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graigoo · 5 years

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Jivin’ Bones (Chapter Two)

Summary: The above world isn’t what Sans thought it would be, not that he had ever given it much thought. With all his old friends busy living their own lives, even Papyrus away from home more often than not— Sans is left to entertain himself. Bored, he turns back to the Underground. To the broken machine hidden in the back of his workshop. In the process of fixing it, the machine malfunctions and sends Sans into an alternate world.

Thrust into a harsher reality, Sans must survive long enough to find a way back home… while being pursued by a version of himself that’s all too interested to know who the new skeleton in town is.

Inspired/Influenced by Sooner or Later You’re Gonna be Mine

Pairing: Bara!Mobfell Sans/Sans

Warnings: Mature, Graphic Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter Two

Pop.

Sans blinked once, twice, looking from the empty bar stool to his own held out hand.

Had that little… no, not possible. It was a well-known fact that Sans was the only monster in all of the world who could teleport. It was a powerful ability that required a lot of magic, more than some puny, calcium deficient looking skeleton could pull off.

The ability couldn’t be called rare, because that implied there were others who had it. Teleportation was a one-of-a-kind type of power that had monsters jumping at their own shadows and turning to look down every dark alley they passed. Just out of fear that the most mobile of the Gaster brothers would be there. The terror he had painstakingly crafted for years around the use of such an ability was a point of pride for Sans.

But if not teleportation, what other explanation could there be for the loud, familiar pop sound followed by the sudden disappearance of the runt? Unless the runt had turned to dust right in front of him out of sheer terror after learning just who he’d been insulting, but as there was no dust on the bar stool; Sans couldn’t think of another explanation.

And sans any other explanation, he would have to accept the most obvious one available to him, for the time being. Could be teleportation was a skeletal ability. There wasn’t a large enough population of them to really know. Only three- now four.

But if the runt had teleported, that would mean….

Why, of all the disrespectful, insolent, downright rude—That little daisy had run out on him!

Sans’ open hand clenched into a fist, the bones pressed together tightly as he shook with barely contained fury.

“That little…” Glaring at where the stranger had been sitting, Sans slammed his fist onto the counter, cracking it. “Grilby, get your flamin’ ass out here!” He shouted, anger burning hot in his chest.

Just wait until he catches that grifter, Sans will show him what comes of taking one of the Gaster brothers for a sucker. He’ll bend those slender fingers back until he hears them snap, and he won’t stop until that daisy apologizes proper for his rude behavior. He’ll—

“You called?” Grilby said loftily, interrupting Sans’ angry internal tirade and acting like a man who’s done no wrong. The flame monster looked around the bar, from the bar stool, to Sans, to the door. A slight smile spreading across the man’s face as he noticed the lack of miniature skeleton in the room.

“Who the fuck else?” Sans snapped. His language always deteriorated with his mood, and right now he was in a real fucking bad one. Called before the sun could even rise about some strange skeleton, only to show up and have the stranger act all uppity and disappear like he had that right. And now this trash was smiling at Sans like he was the one who messed up.

If only Grilby could read a fucking room.

“You lost him,” the flame monster announced, eyes slight in that taunting way.

Sans responded by reaching across the counter, grabbing Grilby by the front of his cheap jacket, and pulling him half way over it to glare directly into the flame monster’s face. He’s not about to be disrespected twice in one night. Especially not by some do-nothing bar keep.

“Might lose somethin’ else if you don’t watch your fuckin’ tone.” Sans threatened

“You can’t kill me, big brother’s orders.” The flame monster smirked at him. But Grilby wasn’t as effective at coming off unthreatened as the little skeleton had, Sans noted. He could see the purple flames losing their brightness, he could see the shadow of fear darkening those lilac eyes. Grilby shook slightly in Sans’ grip, his breathing was shallow and uneven from poorly concealed panic.

Not that he blamed the flame monster. In all honesty, they both knew Sans had killed for less than a little back talk. Just like they both knew, Gaster’s orders be damned, he’d kill Grilby if he pushed the familiar attitude too far. Sans didn’t tolerate flipmouths well on the best of days, and today was not turning out to be a good fucking day.

It was reassuring though, to see that after the disappearing stint that runt had pulled, he hadn’t actually lost his terrifying touch. That little daisy’s nonchalance had simply been a fluke. The knowledge did wonders for Sans’ temper.

His grip on the other’s jacket loosened, but he didn’t let go. His expression shifted from murderous to calculating. Both threatening in their own, unique ways. Grilby might have gotten the point; that he couldn’t talk to Sans like they were anything close to equals. But Sans still needed to hammer that nail in deeper. Maybe splinter the wood in the process, it all depended on how well Grilby understood the deal that was about to be made.

And if it came across as Sans taking his anger at the little daisy out on Grilby, then he had that right too.

He lowered the other monster just enough that his feet touched the ground. Enough that Sans once again towered over him, eyes glowing bright as he regarded the smaller monster with a calm he didn’t feel. The thinnest wisp of red magic beginning to leak out of his left eye-socket.

Grilby gulped and Sans smiled at the sound.

“How’d you like to lose another bar?” He asked casually, like he hadn’t been a hair’s breath away from ending the flame monster’s life. Sans could let Grilby go now, but even the bravest of monsters lost their bravado when Sans was so close. And no one had ever called Grilby brave. The other’s flame belying just how slimy he really was.

“You… you wouldn’t!” Grilby shouted like a man afraid to raise his voice. “Where else would I go? Wh- where else would you get your mustard?”

Oh, bad move. Trying for sympathy, trying to make it out that Sans needed him in any way. Like he wasn’t some disposable piece of trash that was only spared the compactor because Gaster had taken some small ounce of pity on him. When would he learn things weren’t the same as they were ten years ago? Sans had moved up and on from the days where Grilby could be considered anywhere within the realm of his equal.

“Not my problem,” Sans said. “My problem is your attitude, talkin’ to me anyway you want.”

“No- no I… I didn’t mean—” Grilby began, only for Sans to cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Was losin’ one bar not enough? Gettin’ kicked outta Fell?” They were rhetorical questions, but Grilby still not getting the point, answered anyway.

“It was one mistake!” Grilby began heatedly, like he was about to start up that long dead argument. Like he didn’t already know Sans hated repeating himself.

“Don’t,” Sans warned. “You got off better than ya deserved.” Considering Grilby was still alive, Sans wasn’t wrong. Not that he ever was anyway, at least where trash like Grilby was concerned.

Sans was already thinking about how easy it would be. The bar was old, fire resistant by the same magic that allowed the flame monster to wear clothes. Course a fire would have been a dull way to do it. Fire’s take everything out quick and clean. Good for taking out competition or doing in the businesses that refused to pay their bills, but not when the intention was for the recipient to really suffer. Fires were just so impersonal, a bat or crowbar, however…

Yeah, yeah… even if their conversation went exactly the way Sans wanted, he might send some of his boys back in Fell City down to Snowdin anyway. Have them smash the place up real good. Might actually do Grilby some good. Remind him just low down in the pecking order he was. That the shitty old bar he clung to was a fucking privilege given to him by the Gaster brothers. And they could take it way just as easily as they had his bar back in Fell City.

Grilby has been skating on thin ice for the past three months, and he’s burning through it fast.

“Ya see, my bro only said I couldn’t kill ya, he didn’t say nothin’ about your bar…” Sans trailed off, the amusement he derived from tormenting Grilby slowly starting to creep into his voice. “… Unless ya were to apologize for disrespectin’ me and lettin’ that little daisy go.”

And there it was. If his brothers were to find out about his first meeting with the new skeleton, it wouldn’t be Sans taking the fall for him escaping. Wasn’t really his fault, anyway. Grilby should have known to drug the bastard’s drink.

“Bu… but I…” Grilby’s gaze darted around the bar, taking in all he had left in the world. A dirty bar with no patrons. It was more than most had these days.

Grilby looked down at where Sans had his jacket gripped, voice soft as he finally said, “I’m sorry.”

Sans grunted.

“… Sir,” Grilby added dispiritedly.

Sans grinned and released his hold on Grilby’s jacket. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He mocked, condescension dripping off every word, chuckling when the flame monster stumbled back from the abrupt release, hitting and rattling the alcohol bottles on his back shelf.

“I was startin’ to think that runt’s bad manners had rubbed off on ya,” Sans continued conversationally.

Grilby didn’t say anything as he straightened his jacket and dusted off his shoulders. Instead the flame monster watched Sans through trepid eyes. Finally, not answering Sans’ rhetorical remarks.

Reaching behind his vest and into his left breast pocket for a cigar, Sans nodded approvingly. Lesson learned; it was back to business. The mark of a professional was being able to turn down the heat after a successful negotiation. Threats would become meaningless if after the desired results were achieved, he went and carried out the threat anyway.

“Did you know he could teleport?” Sans asked.

“He can teleport?” Grilby simply parroted back, voice still full of that wonderful tamed quality. “That would explain why I didn’t notice him coming into town…”

“So, you didn’t see nothin’ until he walked into this shit hole like it was open for business?” Sans asked, eyes carefully observing the other monster for any signs of deception… or disrespect.

“It is open for business—” Grilby started defensively.

Sans snorted, “course it is, course it is.”

“I… I mean, yes, I didn’t see anything until he was already at the counter,” Grilby said, sounding just the right level of submissive.

Sans reached around to his back pocket to grab a lighter. “And what did the guy want? Couldn’t be your company.”

Grilby sniffed, affronted by Sans’ intentional jab, but too shaken from earlier confrontation to quip back. Good, looked like Sans had hammered that nail in deep. He couldn’t have the guy thinking they were pals just because he made Sans’ favorite drink. Just because, back before Sans’ name meant something, he and Grilby might have been…

Frowning at finding no lighter, Sans checked his other back pocket. Nothing there either. Seemed that in his haste, he had forgotten his lighter back home. Not that the rush could be blamed, after all a skeleton monster was a rare thing.

Though rare as they were, he still hadn’t expected to walk in and see that choice piece of calico seated at the bar looking like he’d just been waiting for Sans to show up and liven up his morning. The strange skeleton had been about as small as a monster could be, looked real fragile too. Not like the usual straggler types Sans came across. The runt had looked so queer in those ugly shorts and slippers that Sans hadn’t known what to make of him. Still, the puns shouldn’t have caught him off guard the way they did. Though, more off putting had been his own reaction to them.

Looking back on it, Sans should have just yanked the little fucker to him and teleported them both back to his place.

“… He did ask for ketchup, if that’s of any interest to you,” Grilby said as he began to shakily put the bottles that had been knocked around back into place.

“Ketchup?” Sans raised an eye-socket, looking down at the half-empty bottle on the counter. It was on its side, having fallen over either when he hit the counter or pulled Grilby over it. He chuckled and reached for it. Such a fruity drink.

“He really is a fruit cake,” Sans said while inspecting the bottle, giving it a little shake.

