#Grillby's Jukebox (music) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aikoiya · 2 years

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DP - The Haunted Jukebox

I remember reading this one Naruto fanfiction once a long time ago. I don’t exactly remember what it was about, but I do remember a plot device in it. Itachi apparently left Sasuke his iPod & I guess it was cursed or enchanted or haunted or something because it would always just suddenly start playing a song at any given moment that would fit immaculately with the current situation.

I also remember another story involving a crossover between Supernatural & Undertale where Grillby had this magic jukebox that would play the song in a person’s soul or something like that. So, for Papyrus, it’d play Bonetrousle & for Sans, it’d play Megalovania. Then, when the Winchesters came walkin’ in the song “Wayward Son” by Kansas came on.

I’m just sayin’ that I really like this kind of trope & would be totally stoked if Danny Phantom had something similar. Just as sort of a gimmick.

Though, I also think that it'd work very easily in most other media.

Like, maybe there’s an old diner, Imma call it Heartsong Diner, in Amity & it has a supposedly haunted jukebox with a similar thing going on to the above. Like, if you press ‘random,’ it will just play whatever’s pertinent at the time & the songs change depending on what’s happening (if something very significant is happening in the middle of a song, there will be a record scratch sound & suddenly a new song is playing that fits what’s happening to-a-T), but if you push the ‘personalize’ button, it’ll create a playlist full of songs that matches your soul or personality & the circumstances surrounding your life right now.

Costumers love it, though there are plenty of times when people get uncomfortable because the songs reveal things to them that they hadn't realized before or just didn't want revealed. Or put words to things that hadn't been spoken about. It's also been the source of a lot of people discovering aspects about themselves that they hadn't before. There are even times when it'll play exactly what a person needs to hear when they're having a difficult time. Or even in certain situations, warnings of consequences that fit a bit too well with something they planned to do later in the case of particularly bad people. At times even almost seeming to respond to conversations. Like, this one time, someone was talking about Paulina's mom & the rumors of her indiscretions, when the jukebox busts out with "She's a freak -Aaw!"

And at some points even seeming to be able to predict the future. Though, by & large, depending on whether or not it has a sense of self of its own, it ultimately just seems to want to help.

There's even a usb port & if you put one in, it'll download your personalized life playlist. If you do so again later & some things in your life have charged or you have changed, the jukebox will alter the playlist it created before to better suit your current situation. Some people even consider it a form of musical therapy as it can often instigate deep self-reflection.

Weird thing is, it wasn't always a usb port. Before that, it was a CD player that would just pop out a CD full of songs & give them to people. And before that, it gave cassettes & before that, vinyls. It's super weird because the owners say that one day the port just changed. As if it changed magically to fit the new technology. But no one actually saw it happen.

The first time Danny walked in there after deciding he was gonna protect Amity, "I Need a Hero" turned on. Danny initially tensed up, but when he realized that no one seemed to be looking at him, he relaxed. The song later changed to "Ghost" by Mystery Skulls & Danny internally freaked.

There was one time when the trio went there & Sam was having gushy feelings for Danny, then suddenly Katy Perry's "E.T." comes on & Sam freaks the fuck out demanding someone change the song with a face as red as a beat while Tucker's like, "No! Turn it up!" The song couldn't be changed, but Danny didn't really react & spent the song being really nice to Sam. Sam is sure he's just being clueless, but the truth is that he'd known about Sam's crush on him for a long time & was just waiting for her to get to a point where she's comfortable telling him on her own because he's into her too.

Another time, the Fenton family were out for dinner there (mostly to see what the jukebox was all about) when Vlad showed up to try & woo Maddie. Next thing they knew "Every Breath You Take" by the Police starts playing. This was after Maternal Instincts, so Vlad & Maddie are hella uncomfortable, Jack comments how there must be some sorta stalker nearby, Jazz is trying to stifle her laughter, & Danny is absolutely busting his gut, smashing his fist against the table & crying tears of laughter.

Yet another time, the Fentons confront Phantom in the parking lot of the diner & from the open door they hear a male cover of "Diamond Jack: The Villain I Appear To Be."

One time, Danny was fighting Spectra & Bertrand nearby & when their fight moved to the diner, the song "Invisible Touch" by Phil Collins began to play. Bertrand could be seen bopping along to the music, obviously liking it, while Spectra just rolled her eyes.

During Reign Storm, "Hail to the King" by Avenged Sevenfold during the battle against Pariah before eventually playing "Storm the Castle" as played by Jonathan Young. Like, literally, it was playing in the background as the battle was raging, the diner had been destroyed at the time & it was like, "Might as well have some epic boss music."

After Reign Storm & the diner was rebuilt, the next time the trio go there, the jukebox starts playing "Ceaser" by the Oh Hellos as well as several other songs about heroes being crowned king. The entire time, Danny felt anxiety sinking into his stomach but wasn't entirely sure why.

