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#the gaping eye sockets and permanent grin of a skeleton really speaks to me
willow-of-stars · 3 years
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I think I will like to be a skeleton, just get rid of all the other stuff, I don’t need it, just a minimalist style body
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bonelymonsterclub · 3 years
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(1) Branded For Carnage
“No, no, no...” you moaned, desperately twisting the rusty knobs of your cramped shower.  The pipes groaned within the walls, water trickling from the shower head, then with an ominous rattle, the water stopped.  Again.  “Shit.”  You raked your fingers through your hair, grimacing at the built-up grease from a weekend of vegging on the couch and wishing for the sweet embrace of death.  Now the weekend was over, and in little over an hour, you were to begin your new job at a bar-slash-restaurant called “Grillby's”; it was a monster-run establishment, but over the five months since monsters were freed from beneath the mountain, it was quickly becoming one of the most popular eateries in Ebott City.  You wanted to make a good first impression, and you certainly couldn't do that if you showed up looking like Death himself had personally paid you a visit, not to mention your probably smelled like sweat and junk food.  “Shit!”
You paced the limited width of the room, biting at your thumbnail, before you finally slumped against the sink and succumbed to your fate: you'd have to suck up your pride and ask one of the neighbors to take pity on you and let you clean up in their bathroom.  That wouldn't normally have been a problem, except you'd only been existing in your apartment for about two and a half weeks and, being so busy between job-hunting and unpacking your shit, you hadn't bothered to introduce yourself to anyone.
What a great first impression I'll be making, you thought sarcastically as you finally left the bathroom, your clothes for the day tossed over your arm.  You'd never had to do a walk of shame, but you imagined that it was something similar to how you felt as you exited your apartment and dragged your feet until you were in front of your neighbor's door.  You knocked lightly on the worn wood and popped your knuckles as you waited.  Thumping footsteps sounded from within and when the door swung open, you looked up... and up.  Before you stood a monster made of bone and pure spite, if the way he was glaring at you was any indication.  He was dressed in really tight-looking black pants, a long-sleeved maroon shirt, and curiously enough, despite it being the beginning of summer, a tattered red scarf and a pair of red gloves.
“Human,” he growled, crossing his arms.  “What Reason Could You Possibly Have For Interrupting The Illustrious Papyrus' Morning Routine?”
You swallowed thickly.  Now, you had no problem with monsters, considering you'd be working under one for the foreseeable future, but this had to be the most intimidating one you'd ever laid your eyes on – the deep scars across his eye socket enhanced his terrifying appearance.  Your mind couldn't help but compare him to the image humans held of the Grim Reaper.
“I See.  I Should've Known That A Mere Human Would Be Struck Speechless In My Awesome Presence,” he sighed, sounding greatly put upon.
“N- no!” you finally managed to stammer.  “That's not it.  Sorry, um... Papyrus, was it?  I'm one of your neighbors and my shower isn't working, so I was hoping I could possibly use yours?  It'll be quick; ten minutes at the most.”
Papyrus stared at you inscrutably for a moment before scoffing.  “Nice Try, Human.  You've Underestimated My Brilliance.  I Am Not Foolish Enough To Allow You To Infiltrate My Home So You Know The Layout To Raid It Later.”
You gaped at him in disbelief for a moment.  Is he serious?  “But-”
“ENOUGH!”  You jumped.  “Scurry Back To Whatever Hole You Crawled Out Of And See To It That You Don't Pester Me Again.”  He appeared to deem the conversation finished after that because, without giving you a chance to speak further, he stepped back and slammed the door in your face.
You bit your lip when you heard another door somewhere behind you click shut softly.  Papyrus' words were probably heard by all of the occupants of your floor – the whole apartment building, perhaps, considering your apparently lackluster luck.  You weren't sure you wanted to take a chance with anyone else after that – perhaps you could call up your sister, but though she didn't live very far, the travel time in addition to your shower would likely make you late.  Before you could slunk off to hide away in your apartment and try to wash up with the kitchen sink, the door in front of you swung open again, making you flinch.
“I- I was just going!”  you yelped; however, it wasn't Papyrus who was staring you down this time, but another skeleton who appeared quite a bit shorter, rounder, and all-together too tired.
Clad in a red turtleneck, black shorts, and fuzzy pink slippers, this new skeleton didn't seem quite as threatening as Papyrus.  He was a few inches shorter than you and had prominent fangs on display; he also had a scar, though it was on the top of his skull rather than directly on his face.  However, it wasn't his appearance that sent a chill down your spine.  This skeleton had a presence that not even Papyrus had managed, and it made you all the more nervous when he apparently finished his silent assessment of you and made eye contact.  (Well, you thought he was making eye contact; his eye sockets were as empty as Papyrus'.)
“*come on in,” he said, stepping aside slightly.
Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn't that, and you gaped at him for a moment.  His brow furrowed after a moment and your panic began anew, thinking you'd offended him, but he just opened the door wider.
“*well?  you wanted t’ take a shower, didn't ya?”  His mouth was set in a permanent grin, but somehow, you could've sworn it grew a little bigger as he teased, “*we ain't gonna bite, sweetheart.”
You grew flustered and shuffled past him when he waved you through the doorway.  You peered around meekly as he nudged the door shut.  The layout wasn't much different from your apartment, though they had a lot more stuff cluttering the floor.
“SANS!”
You would forever deny the startled squeak that escaped you when Papyrus barged out of the kitchen area.  He glared at you so hard that you thought you might combust on the spot.
“Sans,” he repeated in a quieter, much eerier tone.  “What, Exactly, Is That Human Doing In Our Home?”
“*they're gonna use our shower,” the shorter skeleton – Sans – replied casually.  “*geez, paps.  ya realize that makin' a good first impression ain't just not killin' someone on the spot anymore.  ya gotta show some kindness.  ‘member?”