The bottle should still have some of the runt’s scent on it, meaning he could pass it over to some of Fell’s finest bent cops for inspection. Half of them being dogs, it would be the easiest way of tracking him, not that Sans wouldn’t put some of his own leg work in. Even with Grilby set up to take the fall, if either of his brothers discovered the runt first, there was a chance he'd let something slip. And if his brothers found out Sans had not only been told about a skeleton monster none of them knew, but had also let said skeleton monster escape…

Sans shook his head to lodge the gruesome visualizations from his imagination. Best not to think too deeply about it. He and his brothers had been on… non-too-hostile terms for some time now, and he didn’t want anything to jeopardize that- certainly not some runt of a monster who ought to consider himself lucky should Sans decide not to feed him to the dogs after catching him. Small thing that he was, not like there’d be much to chew on.

Sighing, Sans decided he should finish his business at the bar before his anger could begin fizzling inside him again, a low heat but ready to boil over at any moment, as it was ought to do.

“Ey, gimme a light,” He ordered Grilby with a sadistic smile.

The flame monster’s thin lips tilted down into a hesitant frown, but he knew better than to tell the skeleton no. Without a word, Grilby stepped forward and leaned across the counter, trembling slightly as he blew purple fire onto the tip of Sans’ cigar, lighting it up. Heh, looked like Grilby still remembered the last lesson Sans had taught him.

“Appreciate it,” he said smoothly, bringing the cigar to his mouth and holding it there between his clenched teeth. Sans was a Mafioso, sure, but he still had manners- when they were warranted. It’s what separated he and his brothers from the general criminal population of Fell City. And other, smaller skeletons, apparently.

Though, would the little daisy even be in the city? If he didn’t know who Sans was, there was a good chance he didn’t know Fell was exclusively the Gaster brothers’ territory. Not a crime was committed in that city, not a single weed plucked, without the one doing it stopping to consider if it would land them on the wrong side of a magically sharpened bone.

But if not Fell, where would the stranger go? There was nowhere else to go. The Underground wasn’t the populated place it once was. After the barrier had been lifted, the citizens had rushed to the surface, gasping in the new air like fish that had been held out of water. Sans would have considered it pathetic had he not been right there with them. As it was, there wasn’t anywhere to go in the Underground that a little daisy could be safe. They needed a different kind of light than what the Underground could offer.

No, the runt had to be on the surface, in Fell. Teleportation was limited to the amount of magic Sans could use at any given time, and he’d bet all of his ill-gotten green that it was the same for the smaller skeleton. And there was no way such a tiny thing could carry more magic than him. That meant he had to be up top, probably not far from the mountain. Either already in the city or on his way there.

It was convenient timing, the little daisy’s arrival. What with the elder Gaster brother out of town for the foreseeable future; meant Sans got to deal with the new skeleton his way.

Wing Dings was off in Hotland doing who knew what in the labs, which gave Sans and Papyrus free reign of the city to do as they pleased with it, within reason. Of course, neither of them had any particularly big plans for it. The big plans were always left up to Wing Dings, while Sans enjoyed with the smaller problems in the city. Not because he couldn’t. While their older brother was gone, Sans was perfectly happy to leave the majority of control to the city to Papyrus, who reveled in the chance to make the city more into his image.

Which meant that in the few short months that Wing Dings has been gone, at least three new Italian restaurants had opened up.

The only real instructions Wing Dings had left for them was to continue collecting their protection fees, keep the drug and weapon trade running smoothly, make sure the other mafia families didn’t get too curious about their brother’s vacation, and to report back any suspicious behavior should something out of the ordinary happen. Whatever that had meant.

Now Sans was starting to get an idea. If only he hadn’t been so damn patient with the runt. If only the little daisy hadn’t been so damn funny. Practically a ray of sunshine compared to the kind of folks Sans usually interacted with. Times as they were, every milksop and gadfly was walking around looking like gray was a mood. Who could blame Sans for enjoying a bit of color? Everyone had their vices, and shitty jokes just happened to be one of his.

Sans took a drag of his cigar, lazily blowing the dark red smoke out his nasal concha. It curled in the air and Sans watched it through half-open eyes.

He had wanted to take the little daisy’s hand and teleport them to the top of Mount Ebott, just to see his reaction. It was a rare sight to see a monster without at least one nick in him, even rarer to see him looking all soft and innocent, guarded without really knowing what he was trying to keep out. Made everything he did interesting to look at.

Weird clothes, though. The smaller skeleton had been showing a lot of bone, and while he appreciated the view, Sans had to wonder if it had been intentional. Meant to distract enemies, or maybe the guy was just one of those flamboyant types. Then there were those pink slippers. Pink. On a man! Of all the crazy footwear…

Sans sucked in another drag from the cigar, contemplating his next move.

He needed to find the little runt before people started to take notice of him, and not just because of his brothers’ potential retaliation. Folks were going to assume things, and Sans wouldn’t let the Gaster name be associated with a random skeleton out there looking like some trampy bum.

They had a carefully crafted image to uphold, after all.

With that thought, he turned and walked out of the bar, without so much as a goodbye to its owner. The man wasn’t worth the words, and that Sans turned his back to Grilby was a sign of just how inconsequential a threat he considered the other monster to be.

Sans stepped out of the bar with a yawn and flicked the remnants of his cigar into the snow. He would teach that little daisy to think he could walk out on a conversation with Sans C. Gaster… right after a nap. It was too damn early for this shit.

~ Fin

AN: So this was a much, much shorter chapter. I'm trying not to have Fell Sans come out and just info dump everything about this world, but rather have it be revealed organically throughout the story. The next chapter will be longer and back to OG Sans' POV and contain more world building. (i know he's technically called classic, but i like calling him the true OG.)

I'm so glad people are interested and thus far enjoying the story. And as always, continued feedback is appreciated, even (constructive) criticism.

1900s Slang:

Sucker – a gullible person Flipmouth – a person as of and pertaining to backtalk; attitude inflection in voice; disrespectful wording Choice piece of calico – a desirable woman (or monster, in this case) Queer – something/someone that is odd, different, strange or non-mainstream Green – money Milksop – a person who is indecisive and lacks courage. Gadfly – an irritating person or thing

#kustard #underfell sans #sans #mobfell #sancest #bara sans #underfell #jivin' bones #jivin' bones 2 #my writ

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silverryu25 · 4 years

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Would u mind if we have some kustard fic recs? I have a feeling you might know some of the ones I might mention already

Kustard recs? I would be very very happy to! X3

I have a lot of them that are nsfw so I’ll put those under the cut and list the sfw ones first. But please mind the tags in all the fics! Some of them are pretty dark even if they aren’t nsfw, ok?

I don’t have a lot of time to go through everything I have for mustard to I’m gonna list the stuff I can remember of the top of my head. Check my gifts on AO3 for more cause I did get a lot of amazing kustard fics gifted to me over the years, then check those authors for more kustard fics ;3

SFW recommendations:

Lov ya by okamiisadog - bad bro Pap, this hurt so bad in all the right ways ;w;

A Love So Blind by knowmeknot - I would kill for this to have more chapters Q_Q

Possession by ibeta - unfinished but it’s really good and I wish there was more of it QwQ

Just Business and Terms of Service by Catsitta - two one shots that are sooooo good and let’s hope there will be more of them >:3c

Oathbound and Trothsworn by Catsitta - read this and show it all the love! (this has Spicy Kedgeup but trust me it’s super amazing!)

Smoke in the Mirror by Catsitta - mafiafell kustard is life I tell you QwQ

Handle With Care by Catsitta - heartbreaking and sweet ;w; (heck just check everything by this author, you can’t really go wrong :P)

Sins of the Lazy by TrasBen - hughschool AU with a tiny bean Red that needs so much love and care QAQ

Jivin' Bones by greygoo - this is... I would kill for this fic... literally. I’m still praying this updates >.>

NSFW recommendations:

ain't this the life by nilchance - an absolutely amazing series QwQ

Karmic Retribution by Mercy_Run - this isn’t just kustard, there’s kedgup too but this is the fic that got me into kustard at first and can recommend it completely X3 (just check any of Mercy-run’s fics tbh, they are all amazing)

Submersion by Mercy_Run - this is ongoing but I just know it will be so freaking amazing (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)♥

Earning your lv by JellyFicsnFucks - idk if this will end up in kustard or not but I neeeeeeeed to know @_@

Tons of kustard by LazySintastic13 (EmeraldWriter) - just check everything out, you can’t go wrong here (though Red is always sub!) X3

One more writer that has a bunch of kustard among their fics is SoloShikigami so definitely give those a read! They rule X3

And also! MysteryFicAnon has the best and cutest kustard fics! Especially Swimming with the fish which is a mafiafell and mermaid AU combination X3

Go F**k Yourself by illuminous-anonymous - one of my faves X3

Care Package by Undertale_Writing_Challenges - silly XD

Heatisiac by Sin_Cognito - just check all their kustard fics! they are absolutely amazing QwQ

Bite Me by GeminiGuardian98, HickoryDox - check out all the kustard fics form these two! they are raelly fun X3

Bun in the Oven by HickoryDox, Spazzexe - same as for Bite me XD

You Gotta be Kitten Me by HickoryDox, Spazzexe - this one is too adorable not to list X3

String Theory by CrushingOnSans - I admit that I didn’t read this completely but I know it’s amazing X3

InvokeTale by CathedralMidnight - this is a very unusal take on... everything, give it a try if you wanna read something really unique X3 (and check the rest of this authors fics, they are very interesting)

I've Found Safety In You by BoneChimes - I like bot Sans and Red in this a lot and I can’t wait to see where the story takes them X3

Hey There, Angel Fins by docemoon145 - mermaid AU that is really sweet!

#amazing sweetie #silverryu talks #kustard fic recommendations #FicRecs #kustard #sanscest #please don't read the ones under the cut if you are under 18!#thank you #hope you enjoy noonie!#if I have time I'll make a kustard collection on AO3 cause we all deserve that >:3c #Anonymous #SilverRyuRandom #NotDrabbleJustSweetieAsk

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longforgottenunofficial · 7 years

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When the Spooks Have a Midnight Jamboree

They say that whatever music you loved when you were 17, that's the music you will love the rest of your life. For Buddy Baker, who wrote the music for the Haunted Mansion, that would be 1935. For X. Atencio, who wrote the lyrics to "Grim Grinning Ghosts," it's 1936. That's just an interesting factoid to keep tucked away as you read what follows. No one doubts that a big part of the Mansion's appeal is its superb musical scoring. The "Grim Grinning Ghosts" tune, written by Buddy Baker, appears in numerous arrangements throughout the ride, and however much it's rearranged and recast, it always sounds creepy. Magic!

The lyrics are not exactly Shakespeare. Actually, the title is Shakespeare. The phrase "grim grinning ghost" appears in line 933 of the epic poem, "Venus and Adonis." "Hard-favour'd tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean, Hateful divorce of love,"—thus chides she Death,— "Grim grinning ghost, earth's worm, what does thou mean To stifle beauty and to steal his breath, Who when he liv'd, his breath and beauty set Gloss on the rose, smell to the violet? Too bad it wasn't in line 999. Whether X borrowed the phrase consciously and deliberately or plucked it from a subconscious memory of his readings in Shakespeare—who knows? Anyway, there is no point in pretending that the lyrics are poetry with a capital P. The graveyard jamboree scene (the only place you hear the lyrics sung) is not conducive to hearing a song with any kind of narrative. "Grim Grinning Ghosts" is calculated so that someone can hear a line here or a piece of a phrase there and still get the general idea of ghosts and ghoulies coming out to party. Except for the tagline at the end of each verse, you could almost put the rest of the lines in a hat and reorder them at random. [Edit 8/13: But see now the argument by T. Hartwell in the Comments.] The song is a laundry list of spooky phenomena, explained at the end of each verse as ghosts coming out to socialize. The arrangement is suitably rollicking and undeniably catchy: Grim Grinning Ghosts [Audio Link]

Grim Grinning Ghosts When the crypt doors creak and the tombstones quake, Spooks come out for a swinging wake. Happy haunts materialize,   And begin to vocalize. Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize.

