determinedest | ic inbox

[The flour, as predicted, gets everywhere. They don't even mean for it to go everywhere. It's just that the sack is really heavy, and their arms feel like tiny little matchsticks in comparison. They think they tip something like almost half of the bag in there instead and...

Well, it's - it'll probably be fine. It'll probably be fine, right?

Frisk sneezes four times in quick succession, but manages to do so into their shirtsleeve every time instead of getting their snot all over in the nascent cake recipe.
And try not to think of dust.
They wipe their hands on the first towel they find, trying not to sniffle as their nose itches wildly.]

What's next?

[It's definitely everywhere. Chara can already tell that the two of them will be lucky if the kitchen is recognizable by the time they're done, let alone if they somehow emerge with something edible. Somehow, though, they don't even care how imperfect and all-wrong this already is. They decided they were misbehaving from the moment they stepped out of the room, after all, didn't they?]

Um... sugar, salt, cocoa powder... baking soda or baking powder. I forget which. Do you remember?

[They crack an egg against the side of their bowl a little too hard, and it smashes against the outside of the bowl, sends goopy raw egg and bits of shell running down its curve and onto the counter. Whoops.]

Nope!

[But Frisk sounds positively delighted as they admit it. So, you know, there's an obvious solution to the problem here: both. Both! Both is good!

And so both it is! They fetch out both backing soda and baking powder, peer into the cardboard packages housing them. They both look pretty interchangeable, honestly. More whitish powder. So same difference, right?

If they mess things up, they can leave it for someone else to clean up. Right?

They go ahead and dump...one spoonful of each into the bowl. Yeah. One seems like enough.]

Golly. Perhaps we'd have been wiser to make something from a boxed mix.

[They remark, airily, getting themselves into a rhythm of cracking eggs and discarding the shells in a steadily-growing pile. They're hardly getting any shell fragments in the mixing bowl at all!]

Oh! And butter. Is butter a wet or a dry ingredient?

[Butter. Cups of butter. Doesn't matter, doesn't matter. It's not a pie. It's fine.]

...Let's call it wet. I'll add the butter, since I'm already doing the milk. Oh - and speaking of... are we going to make our own frosting, or are we going to pull some ready-made cans out? Because if we're using cans, I'd like to suggest the rainbow sprinkle kind.

Wet, I think. 'Cause you melt it.

[They were thinking of making their own, but the thought of using rainbow sprinkle cans is too much to resist. Frisk dusts the flower and assorted powders off the tips of their fingers with a decisive firmness, then abandons the effort when they realize they're just getting flour and stuff all in the air. It tickles their nose when they breathe it in, inadvertently, so they instead wipe their hands on their shirt, staining it with wide white smears.

(Like dust.)

They head on over to the pantry area and start going through it eagerly.]

We could try making rainbow sprinkle frosting, but I think this might be better.

[They're making a mess enough as it is!]

Much better.

[Because they're baking in a very silly manner, ha ha! Not following a recipe at all! That's it. That's the sole reason. And anyway, rainbow sprinkles are fun and whimsical.

(He loved rainbows. He probably would have tried to put frosting on a pie if he could. He would have only made something silly and cute and harmless if Chara hadn't been there with him, surely.)

They duck their head, search through the drawers, pluck out two spoons. Smile brightly.]

Of course, we'll still have to taste test it, won't we? If we're already being bad, then we might as well eat it right out of the tub!

[See? Fun. This is still fun, and it's going to stay fun. This is just a little speed bump to force yourself over.]

[Late night sugar highs are - they're harmless, right? Like something two stupid kids would do. Not necessarily - siblings, not necessarily family, or partners, just two kids! They don't have to worry about things maybe turning out wrong.

Frisk extricates several cans of the stuff - Wonderland can provide more than just rainbow sprinkles, it turns out, but a whole plethora of sugary flavors, in case your frosting needs to be extra-special, they imagine. Chocolate. Vanilla. Strawberry. Snickerdoodle.]

