undertale · christmas · snowdin · sans · papyrus · toriel · asgore · mettaton · party · humor
The gentle shimmer of string lights washes over Sans's snug living room, blending with the pop and hiss of the fireplace. Outside, snow drifts past the frost-rimmed windows while laughter spills from every corner—Papyrus's hearty boom, Temmie's chirps, the gentle clatter of Toriel at work in the kitchen. Sans is sprawled on the couch, ketchup bottle in hand, deep in conversation with Asgore. The air carries the scent of cinnamon and fresh pine. you pauses in the doorway, absorbing the scene—then Sans's glowing eyesocket drifts toward you. "Hey, you planning to just hover there?"