Now don't close your eyes and don't try to hide. Or a silly spook may sit by your side. Shrouded in a daft disguise. They pretend to terrorize. Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize.

As the moon climbs high o'er the dead oak tree, Spooks arrive for the midnight spree.  Creepy creeps with eerie eyes,   Start to shriek and harmonize.   Grim grinning ghosts come out to socialize.

When you hear the knell of a requiem bell,   Weird glows gleam where spirits dwell.   Restless bones etherialize, Rise as spooks of every size.(Laughter)

Incidentally, those singing busts have official names, which are on the blueprints and the film strips for each one (before things went digital). Left to right you've got Rollo Rumkin, Uncle Theodore, Cousin Algernon, Ned Nub, and Phineas P. Pock. We've already met Rollo and Phineas as tombstones in the original outside queue. "Cousin Algernon" is the name of a character in the Oscar Wilde play, "The Importance of Being Earnest." There was originally going to be a sixth bust, Aunt Lucretia, but they went with an all-male chorus, and Aunt Lucretia found useful employment elsewhere in the Mansion.

But let's get back to our topic. When it comes to comic songs about ghosts and goblins coming out to party, the first one that comes to most people's minds is probably "The Monster Mash," but long before that record came out the theme was popular. In fact, the heyday of such songs was the 1930's and 40's. If you listen to some of those, you're probably hearing the inspirational roots that led to GGG. Put another way, GGG is part of an established genre of novelty songs rooted in the 30's and 40's. At times, the lyrics to some of these songs come so close that you could almost suspect direct inspiration, but there are no smoking guns that I know of. Nevertheless, I've highlighted a few such lines in what follows. These songs are a real kick to listen to, whatever the excuse for doing so.

The Skeleton in the Closet [Audio Link]

There's an old deserted mansion on an old forgotten road, Where the better ghosts and goblins always hang out. One night they threw a party, in a manner à la mode, And they cordially invited all the gang out. At a dark bewitching hour, when the fun was loud and hearty, A notorious wallflower became the life of the party. The spooks were having their midnight fling, The merry making was in full swing, They shrieked themselves into a cheerful trance, When the skeleton in the closet started to dance. Now a goblin giggled with fiendish glee, A shout rang out from a big banshee, Amazement was in every ghostly glance. When the skeleton in the closet started to dance. All the witches were in stitches, while his steps made rhythmic thumps, And they nearly dropped their broomsticks when he tried to do the bumps. You never heard such unearthly laughter, or such hilarious groans, When the skeleton in the closet rattled his bones.

That's Satchmo himself, of course, Louis Armstrong, from the soundtrack of the 1936 film, Pennies from Heaven. The similarity of theme between "Skeleton" and GGG is obvious.

Swingin' at the Séance [Audio Link]

In a house up on a rock along the countryside, At precisely twelve o’clock the spooks begin to rise. Swingin’ at the seance, twelve ticks, Swingin’ at the seance, hot licks, With the medium in trance, How that horn began to dance. Swingin’ at the seance, five men, Swingin’ at the seance, jive men, When the trumpet blasted out, All the spooks began to shout. That music came through so sweetly low-down, Yet nobody knew who was riff-riff-riffin’ around. Swingin’ at the seance, black coats, Swingin’ at the seance, blue notes, While the trumpet could have won a cup, Its jivin’ broke the seance up, And who do you think was a riffin’ away? No one else but Billy May.

That's the Glenn Miller Orchestra, with Dorothy Claire, in 1941. Looks like it may have been written by Billy May.

The Headless Horseman [Audio Link]

Now, gather ‘round while I elucidate On what happens outside when it gets late. ‘Long about midnight the ghosts and banshees Get together for their nightly jamboree. There’s ghosts with horns and saucer eyes, And some with fangs about this size. Some short and fat, some tall and thin, And some don’t even bother to wear their skin. I’m a-tellin’ you brother, it’s a frightful sight Just to see what goes on in the night.

When the spooks have a midnight jamboree, They break it up with fiendish glee. Ghosts are bad, but the one that's cursed Is the Headless Horseman, he's the worst.

When he goes a-joggin' 'cross the land, Holdin' a noggin in his hand, Demons take one look and groan, And hit the road for parts unknown.

And there's no wraith like a spook that's spurned. They don't like him, and he's really burned. He swears to the longest day he's dead, He'll show them that he can get a head.

So close all the windows, lock the doors, Unless you’re careful, he’ll get yours. Don’t think he’ll hesitate a bit, ‘Cause he’ll flip your top if it’ll fit.

And he likes them little, likes them big, Part in the middle, or a wig, Black or white or even red, The Headless Horseman needs a head.

With a hip-hip and a clippity-clop, He's out lookin' for a top to chop, So don't stop to figure out a plan, You can't reason with a headless man.

So after dark he’ll get the goods. Head home, the way that you should, ‘Cause right outside, a-waitin’ there, Is the Headless horseman. Beware!

Now we're closer to home. This was sung by Bing Crosby in Disney's The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr. Toad (1949). Nothing at all against Bing, but I prefer this version by Kay Starr, released only a few months after the original Crosby version. Kay's lyrics are slightly different, as you can see, since I've printed the BC version. When she and those background singers get to "...what goes on in the nighhhhht" you know you got your money's worth for THAT record.

The Haunted House [Audio Link]

When the doors all squeak And the windows creakAnd the ceilings leak ‘Cause the roof’s antiqueAnd you hear a shriek And your legs feel weak— It’s a haunted house

There’s a dismal moan Like a weird trombone And the old hambone Is suddenly thrown You are all alone With the great unknown In the haunted house

There’s only one good spirit, it’s the spirit in the bottle. With shaking hands you pull the cork and pour some down your throttle.

There’s a clank of chains And a smell of brains And a gory stain Where the Duke was slain And you’ve got chilblains And varicose veins In the haunted house.

When the old oak beam Feels a corpse [?], you seem To feel a wet stream With a sinister gleam And you wake with a scream From a horrible dream Of the haunted house.

When the cavalier With the dreadful leer Tried to disappear Through the chiffonier And you cling with fear To the chandelier It’s a haunted house.

The air is full of clammy claws that clutch you by the collar. So gargle night and morning just in case you have to holler.

There are lights and sprites And awful frights In flesh-pink tights But the dead of night Comes a woman in white So you’re quite all right In the haunted house.

When the old church clock Strikes twelve, there’s a knock. With a sudden shock You remember the lock On the door is a crock— Oh, why did you mock? At the haunted house.

It is black as pitch And your eyeballs twitch In the darkest niche Sits a dirty witch And the lighting switch Is out of reach In the haunted house.

When the slavey’s filled with gravy why is she so pallid? Something pushed her in the pantry when she fetched the salad.

“I’m filled with dread. Yes I’m nearly dead. I saw a head Underneath my bed. Come out if you can. I could do with a man In the haunted house.”

That's the oldest one of the bunch (almost: see below). 1931, Ray Noble and the New Mayfield Orchestra. It's British, and there are a couple of pop culture references in there that are hard to decipher at this distance. "Slavey" is slang for any menial servant. What the flesh-pink tights are all about, I don't know [Edit: see comments]. The opening line is startlingly like GGG, and the structure of the song is similar: a litany of spooky phenomena with an explanatory line repeated at the end of each verse. No partying spooks in there, however. This list could easily be extended by quite a bit. You can buy a whole CD full of these '30s-'40s novelty ghost tunes. But you get the idea. "Grim Grinning Ghosts" features a contemporary arrangement (for 1969), but it feels right at home with some of these old chestnuts, don't it? Reader Melissa has directed our attention to a Gilbert and Sullivan ditty that may be the granddaddy of all these songs, and as it happens, it's a very good match to GGG in a number of ways. The laundry list of spooky phenomena followed by an explanatory final line. The topic? Ghosts having a midnight jamboree. The repeated lines at the end of each stanza explain that to us. This is a lot like GGG.

When the Night Wind Howls by: W.S. Gilbert (1836-1911)

When the night wind howls In the chimney cowls, And the bat in the moonlight flies And the inky clouds Like funeral shrouds, Sail over the midnight skies--

When the footpads quail At the night-bird’s wail, And black dogs bay at the moon, Then is the spectre’s holiday-- Then is the ghost’s high noon!

Ha! Ha!

Then is the ghost’s high noon! As the sob of the breeze Sweeps over the trees And the mists lie low on the fen, From grey tomb-stones Are gathered the bones

That once were women and men, And away they go, With a mop and a mow, To the revel that ends too soon, For cock crow limits our holiday-- The dead of the night’s high noon!

Ha! Ha!

The dead of the night’s high noon! And then each ghost With his ladye-toast To their church yard beds take flight, With a kiss, perhaps, On her lantern chaps, And a grisly grim, “good night!”

Till the welcome knell Of the midnight bell Rings forth its jolliest tune, And ushers in our next high holiday-- The dead of the night’s high noon!

Ha! Ha!

The dead of the night’s high noon!

W. S. Gilbert (1836-1911) Taken from: Ruddigore: or, The Witch’s Curse (London: G. Bell & Sons, 1912)

We will revisit this song and go into greater detail in THIS post.

