Players:
Frisk (England)
Asgore (France)
Sans (Germany)
Undyne (Russia)
Flowey (Italy)
Papyrus (Austria-Hungary)
Chara (Turkey)
Frisk: *Oh hell no. Chara wants me to put me on her flag. God no.
Chara laughs wickedly on hearing Frisk's reaction.
Chara: *I'm sorry. It was more about the actual thing- I'm sorry-
Frisk wheezes on hearing Chara stuttering their words.
Chara: *Ah, I see. England does have the big pecs.
Frisk: *He truly does.
Sans: *my god. my god. i mean look at him, he's got them out! fuckin' hell. . .
Chara posts a picture to the UT group chat, shocking everyone else in disgust.
Undyne: *Holy shit! What is that!?
Chara: *It's a cake!
Asgore: *Sure, Chara. Not like a burnt child or something.
Frisk: *It looks like a burnt child.
Sans: *it's a fucking scp. jesus christ.
Frisk: *Burnt kangaroo child, more like it.
Chara: *I'm fine with this actually though. It's just- It's just-
Frisk: *Not the feet?
Chara: *Yeah. It might be a little too much.
Asgore: *How about we compromise? You get Chara's feet.
Chara: *NOOOO!
Game Starts | Spring 1901 (Diplomacy Phase)
Frisk: *This is just a normal game of diplomacy. Nothing much.
Undyne: *Nothing sinister?
Frisk: *Yes. Nothing sinister. You're Russia, we don't have anything to discuss.
Undyne: *What do you mean "We don't have anything to discuss."?
Frisk: *Player? What should we do? Should we trust Sans or do we stick with France?
Y/N: . . . No.
Frisk: *Oh, fuck you.
YOU ARE READING
Clover Sans
De TodoDon't mind me. aaron2750 here. Just putting deviations in this story. Considering that I can't really get into deviantart due to the damn hsts safety bs. TOC don't mind me using this story. He gave permission to me.
