[Making the maze was weird, but that was for Papyrus, so it's not that weird, right? Well, it's more work than he usually does. Crawling across Papyrus was weird, at least when it wasn't in the name of annoying him.] I probably should've just let you move to the other side of the couch. [That would have been more reasonable, probably. He reaches to touch Papyrus's arm again and feels a little less disoriented.]
That would be more normal for you. Letting me move around, instead of moving yourself... [Which, come to think of it, is of a piece with the maze. Sans doing things that take effort without thinking twice about it. He pats Sans's hand without thinking about it himself, and stands in such a way that they don't have to separate while he switches sides of the couch.]
You said it's like cleaning your wings... And, you're always weird about your wings. [Papyrus says this part like it's a reassurance, that that part's not a new weird thing. And there's a little emphasis on your, because somehow it was uncomfortable to even say 'the' about them anymore. Those are Sans's wings, they're part of him. Papyrus gets that now, somehow, and he didn't notice when that changed.]
[Sans starts working on Papyrus's other elbow as soon as he sits down again. This is an easier angle to work from, regardless of any weirdness that may or may not be happening.] That's just my regular brother weirdness. [It's a different category; they're his wings and he'll be as weird as he wants about them. He's already falling into complacency again, but he can at least try to follow the plot even if he's less alarmed about it.] Well, it's a holiday. Holidays get weird here sometimes. [Not always--October had been more of a month-long thing than anything directly associated with Halloween--but enough to notice a bit of a pattern.]
Hmmm... [To the claim of 'regular brother weirdness', Papyrus offers only a polite but clearly skeptical sound. Sans being so diligent about cleaning them, low effort and discomfort or not, is still weird for his brother! Laundry and making the bed are low effort too, and look how he does with that. Irregular brother weirdness is the best he'll offer.
But past that, as Sans starts theorizing, Papyrus mentally pulls up a digital calendar. Highlights the spans of time when they noticed oddness, and changes - even if only in retrospect. Sure enough, Sans was right. As he usually is, when he takes things seriously enough! His brother's reliable like that. Papyrus texts Sans a link to the digital calendar as he nods.] Holidays, or pre-holidays. And today's supposed to be a holiday about love...? [Romantic, friendly, and familial, they've already established. Halloween had ghosts, Thanksgiving bafflingly gave what he was thankful for away...]
And chocolate. [But yes, love is actually the point. Also, speaking of Sans and taking things seriously, he's gotten entirely distracted from worrying about if he's acting weird or not again. Papyrus's elbow is done, so now the shoulder and Papyrus will be all evened out.] And mazes. [No, not mazes.]
Are you fishing for more compliments about the maze?? [Incredulous but amused, Papyrus texts him again with an image of a valentine heart with a maze in it.] I've only seen one maze, in all the ads. You're wildly overestimating the maze quotient here. [It's hard to focus on worrying about any of this, but easy to razz his brother for trying to mess around. That's reassuring, too. Or maybe the reassurance is just the feeling of relaxation leaking around... Hard to pin anything down.]
Which means 100% of our experience with Valentine's Day has involved mazes, right? [A sample size of one is not even a little scientific. By all accounts, Sans has mostly forgotten they were having a serious-ish conversation in favor of returning to telling jokes. Papyrus is right here, so it's fine.]
How did you ever call yourself a scientist?? [But he's still mostly joking, the concern fading in the face of a feeling of it all being fine. Besides, hadn't they already given up on not sharing food, since it was clear they couldn't prevent this stuff? No sense fighting what's out of their power - the better to save that energy for the stuff they can influence.
If it's a strange train of thought from him, a compromise between two conflicting sets of values, well... Sans is right here, they'll figure something out. Even if that something is figuring out how to fix the aftermath a few weeks from now.]
Hey, I never finished my doctorate. [Don't accuse him of aspirations, how dare you. It's a joke, but it's accompanied with a wave of sharper, crueler emotions directed inward. It's nothing Sans isn't used to, wouldn't even be worth noting, except if for some reason those emotions were being inadvertently shared. Oblivious, Sans is content to finish up Papyrus's shoulder until the feelings go away. He's generally in a good mood right now; it won't take long.]
let me edit that last line: he's generally in a good mood right now, it won't last long
I... [Papyrus goes quiet as Sans works, somehow feeling terrible after that response. It's not quite like his usual, if fleeting, feelings of guilt. But what else could such a painful, self-directed feeling with that timing be?
He wants to apologize for bringing it up, but saying so - saying sorry - would surely just invite Sans to put himself down in a joking tone some more. And this after all the work his brother did today. Papyrus really should lay off prodding him about productivity, or past lapses in it. It's only polite, as an expression of gratitude. Just a casual segue to something else...] You're right, never mind me! I-I suppose we can count your expertly crafted maze, as a thesis, soundly defended. You're welcome from me, life advisor Papyrus. Maybe I should make that my next job... [Nailed it.]
