able to make it out tonight—is that Richard O’Reilly and the missus?” Using a hand to shade his eyes, Clarke squints into the throng of townspeople. “And Jim Astin with Lucy and little Susie! Wow. Isn’t that something?”

In the back of the room, Chief Harding pours himself a glass of punch, takes a sip, then reaches into his suit jacket for his flask.
“Now, in my house,” Clarke continues, “we have a rule not to open any presents until Christmas Day, but with all the ones I've gotten tonight, it's just too darn tempting.” Reaching down, he takes a box from the pile of gifts at his feet. “I think this one's a tackle box, and I'm pretty sure this—” he reaches down for another smaller box, “—is that electric razor I’ve had my eye on.” He shakes the box, chuckling, as the rest of the crowd joins him.

“But let's get serious for a moment.” Clarke’s expression turns thoughtful. “Although getting a truckload of Christmas presents is swell, do you want to know what the greatest gift you've given me is?” He pauses performatively, waiting for an answer from the crowd that never comes.

“The greatest gift you've all given me... is letting me serve you.”

In the back, Harding ditches the punch cup and just drinks straight from the flask.

“I'm honored to be here with you all tonight,” Clarke continues proudly, “just I am honored to be able to wake up every morning, look in the mirror and tell myself that I... am your mayor. Which is why I want to give something back to you. How many of you have already visited Santa's little village?”

There’s a round of cheering in the front of the audience from the many children in attendance with their parents. Clarke opens his arms wide.

“My idea! I decided that if I can't bring Santa Rosita to the North Pole, I'm going to bring the North Pole to Santa Rosita. Enjoy yourselves! Saint Nick's got a lot of work to do before Christmas. So be good, don’t pout, and for goodness sake—have fun!

The clapping threatens to take down the garlands hung from chandeliers. ”A fine orator!” “Reminds me of the war, when we heard Churchill over the radio. Why, Clarke gives him a run for his money, ha ha ha!”

A delightful HHA elf comes to replenish the pickle tree on the appetizer table, and the covers of Bing Crosby carry you away into the night.

Remember to stay until 9:00 pm, when the Santa Rosita Children’s Choir will start caroling!

↑ back to top ↑


OOC INFO

Welcome to the first part of the event! You can use this entry to top-level for the event, but feel free to use the log and network communities as well.

A few things to keep in mind: Firstly, there is no return portal back into town once your character is teleported into the Christmas village. They will have to walk back on foot or get lucky and catch a ride from a helpful citizen.

Secondly, please be mindful of how your character interacts with the setting. While characters are welcome to explore the town and ask questions, Santa Rosita is still a happy little suburb in the 1960s, where appearances matter and acting too out of line from commonly accepted societal norms can come with their own unique consequences. We do not intend to punish players for their curiosity, but be aware that the townsfolk may not be so understanding of wanton disrespect for their ways!

And thirdly, the NPCs will not be available for interactions. At the party, Harding will leave early and Clarke will leave to handle other business. Santa does have a schedule to keep, after all.

Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.

Remember--Part 2 of this event is coming December 15th!

▶ NAVIGATION ◀
COMMS logs | network | ooc | memes
OOC INFO premise | rules | faq | taken | applications | hiatus/drop/canon updates | activity check | reserves | mod contact
SETTING INFO calendar | setting | housing | npcs | death and tranquilizing | event suggestions/engagements
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: I CAN'T READ SUDDENLY)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-05 05:47 am (UTC)(link)
What??! But...!

[He says too loudly, in a way that could easily draw unnecessary attention. Noticing the irony of it, he lowers his voice to more of a stage whisper.]

But removing it, that completely crosses the line. Right now it's just... accidental borrowing. If I pull it off...

