zarla-s:

So, today is the third anniversary of Handplates, and the first anniversary of the Gaster ukagaka. So to celebrate both things, I have a very large update for him for you! To update him, you can choose “check for updates”
from the right click menu, select it from his Functions double-click
menu, or hit Ctrl+U when he’s the focus. He should check and download
the files himself. If you don’t have
him, you can pick him up from here or this post.

If he
stalls or freezes while checking for updates, make sure you’ve done any
Windows or SSP updates you might have in your queue, or restart your
computer and try again.

But what could this update be…?

• If you run him on the 25th (if you miss it, you can change your computer clock and reboot him) and you’ve had the brothers on your computer and haven’t punched him too many times, there is a chance you may get a unique boot dialogue! And if you do… the brothers and Gaster will be out at the same time!!!! This is a persistent change, so they will be out together when you boot and close them from now on. You can toggle the setting in Gaster’s config menu (btw, also rearranged that somewhat). You can also send the brothers away by trying to switch to them when they’re already out.
  (Right now there is no bad path for getting the brothers and him out at the same time, since I’m still trying to figure out how I want to do it. Eventually though, probably.)
• Many things are different when the brothers and Gaster are all out at once. They have a new dialogue pool, new boot and close dialogue, and many of the other random dialogue like for functions and such has been adjusted to account for the brothers being around.
• As mentioned, if you’ve punched Gaster enough to the point where he’s fearful opening his menus and such, you can’t trigger this event. BUT it DOES trigger if you’ve only punched him once or twice. And if you have, there’s different dialogue for a lot of things.
• Gaster will answer questions you ask him differently when the brothers are out.
• The ACT menu when the brothers are out together is different.
• Right now items are locked off because I just didn’t have the time for it, I wanted to get all the basework done before the anniversary and I was running out of time a bit. I’ll add the items in eventually though.
• The brothers being out with him makes Gaster very anxious, and he has to keep up a certain kind of appearance in front of them as well, so he will shut you out, even if you’ve been kind to him so far. You can try to pet him or the brothers with varying results. Right now, you can’t punch him when they’re all out together. I’m still trying to figure out how I want to handle that. If you want to punch him, you’ll have to send the brothers away.
• When the brothers are out by themselves, they will now highlight the word whenever they’re referring to Gaster. This will look weird unless you have the Comic Sans UT and Papyrus UT fonts installed on your computer. I may or may not keep this depending on if people like it or not.
• I added more dialogue for when you pet Gaster when he doesn’t know you very well to more clearly hint that you should try to get to know him other ways, since people seem to be getting stuck on that.
• Added a few Deltarune name restrictions.
• I changed a shell setting to save me work in the future but I know it gives the brother phone check pixel pictures a red border. It’s just tedious to fix so I’ll do it later but I am aware of it.
• I adjusted how the talkrate displays in the config menu but you won’t notice unless you change the rate though.

[index]

popatochisssp:

“Who gave you that black eye?” + HT!Sans

–

Sans was remembering.

He hated remembering. He was no good at
it, not anymore.

His caved-in skull was like a sieve: big
stuff usually stuck, things that caused
a real emotional response or felt important at the time, but everything else…

Lucky for him, the things he was
remembering right now fit the criteria to a t.

Sans had no trouble recalling what it
felt like to snap a neck like a twig. It was easy to call up the sensation
of EXP flooding his soul, choking him with power he’d never wanted with every
unsuspecting life he snuffed out. The sticky slickness of human blood on his
hands was a memory that was never, ever
going to leave him—sometimes, when he closed his eye-sockets, he could even still
see it.

It made him sick.

These memories were things Sans would gladly lose to the void of his useless
skull if he could choose, but right now…

Right now, he needed them.

The man beside him at the bar was
nursing his drink. It was slow-going because he kept pausing to press it
against his face, cool glass on hot, bruised flesh.

“hey,” Sans says, getting the guy’s
attention. He blanches when he gets a good look at the skeleton talking to him,
huge and scary with his head wound and his burning red eye-light, but Sans is
used to that sort of reaction. It doesn’t stop him from asking, “who gave you
that black eye?”

The human still looks a little on edge,
but he scoffs. “Just some dumb little tease,” he grumbles. “Don’t worry about
it, man.”

“not worried,” Sans assures him. “pretty
sure i know the spitfire ya’ got it from, though.”

He drops your name and the human frowns.

“How the hell—”

“names sans. think ya’ might’ve heard of
me already.”

There’s
the fear, coming back around.

Sans knows
this guy’s heard of him because he knows you:
for reasons he can’t even begin to comprehend, you adore him; pursued him until
against his better judgment, he agreed to be yours.

It made you so happy, and Sans loved making people happy but especially you, his warm and kind and infinitely
forgiving human who talks about ‘my boyfriend, Sans,’ all the damn time like it
was actually something to be proud of.

