#reflections. (drabble.)

Send ‘Flashback’to see one of my muse’s old memories

‘hey grillby, ya mind grabbin’ me a doggy bag?’

The small skeleton glanced back following a sudden scraping of chairs, suppressing a chuckle from the excited expressions on some of the other patrons, mainly the puppy clientele with wagging tails.

‘heh, sorry guys, slip of the figurative tongue.’

They grumbled good-naturedly and returned to their own preoccupations, the bartender shaking his head from the young monster’s antics and scooping his mostly untouched burg’ and fries into a paper bag, depositing it back in front of him.

Sans tipped back his ketchup bottle for the last swallow, eliciting a shudder from some of the other monsters seated at the bar, it seemed they weren’t yet used to the bitty bone’s taste in beverage.

Resting the empty bottle on the table, he snatched the greasy bag and slipped down off the stool, stuffing it in the pocket of his oversized hoodie.

‘thanks grillz.  be seein’ ya guys. stay pawsome.’

With a playful wink and a brief hum of magic he was gone, leaving amused chuckles in his wake.

He reappeared within their neighboring biome, near the dump ground where most monsters ended up scavenging trashed items from the surface - whether or not they openly admitted to doing so.

While he would normally visit for the same reason, lately he had been making the journey for one completely unrelated to the Dump itself, but for what he was certain he’d glimpsed there.

He pulled the warm bag from his pocket, glancing around before wandering further in, his perpetually-untied sneakers splashing quietly through the shallow stream that ran throughout.

He knew he didn’t have long to search and confirm his suspicions, though he was confident this time his offering would be accepted, his ‘shortcut’ here leaving the contents still warm and fresh, rather than the previous times he’d traversed Snowdin to reach Waterfall.

Finding a dry island of rubbish amid the stream, he knelt to place the bag down, unrolling the top to let the tantalizing scent waft from within.

He hoped it would be enough to attract the attention of the monster that dwelt there, angel knew how often they were able to find anything remotely edible amid the humans refuse. 

That’s why he tried to bring meals as often as he could.

His dad was the Royal Scientist after all, with a running tab at Grillby’s for himself and his brother - it’s not as if he’d get in trouble for sharing food with someone less fortunate.

And it’s not as if he’d care if he did, anyway.

Straightening up, bespectacled sockets surveyed his surroundings a final time before he prepared for the trip back home - he’d promised his brother he’d be back in time for another chapter of Fluffy Bunny before bed after all.

‘hope ya enjoy it, try ta’ stay warm tonight.’

Send ‘Flashback’to see one of my muse’s old memories

He snapped the book shut quietly, listening to his baby brother’s quiet snores, slightly muffled from his face being pressed against his oversized hoodie, his spindly arms wrapped around him even as he slumbered.

Sans chuckled low under his breath, setting the Adventures of Fluffy Bunny aside and stretching lazily, settling with his short arms around the dozing bitty bones, bumping his skull gingerly against Papyrus’s and closing his sockets.

He likely would have fallen asleep that way, curled beside his sibling in their shared Race-car bed, if there wasn’t a sudden lancing pain that spiked through his soul, the small skeleton weathering the agony in silence, ducking his skull and clutching Papyrus a bit closer.

When the torment finally passed, he was left panting for breath, opening his sockets only to close them again, disoriented from the black edging his vision.

Chronic pain, that’s what his father told him he was experiencing. It was because his soul was too weak to handle the abundance of magic it naturally produced.

He and his brother hadn’t come into the world like other monsters, there was no exact science to their stability compared to naturally born monsters. 

Sans had always been lacking in the stamina department, his HP was far below what it should have been at his age, and it seemed to only get worse as his magic further matured.

His soul was weakening.. he knew his father was working tirelessly trying to find a solution to the dilemma, at least with what little free time he had in between his projects for the King.

He wasn’t as blinded to the situation as he pretended to be.. his father would never admit it, but there was a very real chance.. if his soul continued to deteriorate.. 

His thoughts were interrupted from a small whine, opening his sockets and glancing down to his brother, who had buried his head against his chest, just over his weakly pulsing soul.

He let out a shaky breath, his natural grin faltering a bit while he rubbed Papyrus’s back soothingly, sending cool reassurance through their bond, hoping to dispel whatever nightmare had seized his sibling.

Once Papyrus had calmed and drifted back into peaceful dreams, Sans carefully slipped from his grip, sliding down off the bed and pulling the blankets over him, moving his own pillow closer for him to snuggle against.

He watched his brother sleep for a few moments more, resolve blazing to life in his white eyelights.

He couldn’t leave Papyrus.. no matter what.

If there was a chance.. he had to find it.

Gathering his magic, he opened an invisible rift that he had taken to calling ‘shortcuts’, stepping through it and into the familiar dark, barely there long enough to register a residual shudder before he found himself standing in his father’s lab.

It was always kept locked, the key always hidden on his person.

And for good reason.

Shivering from the foreboding chill that reigned throughout, Sans approached his father’s desk, rifling through research papers and calculations for various projects he was working on, until he found what he was looking for.

Tiny hands trembled a bit, scanning the information his father had compiled on his condition. The paper was barely legible, calculations angrily scribbled over, his desperation and frustration in his repeated failures was very apparent.

He was about to give up, convinced that his father was no closer to finding a viable solution.. until he reached the bottom of the page.  There was only a single sentence written, with no evidence of the enraged scrawls that dominated the rest of the report.

‘DT could work.. But it’s too dangerous to try..there has to be another way..’

Confused, he began to shuffle through the papers again, trying to find what “DT” could have possibly been referring to.

That was when he noticed his father’s locked desk drawer.. was unlocked, and partially open.

Swallowing back his fear, he slowly pulled it the rest of the way open, sockets widening at the lone object that lay within.

It was a small syringe, filled with a strange red fluid and topped with a hypodermic needle. Around the body of the syringe was a label reading simply “DT”

Sans stared at the syringe, a primal fear rearing up within him, making his soul twinge and a strong shiver surge down his spine. 

Whatever was inside that vial.. it was unnatural, an abhorrent abomination created inside this laboratory.. for what purpose, he couldn’t begin to fathom.

..But, did his dad believe it could save him.? 

Slowly, he uncapped the needle, eyelights seeming to cross slightly, dimming from fear. 

It was dangerous.. he would have been able to feel that even without his father’s words telling him so.. but time was running out. His attacks were getting worse.. and his father had made no headway in a cure. 

Nothing but.. this.

His jaw clicked from the force of which he grit his teeth, beginning to shake again, his grip tightening around the syringe so that his involuntary spasm didn’t force it from his grasp.

Moisture began to bead at the corners of his sockets, taking a shaky breath and calling forth his soul, the white glowing culmination of his being phasing through his hoodie, floating above his cupped hand.

Swallowing thickly, he steeled himself, squeezing his sockets shut, plunging the needle into his soul and injecting its contents before he could lose his nerve.

Agony of which he’d never experienced brought him immediately to his knees, a scream ripping from his nonexistent vocal cords, shuddering so powerfully his small skeletal frame was rattling, slumping in a slow collapse to the cold floor.

His consciousness was quickly fleeing, tears streaming down his cheekbones as he choked out a sob, his surroundings beginning to blur and muffle.

He stared at his quivering soul, a red crack beginning to form around the needle’s injection site, the empty syringe dropping to the floor just as the small skeleton fully collapsed, his sockets falling closed.

‘sorry papyrus..’