Pistachio? [Frisk wrinkles their nose.] Who would want pistachio-flavored frosting?

If it makes good ice cream, then I guess it must make good icing?

[Wouldn't know; haven't tried. They slide one of the spoons down the counter, over to Frisk. Flash them a bright smile as they start just... dumping some milk into their egg heap.]

Eat a spoonful of it. I dare you to. Someone's got to ascertain if it's gross or not, right?

[Sticking their tongue out of one side of their mouth in concentration, Frisk pops the lid off the greenish can and whisks a spoonful of the stuff right up. It looks...strange. Green and freckled with specks of browner green, but it smells like frosting, all sugary and...confection...ary.

(Don't imagine leaves.)

They stick the whole thing in their mouth in one go. Their expression screws up thoughtfully as they swallow it down.]

Hmm. That's...not what I expected.

[It's a little bit disgusting, but not entirely, so that's a surprise!]

"Not what I expected" in a good way, or a bad way?

[Frisk can have fun with that. Chara's going straight for the rainbow sprinkle tub and just... shovelling a spoonful right into their horrible goblin face. A massive gob of pure unadulterated sugar goop. They're doing it, and nothing can stop them.]

Think it'd go with chocolate cake? I'd hate to ruin our doubtlessly-flawless rolls with the wrong icing!

Give it a try, decide for yourself.

[Frisk offers the canister of the stuff with a perfectly innocent smile. It's not totally horrible, and anyway, Chara might make a hilarious face.]

[They know Frisk - and how much Frisk has picked up from them - well enough to not trust that smile for a second. But it's just frosting, right? So they make a very proper show of running their spoon under the sink a bit, making sure it's Clean and Sanitary and that their disgusting corn-syrup-glop snorfling is all very well-mannered and proper.

And then they take a spoonful. And then they eat it. And then their face scrunches up like they'd just tried to eat a sponge soaked in dish soap. They're not a fan of pistachio ice cream, so why did they expect to like it as frosting? It's just weird and artificial and chemically and BAD.]

Ew. It sucks.

[Frisk's smirk broadens in unmistakable amusement.]

* Indescribable.

[Which immediately gives way to a peal of wicked laughter. Or, more semantically accurately: wicked snorting. Snorting and chortling in equal measure. Snortling.

They're doing lots of it.]

I cannot believe you would convince me to try this. Truly, our friendship is pistachiover.

[Bad jokes make Frisk laugh. Make them snortle. Let them keep snortling, keep having fun. Chara's just going to very carefully unwrap an entire stick of butter and dump it in the bowl.

...Two sticks of butter. Because doing it twice makes it feel extra-sure. More secure. Double-checked.

...

Three sticks of butter.]

I'm sticking to confetti. Never again will I stray from the one true path.

[Of course it just makes Frisk laugh. They were just starting to recover from their fit of giggles, but that horrible pun sets them off all over again, powdery hands clamped over their mouth as they try to keep from being - too loud. Wouldn't want anyone to wake up and see what a mess these two kids have made of the kitchen!

Frisk stops long enough to manage:]

Pistachio ones, chocolate ones - they walk not the middle road!

[And their valiantly-maintained straight face dissolves all over again.]

[Chara, of course, is too sophisticated to laugh at their own jokes, so they just settle for smiling faintly at the round of chuckles they've coaxed out of their partner. But then Frisk looks over and says that, and there are floury handprints on their face where they'd pressed their hands over their mouth, and Chara just snorts. But, like, in a sophisticated way.]

* You notice a tub of icing hidden behind the pillar.

[They roll their eyes playfully as they get to work mixing, mashing all that butter up into oblivion. ...Feels good. Harmless, relieving exertion of force.]

You usually didn't need help like that on puzzles, especially not the Ruins ones. I never did understand how we had so much trouble with switches that were just... out in plain sight.

[Yes, truly the most sophisticated of snorts happening right over here. Frisk scrunches their nose up thoughtfully as they shut the can of pistachio icing with a firm snap.]