“But Not Killing Them On The Spot Is A Kindness!”  Papyrus insisted.
“*ya wanna take that up with the kid?”
Somehow that seemed to mellow Papyrus out.  He returned his gaze to you and sighed heavily.  “My... Apologies, Human,” he said lowly through clenched teeth.  “Please, Feel Free To Put Our Shower To Good Use.  Heaven Knows That Sans Doesn't.”
Despite how... forced the apology sounded, it sort of felt like he was attempting to joke around at the end.
“Thank you so much!”  You could've cried with relief.  “I promise I'll be out of your way as soon as possible.”
Was it you or were Papyrus' cheeks turning red?  “See To It That You Do.  Sans, Breakfast Is Waiting.”
Sans pointed out the bathroom to you – though you could've located it yourself, seeing as their apartment layout was similar to yours, you were grateful for his help – and you hurried into it, locking the door behind you for good measure.  You set your work clothes on the counter, turned the shower on as hot as it would go, then stripped and hopped in.  There weren't any cleaning products you could use – just a large bottle of Mettaton's Patented Bone Bleach, which you were sure wasn't made for humans –, but you weren't too concerned.  You had post-shower products you could put in your hair and deodorant, so you scrubbed yourself down thoroughly before getting out.  It was only after you shut off the shower and stepped out that you realized that you hadn't even checked to see if there were any towels, but you saw a fluffy white one folded and set on the other side of the sink from your clothes.  You were pretty sure there hadn't been one when you walked into the bathroom, but considering that you locked the door, it wasn't like your hosts could've snuck in and set it there.  You marked it down as you being oblivious to it on your way in and set to drying yourself off before redressing.
When you stepped out of the bathroom, dirty clothes bundled under one arm, you almost collided with Papyrus’ rib cage.  You shuffled back enough to look up at him, though he stubbornly refused to meet your gaze, glaring a hole through the door behind you.
“Human, Allow Me To Make Up For My Discourteous Manners By Treating You To Breakfast.”
He gestured towards the kitchen, where you could see Sans sitting at a high-set table, groggily shoveling spoonfuls of red mush into his mouth.
“There’s really no need,” you protested.
“I Insist.”
You had a feeling you weren’t going to win this argument, especially with the way he was now scowling at you.  That’s how you found yourself seated at the table, next to Sans and across from Papyrus, with that aforementioned red mush piled onto a plate in front of you.
“Can I ask what this is?”  You prodded at the paste with your fork, thrown off by its jello-like consistency.
Papyrus scoffed as he dug into a bowl of oatmeal with dinosaur eggs.  “Honestly, You’ve No Eye For The Culinary Arts.  It’s Lasagna, My Personal Recipe!”
You stared blankly at the heap of… lasagna on your plate and wondered if it was even safe to consume.  But Sans was eating it with no problem - he’d even gone for seconds -, so it couldn’t be poisoned at the very least.  You briefly met Papyrus’ expectant stare, then scooped up a forkful of the stuff and shoved it into your mouth before you could second guess your decision.  As soon as the slop touched your tongue, you had to clamp your jaws together tightly to fight off your gag reflex.  It took everything you had to not let your face scrunch up in response to the indescribable flavor.  You somehow managed to choke it, and the next several forkfuls, down, sending Sans a grateful look when he slid his half-full glass of milk over to you, and you took a swig before daring to look Papyrus in the eyes again.  Sans had finished his meal at this point and was slumped over the table, his face buried in his arms, but you could somehow feel the threatening expectations he held for your next words.
“It… was great, Papyrus,” you said, offering him a smile.  “Nearly as great as you.”
Sans began to snore as Papyrus sat ramrod straight, looking proud - and was that a hint of relief you saw there?
“W- Well Of Course It Was!” he boasted.  “It Is The Only Meal I Learned To Cook Back In Snowdin.”
The only meal?  No wonder Sans could handle it without a problem; his poor taste buds had probably been rotted away from Papyrus’ concoction.  (Did skeletons even have taste buds?  Did they even have tongues?)
You dared to tread into unstable territory.  “This is the only meal you know?  But surely, with your cooking prowess, you’d have more in your repertoire.”
Papyrus sputtered and though he didn’t look up, Sans’ snoring ceased.  The taller skeleton’s face was turning all kinds of red and you knew you had to conclude this quickly.
“Oh, I have an idea!”  you announced with a gleeful clap of your hands, as if a thought was just coming to mind.  “I happen to have went to culinary school for a time, and I know how to make all sorts of food.  Let’s make a deal, Papyrus.  In exchange for me using your shower until mine gets fixed, how about I teach you some recipes I know?”
Papyrus mulled over this - visibly putting a hand to his chin and humming aloud -, then seemed to come to a decision with a firm nod.  He stood from his chair and leaned over the table to offer a gloved hand to you.
“You Have Yourself A Deal, Human.”
You stood as well, shaking his hand and altogether relieved your risk would be well-rewarded in exchange for something you genuinely enjoyed doing.  Your phone began buzzing insistently in your pocket - your alarm alerting you to head for Grillby’s now or you’d be late - and you gathered your clothes once more from where you’d set them beside your seat.
“I have to go now,” you said.  Papyrus’ eyes darted to your uncleared plate with barely disguised disappointment and though you knew you’d probably regret it later, you stole another large forkful of food.  It was worth it to see the spark of surprise and delight on the intimidating skeleton’s face.  “I’ll come see you later to set up our dates.  Thanks for breakfast!”
“D- DATES!?”  Papyrus’ shriek exploded behind you as you escaped their apartment to beeline to yours to deposit your clothes and slap on some deodorant before you headed out.
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