[Sans looks away from his task--well, he does keep an eye on it with his halo--and at Papyrus properly. He definitely wasn't expecting a response like that.] You'd be good at that. [Which is something Sans really does believe. It's not exactly addressing the situation, but it's good filler as he thinks. He can't just ask Papyrus if he's okay, that would be weird, which--wait.] Okay, I think things are definitely weird right now. [Right. They were talking about that. And then they just kind of stopped, which... Actually is also weird.]
...You think so too? Because. I'm feeling... weird. All of a sudden. [By which he means, bad. Bad about himself, which he doesn't usually feel. Not for long, not when he pushes the feeling aside for focusing on what he can do, and deflects attention about it by putting forth the face he wants others to see. Still confused and disoriented too, and now freshly so, with Sans suddenly contradicting himself.]
[Sans spares a hand to pat Papyrus's arm, which is not really the sort of reassurance Sans usually goes for.] Yeah. I don't know what's up yet. But it's something. [Maybe if he wasn't being weird he'd be able to immediately point out what was up. That's always part of the problem when these things happen.]
It's... very definitely both of us. [There's a little questioning lilt on the end of his statement, less in the sense of uncertainty as much as wondering whether Sans agrees. Candy (welcome) and mazes (very welcome) are still atypical from his brother, as is all the cuddling. Papyrus doesn't think he's behaving as unusually... But he's feeling strange. Maybe it's something contagious after all, something that Sans got hours ago and he's only just starting to change. His eyes drift to his brother's feet, as if looking for black spots.]
[Sans is struck with the idea that he might have caused this. That and the memory of the leeches, returning unbidden, makes him jerk away, almost falling off the couch. Being separated from Papyrus even by this much doesn't do anything for his nerves, but for now he can ignore that.] Did I infect you or something? [There are no black spots on Sans, at least in any visible areas. Sans looks down at himself like he might see something, but there's nothing. He was able to sense a leech in him last time. Wait, no, it couldn't be the leeches, Sans hasn't been in the lake and he stays out of the water in the cave. Leeches can't leave the water, right?]
we have strapped rocket boosters to the paranoia spiral
[He startles when Sans jerks away, and they're both left pulling apart to far sides of the couch, staring at each other and themselves warily. Papyrus's wariness only spikes with that question, with it so close to his own unspoken thoughts - so much that it almost seems like evidence.]
D-Did you? [Papyrus glances around, and his eyes slowly settle on the box of chocolates. White chocolate. Like bone dust might blend right in on. Had... Had it been at all dusty? Wouldn't Sans's dust faintly glow, anyway? He touches a finger to his teeth, testing for residual chocolate.]
I didn't put anything in the chocolate. [Which, wow, only makes it sound like he absolutely did, huh? But in this case the chocolate was sealed in plastic when Papyrus got it, so there's some evidence to prove Sans isn't lying.] I woke up, hung out with you for a bit, took a nap [with his window open, to better soak up sunlight, though it doesn't occur to Sans to list it--but that's when the pollen got in], figured I'd make that maze when I woke up, so I skipped work and did that. Watched TV for a while. Then you got back. [The maze took up most of his day. He did stop for food a few times, but it was food he ate, not food he gave to Papyrus, so...] I've just been here today.
...And we just opened the container. [Papyrus says this with confusion, like he's remembering it on his own, because what else explains the sudden image of them breaking the plastic? Now he's gone saying accusatory things, put Sans on the defensive and brought down the mood. It feels worse than usual to even jokingly complain at Sans, let alone something sincere.] Sorry, I...
[He shakes his head, wrings gloved hands together in his lap. Reaches to the network, and notes recently posted things. Various love confessions, complaints from people with hay fever about the unseasonal pollen, an announcement from some florist that they're out of stock for the day...]
I think I was fine at work... And the car ride back. [The coworker offering the ride hadn't complained he was behaving strangely, at least. And nobody had been making a point to touch.]
Are we counting making the maze as me being weird? [They've been kind of going back and forth on that. Sans still mostly cares that Papyrus enjoyed it, so it's hard to think of it as the start of something potentially bad.] I guess I started being weird first. [Which means he did infect Papyrus somehow. It must have been him, right? He feels particularly bad about it; it's stronger than most of his feelings are, like it's multiplied in strength.] Sorry. [He reaches out to Papyrus again, but with the distance, he manages to catch himself before he can actually touch him again.]
Well, not all the weird stuff has to be bad. There's good things too. [He's genuinely glad for the ability to save backups of his memories, scrapbooks and all. Maybe it'd be better if he had a lot more bone than machine going on, but a little machine isn't bad. And, surely there's things Sans likes in their changes too, something he can think of that won't sound so guilty and sad.]
