Work Text:
Slippers are Better for Bones, Anyway
“Oooookay, that’s enough for that. See ya soon, bone bros.”
You’ve just finished playing through the Snowdin portion of the hit indie game Undertale for the 28th… no, the 29th time. Not 29 times without a break, of course, you have your handful of other responsibilities to take care of, but ever since discovering the game, your obsession over the world and its amazing characters has kept you coming back to it again and again. Sure, replaying the game might not align with some of the messages it’s tried teaching when you complete the True Pacifist route, but if you’re giving the characters all the respect and care you can each time, that can’t be the worst, thing… right?
“...Eh, don’t worry about it. They aren’t real, as sad as that is.”
The start of the game, where you make your way through Snowdin, is always your favorite. The landscape’s always seemed so calming and isolated from the hustle and bustle of New Home, but the characters in it are what have drawn you to it the most. Making your way through Papyrus’ puzzles and getting to see his hard-working and eccentric personality in action always puts a smile on your face, and Sans… you swear Sans is everything you want to be. Quirky, funny, accomplishes so much without many words, and under the laid-back surface, does care a lot about the people around him. You’ve got a Sans hoodie you wear around your place to try to replicate what you imagine his comfort’s like, and you happen to be wearing it right now, jokingly thinking of it as your ‘game robe’.
“Alright, hitting the off button. Thanks for the meal at Grillby’s, Sans, sorry I reset the game again to do it.”
Again, there’s no being in your computer to listen, but it feels better saying it. Playing through the dinner scene at Grillby’s always feels so calm, and you can’t help but wish often that you could be in his shoes- or, uh, slippers- and enjoy that kind of peace. Playthrough will have to wait, though, you’ve got work in half an hour.
You save at the ‘SAVE’ point outside Snowdin’s hotel, close the game, and shut your laptop. To your surprise, though, when you shut your laptop and get up on your feet, you feel a ppppphhhhllllrrrrttt under your foot. Lifting it up, you see it’s the little Sans whoopee cushion you’d bought. It’s not a surprise seeing it knocked on the floor, but you can’t recall blowing it up…
“Huh. That’s weird, when did I… *sniff*…”
The gas that’d filled the whoopee cushion reaches your nose, and it smells weird. It’s… like a mix of hot dog condiments, marshland, and… sprinkles?
“Woah, when was my breath that funky?”
It’s really confusing, and you hold your hand to your nose in case your apartment’s got some unfortunate gas leak you need to get out of.
...Well, you try reaching for your nose. After a moment of grabbing at it, your fingers suddenly come together, not feeling anything. Poking around at that part of your face, all that’s left there is some kind of… hole?
“...What the hell…”
You try smacking the side of your head a bit, figuring something in that smell, or gas, or whatever it is is making your feel light headed, but to your dismay, you’re completely awake.
“...Aaaah! My nose! What’s…”
Your next best idea is to close your fist up and give one of your eyes a bit of a punch to see if it knocks some sense into you, but when you do, your hand just reaches what feels like another gaping hole that’s growing by the second. Somehow, your vision isn’t changing one bit.
“….Uuuuuuuhhhhhhh…”
This has to be some kind of drug, right? Did someone’s stuff happen to get on your clothes when you were last working? You try hitting your eye again a couple times to wake up from whatever this weird state is, but when you look at your fist, it’s… changed. Your fingers are about the same shape, but instead of any kind of skin, each one’s nothing but thick bones. How did your skin disappearing not hurt, and more importantly, where’d your skin go??
“...Am I… no, this doesn’t make sense, I can’t be…”
You feel a breeze on your shin, which is strange, considering you’d been wearing pants. As you look down, though, there’s no trace of your pants, as they’ve shrunk to the size of shorts and are actively becoming a black stretchy material instead.
“...Aaaaah! What am I… how is…”
The skin under your shorts changes, too, and more white bone seems to form over where your skin used to be. It’s not just you that’s changing now, either; the plain beige carpet in your bedroom is changing color to a purple and blue wavey pattern.
“That’s the same color as… no, no, I must be on something, this can’t be….”
Suddenly, the air shooting in and out of your mouth from all your panicking is cut off by your front teeth expanding and growing, filling in the entire opening of your mouth. The ends of your mouth push their way up into a slight smile that you can only adjust a bit. Somehow, none of this hurts; if anything, it’s all giving a warm, tingly feeling.
“...No! I can’t be becoming- all I did was play the game and step on a whoopee cushion… d-did the game punish me for starting over, or…?”
Your inner and outer body crisis are briefly interrupted by seeing the sheets on your mattress curl up into a ball, followed by the bed frame vanishing, letting the mattress fall to the ground. Your little trash can disappears, too, and the balled up papers inside start to swirl in a little tornado. None of this makes any sense…
Until, for a moment, it does make sense.
“whoops, one of my socks got in the tornado. guess i gotta go sock it.”
That didn’t sound anything like you; your voice was deeper, warmer, and seemed to vibrate in your bones- which, by now, seem to be making up a lot of you. You briefly walk towards the little tornado, grab the sock that’s flying around in it, and toss it towards the others, before shaking your head and getting your old voice back.
“...Aaaaah!! I’m not Sans! I’m not! I know I said I love him and I’d love to be him, but I didn’t… I didn’t think…”
You don’t know who you’re talking to or where you’re going with this, but your panic changes again to a sense of calm.