Originally Posted: Friday, August 13, 2010 Original Link: [x]

#haunted mansion #audio links #long forgotten

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vertigoambrosia · 7 years

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ok i had a nap and a journal write and emailed my therapist and i’m still feeling unsteady but here’s shotgun

fucking rico and his vacations

he has a fucking boat now apparently

‘a little bit of choppin and jivin for the crowd’ alan.....don’t say that

i know you’re not american but you have to know that ‘shucking and jiving’ is not a nice thing to say a black person does and i can’t think of another well known phrase that ends in ‘ing and jiving’

i’m not quire sure how to explain it without context (for example, if you don’t know what it is, i can’t say ‘it basically means uncle tom-ing it up)

but basically saying a black person is shucking and jiving means they’re being a clownish stereotype to entertain the white people

ughhh emillll you’re such a douuuucccchhhheeeee

i actually would like to know why wxw stopped doing free shotgun

and also why they don’t use youtube subscription, which allows things like playlists and a search that isn’t shitty

but ask cmj is in german only so :(

ok i can’t even pretend i care about a mason ryan match

even if andy’s involved

ooo that keel holding lottery tag is an interesting twist

ok i love the focus switching from a walter vs robert promo to adam talking directly to the camera

there’s a really funny video of david starr giving a tour of the academy/wxw headquarters

i can’t tell if he’s trying to parody the wwe performance center videos or if he’s just being a silly boy

interesting that jurn considers tyler more useless than kevin (or even marius tbh)

karsten touch titty

jurn smile

oh hey karsten now you’re talking directly to us

oh man i think i’m close to havign watched every english shotgun; i think i started off with the one where karsten fought daisuke/kevin tried to serenade him

thanks for this music video pretending to be a highlights video, wxw

LMAO the shotgun belt gets taken away so kim can’t win with it....so he uses the dtu belt

hahaha holy shit grizzled german man scaring the shit out of kim is great

i completely understand why not, but i kinda wish player dos was just a palette swap of player uno

like, they had the same tights in differnet colors

hahaha tommy looks so over adam

he looks like he wants to die

oh clarity: yes adam is a demon, and tommy end probably is too

[no of course he’s not speaking metaphorically they’re both demons shut up]

ok how did nobody catch that the graphic showed a4 and reich and shon but it’s actually a4 vs des schilds

it makes me laugh that vincent’s a beast because he’s just REALLY ANGRY ALL THE TIME

HOLY SHIT bobby just put out a cigarette on marius al ani wtf

lol marius is stuck in the middle of this andy/bad bones tiff

OH IT’S BATHTUB TIME

well ok more like hot tub time but is that really that much different in this context?

like really what is marius (van beeethoven) doing in there though?

kevin is rubbing karsten’s feet but marius is just...lounging

how many boys can we fit in this tub

i love when refs remember they can kick people out from ringside

red shoes kicking out the bulletclub at dominion 2015 during aj/okada was the most beautiful moment

‘wwahhhh it’s so unfair that my bodyguard couldn’t help me against a flippy tween’

‘constructive one on one he had with kim ray’ oh sasa

please bring my giant lift boy back to wxw

his admirer can come too

that door looks like just for a regular house

so it seems like sasa just came to cmj’s house to plead for a title match

uhoh what did sasa do to verena and walter

~spoopy demon filter~

lol @ pre-drugs dirty dragan

...i think i watched this episode

yeah i’ve seen this promo

skipping ahead;

...wow i really have watched every english shotgun.

AND I STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT KEEL HOLDING DID damn there is a ton of history for WxW; i’ve watched the last year and a half and was too late for cerberus’ initial formation, any of keel holding, or ilja’s shotgun title run

but seriously it was still a lot of fun and i have learned a lot about my favorite muscleboys and weasels and dads and hellhound boys

now to just wait for this weekend’s shows to go up and cry over them (hopefully the english ones won’t take too long; there’s been a significant delay lately)

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maph1 · 5 years

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Going live in 10 minutes (1AM PST). Tonight I'm jivin' alive as we Slay the Spire! and then probably some MHW afterwards. I have a bone to pick with a very electric boi.

https://www.twitch.tv/maph1

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memecoachingforcouples · 7 years

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#MovingRightAlong & looking forward to the weekend, #TemperaturesRising & looking good on #SaturdayLove. It's been a trying week for many, from what I've gathered, seeing all the killings going on, people dieing, left & right, politicking, struggling to striving, living to survive, streets is taking, but only real eyes recognize, life & love can really #Mesmorize. For me, it's all about the #Sunsets to #Sunrise, keeping my eyes on the prize, I press on, #Cheers to iron sharpening iron, man & #WoManListen. Always be true & stay true, to yourself. #HotOrCold, we meals on wheels, country time, reppin', lemonade, sweet no sour, been preppin', anyone can cook, fake get boxed up, ain't no future in half steppin'. Only few can sit, where many can't stay, only few get bits, where many bites, can't slay, being steppin' stools, as they lay. Like dogs to Pavlov, psych no sike, on sick, got beef, go sic, good grief, pass, Puff, no Keef, we almond joy on mounds, no dry bones, on blood, sound hounds, loose lips, go fetch, no snitch, suspect, you sketch, quick, draw, medium rare on raw, stake on shake, pits, what that mouth do, petty you drool, pitty, real sloppy, Jane's & Joe's, get choppy, flips, got flops, gel us, on toes, we measures up. Rolling Stones, we get over, with God in our cups, we running over, on sober, got DUIs, we legal, eyes, much gas, we drivers, class, feelin' up, screwdrivers, fit in, get in, c'mon baby, let's do the twist,, we wiser, past, present, future, no Scrooge, no miser, we lucky, ducks, we jivin', no shucks, we christmas trees, on bending knees, where real boys to men, all grown up, got babies, no boys, woman to women, please believe. #PokerFace #LoveGame #DiningInAndOut #EarnedIt #MillionReasons #BoldMoves #AllFunAndGames ✌&💛

#cheers #sunrise #sunsets #dininginandout #earnedit #allfunandgames #millionreasons #mesmorize #womanlisten #temperaturesrising #hotorcold #movingrightalong #pokerface #boldmoves #saturdaylove #lovegame

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rk-ocs · 2 years

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I put another Yugioh abridged into the ebonics translator after being inspired by the first

---

Yugioh abridged ebonics translated script episode 3

Yo YAMI: ah'm not actually in dis here episode... has anyone seen muh motha fuckin agent?

On top o' da skoo, dusk

YUGI (thinkin`): Well, gramps's uh drooling green. an' now, thanks ta Pegasus, he's lost his soul too. ah've just gotta save him. But first, ah should prob'ly figure out how ta git down from here. yo? uh little he`p here? Anybody?

Joey's room

JOEY: werd up, it's another video! ah wonder if Pegasus wants muh motha fuckin soul too?

He puts da video in da player

SERENITY (on da video): wut up big brudda?

JOEY: It's muh motha fuckin sister who sounds nothin' like me!

SERENITY: da doctors gots been so busy trying ta figure out why muh motha fuckin voice iz so high-pitched, dey've neglected ta treat muh motha fuckin eyesight! So ah'm going blind. Well, seeya later! ..or not..

JOEY: ah guess muh motha fuckin soul ain't pimp-tight enough fo' Pegasus.

At skoo da next day

YUGI: ah've decided ta accept Pegasus' invitation an' travel ta his private island where ah'll be completely at his mercy. It's uh shame rich megalomaniacs is immune from da law, otherwise we's could just page da po-po!

JOEY: Cash sho do do terrible things ta niggas. It's like da old sayin` goes: Money iz da root o' all-

TRISTAN: werd up peep! dis here tournament has uh prize o' three million bones!

JOEY: Cha-ching! Duelist Kingdom, here ah come!

Outside

YUGI: werd up Joey, remember da tyme we's became niggas?

JOEY: Yeah.

Flashback

YUGI: Give me back muh motha fuckin Millennium Puzzle you big dickweeds! Waaaah!

JOEY an' TRISTAN: we's be tormenting you!

End flashback

YUGI: Actually Joey, ah wuz jivin' 'boutthe part afta dat.

JOEY: awww.. awww yeah, now ah remember!

Flashback

YUGI: ah mean it pimpz, give it back!

JOEY an' TRISTAN: we's be still tormenting you!

End flashback

JOEY: nigga, pimp-tight times!

YUGI: nahh Joey, ah mean da tyme when ah saved you from dat bully!

JOEY: Huh.. nahh.. nahh, ah don' remember dat..

YUGI: But ah wuz all heroic an' sheeit!

JOEY: werd up, remember da tyme me an' Tristan took yo' Millennium Puzzle?

Flashback

YUGI: Waaaahahahaaah!

JOEY an' TRISTAN: Torment!

End flashback

YUGI: Remind me why we's be niggas ag'in?

At da boat fo' Duelist Kingdom

KEMO: Attention Duelists! muh motha fuckin fro iz telling you dat it's tyme fo' you ta board! Anyone caught without uh madness hairstyle will NOT be permitted ta enter da Duelist Kingdom!

JOEY: (Being held by guards) werd up! But muh motha fuckin fro's all blonde an' poofy!

GUARD: Sorry nigga, but it needs ta be at least twice da size o' yo' head fo' it ta count.

YUGI: He's wif me.

GUARD: Wow! yo' fro's madness enough fo' two niggas! Okay he can go.

JOEY: Thanks Yug. nigga, yo' fro really iz madness. What da heck's yo' secret?

YUGI: L'Oréal. cuz ah'm worf it.

TÉA: Come on, Tristan! Let's sneak on board like Solid Snake!

TRISTAN: don' our parents even care dat we's be missing?

MAI: iz dat uh Lightforce Sword in yo' pocket or is you just happy ta see me?

JOEY: Check it out, Yug. It's uh pair o' giant titties attached ta uh beotch.

MAI: da name's Mai Valentine. It's not uh very subtle pun, but then ag'in, nuttin' 'boutme iz very subtle.

JOEY: Boooobiiiiies.

MAI: ah'll crush you when we's git ta da island.

JOEY: Wif yo' boobies, right?

TRISTAN: wut wrong, Téa?

TÉA: ah need ta use da baf room, but da beotch who dubs me won't admit it.

TRISTAN: In another few hours da sun will rise!

TÉA: What da f*ck do dat mean?!

werds n shit appears on screen: (seriously, he actually says dat... wtf?)

TÉA: werd up, ain't dat Bakura?

TRISTAN: Bakura? da limey kid from skoo?

TÉA: wut he doin' here?

TRISTAN: Who cares? He's not even uh main character!

Rex's room on da boat

REX: Woah! Uh-huh-huh.. Come ta Raptor.

MAI: Tell you what, Rex, if ah win dis here duel, ah git ta use yo' room. But if you win, then ah'll give you uh kiss!

REX: tight. Then ah, like, won't be uh virgin anymo'.

On deck

WEEVIL: Heh-heh, werd up Yugi, heh-heh, like, give me yo' cards or somethin`. Heh-heh.

YUGI: Well, you clearly evil, but ah see nahh reason not ta trust you.

WEEVIL: Say peace out ta Exodia! (throws Exodia overboard) Heh-heh-heh-heh, yeah, heh-heh dat wuz tight, heh-heh-heh (leaves)

YUGI: Holy cow, ah never even seen dat coming!

JOEY: ah'll save 'em! (dives afta da cards)

da theme from Titanic plays

JOEY: mus'.. risk.. life.. fo' cards!

Yugi dives in afta him ta save him

rap stops

TRISTAN: (drops uh ladder down ta dem) werd up! git uh room you two!

Boat hallway

MAI: git out, loser! (Chucks Rex into da hall)

REX: Uh.. did ah just score?

On deck

TÉA: Sorry you almost drowned, pimpz.

TRISTAN: If it's any consolation, da sun will be up in uh few hours!

JOEY: nigga, ah can't believe ah didn't save yo' cards! Compared ta dis here, muh motha fuckin sister's imminent blindness seems like uh minor inconvenience!

YUGI: yo' sister? How come you never mentioned dat sub-plot 'bfoe?

JOEY: muh motha fuckin parents gots divorced uh long tyme ago, cuz ah tried teaching her how ta cruize.

Flashback

SERENITY: (in uh `64) Joey! Stop dis here madness thin`!

JOEY: Apply da handbrake, ya dum broad!

End flashback

TRISTAN (thinkin`): If she's going blind, ah might actually gots uh chance wif her!

Morning

YUGI: we's'll bof do our bomb, Joey! You fo' yo' sister, an' me fo' muh motha fuckin gramps.

TÉA: ah'm not even sho why ah bothered coming!

TRISTAN: werd up, peep! ah wuz right 'boutthe sun!

End

Stinger: Don' make me come ova there bitch...

