Well. When you put it that way. [He sniffles again, but with more good cheer leaking into it. Of course Papyrus managed to do something delicate and careful, when he's been feeling code like magic anyway. Of course Sans rushed from 0 to 100 in his power and forcefulness, and maybe, his effectiveness...?] Naturally, I've been working... with a particularly deft touch! And getting through this took, a less deftly one.
[He offers it partly as a bone to throw for Sans's own self esteem, before he starts blaming himself for what was, Papyrus remembers, a tentatively offered maybe-solution. Partly, it's a reframing of the situation for himself, before he starts dwelling in the remembered frustration over forgetting things, how this is partly exactly what he wanted and exactly what he feared. He mumbles to himself:] ...Why did I want to remember that stuff so clearly, anyway...?
[Even a small sign of Papyrus perking up a bit helps Sans feel better, too. Not amazing or anything, but better. And Papyrus is probably right that if delicate would have worked Papyrus would have managed that already with his diagnostics. (Now, if Papyrus's emotions worked on a quantum level, then Sans would be fine. He's great at detail work. Just, you know, quantum details.)] You wanted to make sure you remembered the important stuff. [At least, that's what Papyrus said earlier. He's not sure if Papyrus's memories are scrambled up enough that he forgot or if it's that the motivation was altered by his earlier lack of emotions.]
The 'important' stuff. [Papyrus scoffs, amused and annoyed, between the ongoing tears situation. For all he's perking up at the compliments and the ongoing banter, he's still slowly crying - from the freshly overwhelming strength of his emotions, from his general disorientation.] I just, I don't like... not remembering things...?
[He squints at a sudden sense of deja vu. Belatedly remembering, he said that - verbatim - the night before. When Sans cornered him about acting weird, and he protested he didn't want to delete anything. Of course, he hates giving more fuel to weird nightmares about forgetting and being forgotten. But there was something more specific...]
[Sans doesn't like not remembering things either. Nothing he can do about it, though.] Well, who likes forgetting stuff? [Except the bad things, but Sans would rather remember the bad things that happened to him in case they happen again. He's not sure if that's healthy or not.]
Nobody! [Rhetorical as the question might be, Papyrus assumes his answer emphatically enough to exclaim it, based largely on the strength of his dislike for the experience. Which... may be part of why it took so much to help him stop memorizing everything. Maybe it's not that urgent for him to re-remember what he was trying to remember so much...? He slumps back against the couch, tilting his head forward just enough that further tears don't slide back into his cameras.] Except... I guess, people who drink to forget. Or other things.
[Sans shrugs. He can't say he's never tried that drinking to forget thing, but it doesn't work for him. It just makes him morose and loosens his tongue, and nobody needs to hear about those kinds of thoughts.] Lots of stuff happens here. I guess you never know when you might want a hard drive of stuff you remember. [Like when you forget your brother and start trying to stalk and threaten to hurt people. Or when you think you're a void god. You know, normal things.]
Yeah... Oh! Yeah!! I started making one! [Papyrus brightens up again at the recollection, as multiple memories of the last few day come to mind. He reaches under his shirt for his phone, fumbling to disconnect the cable before pulling it out.] In case things got... worse, again. A regular scrapbook of important memories.
[It was meant to be a later surprise, a secret project with work still to do. But with the intensity of everything he's feeling right now, Papyrus rushes to open the image gallery and show it to his brother. Low resolution images of moments he never photographed, a video of chasing one of the younger rabbits around town, parts of a spar with Undyne, the start of burning her kitchen...]
[Sans leans in a little to see the images on the screen. One of the rabbit kids (evacuated), Undyne (dead)... It's not like Sans doesn't have photos on his phone (mostly of Papyrus, but not all of them), but these are new. Things Papyrus remembers. Those moments you don't take pictures of, because they're just normal life. Until it's not normal life anymore, anyway. (Until the reset. But Sans doesn't know what happens with the reset while they're here. He's pretty sure by now this has never happened before; he'd have felt some sense of deja vu somewhere by now.)]