“heh, I should try sellin’ beds like mine. could call the ball of sheets spooning practice.”
When you shake your head and regain your sense of panic, you feel a weird squelch under your shirt, which now is just a plain white shirt under the hoodie. It’s like your organs are vanishing, leaving you with a hollow feeling around what you guess is your ribs. You suppose it’s for the best, anyway. Sans doesn’t need those things.
“...But I’m not Sans, I’m…”
...What’s your name again? You’re having a hard time remembering. It doesn’t help that you’re distracted by your walls changing to a maroon paint, all but one of your windows disappearing, and a moving treadmill seemingly coming out of the earth.
“...My name… my name’s… no, it’s not Sans, it’s… sans?”
Your voice is waving between old and new, and every time it changes to new, you feel less inclined to get back to your sense of worry. Your hair’s the next thing to go, slipping off your head and dissipating before it can reach the carpet, and when you reach for the dome of your head, all you feel is the clunk of bone on bone.
“ya got a good skull, sans. be careful with it. would suck if your brain rotted.”
You chuckle, thinking about the lack of a brain in your skull, or any other organs.
“...But Sans, you don’t… ooooogh…”
Why’re you so worried? You love everything about Sans, and you’ve thought many times about how nice his life seems. Wouldn’t this be the best way to live?
“wonder if papyrus made dinner. can’t smell the passion or the smoke yet.”
Papyrus’ dinner sounds nice. Hopefully the lack of smoke means he isn’t following Undyne’s cooking lessons as intensely this time; last time, not only did it burn his pot, but it somehow burned the rest of the pots in the shelf, too.
The pockets of time you’re bewildered by what’s happening keep growing shorter, overcome with a bliss and sense of correctness about what’s going on. Your skull’s shape is the last thing to change, almost feeling like you’re getting blasted with a hair dryer when you put your hands on your cheeks and feel them expand. It’s almost like someone took an apple and squeezed the sides in a little bit.
“why’d my face just feel so different? eh, old news now.”
With that, the changes are complete. You blink a couple times, still smiling as always. There’s no mirrors in your room, but your cell phone’s floating around in the tornado, and when you reach in to grab it and flip the camera to look at you, you see…
Sans. Just as you remember him- no, just as you remember yourself. The smile, the big eye sockets with floating, glowing pupils, your neck and the tip-top of your ribcage revealed above your shirt, and the little crumb under your chin from breakfast that you wipe off.
Any sense of worry slips away with the sight of your camera. That’s just you, the same as it’s always been. You’ve lived a comfortable life in the Underground before, emerging to the surface was cathartic, and your younger brother’s kept up his passions and brought his cooking to a level you’d call ‘adequate.’ Besides, life’s felt even lighter now that…
Speak of the devil. Your phone dings from a text from the monster you’d started dating a couple weeks ago. Truth be told, you’d never thought the whole ‘dating’ thing would ever appeal to you, but you’d met a dog monster on the surface that’d lived in New Home before and hit it off really well, and when it was clear things were heading in that direction, you’d gone on a couple very fun and slightly scary dates. His picture from your contacts pops up next to his name; brown fur, a little tan snout with a brown nose, little droopy ears hanging under the top of his head, which has its own extra tufts of hair, and a big, open smile with pointy teeth. The texts reads, “Hey! Looking forward to seeing ya tomorrow, that arcade should be a lotta fun!”
Heh. He types just as cute as he sounds in person. You shoot back with “samesies. you’re gonna get annihilated at the guitar game, tho”.
“Nah, dawg, I’ve been practicing there a bunch, you don’t stand a chance”
“don’t think you’re the one to call someone a dawg, dog”
You wait for the inevitable skeleton pun he’s about to make, but before he can respond, Papyrus calls from downstairs.
“SANS! DINNER’S READY! WON’T HAVE MUCH TIME TO EAT TOGETHER, THOUGH. I NEED TO GO JOIN THAT PROTEST ABOUT THE CITY PLANNING TO CUT PARK FUNDING!”
“that the one where you’re gonna throw frisbees at their windows ‘til they come out and talk to you?”
“YEP! IF THEY WON’T SPEND ON PARKS, WE’LL JUST HAVE TO CLAIM THEIR OFFICES AS PARKS! THANKS FOR PICKING OUT THE RIGHT FRISBEE FOR ME, THIS ONE DOESN’T SHATTER LIKE THE OLD ONE!”
“glad to hear it.”
“NOW, COME ON DOWN! I MUST GET GOING SOON!”
Undyne had convinced Papyrus that turning a plate upside down would make a great frisbee. When it broke a city councilman’s window and he had to run from the police, Undyne said she thought destroying the window was the goal, so you stepped in and bought Papyrus a real frisbee. You figured it’s what a brother should do.
Before you step out of your room, a little voice pops in your head. It’s… it’s like something you swear you heard earlier today. It says something about “understanding now” and that it’s “thrilled that this is what life’s going to be”, before fading.
“...eh. i should say at the arcade that i’m hearin’ voices. that’ll distract him enough for me to win. totally fair ‘n square.”
Eager to see Papyrus’ cooking and for the trip tomorrow with the bud you can hopefully call a boyfriend sooner than later, you step out of your room and make your way down the steps, slipper on each foot. Weird that you and Papyrus managed to find a house on the surface that’s just like your old one...