spaghettimonster | Canyon: Inbox

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?]

[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.

[Is their house infected with something?]

...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.]

[Papyrus starts wringing his hands again as he picks up on the thought. The persistent thought, about the last time this kind of thing happened. (That this is a thing that keeps happening.) The leeches. Smiling until bone strained to the edge of cracking. Deliberately picking people to pull into his influence, the better to make things better. Increasingly decisive action, fueled by anger, at anything not happy.]

I... I'm not... It's, okay, if we're being. Sad, a little. [Something avoidant draws his attention to numb, sharp edges somewhere. The mutual impulse to hide things. So Sans doesn't feel worse about himself for the ways he doesn't support Papyrus as well as he tries to. So Papyrus doesn't feel haunted by the real depths of Sans's apathy. Had he noticed the ways it's hard to tell who's feeling what, before? Or had he already been so changed he was barely Papyrus? He feels like he's still himself, even if he's feeling other things in addition to it. (But then again, he did then, too.)] And maybe store-bought! This time. Who, uh, who needs to bake. Not me.

Buying one's way easier. [Sans has no urge to fill the whole kitchen with baked goods. Making that pie had been nice, and Papyrus liking it had been nice too, but doing much of anything in the kitchen while they're like this seems like it's just asking to bring up terrible memories. He tries to settle himself normally on the couch again, but somehow he's gotten closer to Papyrus than he meant to be even if he's careful to make sure they're not touching.

Sans is prepping himself to say something he doesn't want to be thinking about. It doesn't show on his face at all, which he's keeping casual, but it's like all the gears of Sans's mind start working overtime as he tries to work out the best way to address something he'd rather avoid and finally gives up in favor of being blunt.] It's not leeches. I could see the leeches. [He can't see any leeches right now, so it's not them. If they keep thinking about all of that, it's not going to help the shared internal mood.]

[Papyrus nods with relief, despite his mild amusement that of course Sans would vote for the lazier option. He doesn't protest or shift away at Sans's approach, either.]

Unless they got sneakier. [It's a more suspicious sentiment than Papyrus usually shares, especially with his brother, but even as he says it something's continuing to relax in his shoulders. Internal fans don't go silent, but they're quieter, whirring along with his thoughts and worries.] You seem... You're sure. [It's not a question, even if it should be.] So it's something else... That convinced you to want a really cool yard.

[If the leeches have started crawling around lawns now, maybe Sans should have set more of theirs on fire. Oh well. He's still sure about the leech thing regardless.] I could feel 'em, too. Even before I could see 'em and knew what was happening. [Which is the most belated explanation for why Sans had been extra suspicious about Papyrus's cookies way back then (even beyond their surprising quality) ever.] So yeah, this is something else. Still sucks, though, sorry. [Papyrus doesn't deserve to have Sans in his head. That's not fair to Papyrus.]

[He nods along slowly to the explanation, to that inkling of suspicion but going along with it that had apparently underlined the sharing of cookies, back then. It's not an answer to what's happening or why, it's not a guarantee that something worse isn't coming. But it's one of his worst fears reasonably addressed, a relief from fear that gives him extra processing power for noting the hints of a downward trend in what he can pick up of his brother's feelings and thoughts.]

You're apologizing for the maze? [There is no convincingly pretending that he misunderstands Sans's meaning, not when they're leaking feelings like this. But he pretends anyway, as if Sans's notion that this isn't fair to Papyrus means he has free rein to decide what's happening in the conversation.] If that's the kind of thing we feel like doing, I have ideas for improvement!

[Sans knows Papyrus isn't really misunderstanding him, but he goes along with it anyway because he could really use a distraction from his thoughts. It's probably more obvious than ever how easily Sans covers up whatever's going on in his mind with casual, lazy expressions, but they can both just keep pretending things right now.] Already? You gonna start putting together some diagrams?

[It's obvious, partly in the sense that Papyrus already knew / suspected it, but partly in the sense of feeling it. Which is worrying - how much can Sans feel of his own avoidance and deflection patterns? They work best when people don't suspect he's hiding anything. At least they're agreed on talking about stuff like this instead. Maybe it'll even distract them enough to be actually focused on these things.]

I.... could be! But. I was just. At the point of suggesting cooler colors. [Okay, technically speaking blue flame wouldn't be cooler in the heat sense, only in the aesthetic sense. But with a little application of different chemicals...]

If you're working on it, it'll definitely get cooler. [WINK. Blue is also Sans's favorite color, actually, not that it comes up much (and not that he's going to mention the color out loud because even if he can't avoid reading Papyrus's mind right now that's weird). Still, there's a reason his favorite hoodie is the blue one and it's not because he cares about matching with blue magic. It's been a while since he's worn it, though; it might be time to fix it up so it fits his wings.]

[Papyrus cackles, self-satisfied with the agreement on his color choices and coolness alike. It's fortunate their magic worked with them in that respect, for all Sans didn't take enough advantage of it in recent years.

And now... Well, maybe nostalgia's why he finds himself thinking about how long it's been since either wore their old clothes. His are well-laundered, if back in his closet ever since he came back to his senses in November. The idea of wearing Sans's old hoodie again...]

Maybe freshly wash it first? [It's not until after he speaks that he recognizes he responded to a train of thought instead of a word, and he's immediately embarrassed, but not enough to take the suggestion back. If for nothing else than the fresh scents!]

Canyon: Inbox

let me edit that last line: he's generally in a good mood right now, it won't last long

you're right

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we have strapped rocket boosters to the paranoia spiral

pchoooo

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you ever spend an hour rereading threads

yes, it's a good pasttime

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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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