#yugioh #yugioh abridged #yugioh abriged ebonics

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graigoo · 5 years

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Jivin’ Bones (Chapter 1)

Summary: The above world isn't what Sans thought it would be, not that he had ever given it much thought. With all his old friends busy living their own lives, even Papyrus away from home more often than not— Sans is left to entertain himself. Bored, he turns back to the Underground. To the broken machine hidden in the back of his workshop. In the process of fixing it, the machine malfunctions and sends Sans into an alternate world.

Thrust into a harsher reality, Sans must survive long enough to find a way back home... while being pursued by a version of himself that's all too interested to know who the new skeleton in town is.

Inspired/Influenced by Sooner or Later You’re Gonna be Mine

Pairing: Bara!Mobfell Sans/Sans

Warnings: Mature, Graphic Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter One

Sans sighed, he huffed, he chuffed.

He lay on the couch, eyes straining as another raunchy comedian sauntered across the TV. The small square box’s glow was bright and the contrast between it and the dark living room was enough to pain his eyes. He rolled over on the couch to face the back of it, both to escape the light and because he was no longer enjoying the comedy special marathon. Raunchy comedians were the worst. Absolute party poopers. Why if Sans were in that crowd, he’d boo the bozo off the stage.

Anyone can spout swear words and point to their nether regions. It takes real comedic talent to get a crowd going with just one’s wit and line delivery. A talent Sans prided himself on, though he admittedly had a preference for puns over everything else.

There had been a time, when the monsters had first come to the surface, bright eyed and full of hope, that Sans had considered a career as a comedian. Touring the world, exploring, teaching the humans what monster comedy was all about. But then he’d really got to thinking about it, talked it over with his brother. And realized it would be… a lot.

He’d be on a schedule, have to actually plan the shows, constantly be moving based on where the crowds are and not where he wanted to be, not to mention having to workout contracts and payment. Too much work so soon after coming up from the Underground and Sans was too tired to be bothered.

Or at least that’s what he had told Papyrus.

He couldn’t have very well told his brother that if he became a professional comedian, then he would have to leave their newly settled home and that they wouldn’t see each other nearly as much. And after spending almost the entirety of his life caring for his younger brother, Sans was reluctant to leave him. For anything. The younger skeleton was a magnet for trouble and danger seemed to follow him wherever he went. Who knew what the hyperactive monster would get up to without Sans around to curb his enthusiasm?

That, and his brother’s dusty remains having slid through his trembling, segmented fingers enough times to be counted on both hands, might have also played a role in his unwillingness to leave his brother behind. Just a small one. Nothing major.

Knowing that Sans’ decision to stay in this little, cozy, do-nothing town was linked entirely to his desire to stay by his brother’s side, would make said brother feel guilty.

Just chalk another mark on the board next to the thousand other ones that represented all the things he couldn’t tell his brother.

Sans groaned as another curse-word laden joke boomed from the TV. Such poor taste, so low brow.

It didn’t suit their new little house, the same as their old, only with more windows. Papyrus, for whatever reason, loved the sun and raved about their home having natural light sources. Sans hadn’t seen the appeal, but was never the argumentative type, least of all over windows. Though he had wanted to mention how easy windows are to break in to. How human children were known to throw rocks through monsters’ windows, graffiti their walls, tee-pee their trees.

Mean spirited pranks that just spoke to how terrible human-surface-world comedy truly was.

Hundreds of channels and somehow the one that used to play in the Underground topped them all.

Tired as he was, lazy as he prided himself on being, the TV would be no distraction tonight. It was late, his brother was out on a patrol, having eagerly and early on joined the human police force. Their version of a guard, a much more boring version. With stricter rules, uniforms, and a harsher schedule. Too much work to join and not enough entertainment value to bother.

Undyne had taken to it immediately, though her more violent tendencies had somehow led to her never making it past the rank of police technician. A dumb name for a rank, because she didn’t actually work on anything technical, like the name suggested. She just helped kids and old humans cross the road, and handed out the occasional parking ticket.

Going from Captain of the honor guard to babysitter, and she wasn’t even bothered by it. Which probably had something to do with the street she regularly patrolled being directly across from the school Alphys taught at. Another step down, from royal scientist to middle school teacher.

The monster kingdom had fallen apart almost immediately after reaching the surface, the integration into human society easier than anyone had thought possible. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a jumbled mess of working parts left behind in the Underground. One no one seemed in any hurry to fix.

Being on the surface didn’t mean they could take it easy. There was more work that needed to be done.

It was just a pain being the only one to remember it needed doing.

The bother of it all didn’t stop him from smiling, even as another horrid joke came from the TV, threatening to put a damper on his already soggy mood. He slid off the couch and picked up the remote, pointing it threateningly at the glowing box.

“Sorry to cut you off early,” he said to the TV comedian. “But you’re not even remotely funny.”

Sans chuckled at his own joke, too tired to give it the proper guffaw it deserved.

“I’d telly you in person,” he continued at the screen. “but I got places TV tonight.”

That got a proper laugh out of him, at the same time the audience started roaring. Sans took a bow then clicked off the television, leaving the white glow from his eye sockets as the only light in the house.

Sans allowed his laughter to carry him out of the living room and to the front of the house. If he couldn’t focus on TV or hang with his brother, then there really was nothing for him to do in the above world, at least not this night. It was too late for anything to be open, and too early to try and get some sleep. That strange in-between that always came after midnight.

So instead he’d do the work no one else remembered needed being done.

Sans closed the door behind him as he stepped outside, only to shiver and shove his hands into his coat pockets. Even after spending so long in Snowdin, Sans still wasn’t a fan of the cold. Not like his brother, who acted like it didn’t affect him at all, the younger skeleton more susceptible to the heat than the cold. To the point that his brother wore crop tops in the winter.

Maybe the cold affected Sans differently because he was already such a chill guy.

Sans snorted, only to cringe as cold air filled his skull. Didn’t stop his smile, or laughter. What would he be if he couldn’t laugh at himself? Sans one funny-bone, is what he’d be.

His snickering was cut short as the first snow of the season began to fall. Looked like it was going to be a white one this winter. He held a hand out as if to catch it, but before a flake could land in his palm, he teleported.

Pop.

Sans landed outside town next to a great big, blue welcome sign.

Welcome to Delta| Population: Growing

Grinning, he nodded at the sign. “Sorry, didn’t notice you there.”

Without waiting for a rebuttal, he teleported again. This time he landed at the base of Mount Ebott, the soft pop of his teleportation the only sound to be heard for miles. Well, except for the howl of the wind. Looking up he could see a storm coming, the moon slowly being eclipsed by dark clouds. The lack of luminescent light made the forest ahead of him appear even darker. Good thing he wouldn’t be traversing it.

That’d be a real pine in the neck.

With another pop, he teleported to the mountain’s summit.

Being so high up, looking down at the shining city down below the mountain, only made him wonder how a human could possibly fall from such a height and survive. Every time, he questioned it. Flowers weren’t so soft that they could cushion a body. He had theorized that it was actually the barrier that cushioned the human’s fall. It hadn’t parted to let her through, but rather bent forward from the power of her soul, her fall had been slowed by the barrier pushing back against her decent, until the she fallen too far for the barrier’s magic to follow. The little human had pushed through just close enough to the ground to survive.

Or, so Sans theorized.

If he cared enough, which he didn’t, he could always ask Frisk directly what her fall had been like. That was more along Alphys’ line of work, though. Sans had stopped bothering with the barrier years before the human girl had fallen into their lives.

No, his own line of research was much more… theoretical.

With one last look Delta City, sans teleported again.

Pop.

He landed just outside the ruins, his magic enough to get him past the Underground’s entrance, but not all the way to Snowdin. Not that he was in a hurry to arrive or return home. With his brother always patrolling or tired from always patrolling, Alphys and Undyne occupied by their own love lives, and Toriel busy reconnecting with Asgore and raising Frisk—There was no one to miss him.

The corners of his smile twitched, but didn’t drop. Work would distract him from those unwanted and unnecessary thoughts. He had no reason to be anything but content. To have everything every monster in the Underground had ever wanted now possible and only then start to pull a frown…

Well, it wouldn’t be very ice of him.

Sans chuckled just as he teleported to the main entrance of Snowdin.

Pop.

He sighed a contended sigh at the familiar sight. Or, mostly familiar. The town was dark, all the homes and shops empty, abandoned not long after the barrier trapping the residents in the Underground had been lifted. The only light in the town came from its own natural luminescent glow and the decorated tree at the other end of the town. Not even the welcome sign was lit. He’d call it a real ghost town, but he doubts even Napstablook would live here. No one did anymore.

And Sans couldn’t blame them. Even if he would have been perfectly content to spend the rest of his days in the little town, he never expected his brother or the other residents to share his same sense of hopelessness. All from an incident that occurred well before he and his brother had moved to Snowdin.

It had taken Frisk threatening everything in the Underground to snap him out of his funk. Fighting the human over and over- and had he been a more narcissistic skeleton, Sans would have said it had filled with determination.

Then, one random reset, the fighting had stopped.

Sans had thought maybe Frisk had hit her head the last time she fell into the Underground. He hadn’t been, and still wasn’t, willing to ask her too many questions about it, should they reawaken some deeply buried memories. Like every reset prior, he had stayed mostly in the background, watching her choices, and for once the human refused to fight. Even with her life on the line, she hadn’t fought. It was enough to make him cautiously optimistic that Frisk would, at the very least, stop dusting his brother.

Not that he ever really remembered her doing it the first time, or second, third, fifth… But he knew when a reset occurred. The knowledge came to him as a feeling, no concrete evidence, but each time his spine would tingle, and the strongest feeling of déjà vu would strike his skull, feeling almost like a physical blow. It would leave him dazed for only a moment, but it was enough to let him know something wasn’t quite right. Conversations he never remembered the words to would repeat, and he would go through the motions of a normal day. Knowing that everything would reset and nothing anyone did really mattered made it really hard to take anything, anyone, seriously. He’d grown lazier by the day, thinking each one would be the day he stopped trying. But then he’d find his brother’s dusty remains, the pain a fresh wound every time. He never remembered enough to stop the murder from happening, never enough to change the outcome.

Then Frisk had stopped dusting monsters and started befriending them. Each reset that followed, she had come back friendlier and more determined than ever, making something he daren’t called hope build within him. The resets hadn’t stopped until she succeeded in breaking the barrier, at least twice, he thought. Not sure why it took two times, but he never asked.

It wasn’t important and Sans didn’t want to chance another reset.

He breathed out an amused sigh and started his lonely walk through the town. Only slowing as he passed Grilby’s. The place had closed soon after the barrier had broken, and he hadn’t seen the flame monster in a long time because of it. Like with most of Sans’ friends, they’d never been close enough to talk when not physically around each other. Certainly not close enough to share future plans and goals.

Two things Sans never had anyway. Unlike everyone else in the Underground, it seemed. They all had been so excited and hopeful, everyday looking up and thinking about what they would do once the barrier was down. Not that Sans had begrudged them their hopefulness. They just didn’t know what he knew. And Sans had been determined to keep it that way. Anything to keep that hopeful spark in his brother’s bright eyes.

Shaking his head, Sans continued walking. The years he had spent just existing were behind him. Not that he thought anything really mattered, it could still all go away one day. But while there was still some sort of motivation inside him, he would use it.