When Dan was masquerading as Danny & they went there, "Monster" by Skillet came on & Dan went quiet. He seemed to be deep in thought about something as he listened before snapping out of it.

The day after Urban Jungle, the trio went to the diner & as soon as Danny stepped foot inside, Natewantstobattle's rendition of "Let It Go" started to play. Danny was like, "Really?" & Tucker was losin' his absolute mind. Sam couldn't stop snickering.

In a more angsty timeline when the Fentons are eating out there again (having determined they can't make the jukebox stop what it was doing & that it wasn't hurting anyone), the Fenton parents begin talking to their kids about something regarding their work. Whether it was what they plan to do to Phantom or something they've done that crosses a line for their kids regarding ghost hunting. Jazz tries to tell them it's wrong, but Maddie goes on a tangent about how ghosts aren't people, so it's perfectly moral. "I Have Questions For You" featuring Jacob Lee suddenly starts playing in the background. Danny almost seems to have a breakdown.

The jukebox itself appears to be damn near indestructible too & no one knows how it has access to so many damn songs that don't even appear on the list of available songs. Forget figuring out how it can play songs from the internet or has a usb port when it's been there since the 60s. Hell, half the songs it plays are from the effing future!

Not only that, but if the Fentons try to take it apart, it just seems to be a regular, old-fashioned jukebox with the barest hint of ecto-contamination, but that hint only seems to have been there since it came to Amity & reports say that it's been doing this shit since long before coming to Amity. Either way, they try to remove the contamination, but even that doesn't seem to stop it. They keep trying over & over until the manager of the diner demands their property back. Regardless, it just keeps doing what it's doing & the Drs. Fenton decide that since it's not hurting anybody & doesn't even seem to have an ectoplasmic signature of its own, they would instead just keep an eye on it. Observe it, if you will. When it reveals its true colors, then they'd take possession of it & try to stop it for good.

From what I’m seeing, this idea appears to be a mix of the ‘Suspiciously Apropos Music’ & ‘“I Am” Song’ TV tropes.

#dp #danny phantom #music #suspiciously apropos music #I Am song #tv tropes #bumblebee speak #music therapy

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bythebonefire · 2 years

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🤍 + slaps some grillster in here

Send me a ship and I'll tell you... || Accepting!

Who cooks meals for the other?: I mean this is generally Grillby's role in most ships LMAO. He settles into that housewife role happily, and always makes sure Gaster actually eats proper meals. He probably packs him a cute lil lunch too. Maybe there’s even a note inside telling him he hopes he has a nice day!!! It’s all very domestic.

Who spams the other with memes?: Neither of them really seem like big memelords lmao. I feel like if memes end up in their text chain it’s “do you know what this means??” “No, I have no idea???” “It’s so strange isn’t???” “It really is!!”

Who likes to tidy around the house?: Both of them keep a pretty tidy house, but this again probably ends up in Grillby’s domain, especially because he’s very particular about how he likes things.

Who likes to play pranks on the other?: They don’t really strike me as pranksters either tbh, Sans was prankster enough for the both of them.

Who asked the other to move in with them?: Oh that’s a tough one. I feel like Grillby would be really hesitant to leave the apartment he and Sans shared. For all the painful memories the place carries--it was home. But I do think, especially since we’d talked about how the apartment was only intended to be a temporary place for him and Sans before they got their place outside the city, it might make it a bit easier. It was never meant to be a permanent home. I can kind of see Gaster tentatively bringing it up, and Grillby struggling over it for a long time--long enough that Gaster might assume the answer is no. But in the end, he finally agrees to it, and it’s another shaky step towards moving on with his life.

Who is in charge of the music during a car ride?: Oh always Grillby. You’ve said before that Gaster isn’t quite as much of a music lover as Sans was, so it seems like an area where he might kind of just let Grillbz take the reigns. Funny thing about that though, is that because Grillby is In Love With The Idea Of Music As A Theoretical Concept, he could really be putting anything on. 80s Indonesian punk rock is just as likely as showtunes which is just as likely as spa/meditation music which is just as likely as reggae.

Who is more likely to tickle the other mercilessly?: Are either of them... ticklish? I mean, Grillby might try with his ecto, but idk how successful he’d be...

Who needs to hold the other during scary movies?: Gaster does seem like he’d be the more skittish one, but I also don’t know because like... homeboy’s been behind the fabric of the space-time continuum is he really gonna be spooked by Michael Myers? Either way, they probably holdin’ hands.

Who has to help the other when it comes to technology?: Oh definitely Gaster, if our thread of him casually repairing Grillby’s jukebox is any indication lmao. Grillby is good about repairing some things, but when it comes to like... electronics, he’s a total luddite.