[The thought that he can sneak it back onto the shelf with no one the wiser is what's helping him keep his conscience clear, here.]
webdesigned: (98)

[personal profile] webdesigned 2020-12-05 05:50 am (UTC)(link)
( it feels odd to be chastised in the midst of obviously snooping. yeah, okay, he's not being the most subtle. but neither of them is doing what they're supposed to be, even if one of them hadn't been suddenly startled in the middle of it.

okay, no, it's a good point. he shouldn't jump out of his skin at any unexpected company. it makes him seem like he's guilty of something. which he is, obviously, but he's not ready to stop snooping so he needs to be a little less suspicious about it. Peter's used to all his recon happening under a mask, when he's breaking the rules with no hint of a fallback he can't help but feel a little awkward.
)

You just surprised me, ( Peter protests, quietly annoyed and somehow chastened all at once. ) Okay, fine. ( he'll move... but not back towards the party. if he was supposed to be cowed and return to the party with his tail between his legs, that's not going to happen. he heads deeper into the dark and abandoned halls, determined to keep poking around. )
spaghettimonster: (THE ARTISTE CONTEMPLATES)

So how about that November

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-05 05:54 am (UTC)(link)
A question occurs to me that I don't think anyone's asked yet: what do the people of Santa Rosita happened in October and November?

If our characters ask around, do the locals have any stories of things that happened during November, even lighthearted anecdotes like what little Jimmy's sportsball team got up to? Or do they all awkwardly change the subject to how excited they are for Mayor Clarke's Christmas Gala and other December-appropriate topics?

And for that matter, do the neighbors think our characters moved in during October, or just now?
thevalley: (WHAT IF WE MADE OUT IN THE CHAZ)

[personal profile] thevalley 2020-12-05 05:56 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah but... what if the eggs are fucked up. [A pause, she can't help herself.] Like from evil chickens.

[Okay buddy, you just eat the eggs. That's a you thing and not a her having problems with eating thing.]

Yeah. It's kind of a mistake.
ribticklers: (130)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-05 05:58 am (UTC)(link)
You sure? Seemed like you were havin' fun with 'em. [Sans shrugs.] Anyway, I'm done with my drink.
fanoperator: (i don't know)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-05 05:59 am (UTC)(link)
Huaisang nods earnestly in reply, meeting that disarming smile with guileless wide eyes. "Yes, just in October. Er." His own smile wavers uncertainly. "Just recently. I'm on Carpenter Boulevard. Everything is very new to me here. The customs aren't anything like at home. When did you arrive?"

Wrathion's lack of knowledge about the trees--and lack of 'festive' attitude--has betrayed him as also a stranger to this world.

"I'm Huaisang, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet you."
ribticklers: (130)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-05 06:01 am (UTC)(link)
[Sans starts scooping snow into a cup, but before he dumps anything else on, he notices the coin problem. And while he is totally willing to maybe-sort-of con someone into buying a snow cone, he is not willing to con someone into buying a snow cone for an amount different from what he intended. The only reason Sans knows is he figured he'd better learn right away so he could... Well, do dumb stuff like this.]

It'll say "five cents" on the side with this long flat building on it.
ribticklers: (126)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-05 06:03 am (UTC)(link)
Well, once you get those skates on, it'll be more like gliding. [Does that help at all? Sans stretches out a foot to stop himself from sliding off elsewhere on the pond for the moment.] 'S long as you know how to skate, anyway.
ribticklers: (132)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-05 06:06 am (UTC)(link)
Yeah, it's like, maybe level three on the kidnapping scale, instead of, I dunno, whatever ten would be. [Something horrific he doesn't want to spend too much time thinking about, so instead he focuses on the sandwich loaf, whose ingredients I just found and therefore I had to edit them into this tag because look at that thing.] What d'you think, is it gonna taste good or is it gonna be awful?
Edited 2020-12-05 06:11 (UTC)
petsthedog: (pic#12817845)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-05 06:06 am (UTC)(link)
Sure don't.

[His shoulders rise and fall in a vague shrug. He sighs.]

...Look, I ain't expectin' shit from you or whatever. Ain't had parents in ages, and I've been fine on my own.

[For an, uh. certain value of fine, at least.]