How many times did you guys set that kitchen on fire, anyway? [A very dangerous subject, but it's out of Sans's mouth before he can think on it, too busy trying to keep his own feelings under control.]
Oh, a few times! We mostly got it under control, except the one time... [He says, with the breezy comfort of someone who's never had hair or skin - whose friend with both just laughed in the face of pain. But thinking about that one time leads to thoughts of the aftermath. Undyne, crashing at their house the one night. Papyrus, even more sleepless than usual, wired with the excitement of having a guest. Sans, increasingly himself through the night. The next morning, Undyne thanking him and borrowing clothes - and staying at the Snowed Inn the rest of the nights. Still visiting in days, still training. The popsicles, and the incredible mess they made... Before he knows it, he's choking up again.] I'm... glad! We're confirming! The important memories...! Are all okay...!
[Sans always got a kick out of harassing Undyne; her dramatic displays whenever she caught him sleeping at his post or selling hot dogs at his post or... Really just most things at his post, it was always hilarious. And she was the only one who seemed to see Papyrus and understand him. She'd beaten the anomaly at least twelve times--Sans lost count. When she died, Sans knew it didn't matter if Asgore fought the anomaly or not. Undyne learned to fight from him, and he didn't have that wild determination. Asgore would see a human child and hold back. At that point, if the anomaly didn't stop on its own, then. Well.
Well.]
Yeah, sounds like that stuff's safe. [So maybe they should stop talking about this immediately.] Looks like it, too. [You know, with the images and videos on the phone.]
Yeah... Looks, and sounds...! [He's not just repeating what Sans said, but clarifying. He has so many clips of Undyne harassing him and going in to noogie him, his own voice - maybe slightly enhanced with coolness - protesting.] And smells, and tastes... Those, uh. They didn't fit on the phone. Don't mess with the tower, okay?
[It may be an unnecessary demand, a rude accusation to hint at even with the knife situation. But he's realizing he wants to backup the backup, and hide the recursive backup somewhere that a hypothetical future Papyrus who doesn't care might not think to look. It'll take a costly external hard drive, as the files get ridiculously large when he tries to record long stretches of memory with all the details he could cram in... No wonder his physical memory got overwhelmed, trying to memorize things. And sprouting more computer stuff in his skull. Maybe he could upgrade his body, just in case that ever happens again...?]
I won't. [He doesn't say he wouldn't mess with Papyrus's stuff, of course. That's mostly true, but obviously not entirely. There's lying and then there's going out of your way to lie. Still, something like that he'll leave alone. He should probably put Papyrus's knife back too. He can see the port in Papyrus's temple with the help of his halo without even having to give Papyrus a sideways look. If there's a matching one on the other side, if Papyrus decides to free it up now--
Sans doesn't know how to think about it. He tries not to.] Alphys never liked when I messed with her computer stuff, either. Dunno why. [He knows exactly why, and the answer is because he would always change the settings in a mostly harmless but extremely obnoxious way.]
You dunno, huh? [Papyrus imitates Sans's voice, mockingly but affectionately so. Still leaking tears, still worked up, but some tension in his body is relaxing again with the reassurance - the promise - not to touch the tower. As far as he can tell, his brother is being downright responsible and forthright today, by his standards. Sans seems to be keeping his word about these feelings powers, at least, and this has been... it's a lot of taking initiative to help.] Let me guess! Changing her icons to obnoxious things. And her ringtone. And her desktop image?
Those are called improvements. [But yes. Absolutely. Sans is relaxing more as Papyrus does; at least it seems like things are as normal as they get in San Benedicto again.]
You think so? I think you'll find you're wrong about that! [Papyrus makes a scoffing sound, unimpressed with Sans's nonsense.] As I'm sure you would find... if we could ask her...?