I dunno, [they say, thoughtfully.] It just felt like...I dunno, it didn't feel obvious at all. I guess now it does but...it really didn't back then, did it?

[They wonder if their head is going to start to hurt, the way it did during the conversation with Zacharie's Mirror. They'd hope not. That hadn't been very much fun for everyone.]

[They cant their head to one side, trying to recall. They remember seeing the color of each switch, plain as day. Knowing it like it was obvious. But they also... remember going out of their way to state the color of each switch. Remember giving the hint, like they knew Frisk needed help seeing that the switch was behind a pillar (even if it was actually kind of to the side of a pillar, wasn't it?)

Why would they know that? Why was the hint where the switch was, and not something about the order?]

...It was kind of weird that there were those "if you can read this" signs up, to begin with. That wasn't a puzzle that made a lot of sense.

[Just like the room with a bunch of little cracked-floor compartments, with only one hiding a switch needed to proceed. How were you supposed to know what was underneath the floor?]

Er, the wet ingredients are all mixed. You ready with the dry ones?

[It really doesn't make a lot of sense, the more they think about it. But they're also not much in the mood to get their head to start hurting the more they think about it, so they choose...not to. Instead drag their bowl of dry ingredients closer and display it proudly.

Easier than thinking about switches and pillars and things.]

All ready!

Alright. Hold it steady, and keep stirring. I'm adding the wet.

[They say, as they attempt to heave this big bowl of liquids and butter and just... dump it on in there.

They might be wiry for their age (or possible lack thereof), but it's a heavy bowl. What ensues is basically an egg-milk-vanilla-butter tsunami.]

[Frisk does their best to keep stirring. STIR HARDER!!! shrieks a remembered specter of Undyne at their shoulder, and their features shrivel up into a glower of determination as they keep stirring, as best as they can, even as the wet gloop of the batter slops over the edges of the bowl, splashes their sleeves and their arms, speckling their face and probably getting in their hair.

It's no matter, though. The stirring continues. They are Determined to keep stirring, gosh darn it.]

It's getting harder. [They're even panting a little with the effort it takes to mix the solids in with the liquids, but they're putting every scrap of muscle they can into the action.]

[Maybe there's too much flour after all? They debate whether to try and dump in more milk or something, or if it's entirely possible to make a reasonably tasty cake out of a dough instead of a batter.

It's probably fine! It'll smooth out once it's a little more mixed, right?]

You're not gonna let a cake outmuscle you, are you? Stick it to that baked good! Charge it with assault and battery! Stop petting the enemy!!

[Okay, it's not as motivational as when Undyne does it, but Chara's not supposed to be admitting anything Undyne does is motivational, anyway. She's a hero, Chara's a villain.]

Or I guess if you're tired, you can let the stronger half handle it. These sick pythons aren't just for show.

[Frisk keeps stirring. They might not have much muscle to their wiry little frame, but they've got enough determination to make this cake perfect, gosh darn it! Or if not perfect at least...fun. Fun to make and fun to watch should it fail spectacularly.

Their tongue sticks out the side of their mouth with the effort, because they're going to see this through, they've already sworn that oath to themself.]

I can do it! I'm stirring with all my passion!

[STIR HARDER!!!

HARDER!!!!!!!

HARD - oh.

The wooden spoon they're using snaps, having mired itself very thoroughly in the batter that is rapidly becoming more gluelike in nature.]

...oh.

Oh.

[Chara stares, bewildered, at the chunk of spoon stub still cemented into the... can it still be called batter at this point?]

Um. Well! Seems like it's all mixed! Better get this poured out into a pan!

[Before it sets and has to be pried out of the bowl with a crowbar.]

Is it though?

[Frisk plucks at the stub of the spoon that's now firmly mired in the batter that's definitely more approaching "cement" on the viscous, rapidly-setting end of the spectrum. Extricating it from the batter is turning out to be a much more complicated endeavor than they realize.]

Do we want splinter-flavor in there?