I can even clear outta here if you want, a bed ain't that important to me.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SLEEPY)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-05 06:07 am (UTC)(link)
Kiara, okay...

[He nods, trying to fix that to memory. It's not okay - well, the name is okay, he's not judging her name - but the circumstances are a lot.]

Uh, I'm Papyrus! The Great Papyrus. A little bit discombobulated, but no less great.

[Even the weight of skin, old timey pajamas, and the confusion of scattered memories can't weigh him down. He pushes off the bed, looking around and taking in the bedroom's sights: old-fashioned decor, two beds, photos of a happy couple that just happen to look like her and... Well.]

And you don't remember any of these pictures being taken, right?
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SPARKLE)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-05 06:10 am (UTC)(link)
Huh?

[In the surprise of finding Sans right there with hardly any effort, he almost forgot about the promise of making lunch. But with this reminder he cackles and turns to lead them back to 105.]

Nyeh heh heh! No, unless you walk very slowly... [Which, he knows Sans just might do.] --things will go just as I planned! You will see my lunch and just have to wait.
fanoperator: (oh no)

[personal profile] fanoperator 2020-12-05 06:12 am (UTC)(link)
"That's all right." Huaisang gives him a shy smile, hugging himself to keep warm. "Did you walk through a door and find yourself here without meaning to? It's so cold, they really ought to be selling coats if they're going to do something like that. Not that I'd be able to buy anything--I was in my own home, so I don't have my purse or my coat or anything useful on me. Wouldn't you think, a magic door like that, it'd be able to take you home, too?"

Sighing nervously, Huaisang sucks on his own lower lip in thought for a moment. "What were you looking for while you were lost?"
ribticklers: (130)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-05 06:13 am (UTC)(link)
[Sans follows at a reasonable speed today. Good job, Sans. He looks at the outside of Papyrus's house as he approaches, trying to figure out if it's the same one from October, but he really can't tell.] I'll just have to eat your lunch instead.
catlady: (Default)

[personal profile] catlady 2020-12-05 06:21 am (UTC)(link)
[ she drops his hand almost immediately, stopping him so she can tug at the coat to try and get him out of it quicker. bruce has probably trained for months with the master of something, he can withstand the cold and she doesn't feel even a little guilty accepting the offer. ]

Yes. Please. Now, thank you, hand it over.

[ look, she'll even be helpful and take the tree from him so he can take the jacket off. she holds it in front of her, both arms wrapped around the box as she waits for him to relinquish his coat to her. ]

Will pretending I'm still cold get you out of the rest of your clothes? Just wondering... for later.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: EYEROLL)

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-05 06:25 am (UTC)(link)
[It's hard to say, between the vagueness of most of the memories, and the way the houses in this town look so similar to each other. There's different photos all over, different contents in most of the rooms... but it's the same car in the garage, so who can say.

One thing Papyrus can say, clearly and emphatically, is:]
You absolutely do not have to! It's my lunch, you can wait. Take a tour. Put your feet back. Keep your mouth off my food.
thotsandprayers: (and dear lady please don't laugh)

[personal profile] thotsandprayers 2020-12-05 06:27 am (UTC)(link)
[She'll smile and wave too. Keeping up appearances really isn't too hard for her, she's had to put way more effort into this before, so it's fine. Not to mention she really does enjoy meeting people, even if she doesn't expect much from the townspeople.]

I certainly have. I don't see any reason why not.

[She hasn't met breaking and entering guy yet, but even if she had, it'd be unlikely to change her opinion.]

Everyone I've met seems friendly enough so far. Though if I may ask a question about meeting people? The person you're living with now, do you remember living with them before?

[Because she sure doesn't, and neither does her new “husband.” So she's curious if anyone else has gotten shuffled around.]
ribticklers: (133)

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-05 06:30 am (UTC)(link)
[Sans hums, apparently considering this "don't eat Papyrus's food" idea.] Pretty sure your house is basically like mine, unless you already redecorated. [Or he redecorated in October? Sans is pretty sure they didn't have time for that.] What've you got for lunch, anyway?
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: COOL)

ii - because I gotta, but something a little later on than the tree reveal?

