#sfpapyrus

POV: YOU LIKE

an older thing i did for him a long while ago. 

@dr-ramm-the-roboticist liked for a starter!

It was a fairly quiet day at Aperture, an enjoyable day with few problems or responsibilities. A good day to sit back, relax, and sip a cup of coffee. That was, of course, until Papyrus barged into Ramm’s office and slammed the door behind him, a birthday cake of some kind totally smashed on his head and onto his coat. He grumbled as he approached Ramm, narrowing his eye sockets.

Their head turned calmly to bring their one eye’s gaze onto the Brother’s. After the first glance, they didn’t seem quite... Solid. At least, not at first. After a few moments, their body took much clearer form. Their skin was a light purple, with the dark substance at all of the edges. A considerable amount of the substance was visible on their neck, before it disappeared into the sweater. The tips of their hair all faded to black, and had little drips of the substance on them. Their eye was pitch black, save for the red iris that signified where they were looking. That dark substance leaked down from their eye. The only other particularly notable thing about them was the cobalt blue locket around their neck. It looked like it contained a badly cracked red soul.

After they watched the Brother’s for a moment, they brought a hand up, snapping. With the snap, the portal snapped shut, leaving not even as much as a trace of its existence. Now, the nameless individual stood alone with the two brothers, the grin shifting to a clam smiled. They raised their visible eyebrow, the left- and let out a chuckle. Their voice was mildly feminine, but still mostly sounding androgynous.

“Against my will? Yes,” he winked. “Believe me, it’s much better than the other punishment I had in mind. That one involved a lot of rope, and some other helpful tools… So, how red is your face, hmm? Can’t say I’ve seen it with that helmet on, but I can guess. Hmm… Tomato, I’m sure. Isn’t it hot inside that helmet with such a hot blush?” He was trying to indirectly entice him to take it off.

She’d always have scars–mostly covered by the clothes, and once a large one on her side–so she knew the high probability that he was lying.