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sansofhumor · 1 year ago

Text

Little writing round up / teaser after the cut.

Warnings for unreality maybe. It's sans. It's always sans.

The wisps of a dream fades as Sans adjusts to consciousness. He's on the couch. The curtains are wide open casting a warm glow on the carpet in front of him. He's on the surface.

Judging by the angle of the light it's mid afternoon. He can't hear Papyrus in the house. That's not unusual; his bro is a busy guy. Sans pushes himself up on the couch and scratches at his temple. He doesn't remember if Papyrus should be at work, or if he's out running errands, or if he's hanging out with Undyne, or—

His phone is in his pocket. It tells him the date and more importantly Papyrus's latest texts.

[8:30am] REMEMBER! I AM CAMPING WITH FRISK AND FLOWEY TODAY!

[8:30am] SO! DON'T FORGET YOUR BREAKFAST! IN THE OVEN!

[8:31am] AND. DON'T FORGET! I LOVE YOU.

[11:15am] LUNCH IS IN THE REFRIGERATOR.

[11:17am] [LOOKATTHISBUG.JPG]

[11:43am] [LOOKATTHEM.JPG]

[11:43am] [LOOKATME.JPG]

[12:02PM] [LOOKATUS.JPG]

There's a few more images after that in the same vein: Papyrus and his favorite freaks climbing all sorts of rocks and trees and streams. There's even one photo of Flowey, clinging to the edge of a rock jutted in the middle of water, a vine held out for a Dragonfly to land on.

Sans flips the phone closed. The front screen flashes 5:54pm in 8 bit letters before dulling.

He remembers eating breakfast from the oven, doesn't remember lunch, so he must've napped pretty soon after. There's a knock knock at the front door, from a determined, if small, fist.

Sans stands, pocketing his phone.

"who's there?" He calls as he reaches the door. The kid doesn't respond, which isn't abnormal, but he doesn't hear Papyrus grumbling about the blatant joke set up either. Maybe he's unpacking the car still.

His last text was at 1:04pm.

"not feelin' up to it? no problem," he says while reaching for the front door. "I got enough words for the both of us."

The door creaks open, shadow cast over the kid's face. The flower pot is in their arms. He can't quite see their expression yet.

"what's up, kiddo—"

Papyrus is holding their hand in his.

Papyrus is also about three inches shorter than Frisk and swimming in his clothes.

"THE SKY?" Papyrus answers, looking up, dubiously. "RIGHT FRISK? YOU SAID THAT WAS THE SKY?"

His voice is higher pitched. Young sounding.

"We already went over this! Get it through your thick skull you– uh– baby!" The flower in Frisk's arms growls.

Papyrus looks down from the sky. He looks up at Sans. Sans hasn't been taller than his brother for. Well. A long time. There isn't recognition in his eyes.

Then all at once there is.

"SANS???" Papyrus's hand tightens in the kid's and his face stiffens up in an expression Sans hasn't seen in, well. A long time.

Sans kneels down and spreads his arms like a rusty machine. "hey bro," he says. "long day?"

Papyrus lets Frisk's hand go and his body hits Sans' chest like a potato sack. Sans let's himself rock back before settling his arms around his more literal than usual little brother. Just like he remembers, Papyrus' bones quake and then he starts yowling.

"WHY IS THERE A SKY? WHERE IS EVERYONE? WHERE WERE YOU? SANS!" Papyrus wails into Sans' jacket with as much force as he can muster. "WHERE'S ALL THE SNOW? I— I — I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED AND I—"

Sans rubs at Papyrus's—small, narrow—back but he looks over his shoulder at the kid and the flower. Tilts his head at them. Smiling.

The flower sneers but Frisk at least looks worried. Not guilty.

"why don't we, uh, take this inside." He picks Papyrus up and settles him against his chest like he's done it a thousand times before. He has. His knees just ache a bit more now.

He barely waits for the kid to follow but pulls the door shut behind them. Papyrus has graduated from trying his damndest to deafen him to sniffling quiet into his hoodie. Too much going on outside, Sans thinks. Too much light and noise and uncertainty for him.

Sans can feel him peak up over his shoulder, no doubt casing the joint like a punk. Sans feels him stiffen when he realizes he doesn't recognize the house. It's certainly not their home in Snowdin, but even if it had been Papyrus wouldn't recognize it now. Not this young, at least.