This piece of garbage coworker of yours knows how very much taken you are…and he
tried to drag you into the bathroom anyway.

“Listen, buddy,” the trash says shakily,
hands already raised in surrender. “It…it was a work party, y’know, there’s…things
happen at those, I wasn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

“i don’t care what you meant.”

Sans stands from the bar stool and
watches the terror on the human’s face spike.

He’s a pretty big guy—has been
ever since the famine hit and monsters started eating meat soaked in the potent
magic of the human soul—and he takes full advantage of that growth spurt now,
towering over this prick in the most intimidating way he can.

“i just stopped by to give ya’ a heads
up. ya’ ever touch ‘em again…” Sans claps a hand on the man’s shoulder and
squeezes, feeling the grind of thin little human bones beneath his fingers. “i’ll
have’ta pay ya’ another visit. ya’ know what that means?”

He mutely shakes his head ‘no’ and Sans
lets his remaining pupil go dark, his eye-sockets pitch black above his rictus
grin.

“if i gotta come find you again, you’re
gonna have a  b a d  t i m e.”

Sans steps back, pretty sure he’s made
his point. The human hastily nods, sputtering terrified agreements and tossing
money onto the bar before scurrying out as fast as his feet can carry him,
his drink forgotten.

Sans can understand the haste: he’s got other
places to be, himself.

A quick shortcut and Sans is back home
where you’re sitting safely on the couch right where he left you, rubbing idly
at your bruised wrist.

You smile when you see him and it lifts
a weight off Sans’ soul. He may be good
at scaring people but that doesn’t mean he likes
it, and you…

You’re never scared.

You love him, you’re happy when he’s
around, you laugh at his jokes even when you’ve heard them all before, and that’s
something so special that Sans would do just about anything to protect your
smile.

Even if it means revisiting the worst years of his life.

“Sans!” you chirp, holding your arms out
to him.

Well, he can’t refuse an invitation like
that.

He settles himself down on the
couch and into your arms. You can’t quite get them all the way around him and
it’s so cute that he just has to
nuzzle the top of your head, chuckling your name.

“Where’d you go?” you murmur, with your
cheek pressed against his sternum. “I missed you.”

“just…takin’ care of something.”

You frown, just a little. “Kevin?”

“shouldn’t bug ya’ again.” Sans cups
your soft little face in his hands, pressing his teeth to your forehead. “just
tell me if he does, okay?”

He worries for a second that you might
chastise him, but you don’t. All you say is, “Okay. I trust you,” and his soul
throbs in his rib-cage.

Of course you do—you know him, all the way down to his
marrow, and you know he’d rather dust than add another coat of blood to his
hands.

…But a friendly little chat to make sure
you stay safe when he’s not with you?

That, he can still do.

And maybe a little something else, too.

“lemme see your arm, babe,” he murmurs,
curling his hand around the finger-shaped bruises beneath your skin. “might be
able to rustle up a little magic for ya’, if i get the green light from ya’.”

Your laugh is music to his lack of ears.
Healing has never been his forte, but for you…?

Anything.

mads-at-18:

my favorite tweets about young millennial & gen z empowerment

rafi-dangelo:

Well.  I certainly hope all the kids are staying off his lawn.

Let’s all collectively eyeball because that hashtag is completely wrong. Being without technology is nothing to brag about — it was just the state of being. How far back do we take it? Should we be sad we grew up with electricity and indoor plumbing too?

All of the things he listed are great. Let’s brag about them and Generation Z who never had to grow up in a world without them.

I’m actually not old enough to remember dating without the Internet, but part of that was because I grew up wanting to date other boys in the Bible Belt so you can’t just walk up to someone and ask them out. I’m still friends with the first guy I went out on a date with from the internet (gay.com to be exact) and I can’t imagine how we would’ve ever met each other otherwise. Online dating was great for a lot of us, especially non-heterosexuals, so I’ma say this is an improvement over the previous generation.

One summer my sister was home from college and I would tag along behind her everywhere. So when Dad asked her to take one of the cars to get the tires changed while he was at work, I went along for that errand.  Our town had about 400 people, so the nearest town to get that done was about 30 minutes away. We went, dropped the car off, then instead of waiting around the auto shop, she suggested we go to the mall and walk around, maybe eat a little something. We had to find a payphone that had a phonebook still dangling under it, flip through the yellow pages, call a cab company, tell them exactly where we were, and then wait for the cab to show up. When we were ready to leave the mall, we had to repeat the process. Score another point for this generation.

I don’t have a LinkedIn because it’s too easy to jump from that to other parts of my online persona which aren’t always conducive to convincing white people that you’re a nice, pleasant employee. As such, my job search is a lot more difficult. A lot of my friends have been reached out to for new employment opportunities because recruiters were browsing LinkedIn. If that’s not an easier way to get a job than buying a newspaper, circling the interesting ones, cold-calling all of them, and showing up with three copies of a resume, I don’t know what is. Another point for the current generation.