[Which... that, of course, brings up the question of what happened to her. If she was safe, how the evacuation went for everyone. Whether anyone managed to stop the human, through more conventionally lethal means than his last ditch plea to their morality and/or fears... One doesn't need to sense others' emotions to follow the path of his emotions, worry and unresolved grief clearly crossing his face again. But he ducks his head further, skimming the snapshots of memory he's saved to the phone to try and focus on something other than that uncertainty.]
[Sans doubts Alphys left her lab after everyone evacuated into it. She wouldn't leave everyone alone there. Besides, there wasn't anywhere for her to go, really. Not that it matters--the anomaly was on their way to ending everything. She wasn't killed, but she's probably dead by now.]
If she ever shows up, I'll let you know what she thinks. [Sans's reply is casual, but he's a little distant in his response. Trying not to think too hard about it. Thinking about home always gets that out of him.]
Psshhh. As if I'd believe your passed on message, about your own misdeeds? [Papyrus's voice is shaky, as he keeps trying to sound like normal. Feeling a need to compensate for the distance in Sans's voice, and the conversation veering dangerously towards... things.] I'll just... ask her myself! When I get the chance!
[If he ever gets the chance. Not looking likely, with how rare that strange lightning is, and how nobody else they've ever known has shown up. And it's not clear why, not when it turned out Sans hadn't died right after him, but after... a real fight, in a golden hallway...? He hasn't thought of that in a while, those memories he kept getting so frustrated with for leaking over the hivemind in the early part of renovating their new home. The echoes of grief and anger and retribution, but more than that the desperation to stop them before it was too late. That heavy, heart-crumbling guilt that even Papyrus's own death hadn't been too late... His fingers come to a trembling halt in his browsing of the gallery, as he stares more into secondhand memory than this copy of his own.]
I can't believe you guys are gonna gang up on me like this. [Which they're not, not really, because they're here and Alphys is... Not. Of course, they'd shown up even after being dead, but Sans has already thought before that it would take too much luck for more people from home to show up, and he's not changing that viewpoint. Anyway, if Alphys had been caught up in the end of the world, it might make it hard for even this place to grab her.
Sans notices the sudden pause in Papyrus's scrolling a moment after pushing his own thoughts away again. With how Papyrus is still adjusting to feeling emotions properly again, his first thought is it's something to do with that.] Bro?
[That thought's a safe guess, and not an inaccurate one. Papyrus trembles without immediately answering, glancing up at Sans's halo like he'll find the whole memories up there. What he got from Sans, now that he's pulling on them... It feels like hours passed, between their deaths.]
I'm... sorry. [He offers this in a smaller voice than usual, choked up with too many feelings even compared to the rest of the conversation.] Sorry I keep... leaving you alone, Sans. I know, it's not my fault, of course it's not! But...
[Sans isn't entirely sure what Papyrus is referring to, and he doesn't like that. There's a few options, but none of them are exactly things Sans wants to talk about. Still, Papyrus is right that it's not his fault. He's still got his hand on Papyrus's arm, and he pats it a little awkwardly.] Hey, you're here now, yeah? It's not your fault, so why worry about it? [...Whichever "it" they're talking about. Papyrus's tone seems thicker with emotion than it was even a few moments ago, and considering the things they were talking about in general, Sans suspects it was--uh, the first time. But if he asks and it's not that... Better not to ask.]
[Papyrus starts shaking his head before Sans even finishes talking, dismissing the dismissal. He's not sure he could not-worry about it, right this moment, and he doesn't want to try yet. Not just yet. It feels like... he owes Sans this? Even if Sans doesn't want to think about it. Maybe especially because of that.]
No, I know that. I just...! [He tentatively shifts his arm out from under Sans's, reaches behind to bring his brother in for a half-hug. Tentatively, because he is still unnerved about it, after all these emotions - but mostly because his mechanical body's so much sturdier than bones ever were, and Sans is already so fragile, and Papyrus never, ever wants to feel what it's like being on the other side of this grief firsthand. Especially not... literally.] It keeps... happening. And you, you keep going away. Hiding, from how it hurts... I don't want you being alone here. Or anywhere.