Augh, I'm starting to feel guilty for feeling guilty. Is this going to be a few weeks of, of feeling weird things, at random?? I almost want to be numb again instead.
[And he could, if he really wanted, couldn't he? Whether secondhand by replaying some of his recorded memories from then, or by outright pushing himself to remember things so thoroughly that he goes back to it. But that'd leave Sans alone in being weird and guilty, and then nobody would be enjoying the maze. Terrible idea, scrapped already.
[Sans remembers the numbness--remembers it almost firsthand. Of course, he'd borrowed Papyrus's emotions to try and help out, so it's sort of--Wait. Feeling weird things at random. And remembering the numbness like it was his, when it wasn't. Sans recognizes this; his alarm spikes, though it doesn't show as more than a slight widening of his eye sockets on the outside.]
It's not random. We're sharing emotions. [Again. If it's like the leeches--Don't think about the leeches. Sans doesn't feel like he's being pushed out of his own head. This is more like his own emotional abilities. He can remember a few times they'd gone off at random, when he'd attuned to Papyrus that first time and gotten much more energetic, the times when he'd found himself in step with the mood of the dig site or the atmosphere of the city when things got particularly anxious. (He hasn't told Papyrus about those last two. But he's thinking about them now). It's more like that, and less like the leeches. The better option, definitely.]
Again?? [Papyrus doesn't wonder why that's the word to come to mind, not when he was already thinking about - about things they try not to talk about. That week and change when he got the house, and he'd overridden a bunch of peoples' lives, but he'd hardly been himself either. Is some of his guilt now his own, remembering how badly he'd treated Sans then, when negativity had felt so furiously unacceptable?
...Not that he's a fan of the guilt, shame, and sadness that he's been noticing the last couple minutes, which... oh. Now that he thinks on it, thinks on these feelings, they do feel like the kinds of things he'd been pushing Sans away about. They're still... not great to feel. He still (still?? it's different, surely) wishes Sans wasn't feeling like that, that the things leaking were a better experience. Even their shared focus about helping people and some obligation as gods (weird and disorienting as that was!) would be better.
But... he wants to give his brother a hug and apology, and interrogate him about these sudden impressions that this isn't the only time emotions have gone leaking around. Not push his mind away altogether.] Not, uh, not accusing you! But. Are you, accidentally, doing a thing, maybe because of the weirdness?
It's not me. See? [Sans shifts away from Papyrus, deliberately putting even more distance between them. There's no way to prove he's not listening in on Papyrus's emotions, since those don't require touch, but sharing them back would. But as he increases the distance, he wants to hang onto Papyrus again. With the (probably temporary) clarity of trying to work out the emotion situation, he's aware that's kind of weird too.
It occurs to him that if he's sharing emotions again Papyrus isn't going to be having a fun time. He reaches for a happier memory--of making Papyrus's birthday cake, putting the twizzler arms on and arranging all the little candy pieces. It had been kind of sloppy, but he'd mostly managed straight lines. It'd been fun.]
Edited (just noticed a continuity error but I fixed it) 2022-03-09 01:32 (UTC)
And, you needed to be touching. [Papyrus nods slowly, that detail trickling into his mind as if remembered, and yet. He does remember Sans saying so, in the fragmented memories around talking that night. But that isn't how he remembered - more like a secondhand memory, like those details about the golden hall.
He glances away with a hint of grimace, realizing - and not wanting to outright say and make true - that it's not just feelings. So of course he starts feeling happy with the idea of cake out of nowhere.] Are you... craving cake...?
[It's not a bad feeling, at any rate. A far easier topic than emotion sharing stuff, at any rate! There are worse things about the last time to be recurring, as long as they continue keeping their bone in their them, and not their food!]
[Sans's perpetual grin quirks up lopsidedly. Yeah, they're sharing more than just emotions, aren't they?] Was thinkin' about the robot cake I made you. Figured that'd be a good test thought. [Better than all the other emotions swirling around this conversation. Better than the numb but sharp edges of Sans's mind.] But hey, I could go for cake.
[But Papyrus knew it was cake-related, and not just some happy thought. Sans's emotion magic doesn't work that way; he can't tell what's making anyone feel things except by the normal methods. Their minds are attached again. He doesn't say it, but he's thinking about it. He can't not think about it.]
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spaghettimonster) wrote2021-07-31 02:32 am
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You said it's like cleaning your wings... And, you're always weird about your wings. [Papyrus says this part like it's a reassurance, that that part's not a new weird thing. And there's a little emphasis on your, because somehow it was uncomfortable to even say 'the' about them anymore. Those are Sans's wings, they're part of him. Papyrus gets that now, somehow, and he didn't notice when that changed.]