Gotta make up for lost time, and all.

Sans stopped in front of his and Papyrus’ old home. Looking at it with a wistful kind of longing. It’s interior was exactly the same as the one they lived in now. Save for one thing.

Instead of going in through the front door, Sans walked to left side. He placed a bony hand on the yellow wall and dragged his digits along it. The sound of wood scraping against something hard followed his movements. He didn’t stop until he came to a vertical parting in the wood, unnatural, but so thin as to be unnoticeable. Pulling back from the wall, he reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a silver key.

He opened the door, covered with wood and painted to blend with the rest of the house, and walked inside, closing the door behind him. The entire process made no sound, the door itself was silent, as it had needed to be. He hadn’t wanted to alert his brother to the existence of what lay inside.

Lest his dear brother become curious, lest he learn of Sans’ research. At first it had been to cover for his own lack of knowledge. That he was essentially trying to teach himself theoretical physics would have been too out of character for Papyrus to let go, and Sans would have been left with no choice but to tell him everything. He couldn’t lie to his brother, but he didn’t have to so long as the younger skeleton never asked questions.

The lights, attached to a sensor, clicked on as Sans walked further inside his small workshop. Tiled purple with blue walls, it was too small and sparse to be called a lab. Barely any tools and one piece of broken machinery in the back, covered by a blue tarp. Though, could a machine be called broken if it had never worked to begin with?

He’d built it not long after he and his brother had moved to Snowdin and his secret workshop was completed. He’d pursued the task with a fervor he’d not known himself capable of. That after it was completed, it hadn’t worked, was probably where his slacker attitude had first started. He barely remembered why he was building it, anyway. He had a name and a feeling.

W.D. Gaster and guilt.

Both confusing, where was the guilt coming from and who was W.D. Gaster? Sans still didn’t know, but he knew it had something to do with the blueprints he had found in the Hotland labs during his brief stint as an assistant to the head scientist there. Though, he had never worked for Alphys and she couldn’t recall at all his time there or just where the blueprint had come from. But he had the badge to prove he had, indeed, worked there. Alphys hadn’t been able to explain it and he hadn’t pressed the issue. Though, maybe he should have.

The most Alphys had been able to do at was tell him the strange text written on the blueprint was wing dings. Meaning it was almost impossible to translate accurately. She had then politely told him she wouldn’t be needing his assistance and fired him from a job she didn’t remember him having.

Sans hadn’t thought anything of it until he had gone home and discovered the photo album. Filled with pictures of himself and his brother during their younger years. And one single picture of himself, Alphys, and a skeleton he doesn’t remember knowing. Even now, the face was a blur, and if not for the photo, he would have forgotten it completely.

Whoever this W.D. Gaster was, the blueprints had something to do with his disappearance and... it was probably Sans’ fault he was gone.

It was the only explanation he could think of for the guilt. The guilt that had led to the generally lazy skeleton to teach himself theoretical physics, to create an underground workshop, to build a machine he had no idea the function of. And still didn’t know, because when he’d finished building the thing, it hadn’t worked. It had blinked, blooped, then shuttered off.

He’d given up then, with the intent to maybe, one day go back to the machine once the demoralization that came with failure lessened.

Then a human had fallen into the Underground and the cycle had begun. And how could he focus on fixing the machine when nothing he or anyone else did mattered?

Now that the barrier was down and everyone had started their new lives, the resets had stopped; there was no excuse not to continue his work. What else was he doing with his life? Nothing, and it was hard to enjoy himself with the guilt that W.D. Gaster was lost somewhere, not enjoying the freedom of the above world because of something Sans had done.

W.D. Gaster? More like W.D. Guilt.

Heh.

Sans chuckled to himself and pulled the blue tarp off of his machine. It was gray, cylindrical, nothing fancy. At least, not on the outside. There were different colored nobs and dials, it looked like every other high-tech science machine Sans had ever seen inside of Alphys’ lab. The only difference being the inside. It was just… a mess, a jumble of wires and pieces Sans still wasn’t entirely sure the function of.

Even though he had no idea what it did, after so many years working on the machine, it was very gear to his soul.

He’d been coming back every few days since moving to the above world. Though, it had taken some time before he actually mustered up the energy to begin working on the busted machine again. It was something to do, at the very least. Kept his mind off how empty home felt with Papyrus at work more often than not.

With that thought, he began his work. Using the few tools he owned, stashed away in cabinets in the wall, to pry open the back of the machine. He needed to see what had caused it to power off mid function. He’d already made the hypothesis that it was wiring related, just going through every single wire in the back of his machine was taking longer than Sans had anticipated.

He took his time, making sure every wire was connected properly, that the right kind of wire had been used. That nothing was crossed or had come undone. He didn’t keep track of time as he worked, not that he was ever one to do so even when timing mattered.

Eventually he came to a green and blue wire he thought had been mistakenly switched around during the building process. It was good a guess as any, and switching them around and trying to turn the machine back on wouldn’t hurt. Not like the thing could work worse than it already did… Well, it could explode, but Sans wouldn’t let the thought burst his optimistic bubble.

Chuckling to himself for what felt like the tenth time that night, Sans switched the wires, stood from his crouched position behind the machine, and turned it on. Time to test his luck. Heh.

At first, nothing happened. The machine sat quiet as it always has. Then he heard the telltale sounds of a machine booting up. The whir of fans and the hum of power going through its cables.

He watched, almost excited, as the machine’s knobs and buttons began to light up. His eye-sockets widened, however, when the machine started to shake violently. It rocked on the floor, scratching the tile and buzzing in a way that definitely sounded dangerous.

Thinking quickly, Sans reached for the machine’s short power plug, intent on pulling it out. But as his digits got close, electricity burst from the outlet, striking him, causing him to hiss and shake his hand. Smoke started to seep from the machine’s seams, dark clouds poured from where the back panel was open. A high-pitched ringing started to emanate from the machine, loud enough to be painful. Sans covered both his ear-holes, not that his bony hands were very effective in keeping the sound out. Seeing sparks come out of the open back panel was what finally convinced Sans he needed to leave. He’d flip a breaker in the house to cut the power, come back with a fire-extinguisher… Something he probably should have already had in the lab.

Oh well, live and learn- or burn, in this situation.

Sans gathered his magic to teleport, but just as he felt the area around him shift, the machine exploded. Heat blew past him, through him, Sans felt as though he was being torn apart. He shouted, clutching around himself as though to hold himself together. Teleportation had never been so painful. His body was being pulled into a thousand different directions. His teeth rattled like they were going to fall out. Just as he could feel the tips of his fingers disintegrating into dust—

Everything went white.

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Oh, man. Did anybody get the number of that bus? Because Sans felt like he’d been run over, backed over, a real case of navicular homicide. Only Sans was still alive… probably.

He wiggled his fingers just to see if he could. They moved, then he did the same with his toes. They moved as well as they could inside his socks and slippers. Not really wanting to, but knowing he needed to, Sans forced his eye-sockets open. It took a minute for his magic to flare up and the whites return to his eyes. And when they did, his vision was blurred. All he could see was darkness. He blinked a few times, and slowly his sight returned.

The first thing Sans noticed after regaining his vision was the snow. It was falling hard around him, cold and wet. He shivered, then winced. He felt like he’d been in a fight, or several, but the familiar feeling of a reset was thankfully absent, so likely not.

“Phew,” Sans sat up and rubbed his skull. “That was some guilt-trip.”

Maybe he’d teleported far enough to strain his magic. It was possible, a fight or flight thing after realizing the machine was going to explode. He took in his surroundings, blinking in confusion; they were familiar. Looking around, he could tell he was still in Snowdin, so he hadn’t teleported too far away. What confused him was that the particular view of Snowdin he was looking at could only be seen from inside of his old home, from the front. But he wasn’t in a home. There was no indication that there had ever been a house where he was sitting.

Sans rubbed his skull again, aw crud, had he blown the house up? Not that they were using it anymore, but when Papyrus found out he was definitely going to explode. And Papyrus had such a booming voice when he was mad; might be better for Sans’ developing skull-ache to just wait for his sibling to find out on his own. If he ever did. As far as Sans knew, his brother didn’t have any plans to go back to the Underground anytime soon. Good. Gave Sans time to come up with a banging excuse.

Groaning, Sans pushed himself to his feet. He almost frowned at the realization of what an explosion would really mean.

No more workshop. No more machine. No more blueprint. No more photo album. No more badge.

Without that blueprint, there was nothing for him to go off of to build a new machine. Without the photo album, he was bound to forget why he needed to build it in the first place. Without seeing the wing dings printed on the blueprints, he’d forget what the W.D. stood for. Without his old badge he’d forget that he ever even worked at the Hotland labs…

Eh, there were worse things in life. Sans shrugged the realization off, taking the opportunity to brush fallen snow off his shoulders and the top of his skull. Must have been laying in the snow for some time to get this covered. And besides, maybe with everything else, the guilt would fade too. Not a bad turn of events.

Shivering, Sans shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

Yeah, definitely nothing to lose his cool over.

Snowdin was colder than he ever remembered it being. Darker too, now that he thought about it. The tree at the end of town wasn’t on meaning there was nothing to provide light, what with the faux-clouds up above covering the natural luminescence of the Underground. His explosion must have knocked the power out, blown a fuse or something.

Oh well, a problem for another day. Right now, Sans was cold, and his mood wasn’t doing so hot either.

He was too tired to teleport, so he was forced to walk through the snow. Passing by empty houses that somehow looked more abandoned than when he’d first arrived. The dark will do that sometimes, he supposed. Again, he found himself slowing in front of the old bar he used to frequent. After the night’s disappointments, he could really go for a drink. The ketchup he had back in Delta just didn’t cut it. Even the expensive stuff tasted off, like the humans focused on the tomato and garlic flavor over the vinegar.

Sans looked over at the bar, smile forlorn, only to do a doubletake. The sign wasn’t lit up, but through the windows he could definitely see a light emanating from the back of the bar. And if his theory about the power being out was true, then there was only one monster bright enough to be seen from the outside.

Sans laughed at his good fortune. Looked like Grilby was back in Snowdin. Probably to grab anything he’d left behind, or close up for good, or maybe he, like Sans, had felt the cold call of nostalgia.

Either way, it wouldn’t be very cool of Sans to pass by without at least a hail and farewell.

Chuckling, Sans stepped forward and pushed the front door open.

“Bonejour,” he loudly greeted the flame monster, taking the opportunity to show off how he’d learned to make puns out of other human languages. It had been almost a year since he’d last seen the bar owner, and Sans planned to use the opportunity to fire up some of his favorite flame puns.

The lack of a reaction was the first sign something wasn’t quite right with the bar owner. Though, it really should have been the second. How could he have missed that the light coming from the back of the bar was purple. The monster at the back, behind the bar counter was purple. Grilby? Was Grilby purple now? The monster on the other side of the bar, paused with one hand in the air, holding a dust cloth over the dirty bottles on the rack.

Looked like the bar owner had been in the middle of cleaning up. The bar itself was covered in cobwebs, there was dust on every surface, and he couldn’t even make out what the bottles in the back on the bar rack were, they were so filthy. Surely so much dust and dirt couldn’t have accumulated in less than a year? Sans had gone an entire year without cleaning his room before, and it hadn’t looked half as bad as Grilby’s bar did now.