Sans shoots a look at the kid and flower behind him, and deposits his brother on a dining room chair. Papyrus' fingers grip his shoulders tighter before unsticking and letting go. While Sans drags the refrigerator door open with his foot and roots around for something to feed everyone he tries to remember whether that's to be expected, or worrisome.

When he turns back around Frisk has taken a seat across the table from Papyrus, Flowey still gripped in their hands. Papyrus has his skull craned to keep an eye on Sans. Sans doesn't bother heating up the left over casserole courtesy of Tori before he drops it and a couple plates on the table.

Papyrus makes a noise of interest. Before he can tear into it with his bare hands like the feral gremlin he is, Sans slops a portion onto his plate with a spoon. He adds another scoop, and then a smaller one on top, a misshapen lump that should—

"SANS!! STOP! PLAYING WITH THE FOOD!!" Papyrus demands in a shrill voice.

"what, you too old for casserole-men?" He asks.

"THERE IS NO SUCH— SANS!!" Papyrus's voice reeds into a frustrated whine when he recognizes Sans' voice when he makes a bad joke.

"yeah. I'll, heh, cool it."

"THERE'S NOT EVEN ANYTHING TO COOL. IT'S NOT FUNNY IF IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE." Papyrus accepts the spoon from Sans' hand. The right spoon, sans remembers, because Papyrus doesn't like them too big or too small.

"Hah! That's what I keep saying!" The flower says.

Frisk wants Flowey to be quiet, but since that's a lost cause they also thought the little snowman on Papyrus' plate was pretty ice.

"It's definitely snow joke." Sans says and takes their plate. "If Tori finds out you didn't reheat her casserole you're gonna need more fortitude than I can give you before she's through." There's a little square shape on their plate when he hands it back. Squinting, it could look like a sentry station. Or maybe a fort.

Frisk scrunches up their face and Sans can see them repeat casserole and fortitude until their eyes light up. Castle-roll, yes, yes. Sharp kid.

"So, uh. Wanna tell me what happened?"

He's staring at Frisk, and by extension the flower, but it's Papyrus who answers.

"I DUNN— DON'T KNOW— I JUST WOKE UP AND IT WAS VERY BRIGHT AND YOU WEREN'T ANYWHERE TO BE SEEN!" Sans would wince, if he weren't smiling. "BUT FLOWERY—"

"Flowey!" The flower interjects. Papyrus' grip on his spoon tightens.

"FLOWEY FOUND ME AND THEN FRISK AND THEY EXPLAINED? A LITTLE BIT? LIKE WHY IT'S SO BRIGHT??? BECAUSE OF. THE SUN???" Papyrus' voice gets more and more incredulous as he speaks and he throws Sans a glance like Sans'll explain anything at all. "AND WHEN I. ASKED. ABOUT YOU, THEY TOOK ME ON A VERY LONG, VERY SKETCHY, HIKE WHICH ENDED UP HERE SO I SUPPOSE NOT THAT SKETCHY."

"why didn't you call?" Sans asks Frisk.

They pull out their phone, which is shattered. Somehow. Alphys doesn't make those very breakable. Sans glances at the corner of the kitchen like the shadows and completely benign dust gathered there can answer his questions. Papyrus' phone, if he even has it, is probably the same.

He decides to ignore that they've been walking for probably close to four hours to make it back here and instead asks, "okay. so what happend on your end?"

"There was a crash and then babybones here was screaming like someone was murdering him." Sans isn't sure he likes the tone in the flower's voice. Frisk doesn't either with the way they flick the closest petal to them. But they also don't contradict the flower either, and they aren't hiding anything that Sans can see. So he huffs a sigh.

"Go call Tori," he says and hands them his phone. They hop up and take Flowey with them into the next room. As soon as they turn the corner Papyrus pipes up.

"WHY? ARE YOU SO? OLD?"

The flower's cackling is loud and clear and makes Papyrus glare in a general direction. Sans elects to ignore the things he cannot control.

"You know how, when you get older, you grow up?" Sans asks.

Papyrus squint his eyes, like he is suspecting sans of setting him up for a joke. He still nods. "YES I AM—" He glares again in Flowey's general direction. "I am aware! Of! Basic facts?"

"Well, I grew up." Sans explains, shrugging. "You grew up, too."

"I DID?" Papyrus forgets his volume again as he slams his little palms in the table and straightens up, balancing comically precarious on the chair. "WHAT AM I LIKE? WHERE AM I?"

"You're right here. Dunno where uh, older you is, if you're here." Sans offers. Papyrus frowns, digesting that.