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But past that, as Sans starts theorizing, Papyrus mentally pulls up a digital calendar. Highlights the spans of time when they noticed oddness, and changes - even if only in retrospect. Sure enough, Sans was right. As he usually is, when he takes things seriously enough! His brother's reliable like that. Papyrus texts Sans a link to the digital calendar as he nods.] Holidays, or pre-holidays. And today's supposed to be a holiday about love...? [Romantic, friendly, and familial, they've already established. Halloween had ghosts, Thanksgiving bafflingly gave what he was thankful for away...]
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If it's a strange train of thought from him, a compromise between two conflicting sets of values, well... Sans is right here, they'll figure something out. Even if that something is figuring out how to fix the aftermath a few weeks from now.]
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let me edit that last line: he's generally in a good mood right now, it won't last long
He wants to apologize for bringing it up, but saying so - saying sorry - would surely just invite Sans to put himself down in a joking tone some more. And this after all the work his brother did today. Papyrus really should lay off prodding him about productivity, or past lapses in it. It's only polite, as an expression of gratitude. Just a casual segue to something else...] You're right, never mind me! I-I suppose we can count your expertly crafted maze, as a thesis, soundly defended. You're welcome from me, life advisor Papyrus. Maybe I should make that my next job... [Nailed it.]
you're right
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we have strapped rocket boosters to the paranoia spiral
D-Did you? [Papyrus glances around, and his eyes slowly settle on the box of chocolates. White chocolate. Like bone dust might blend right in on. Had... Had it been at all dusty? Wouldn't Sans's dust faintly glow, anyway? He touches a finger to his teeth, testing for residual chocolate.]
pchoooo
[Is their house infected with something?]
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[He shakes his head, wrings gloved hands together in his lap. Reaches to the network, and notes recently posted things. Various love confessions, complaints from people with hay fever about the unseasonal pollen, an announcement from some florist that they're out of stock for the day...]
I think I was fine at work... And the car ride back. [The coworker offering the ride hadn't complained he was behaving strangely, at least. And nobody had been making a point to touch.]
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Augh, I'm starting to feel guilty for feeling guilty. Is this going to be a few weeks of, of feeling weird things, at random?? I almost want to be numb again instead.
[And he could, if he really wanted, couldn't he? Whether secondhand by replaying some of his recorded memories from then, or by outright pushing himself to remember things so thoroughly that he goes back to it. But that'd leave Sans alone in being weird and guilty, and then nobody would be enjoying the maze. Terrible idea, scrapped already.
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It's not random. We're sharing emotions. [Again. If it's like the leeches--Don't think about the leeches. Sans doesn't feel like he's being pushed out of his own head. This is more like his own emotional abilities. He can remember a few times they'd gone off at random, when he'd attuned to Papyrus that first time and gotten much more energetic, the times when he'd found himself in step with the mood of the dig site or the atmosphere of the city when things got particularly anxious. (He hasn't told Papyrus about those last two. But he's thinking about them now). It's more like that, and less like the leeches. The better option, definitely.]
you ever spend an hour rereading threads
...Not that he's a fan of the guilt, shame, and sadness that he's been noticing the last couple minutes, which... oh. Now that he thinks on it, thinks on these feelings, they do feel like the kinds of things he'd been pushing Sans away about. They're still... not great to feel. He still (still?? it's different, surely) wishes Sans wasn't feeling like that, that the things leaking were a better experience. Even their shared focus about helping people and some obligation as gods (weird and disorienting as that was!) would be better.
But... he wants to give his brother a hug and apology, and interrogate him about these sudden impressions that this isn't the only time emotions have gone leaking around. Not push his mind away altogether.] Not, uh, not accusing you! But. Are you, accidentally, doing a thing, maybe because of the weirdness?
yes, it's a good pasttime
It occurs to him that if he's sharing emotions again Papyrus isn't going to be having a fun time. He reaches for a happier memory--of making Papyrus's birthday cake, putting the twizzler arms on and arranging all the little candy pieces. It had been kind of sloppy, but he'd mostly managed straight lines. It'd been fun.]
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He glances away with a hint of grimace, realizing - and not wanting to outright say and make true - that it's not just feelings. So of course he starts feeling happy with the idea of cake out of nowhere.] Are you... craving cake...?
[It's not a bad feeling, at any rate. A far easier topic than emotion sharing stuff, at any rate! There are worse things about the last time to be recurring, as long as they continue keeping their bone in their them, and not their food!]
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[But Papyrus knew it was cake-related, and not just some happy thought. Sans's emotion magic doesn't work that way; he can't tell what's making anyone feel things except by the normal methods. Their minds are attached again. He doesn't say it, but he's thinking about it. He can't not think about it.]
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some days, a tag is just a skeleton blue screening a little. sometime that's the hook
this is a good day for it
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in which papyrus needs to internal monologue to encompass multiple trains of thought
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