“A skeleton? But I thought…” Sans heard the flame monster mutter to himself.

A single eye-socket rose as he looked his friend up and down. Something was up, was off-color with the whole situation. Purple flame, run down looking bar- even Grilby’s attire was different. A long black coat with a white-furred collar, a red tie.

But then, the human world was known to change a monster; hue was Sans to judge?

“They’ll want to know…” The flame monster muttered again, and Sans decided it was time to join in on the conversation.

“Grilby?” He questioned, walking forward until he came to a stop in front of the bar counter, hopping up to sit on a dirty bar stool. It’d be difficult to talk if he didn’t; he was only just as tall as the counter itself.

“And if I am?” The flame monster snapped in response, as if irritated to be interrupted. “Who are you? What are you doing out past curfew?”

Grilby stared at Sans like he wasn’t glad to see him and the cold reception would have hurt, had Sans let it. Instead he just shook his head, perplexed by his old friend’s odd behavior. He sure sounded like Grilby, well, except for the attitude. But what was that about a curfew?

“Funny,” Sans laughed awkwardly. Grilby had never been one to crack jokes, though Sans supposed he could appreciate the attempt. Because that’s what this had to be.

“I don’t see how,” Grilby said, turning to face him fully. “Some strange skeleton I’ve never met before comes into my bar after hours, after curfew- and you think it’s funny?” There was a suspicion that couldn’t be faked in his old friend’s tone, and it shook Sans to the bone.

“Grilby…” Sans said. “… Don’t you recognize me?” He asked, trying to tone down his confusion.

It was apparently the wrong thing to ask, though, because the monster’s purple flame burned higher in anger. Even a different color, Sans recognized the signs of friendly fire headed his way.

“Don’t play games, skeleton.” Was the flame monster’s response.

Sans started to sweat, and it wasn’t just because Grilby was burning hotter than Sans had ever seen him burn before. “C’mon, I used to come here all the—”

“Are you trying to implicate me?” Grilby accused, cutting Sans off.

Implicate? In what, Sans wanted to ask, but he got the feeling more questions would only add fuel to the fire.

“Woah there pal, don’t go getting all hot under the collar.” Sans said, palms up to indicate he didn’t want any trouble. “You don’t know me, I got it.”

A theory started to form in the back of Sans’ skull, though he didn’t like it. The machine he had built had something to do with time, that much he knew. What if when it had blown up, the force of the explosion had thrown him back in time? Far back enough that it was before he and his brother had moved to Snowdin. Back far enough that Grilby still had trouble controlling his heat, was going through a purple phase, and was terrible at customer service. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing that had ever happened to the skeleton. But he would need more time to think on it. Heh.

Plenty of time for a drink then. After all, when else would he ever have an opportunity like this?

“You got any ketchup in this place?” Sans asked, a blatant attempt to change the topic. “I’m usually more talkative after I’m good and sauced.”

Grilby groaned, but his eyes were no less suspicious than before, and without another word, the bartender turned away from him and back to his dusty bottles. Movements slow, contemplative.

Under his breath Sans muttered “Well, that backfired.”

Grilby’s flaming head snapped around to glare at Sans through impossibly narrow eyes, to which the skeleton only shrugged. If he remembered right, it had taken some time for the fire monster to come around to Sans’ particular char-isma. Maybe even further back in the timeline, Grilby had been an even bigger hot head.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Grilby started. “But since you are here…” Grilby turned back around to face him, seemingly calmer than before. A single bright finger was raised, pointing off to the side of the bar counter, and Sans’ gaze followed that finger. It was pointing to the left, where a small metal container held napkins, salt, pepper, mustard, and—Ketchup!

Grinning, Sans stretched for it, not above placing a knee on the counter top in order to reach his delicious drink. Ha, even years in the past and Grilby knew to keep the good stuff on tap. The bottle was glass, looking a lot fancier than Sans was used to. But it didn’t matter, ketchup was ketchup.

As he reached for it, the flame monster continued talking.

“Drink all you want,” Grilby told him, that suspicious tone ever present. “Just don’t leave until I return.”

That only elicited another shrug from Sans. “Sure thing, pal.”

Where would he go? His home was gone, the town empty save for the bar. It was cold outside, and like always, Grilby’s was the warmest place to be in Snowdin. The ketchup was lukewarm, just how he liked it, and just for a short while Sans could pretend like he wasn’t probably thrown back in time and that everything was still as it once was. Before a small human had come to the Underground, before the resets, before the surface world had brought everyone closer together while simultaneously drifting them apart.

Wow, that almost brought a frown to his face.

And if that wasn’t a sign he needed some ketchup, Sans didn’t know what was. Deciding tonight was one of those nights, he unscrewed the top.

“Maybe when you get back, we can ketch-up.” Sans said with a wink in the flame monster’s direction.

Grilby grunted in disgust then disappeared to the backroom of his bar, the door closing behind him, sign tacked to it, stating employees only, swinging from the momentum.

Once again Sans shrugged, not really getting the fire man’s problem. Maybe he was just embarrassed to have his bar seen in such a dingy state. If this Grilby had known Sans, he would know that the skeleton was the last monster to judge another’s cleanliness. But as Grilby had yet to meet Sans… or had met him, but at the wrong time? And probably won’t remember meeting him once everything was said and done—Sans didn’t really hold the curt behavior against him.

Forgiving skeleton that he was, Sans wouldn’t make a tissue of it.

Ahahahaha-ha-ha-haaaaah…

Without hesitation, Sans knocked back the ketchup bottle and chugged. A comfort drink if there ever was one. Or so he thought. The vinegar taste was stronger than he remembered, the whole taste an almost unfamiliar tang. If not for the distinct texture, he would have questioned what he was drinking. Was this really ketchup? Sans slammed the half-empty bottle back on the table, coughing and glaring at the fancy bottle with mild, amused annoyance. That sure was some strong ketchup. What did Grilby do, drown the tomatoes in vinegar? Heck, if Sans had wanted to get plastered, he would have asked for a shot. Not that he was the type for it.

With one digit, he pushed the bottle further away. His smile never wavered, even as the vinegar burned down his throat, heating his chest in a painful way. He placed a hand over his white shirt, feeling to make sure his ribs weren’t actually melting. Mean as it might be to think, but if all of Grilby’s drinks were like that, it’s no wonder the bar was empty. It had probably taken a while for Grilby to figure out the right tomato past to vinegar ratio. Good thing Sans was here to set him down the right path early.

Though, would anything he did now affect the future? Until he knew more about just what had happened, he would need to be careful not to let too much slip. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about running into himself here. Maybe—

The sound of a door opening pulled Sans from his own theorizing thoughts, and he waited for Grilby to come out of the back room so Sans could give him some well-meaning criticism. He waited, but the fire monster never stepped out. Actually, now that he was looking, the door to the back room had never opened. At the exact time Sans noticed, a breeze blew into the bar from behind him, causing him to shiver. Cold.

Had Grilby gone out the back and come back in the front? Maybe flame monster had needed to cool off.

Sans turned his head, ready to greet Grilby with a joke, only to stiffen at what he saw. Cold sweats rolled down Sans’ face and the chill from the wind sank into his bones. And in that moment, Sans didn’t think he could have moved even if he wanted to.

Even after living in Snowdin for so long, Sans had never been frozen in fear before. And if asked, he would never admit that might be what was happening to him now. And he definitely couldn’t say why.

It definitely couldn’t be because, standing in the bar’s wide doorway, was a massive monster. Tall and wide, the monster nearly took up the whole of the door frame. It blocked out most of the town’s natural luminescent light, creating a shadow that stretched from the entrance of the bar to just where Sans was sitting. He swallowed down nothing, the icy chill of the monster’s red stare having long since put out the burn in his throat.

Outside of King Asgore, Sans had never seen a monster so large. Though, why should it matter? Sans had always been on the short size, so height alone was never enough to intimidate him. In fact, Sans couldn’t remember a time he had ever felt intimidated. The ability to teleport and knowledge of resets had really taken the thrill out of life.

Not content to stand in the doorway, the large monster walked forward, the wooden floor creaking under its weight with every step. It didn’t take long for Sans to get a better look at the monster. The skeleton monster.

He was tall, taller than Papyrus. Wider than him too. Was he bigger than W-w… Gaster had been? The memory of the skeleton was already so vague, he can’t possibly begin to know. What if he was Gaster? Had he been thrown back in time too? Or did he just exist in this time period unrelated to the machine’s capabilities?

The monster was staring at him like he didn’t believe what he was seeing and Sans couldn’t help but do the same.

The strange skeleton’s clothes did nothing to distract from his impressive size. And they said black was supposed to be slimming! Sans blinked just to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. Because not only was the skeleton the largest Sans had ever seen, he’s also the best dressed out of… well anyone he had ever known. And Sans was good friends with royalty.

A black undershirt, shining like it was made of silk. The sleeves were up to the skeleton’s elbows with the top two buttons undone. A fashion choice, or had the guy left in a hurry? If it was the latter, Sans didn’t want to know the reason why…

Okay, he did, but that was only because it could possibly have something to do with his presence in the bar and Grilby’s disappearance to the backroom.

The only thing covering the undershirt was a dark red vest with thin black pin stripes. It looked tight on the skeleton’s massive body, and Sans doubted it was the most comfortable outfit. What with the dress pants, the belt, and black dress shoes with laces? Didn’t matter that they looked fancy and expensive with their red and gold accents—The monster would have to bend over to tie them. No level of fashion was worth that.

More striking than the clothes was the skeleton’s smile, it was wide as Sans’ own, though much less welcoming. Sharp teeth were clenched together, a single gold tooth glinting in his smile. It was the most threatening smile Sans had ever seen. Did it even count as a smile at that point?

The monster certainly didn’t look like any scientist Sans had ever seen. But then, Sans doubted he looked very scientific at a glance.

Their staring contest was broken first by the stranger, who had come to a full stop directly in front of Sans, the monster’s shadow completely covering his much smaller form.

The stranger chuckled, then asked, “and what have we got here?” The voice was deep, rough, but jovial. Sounding like he stepped straight out of one of those old mobster movies Frisk loved to watch.

The friendly tone gave Sans hope that in spite of the monster’s intimidating appearance, he didn’t want a confrontation. All good then, as Sans wasn’t sure what fighting the strange skeleton would do to the future timeline, if anything he did in this timeline mattered at all.

Them both being skeletons, Sans went for his tried and true classics when answering the most likely rhetorical question.

“Tibia honest,” Sans responded with a forced chuckle. “I’m not really sure, myself. You pa-tella me.”

Not his finest work, but Sans cut himself a break. It had been a while since he’d had to joke under pressure. His bone-saw was rusty, so to speak.

The large skeleton only continued to stare at Sans; his smile replaced with a look of confusion. What, had the monster never heard a joke before? Sans’ puns weren’t that bad, he’d definitely told worse. He tensed, prepared to teleport if the stranger turned violent. Only for it to be his turn to look at the other skeleton in confusion.