Edited (small text for sharing illegal sad feelings) 2021-12-23 09:40 (UTC)
[Sans freezes for a moment, surprised, before he returns the hug. There isn't a quick, breezy way to dodge this; he can hardly claim not to have been alone. Can't say it wasn't a big deal when it obviously was. Papyrus has acted strange here in several different ways. They both have. But when Sans thinks about being alone, really being alone, he goes back to his brother's dust blowing away in the wind of Snowdin. His grip tightens.] You're here now. [Which is a miracle, probably. You don't just come back to life, not if you're a monster, not after who knows how long.]
[It's not the responses he wants to hear, and Papyrus grumbles a particularly static sound of frustration, but he still nods into Sans's shoulder.] ...I'm here now. [His voice is soft and heavy with resignation and determination. He'll do his best to keep being here. Staying alive, copying the important things, making a whole complicated reminder of who he is and why and how, to keep being himself. Partly because being Papyrus is pretty great, even when he's weeping from feeling too much, and the world deserves to experience more of what he has to offer... And partly because, he can't be sure Sans won't fall to pieces and disappear from the world, if he's not. And maybe this is a feeling he should ask Sans to sense, this feeling of wanting his brother to live for himself, instead of... what he keeps doing, when Papyrus isn't quite there.]
Edited (narration missing an important sentence) 2021-12-23 10:31 (UTC)
[Sans hears the frustration and resignation and thinks, not for the first time, that he relies on Papyrus too much. That he's selfish. But there's part of him that's furious at the world over those thoughts--that he has to think them at all. It's the world and the things in it that keep taking his brother away. Papyrus shouldn't have died. Papyrus shouldn't keep getting his memories stolen and his personality changed. The universe itself is perfectly neutral, but there are things in it that have intent ranging from malicious to incomprehensible and even though there isn't a point to having all these feelings about it, Sans is angry anyway.] Sorry. [His voice is muffled, because he hasn't let go of Papyrus, is hanging on tight in a way he hasn't let himself before out of fear of saying things he tries to hide. All he can manage is an apology for a lot of things he doesn't talk about.]
that week delayed tag where you reread the whole thread and you're still not sure it's right, but
[It's just as well, because Papyrus isn't in a hurry to release the hug either. This time the sound he makes is somewhat less of frustration, and more of a sigh. Days like this... he can really understand wanting breaks from constantly striving for self-improvement. Just holding steady feels exhausting. When he speaks up, his voice is shaky - from all these feelings, from trying to sound steadier than he feels, and a little bit from forcing some levity into his voice.]
You... should be? [Despite the wording, it's not said harshly - if anything, his voice is growing shakier with trying not to laugh.] You're interrupting my saying sorry, to say sorry to me? Don't... don't start apologizing for me apologizing! Just saying sorry back and forth... We could get stuck forever! [It's silly enough he coughs a laugh before he realizes it, because feeling so intensely does mean feelings like amusement, too.]
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spaghettimonster) wrote2021-07-31 02:32 am
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[He offers it partly as a bone to throw for Sans's own self esteem, before he starts blaming himself for what was, Papyrus remembers, a tentatively offered maybe-solution. Partly, it's a reframing of the situation for himself, before he starts dwelling in the remembered frustration over forgetting things, how this is partly exactly what he wanted and exactly what he feared. He mumbles to himself:] ...Why did I want to remember that stuff so clearly, anyway...?
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[He squints at a sudden sense of deja vu. Belatedly remembering, he said that - verbatim - the night before. When Sans cornered him about acting weird, and he protested he didn't want to delete anything. Of course, he hates giving more fuel to weird nightmares about forgetting and being forgotten. But there was something more specific...]
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[It was meant to be a later surprise, a secret project with work still to do. But with the intensity of everything he's feeling right now, Papyrus rushes to open the image gallery and show it to his brother. Low resolution images of moments he never photographed, a video of chasing one of the younger rabbits around town, parts of a spar with Undyne, the start of burning her kitchen...]