"SO OLDER ME... MAYBE. IF I AM WITH OLD YOU, THAN OLD ME IS WITH MY YOU. Now? Uhm..." Papyrus's face contorts into something very nearly worried. Sans doesn't feel like he has any new memories of running into an overly friendly skeleton as a child so he takes a moment to imagine it instead.

Papyrus would be thrilled to babysit him, at least. And Sans had never been a... difficult... child. Mostly too quiet and still. But Papyrus wouldn't be daunted in the least by Sans' quirks, and would be familiar and gentle, and also fun. If the Papyrus Sans had grown up with had magically swapped places with his younger version, Sans would probably be better for it. That most likely didn't happen, though, and if it had, it definitely wouldn't be anything for the Papyrus in front of him to worry about.

<-‐----------new story---------->

It's too late to turn back now. The walls are closing in, dark yet darker. A suffocating mantle of an embrace, vast and endless. Claustrophobic. Confining. There is no escape. Call for help, for anybody.

No one comes.

Sans jerks out of his sleep, a prickle behind his sockets. There's a whining pain building up in his head; behind the bones of his skull a ringing static rears forward. He won't be able to fall back asleep. That's fine. He gets up and stumbles downstairs, avoiding the clothes on the floor. The kitchen is dark. The appliances are cold and a thin film of buildup has clung to them from disuse.

He checks the oven out of habit, but there's only a haphazard stack of dirty dishware there. He checks the refrigerator. Empty, stained containers line the shelves like tombstones. There's no clean dishes in the house: they lie abandoned in stacks on counters and tables, even the floor in his room. Sans leaves the kitchen and instead finds the bathroom sink.

He takes a drink from the cool tap water and takes a moment to let it run over his skull. His phalanges are cold, but his face feels flushed. The water seems to wipe away the migraine. For now. Sans doesn't bother wiping his face off or finding new clothes when he leaves the bathroom.

It seems pointless, to sit on the couch instead of the familiar embrace of his mattress but he knows it's important. He does not remember why. In his pocket is his cell phone. He takes it out, opens his notes app, and reads the titles of the memos.

schedule.txt

text file.txt

updates.txt

[][][][][][][] .jpg

readings.txt

Before he has a chance to tap one open a text arrives, vibrating the phone in his hand.

[][][][][][] now texted:

*hey.... you haven't checked in??? In a while?

* ??

*sans?

YOU texted:

* checkin in now

[][][][][][] now texted:

* that's a relief!

* what happened?? were you sleeping?

YOU texted:

* always

[][][][][][] now texted:

* what about the [][][][]???

* you have a JOB you know!

Sans backs out of the texting app and opens his notes again. The schedule file is the most opened file so he opens it.

check readings from basement

cross reference with lab notes

pack up miscellaneous tech

find [][][][][][]'s research

shutdown running experiments

start CORE cool down

shut down C[]RE

shutdown cooling infrastructure in snowdin

check readings from basement

turn off generator

lock the door

turn off the frame

return to [][][][][][][]

Taking a glance at his other files, he's already gotten the readings. He must have started the cooling process because the glitching on his phone has been getting worse. The ambient magic in the Underground must be unsettled.

YOU texted:

* everything's on track

* core is cooling down

[][][][][][] now texted:

* you never sent me the research data?

* or the COR[]'s operation files?

YOU texted:

* textfile.txt

* updates.txt

[][][][][][] now texted:

* oh!! perf!! thx

His cell phone shuts off.

It isn't out of battery but it has powered down. Sans doesn't go through the effort of turning it back on. He just stares at his face reflected in the small screen. He has a job to do.

In a smooth motion he tucks his phone into his inventory, and while he's there he sees a LEMON PASTA filling a slot. He eats it while opening the front door.

It's taste is indescribable.

<---------new story--------->

Papyrus, the Great, packed his bags nearly the same moment the summons from House Dreemur was nailed to the postings outside of Grillby's Tavern. Close enough, at least, to be negligible in the sort of scale one might use if they were, for example, telling a story. His brother might use a different metric but Papyrus was not his brother and had always enjoyed stories more than calculations.

The summons asked for monsters competent in a specific area of skill: diplomacy. When Papyrus was younger, and his brother had moved them from the slums of New Home to the quaint, rustic town of Snowdin, Papyrus had dreamed of joining the royal guard. He'd wanted to be apart of something more than himself.

