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Yeah. Next in line and next biggest. Jupiter's the biggest in the solar system. [Papyrus has definitely heard this before, given who his brother is. (Probably not as much in school, considering it's not especially relevant when you're underground.)] From the sun out, it's Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune. [Pluto is not a planet sorry Pluto.] "My Very Earliest Memory: Just SUN." [WINK. Never mind where Sans learned that mnemonic; he can't remember who taught him.]

I can't believe your first memory was a space thing- wait, no, I can completely believe that. [He can't even finish the comment without laughing a little, both at his own comment and Sans's exaggerated wink.]

Well, y'know, space is out of this world. [Who wouldn't want to remember space things?]

There is zero chance you haven't made exactly that joke before. [Complaint, but lightly - not only is it still Sans's sorta-birthday, it's not nearly as worn out as the skeleton of bone puns he's heard in his life. Still, he doesn't want this derailed with harassing him with such puns, so he rushes to demand:] Quit punning at me and look for cool nebulas.

[Amazingly, Sans does fall silent as he takes Papyrus's request seriously, working steadily at the laptop to make the adjustments, checking the positioning over and over. He works through the filters and aperture adjustments with impressive speed. With about thirty seconds of exposure time, finally:] The Orion Nebula. [Sans can't stop looking at it.]

[It's amazing, and almost foreboding. Papyrus wonders for a couple of seconds if that was too demanding. But then the quiet way his brother brings up the image and stares at the screen... It's just that he's that enthusiastic about this, huh?] It... looks a little like clouds. But glowing. Clouds made out of stars, instead of water...?

Dust and gas. It's a stellar nursery--where stars come from. [Sans has the strangest, strongest urge to go there, even knowing it's impossible. It's a stupid, ridiculous feeling but it burns inside him anyway.] And the things that make up us are made inside collapsing stars. [We're made of star stuff. Sans's eyelights are maybe a little too bright. He might be a little too worked up, for all he's gone surprisingly quiet.]

[...Poetic, but weirdly intense. A different kind of foreboding settles over Papyrus, and he shifts under the weight as he reaches for optimistic thoughts. At least nobody's talking about the city's power grid, that has to count for something.] Stardust, huh...? I thought that was just a saying. [Though sayings do usually come from somewhere.]

...Does that mean, magic too? [Sans was just saying that magic - blue magic, at least - might be an Earth-specific thing. So he has to ask, see if the story's changed. It'd be unfair, if weird thoughts got in Sans's head on his birthday. Especially when they're on the roof, and Papyrus is basically depending on him to get down safely.]

Nobody knows. Humans don't do that kind of research. [But it has to be, right?] But the matter we're made up of comes from stars. It'd make sense if the magic did, too. [That's a leap in logic, but it feels true. There's something in Sans that doesn't feel like it's from Earth at all, and it's uncoiling in him.] But it's an old saying, too. [Not as old in terms of the universe they're in now. But it's a good quote no matter how old it is.] “We’re made of star stuff. We are a way for the cosmos to know itself.”

Huh... [Still a weird vibe, and a mood whiplash from the wink as he shared another quote just a couple minutes ago.] I don't think I've heard that one before... Is that old monster science? From... before the barrier? [It sounds a little more Prophecy than Science, but if humans don't study these things and monsters are made of stardust...]

Nah, a human said it--Carl Sagan. Humans are made of star stuff, too. Almost all of the elements were made in stars, or when the stars explode. [Sans looks at the nebula on the monitor like he could crawl inside and come out in the middle of space.] So this is where we're from.

I see... [That probably explains why Papyrus hasn't heard the quote - or just doesn't remember it - not if it's some human space science stuff.] In some long ago, far away sort of way, huh? Unless our sun made all our elements...

[He settles back, looking at the screen but also watching Sans's reaction to it. This is the kind of enthusiasm Sans rarely shows, the sort he was shooting for with the gift-giving, right? There's no obviously alarming escalations happening... But boy, he's really not as drawn to the images as his brother so obviously is. Papyrus pulls the smoothie up, sips at it with the straw - accidentally making a louder slurping sound than the quiet of the evening rooftop seems to need. The sound doesn't stop him, any more than being loud ever has.]

[Sans's eyes are still locked on the monitor. Papyrus talking is fine; it's Papyrus, after all. The slurping, though, cuts through his focus. He's not so distracted as to forget that drink is made of battery acid--fast as a whip, he uses his invisible hands to try and swat the drink out of Papyrus's hands and off the roof entirely.]

[As much as Papyrus is watching his brother, looking for signs of contented stargazing and/or strangeness... He hasn't picked up the habit of seeing invisible hands. The attack comes as a surprise, not forceful enough to just swat the the drink off into the air, but more than enough to jostle it from his hands and bouncing down the roof, spilling acid in its wake.] What the-- Sans!! [Papyrus's startled screech is extra startled and alarmed today.] What was that for, I was drinking that!

[Sans swats the cup again as it bounces, making sure it stays far away from the telescope. Still, that wasn't his best move--he could have gotten battery acid all over the laptop and everything.] It was too loud. [As if that's all the explanation it needs, he picks up on the previous thread of conversation.] Our elements probably came from all over. We're from a lot of different places. [If you think about it like that. Which Sans is.]

Too loud...? [This screech goes quieter mid-question, and Papyrus just stares back at ... Sans, presumably. Who's back to talking about stars like they changed a channel somewhere. Since when does he break Papyrus's things without so much as a hey bro, mind if I or something? It's no city power grid, but...]

[Are they still talking about this? Well, he did probably surprise Papyrus a little.] Yeah, it was making it hard to focus. [Even though that's never been a problem with Sans before, really. Of course, it's not entirely clear what kind of focus he's even talking about. He glances away from the screen to look at Papyrus, and then finally actually looks away entirely to look fully at his brother, who sure is looking at him with some kind of expression.] You okay?