I don’t know what Waze is. I guess I might be older than I thought. [[[looking up Waze]]] Oh, it’s a GPS driving kind of app. I live in NYC so I don’t drive, but I was brought up in a Road Trip Family. I missed so many days of school in third grade that they threatened to hold me back because we were always on vacation somewhere (and I was an A+ student so my parents were like “he’s bored anyway, at least he can see the world with a take-home packet of whatever they’re doing”).  My dad always drove and my mom always navigated. We had the BIG atlas from State Farm with every state on a different page (big states got more than one) and insets for the cities (big cities got their own separate page). Then we also had state maps for where we were going and a city map for the final destination. Plotting a course required a ruler (to measure the road distance and compare it to the scale to calculate mileage and time), a magnifying glass (some of the writing is insultingly small), a highlighter (to map out the course), and a spiral notebook (to write down all the directions). My mom was Waze. “Ok hun, in 1.7 miles we need to take exit 37 but stay in the left lane of the exit because it looks like the ramp splits and we need to go West on HWY 21.” Waze, or any navigational app, is many many times easier than what the previous generation was doing.

My sister was in college by the time I was listening to music, but she had amassed an outstanding collection of CDS…….that I was not allowed to touch because I wasn’t old enough and might scratch them. I begged and begged and begged, and by the time I was in 3rd grade, I was allowed to touch them — but only to make a tape and put them right back. Making a playlist on a cassette meant you had to write down the song length of each track and jiggle around the order to make sure your favorite song wouldn’t cut off at the end of side one.  When we finally moved on to making mix CDs, new technology (ie, moving in the next generation) already made it easier because the computer would add up the times for you and let you know how many seconds you were over (and some programs would let you shave seconds off the front or back). Now I just drag and drop. A one hour mix CD in college could take me two hours or more to organize. Now I can make a five hour playlist in about 30 minutes. (My favorite one is my Sunday Afternoon R&B Playlist if y’all wanna know what my spirit is like.)  So that’s a major point for this generation.

There are so many boxes and boxes of photos in my parent’s garage from all the vacations we took. We’d go to Eckerd or Revco and buy those Kodak disposable cameras in bulk. Taking a photo meant winding it up, holding down the little button until it was charged up to flash, closing one eye and squinting through the other to look through the finder, and clicking. And then hoping it was a good shot, because if it was blurry or someone blinked or the flash didn’t work properly, you wouldn’t know about it until you got home and dropped the camera off somewhere to be developed. There are so many bad photos in that garage, images that have essentially been lost because we didn’t know at the time that they hadn’t been captured. Thanks, Instagram generation (and this obviously extends to Facebook and all of social media) for helping us record the best version of our memories so they stick with us when we look back at them.

Brittanica and Encarta have nothing on Google. We don’t even need to discuss this.

I had two pen pals in middle school (and both of them I met on AIM, so I’m already cheating). One was a gay guy in Pennsylvania and one was a girl who, turns out, only lived about 30 miles away from me. I actually met the girl at the bowling alley (after our parents coordinated) and the other day I was wondering what happened to her. It’s been almost 20 years and —

Okay, so I write most of these things when I’m at the office, so there’s no planning or drafts or anything. It’s mostly stream of conscious with decent grammar. I was about to say up there that I couldn’t remember her last name so I couldn’t look her up on Facebook to see how she is. And I still can’t remember it, BUT! I did randomly remember there was a girl I went to school with who was friends with her, which I found out once my pen pal and I started talking about our respective classmates. So I looked up that girl, searched her friends and entered my pal’s first name, and there she is. I can’t believe I never went through my classmate’s FB before to find her, but I deadass just looked this girl up.  And she’s a white girl from a small town in South Carolina so of course she’s a MAGA Republican and I’m obviously not gonna reach out to her, so I guess it didn’t work PERFECTLY to fit the narrative of this blog, but still. You see where I was going with it. Facebook makes it so much easier to keep up with people you want to keep up with. There are people that I still consider friends that I haven’t seen in over a decade, but I think of them as friends because I comment on their kids’ pictures, they read my blogs, I tell them their new haircut is cute, we kiki in comment threads with other mutual friends — we do all the things you would do to keep a friendship alive in person, but we can do it from hundreds of miles away thanks to Facebook. The previous generation had to write letters or talk on the phone, and do you really want to write letters or talk on the phone to every person on your FB friend’s list that you’ve kept up with since high school?  Absolutely not.

So I don’t know what the bragging is about here unless it’s that weird tradition of “I’m a better person than you because I struggled harder.” People have this weird obsession with hardship on the way to enlightenment or something. Sometimes convenience gives you time to become a better, more enlightened person. We’re having conversations now about class, gender, and race that the previous generation hadn’t even thought of, probably because they had to spend so much time calling cabs and making playlists.

thisislittlebear:

¯_(ツ)_/¯