He'd been too young to join at first, and sometime between his brother leaving and his own coming of age, Papyrus had found himself helping the town's mayor complete her paperwork on time. He was a likeable sort, so the mayor warmed up to him quickly and often let Papyrus in on the workings behind doors. If Papyrus had wanted to be part of something more than himself, he found it in working as a minor governmental aide.

With his brother sending back a working wage each month and the mayor putting him on a stipend, Papyrus did quite well for himself. He even spearheaded several projects of his own: a recreational center that focused on youths, a communal garden, and young but fruitful forays into trade deals with the nomadic humans that wandered closeby.

It may have been through these humans that Papyrus first got the sense that something was stirring beyond the borders of his town. Humans always had a tendency to be skittish around monsters but Papyrus had seen these ones grow used to the Snowdin locals through trade and kindness shown. When they wandered in, weary and wary, Papyrus had known something was brewing.

He had offered a meal on him, ushered the nomadic family into Grillby's warmth and wheedled out threads of growing discontent in the human kingdom. Nothing said outright, of course, he doubted the humans actually knew what their news of unrest could mean. They were concerned only so much as traveling to certain cities was more dangerous or less lucrative. Papyrus did not have his brother's knack for theory but he was more than capable of putting together a puzzle.

Another impetus: his brother's monthly package home stopped arriving.

So, Papyrus was nearly finished packing when the summons was nailed to the posting outside of Grillby's Tavern. The summons merely gave him an excuse to extricate himself from Snowdin's warm embrace.

"Of course I will let him know, you have only been reminding me of my brother's tab for the last six years." Papyrus shook his head and tapped his foot against the warm wood floors of Grillby's seating room with impatience. The fire monster snapped and crackled from his place behind the impecable bar. Grillby beckoned him closer and he reluctantly approached the bartop.

Grillby pulled a neatly packed bag from beneath the bar somewhere and set it in front of Papyrus. It was moderately sized, made of well crafted oiled canvas. Papyrus lifted the flap and blinked at the contents.

"... it will keep," Grillby's intentions came through in the snapping of his embers as he pushed the bag of monster food closer to Papyrus.

Papyrus had already put away some travel food, serviceable rations that would carry him in the event he couldn't find, barter, or buy anything on the road. Grillby had packed him a small fortune of magic laden monster food: spiced bread rolls, cuts of delicate and robust vegetables, jars of ferments, pressed curd, even packets of dried herbs. All either monster made or magic infused, with indefinite stability. He could recognize contributions from almost every family in Snowdin, down to the unruly teens who hung out in the community garden.

"...and for... your brother..." Grillby slid over a paper wrapped package. Papyrus could tell without ever needing to open the thing that his brother's favorite order had been packed with care. The emotion overwhelmed him, for a moment.

"I will of be sure to scold him for enjoying the grease." He finally managed, and though Grillby did not have a face as most would see it, Papyrus knew he was smiling.

Papyrus laid his brother's meal into the bag Grillby had made and attached the whole thing to his pack with very little fanfare. That was not to say he escaped the town so easily. The streets were lined when he left Grillby's establishment and he graciously stopped at each family and friend who called him over for fairwells.

It was enough to fill a monster's soul to bursting. His neighbors and friends gathered to see him off. When he finally managed to leave the town proper and stood on an overlooking hill he turned to see the whole town gathered in the mainstreet. He waved one last time to the snowy little town he'd come to call home.

Now, it was time for his journey.

Of course Papyrus had been outside of Snowdin before. Not just the frantic rush between towns with his brother, but also to greet and see off his human merchants. He'd gone on one trip with the mayor to a lordling's hold as well, a lesson in etiquette and monster economics that Papyrus had to scrawl down in a journal the talking was so dense.

The thing that separated this journey from any other he'd been on was two-fold: it's length and his solitude. Only the move from New Home to Snowdin could match the length in distance, though he'd had his brother for that. Still, he was capable and not afraid as he entered the wilds beyond Snowdin's charming boundaries. The road through Snowdin had grown more traveled as Papyrus worked to welcome new trades with travelers, the Bunnies had been pleased with the uptick in business with their Inn, but it was still little more than a well worn wagon path through snow and forest.

Papyrus shouldered his pack and stepped on.

#i dont have a pun for writing #sans #sans undertale #papyrus #papyrus undertale #fic bits #theres #deaged papyrus #a haunted house au #and uhhhh idk strings of fate au #or like... middling fantasy au #w/e you want 2 call it #god i hope this posts i hate tumblr beta

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