Uhhhhh. [His voice is, still, somewhat lowered. He doesn't know why, since he isn't letting himself think the followup question of how Sans might react if he's too loud.] A little. Surprised. It's, uh, your 'birthday'... But normally, you say please? Or steal my drink.

[And okay, maybe Sans didn't go stealing his drink since it wouldn't be something he could drink. But there's a difference between stealing it to hold until later and just knocking it away, and this one crosses at least two typical-Sans lines.]

[Sans's face clouds with confusion immediately before it takes on that train wreck sort of look Papyrus might remember from when Sans caught himself talking about power grids. Wordlessly, Sans closes the laptop, pulls it free from the cords, and puts a hand on Papyrus's arm, returning them to the living room. Then, as soon as Sans lets go, he's gone and Papyrus is alone in the living room.

But Sans has just gone to his room. There's the distinct thump and creak of Sans collapsing heavily onto his bed.]

[The abrupt blanking of Sans's eye sockets, packing up and the transportation all take Papyrus by a different kind of surprise than everything else, but one tinged with enough relief that he doesn't protest any of it - quietly or loudly. Once he's alone in the living room, he takes a full minute just to take in the sight of the living room, where the heated blanket and sunlamp are still powered on with the rest of the lights.

...Well, that went. He hears that distant thump and creak, and needs a minute before doing anything with it, so he settles on the middle of the couch, rests his hands in his lap, and stares at the opened packages.

It was such a good idea. Space and electricity, and that weird hungry stargazing would surely be satisfied in a peaceable way. But it seems like there's more to it than just getting to look at space, huh? A setback, a disappointment... but clarifying. It'll just be harder than he expected, that's all. Maybe a lot harder. Maybe he should take a little more time to remember that the wings are up inside Sans's head, and the weird stuff with his soul probably isn't just cosmetic.

...His robot stuff better not be making him weird in his own ways. And if it is...! Well. He can't just detach it all and have the life he wants. Besides, it's not like the occasional delusions of void godhood or leeches. It's around... all the time. Loads more opportunity to get use to it, and cope with it, and figure out how to still be him. Mostly.

It's been a few minutes. The power grid hasn't blown up. He's not sure why he's thinking that, Sans looked upset and ran away again, of course the power grid's fine. But... He gathers a few things, stands.]

...Sans? [Papyrus's voice, outside the bedroom door. A little subdued, but not as nervously so as on the roof. Tired but hopeful.] Are you... You're still in there, right? Can I open the door?

[Sans hasn't moved from the bed since he dropped himself into it. His thoughts are a chaotic, disjointed buzz. That wasn't supposed to happen again. He thinks it might have been worse this time, even if he didn't talk about doing anything to the electricity. Is that just going to keep happening?

Sans doesn't move when he hears Papyrus, so his voice is a little muffled when he answers.] Yeah, if you want. [It's pretty hard for Sans to imagine why Papyrus would want to right now, even if he apparently does. Sans is sprawled face down on his bed, his wings curled around him like he's trying to cocoon himself. The blanket and sheets have long since fallen off the bed, but the fitted sheet is still hanging in there. Now that Sans can't keep all his books in a superposition for the stupid quantum physics joke, he's got a growing collection of various books overtaking the flat surfaces of the room. Plenty of socks on the floor, of course, and a few t-shirts. Strangely, there's a collection of rocks of varying sizes too, sitting on the nightstand and along the windowsill closest to his bed. The room is dark, so it's not really possible to see the details.]

[Papyrus's eye sockets glow faintly as he cracks the door open and steps just inside, though the light from the hall does more for his low-light vision for letting him see the details of things. Bed cocooning, as he could've guessed. Various clothes and books all over... and rocks? Hopefully those aren't from the ruins. If Sans is getting fixated enough on that symbol to be breaking and stealing things from the dig site, they'll surely get mad at him and fire him.

...Distracted thoughts in the back of his head, influenced by other thoughts. Papyrus is mad, if he's honest with himself, but getting mad at Sans about it won't help anything. There's more immediate worries anyway.]

You left... a few things, out there. That you might want. [He holds up his hands, full of the electric blanket and the sunlamp bundled within it, as a kind of peace offering. Both radiating more residual heat than he wants to be holding for long, he can already feel fans in his chest starting to kick on.]

Edited (invisible small tag now visible lol) 2021-11-14 02:10 (UTC)

[Sans shifts a wing and turns his head just enough to see what Papyrus is holding. All of the energy has gone out of him; Sans just wants to lay right here in bed forever. But Papyrus thought to bring Sans the blanket and the sun lamp, and it makes Sans's soul twist up. Why is Papyrus so nice to him? (Stupid question. But Papyrus shouldn't be being nice to him right now.) He holds a hand out for the blanket. The sun lamp probably shouldn't sit on the bed.]

Thanks. Sorry. [Leave it to Sans to mess up his own birthday. Good job.]

[Papyrus's face shifts with a bittersweet smile, and he glances down as he separates the things in his hands. Which side of his brother is easier to deal with, the happy enthusiastic and occasionally carelessly aggressive, or the sad lump apologizing for existing?]

...Well. It seems like, it surprised you too. So. [He's not about to lie and say it's all okay, but he'd be far more willing to be mad if this were a clear recurring problem that Sans knows of and does nothing about. They both know how Papyrus can complain about those things. But this is... still new.] The other stuff can wait, but these... They're just comfortable. [And Sans gets to have comforts, even if he's being distressingly unkind.]

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by 211X? even discarded texts agree, smaller than moon & odd orbit = not planet

sorry pluto

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1/2 for introspection vs action

2/2, action

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