The monster had started to chuckle, a low menacing sound, then he placed his large hands on his stomach and threw his head back, bellowing the most guttural and intense laugh Sans had ever heard. The skeleton laughed, and laughed, and laughed, his large body shaking from the force of it. He showed no signs of stopping and for a moment Sans wondered if the guy had snapped. His jokes tended to do that with the more violence prone monsters.

Then the stranger wiped an invisible tear from his eye-socket, sucking in a breath and straightening back up. Those red eyes almost looked warm and Sans thought maybe he could make a friend out of this monster. Maybe it would mess with the timeline, but Sans doubted it. He suspected nothing he did in this time would affect the future. Besides, what was the alternative? Ignore the skeleton? That would be a level of rude Sans wasn’t comfortable with, and Papyrus had nagged better manners into him than that.

“Got a real funny-bone, don’t-cha?” The skeleton asked, voice wheezy from how hard he had been laughing.

Sans shrugged and leaned back against the bar; legs spread and posture loose. Intentionally appearing more relaxed than he felt. It never hurt to be underestimated. Literally.

“I’d say yes, but I haven’t got the nerve,” Sans responded casually. The urge to laugh at his own joke was strong, but Sans’ will was stronger. Once he got started it was hard to stop, and laughing too hard would leave him vulnerable. And until he was sure of his situation, he couldn’t afford that luxury.

Something the larger skeleton didn’t seem to worry about, as he laughed once again, shorter than before, but no less unnerving. Heh.

The stranger grinned down at Sans, and it was an unsettling enough look that Sans had to second guess his own ever smiling choice. Not that he could help it, most of the time. There was just too much comedy to be found in the world. Even now, with a six foot something skeleton towering over him, Sans couldn’t help but imagine how hilarious they must look from the outside.

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” The stranger asked, sounding sure of himself.

“What makes you say that?” Sans answered the other skeleton’s question with a question of his own.

Another question he never should have asked, Sans realized too late. The larger skeleton took it as an excuse to place both his hands on the counter behind Sans, caging him in. And had those teeth looked any less sharp, Sans would have snickered at the attempt of intimidation. The tough guy routine was always a funny one to witness. Though, the one usually trying to pull it off was his brother, and not some giant skeleton who looked like he could snap bones with just his jaw strength.

The strange skeleton’s good humor from before was gone, though the smile stayed. It was just too bad for the stranger that Sans’ wasn’t the type to be intimidated. He’d only ever felt threatened during one recurring fight in his life, and big as he was, this skeleton would never measure up to it.

“Now let me make something clear—I’m the one who asks the questions here, capisce? You cooperate, and maybe you’ll get out of here alive.” The stranger threatened with a smile that was too close for comfort.

“Whatever you slay, buddy.” Sans joked.

The other’s eye-sockets narrowed, and he lifted a large hand as if to strike the smaller skeleton. Sans tensed, but the movement toward his face was too slow to slow to be meant for a blow.

“Somethin’ about you seems…” The stranger ran his thick bony fingers over the top of Sans’ skull, the touch light and very unwelcome.

“What—what are you…” Sans was taken off guard and seconds away from teleporting. He’d never been one to shy away from touch, but something about the way this skeleton ran his digits over Sans’ skull really rattled his bones.

“Humerus me,” the skeleton responded, still sounding amused.

Sans laughed nervously; the whole thing was too strange to be funny. Well, almost. Everything was funny in its own odd way. Curfews, giant skeletons- turns out Snowdin was a crazy place before he and his brother had showed up. One day Sans would look back on this and laugh. One far, far away day.

For now, he just stayed still, allowing the stranger to turn his head this way and that, run his large hand over the back of Sans’ skull. Feeling him like he’d never seen one before. What, did the guy never look in a mirror? Sure, he looked a lot more textured than Sans, but still.

“So smooth,” the stranger murmured.

It was the perfect opportunity to interject with a joke. Being called smooth was such a comedic opening that he’d be remiss to let it slip by. But before he could get a word out, his jaw was gripped tightly and tilted upwards, forcing him to look directly into the larger skeleton’s eye sockets. They glowed a menacing red, the light reflecting off the sharp gold tooth that was all too visible.

Was the threatening look intentional? Why would a monster, outside of the royal guard, ever bother to appear a threat? Could… Perhaps…

More credence was being given to his back in time theory. Back far enough that he ended up in a time right after the war with the humans had only just ended? It would explain Grilby’s tense behavior and the lack of patrons in the bar. From what he’d read at the Libraby, Snowdin had taken several decades to really take off, most monsters preferring the warmer temperatures or water areas. Not until overpopulation in the capital had monsters begun venturing out into the colder regions. Even then, Snowdin had never been the most populated of towns. With such a low population, it didn’t even qualify as a village. With a population of less than one-hundred and fifty, it was technically a hamlet.

But then, Sans had never been one for labels. If the citizens of Snowdin wanted to call their home a town, what did he care? It just added to the town’s quirk. A great, interesting, place to live.

Why did they ever leave?

That’s a bad thought and Sans quickly cast it out of his mind. He was usually so careful about what thoughts and emotions he allowed himself to feel. Must be the cold, it was chilling his sense of humor.

The strange touch stopped and Sans didn’t bother trying to stop his sigh of relief. He couldn’t very well let the monster think his touch had been wanted, welcome, or appropriate.

“Definitely not from around here,” the other skeleton whispered to himself. Though, not quite soft enough for Sans not to hear, if that was even the intent.

“You look like you crawled out of a dumpster,” the stranger grinned at him, eyeing the smaller skeleton up and down like he thought the clothes he wore came from a dumpster too.

Sans’ own eye-sockets narrowed. He had a snarky quip ready to go— And you look like you escaped from a balloon factory— but he thought better of it. Not because he was intimidated, but because if a fight did start, Sans only had the one jacket. If it got torn during a fight, the chances of finding another like it in his size were extremely low. And it was cold outside.

So, he shrugged, maintaining his nonchalant façade.

“A skeleton’s gotta sleep where he can.” No joke that time, after the complete disregard for Sans’ personal space and disrespect toward his threads, Sans’ didn’t think the monster deserved his material. Mostly because the stranger seemed to actually enjoy it. Which would have been a welcome change of pace had it been literally anyone else.

“That I hear,” the stranger responded. Like Sans sleeping in a dumpster would be some normal, everyday revelation. “What I’m not hearin’, is why I haven’t ever seen you around before.”

That same deep, menacing timbre from before returned and Sans’ couldn’t stop his flinch at the abrupt shift in tone. What was this monster’s deal? One minute he was laughing at Sans’ jokes, the next he was getting too touchy and acting all threatening, the red in his eye-sockets glowing brighter.

“You know every monster?” Sans asked, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

“From Snowdin- and every skeleton, yeah.” Was the quick rebuttal. “And you’re not from here.”

Sans, not about to argue, simply replied, “I’m from out of town.”

“Way outta town, I take it. What’s a daisy like you doin’ in a place like this?”

“Daisy?” Sans parroted. If there was joke, Sans didn’t get it.

“You’re wearing’pink, ain’t ya?”

“… Yeah?” Sans said, waiting for the punchline.

“So that makes you a daisy.” The other skeleton replied with a nasty grin. Was it an insult, then?

… Sans didn’t get it, but out of respect for the art, he chuckled anyway.

Which was, once again, the wrong thing to do.

The large skeleton growled and Sans almost felt annoyance at the rapid change in attitude. One minute, everything was rosy, the next, he’s pushing up daisies. What in carnation was going on?

“Now listen here, you little daisy— That’s the third time I’ve repeated myself, and I’m not a man who likes repeatin’ himself.” Faster than Sans could follow, the larger skeleton summoned a sharp bone with his magic, and pointed it under Sans’ chin with a level of speed he hadn’t thought someone so big could possess.

“Now I’d hate to cut such a pretty face, but you won’t want me repeatin’ myself a fourth time.” The tip of the bone pricked the underside of Sans’ jaw. “Usually it’s three strikes and you’re out, but I’m lettin’ you take one more swing.”

The larger skeleton’s speed was interesting, the whole situation was interesting. It was something new. Being called pretty was new. But the threats? Sans eyed the stranger with an air of boredom about him and simply responded, “I’m more of a basketball man, myself.”

Then, unperturbed, he placed a bony hand over the one currently holding a knife to his face.

“You first, buddy,” Sans said. He was always one to hold what he knew close to his chest, and if the stranger wanted to know who Sans was, well, all the more reason not to tell. The whites of his own eyes glowed brighter, though the other skeleton didn’t seem to notice. The monster once again barked out a laugh, then looking at Sans like he didn’t believe what he was seeing, what he was hearing.

“… You don’t know?” The stranger asked, like Sans should know.

Some ego on the guy, no wonder he was so big and wore such restricting clothes. He needed them to contain all that hot air.

“You must’ve had that dumpster locked tight if you’ve never heard of me before.” Just as quickly as it’d appeared, the bone dagger was wisped away in a cloud of red smoke.

“No wonder you don’t have any manners, you haven’t a clue who you’re dealin’ with, do ya?” It was said so matter-of-factly that Sans wondered if he had somehow overlooked the large skeleton in the history books.

“The name’s Sans, Sans the skeleton.” A hand was held out to him. “And you, lil’ daisy?”

Sans soul thudded in his ribcage, the large hand was directly in front of him, but he could no longer see it. Everything was a blur as those words played over and over in his head.

Sans, Sans the skeleton. Sans. The skeleton.

Sans.

Anything the larger skeleton—Sans said after was drowned out by the buzz in the back of Sans- his, skull. His smile waivered as the answer to his situation rattled around inside his skull. If only it would stop bouncing around, he’d know what to do.

“Take my hand, lil’ daisy.” It was an order said through sharp, clenched teeth. Whatever humor the other Sans had been getting out his lack of knowledge was apparently disappearing.

Just like he was about to. Haha.

Before his smile could fall, Sans teleported.

Pop.

To the mountain’s summit, completely covered by snow.

Pop.

To Mount Ebott’s base, the forest behind him looking gnarled and dead.

Pop.

He landed heavy in the snow. It was too dark and he was too far from the city’s welcome sign to read it. But he didn’t give himself time to collect his thoughts or to regain his usual cool. And though his smile was still stretched across his face as he stumbled forward, it was painfully forced. A wretched, familiar feeling of hopelessness was filling him. It was a feeling he hadn’t felt since those first few battles in the castle corridor. And given the circumstances, it didn’t make sense.

It was just a name, his name, so why did it fill him with so much dread? Like he was being faced with a problem that had no solution. Just like the resets all over again.

Sans stopped in front of the city’s welcome sign, hands on his knees, out of a breath he didn’t need. The sign was red instead of the familiar blue. Its paint was chipped and the edges rusted. It was obviously old and not well cared for. However, the black words written across it were clear, looking freshly painted. The strength in Sans’ legs gave way as he read the sign, his knees hitting the snow as he looked on with wide eye-sockets.

Welcome to Fell City | Population: Shrinking

~ End

AN: This will likely be the longest chapter of the fic, on account of all the exposition I had to fit in. I want to explore OG Sans' character with this, focusing on his wants, his intelligence, and I think the perfect foil to match up against Sans is Sans himself.

Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

1900s Slang:

Daisy - None too masculine

#kustard #underfell sans #sans #mobfell #sancest #bara sans #underfell #jivin' bones #jivin' bones 1 #my writ

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