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How many times did you guys set that kitchen on fire, anyway? [A very dangerous subject, but it's out of Sans's mouth before he can think on it, too busy trying to keep his own feelings under control.]
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Well.]
Yeah, sounds like that stuff's safe. [So maybe they should stop talking about this immediately.] Looks like it, too. [You know, with the images and videos on the phone.]
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[It may be an unnecessary demand, a rude accusation to hint at even with the knife situation. But he's realizing he wants to backup the backup, and hide the recursive backup somewhere that a hypothetical future Papyrus who doesn't care might not think to look. It'll take a costly external hard drive, as the files get ridiculously large when he tries to record long stretches of memory with all the details he could cram in... No wonder his physical memory got overwhelmed, trying to memorize things. And sprouting more computer stuff in his skull. Maybe he could upgrade his body, just in case that ever happens again...?]
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Sans doesn't know how to think about it. He tries not to.] Alphys never liked when I messed with her computer stuff, either. Dunno why. [He knows exactly why, and the answer is because he would always change the settings in a mostly harmless but extremely obnoxious way.]
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[Which... that, of course, brings up the question of what happened to her. If she was safe, how the evacuation went for everyone. Whether anyone managed to stop the human, through more conventionally lethal means than his last ditch plea to their morality and/or fears... One doesn't need to sense others' emotions to follow the path of his emotions, worry and unresolved grief clearly crossing his face again. But he ducks his head further, skimming the snapshots of memory he's saved to the phone to try and focus on something other than that uncertainty.]
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If she ever shows up, I'll let you know what she thinks. [Sans's reply is casual, but he's a little distant in his response. Trying not to think too hard about it. Thinking about home always gets that out of him.]
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[If he ever gets the chance. Not looking likely, with how rare that strange lightning is, and how nobody else they've ever known has shown up. And it's not clear why, not when it turned out Sans hadn't died right after him, but after... a real fight, in a golden hallway...? He hasn't thought of that in a while, those memories he kept getting so frustrated with for leaking over the hivemind in the early part of renovating their new home. The echoes of grief and anger and retribution, but more than that the desperation to stop them before it was too late. That heavy, heart-crumbling guilt that even Papyrus's own death hadn't been too late... His fingers come to a trembling halt in his browsing of the gallery, as he stares more into secondhand memory than this copy of his own.]
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Sans notices the sudden pause in Papyrus's scrolling a moment after pushing his own thoughts away again. With how Papyrus is still adjusting to feeling emotions properly again, his first thought is it's something to do with that.] Bro?
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I'm... sorry. [He offers this in a smaller voice than usual, choked up with too many feelings even compared to the rest of the conversation.] Sorry I keep... leaving you alone, Sans. I know, it's not my fault, of course it's not! But...
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No, I know that. I just...! [He tentatively shifts his arm out from under Sans's, reaches behind to bring his brother in for a half-hug. Tentatively, because he is still unnerved about it, after all these emotions - but mostly because his mechanical body's so much sturdier than bones ever were, and Sans is already so fragile, and Papyrus never, ever wants to feel what it's like being on the other side of this grief firsthand. Especially not... literally.] It keeps... happening. And you, you keep going away. Hiding, from how it hurts... I don't want you being alone here. Or anywhere.
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that week delayed tag where you reread the whole thread and you're still not sure it's right, but
You... should be? [Despite the wording, it's not said harshly - if anything, his voice is growing shakier with trying not to laugh.] You're interrupting my saying sorry, to say sorry to me? Don't... don't start apologizing for me apologizing! Just saying sorry back and forth... We could get stuck forever! [It's silly enough he coughs a laugh before he realizes it, because feeling so intensely does mean feelings like amusement, too.]
this is what happens when they try to talk about feelings
skeleton conundrum, they don't talk feelings when they're having them OR when they're not
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