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-05 06:37 am (UTC)(link)
[Swearing in the same sentence as mentioning Santa, in this little festive area...? It turns a few heads in disapproval, but before anyone can scold, Papyrus is close enough to chime in.]

Oh, Santa doesn't stand on ceremony! You don't have to be too adult about it... You can just send casual letters in. No itemized invoices or forms in triplicate required.

[That's meant to be reassuring, compared to how paperwork for other major officials can get to being. At least Santa offers a clear, friendly arrangement with simple terms: be good, request presents, receive presents. Something any skeleton can embrace going along with.]
petsthedog: (pic#12817775)

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-05 06:43 am (UTC)(link)
[The only good thing about the terrible holiday blazer he's been forced to wear tonight is that it has pockets. Somewhat reflexively, he shoves his hands within them, typical hunched posture deepening. He doesn't owe this guy an explanation but it seems like this will be more of a pain in the ass if he tries to ignore him. So.]

I ain't makin' any kind of scene, alright? That's why I'm leavin'.

[He shrugs.]

Besides, there's no way the people in charge here don't know exactly who we are.
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: EYEROLL)

Funny story, I never bothered deciding what he was eating.

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-05 06:51 am (UTC)(link)
[Papyrus dodges the food question, partly to buy time for the narrator to decide, partly so Sans doesn't get too invested in the idea of it and snag it before Papyrus can make a second share.]

No, not yet. It's only been a few hours... I think. And I'm not that fast!

[He remembers getting supplies for some degree of redecorating. Paint, but mostly deck supplies with which to build a deck and hopefully win the approval of some of the neighbors... But he doesn't see any freshly built deck or supplies thereof around. It seems like a fresh house, except for all the family photos.]
petsthedog: (pic#12824107)

omg ... i'm so sorry papyrus lmao

[personal profile] petsthedog 2020-12-05 06:53 am (UTC)(link)
[...Shinjiro just kind of stares at the interloper here, one eyebrow raised. He's not sure if this is a joke or meant in full sincerity, but it kind of sounds like the latter and he is entirely unsure how to react to that?

So he just settles for his default of blunt.]


Ain't you a little old for believin' in Santa?
ribticklers: (122)

it's a mystery

[personal profile] ribticklers 2020-12-05 06:57 am (UTC)(link)
Then we can skip the tour. [Much easier that way. He is going to take a look at the pictures as they pass by them, though--human Papyrus with some woman Sans doesn't know. Even knowing the situation, it's weird. Distracted, for the moment, from food, he grabs one of the photos right off the wall. This might be a little rude.]

New roommate? [Judging by these pictures, Sans is sure Papyrus is meant to be married to this woman, but that's too ridiculous to say out loud.]
thotsandprayers: (and dear lady please don't laugh)

[personal profile] thotsandprayers 2020-12-05 07:11 am (UTC)(link)
[...Papyrus. Not the strangest name she's heard, but it's up there. Her world has some strange names though, so even if she finds it a little odd, she doesn't think too much of it.]

I can't say I remember them any more than you do.

[She'll get up to take a look at the photos, appreciating the time that's been taken to create them, but...]

It's a bit unusual, isn't it? We both know this isn't quite right, and yet it seems like someone has gone through an awful lot to convince us otherwise.

[Okay, maybe more than a bit unusual, but she thinks she has a different scale for unusual than most.]
spaghettimonster: (HUMAN: SPARKLE)

I am so glad, and he's going to be so confused

[personal profile] spaghettimonster 2020-12-05 07:11 am (UTC)(link)
Huh...? No, I'm sure he can use the support. Who wouldn't want me believing in them!

[The sincerity's still on display, albeit mixed with a self-aggrandizing joke and an edge of confusion is trickling in. Why would age matter when believing in Santa? Is it a child labor thing...?]