Who likes to get a bit frisky in public / an inappropriate setting?: I mean this is obviously Grillby lmao. But I can see the first time Gaster decides to get a little playful with a spectral hand outside of their house, Grillby’s like. Super proud of him. My little baby kinkster, you’re so precious. <3

Who wakes up first, and do they wake up the other or let them rest?: I feel like this varies, but frequently it’s Gaster. Unless the other one needs to be up, they probably let the other sleep.

Who is always taking pictures of the other when they aren’t looking?: Grillby has a lot of cute candids of Gaster while reading or working or sleeping. :B

Who always forgets their wallet and never ends up paying for anything?: Where you keep your wallet, Gaster??? You are made of goop!!! Do you have pockets in the goop??? Where are your pockets, Gaster??? But for real, they both probably remember it most of the time.

Who can’t sleep because the other snores or moves too much at night? - If Gaster snores, I’m picturing it sounding like a jammed printer, and that makes me laugh. But idk, I feel like if there’s issues it may be because Grillby is very bright and that might take some getting used to if you’re sleeping in a room with him.

Who is better at video games, and do they let the other win or show no mercy?: Gaster would be better probably--Grillby is pretty helpless at video games. He probably doesn’t try tbh, if Gaster were playing something I think he’d just like to watch.

Who always gets up in the middle of the night to use the restroom and accidentally wakes up the other?: They don’t have to use the bathroom, so that helps. But probably if Grillby gets up, he’s more likely to wake Gaster since 1) sudden absence of warmth and 2) sudden light source moving around the room.

#multiverseofsouls #m: grillbz #long post ///

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erinharman · 3 years

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Question: Okay, let’s mix up serious questions with some silly ones. Do you have a favorite genre of music? And why is it? Just because you like it or is there something special about it?

Answer: Favorite genre? Hm... I hardly ever listen to music, guess I prefer classical music and some simple electro.

I’ve been fixing Grillby’s jukebox for quite a while, the thing just keeps breaking. For some reason music easily gets stuck in my head. When I saw Mettaton’s add with some funky tunes, I couldn’t get rid of the melody for months!.. What a nightmare.

#undertale gaster #grillster (implied)#wd gaster #ask #undertale ask

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jamestrmtx · 3 years

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Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twenty | Ooo I Ooo I Ooo I Ooo I (Part 2 of 2 | His POV) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Song Referenced

• • •

did he give you an exact date?

Unfortunately, no.

At first, I had at least until the end of the year, but…

CPS wants this resolved quicker than he thought.

guessin' you need to finish tourin' the underground first then, right?

Yes.

Would it be possible the day after tomorrow?

Or just… sometime this weekend?

I can go by myself, but…

Asgore won't allow that unless I'm with someone else.

Says I shouldn't be walking so far and so long alone if I haven't recovered yet.

you don't need to go alone, either way.

be it my job or not, I still wanna help out.

so the day after tomorrow's fine with me, bud.

we can discuss those details better when we drive over to tori's school tomorrow.

Are you sure?

And…

Does that 'we' imply you'll be picking us up?

100%

but yeah, i'll drive you guys there.

and pick up paps on the way, too.

it's easier for all four of us.

Mhm.

don't believe me?

Oh, I believe you.

I just don't think that's the only reason why you're picking us up, when I already have the address.

so what's the other one?

Don't get cocky, Serif.

I'm not gonna type that out.

It's a godsend Frisk will be with us, too.

'Cause I sure don't trust being alone with you anymore.

inna bad way?

Nah.

niiice.

pick you guys up tomorrow, then?

Yes.

We'll see you tomorrow.

And thank you in advance.

∆ Sticker | Happy Cartoon Bunny™ waving goodbye ∆

"You've changed, Sans."

He ignores that comment to view (Y/N)'s last two messages again.

While he doesn't know why that particular sticker bothers his mind so much, a few scrolls up to revise his chat history with the human reveal this is the first time they've shown any sort of informality or spontaneity in their typing. (Y/N) came off cold in their texts, though -- based on how they acted outside of a chat app -- that wasn't their intention, but more of an automatic way for them to talk with someone they didn't exactly deem trustworthy enough yet. He grins at that thought and feels his face warm up, something he confirms when touching his cheekbone, cold palm contrasting with that heat.

"You're wasting your time with that human," Drunk Bun says, snapping him out of his daydreaming.

They've sat themselves on the bar stool next to him and slam what looks like their tenth can of cheap, off-brand beer against the counter, crunching it down into more than half its size. He doesn't know how long they've stood there or why he's lost this much awareness of his surroundings. The bar's practically empty and calm now compared to before, though there's loud music blaring from the jukebox, playing an already overplayed song on repeat. There's no excuse for his distracted mind other than having lost himself while texting with the human, so he admits that fault with partial sourness, against accepting he's that smitten with them.

"You're changing for the worse," his company adds, narrowing their eyes at him. "Every time we come here to catch up, you mention something stupid about that (L/N) person, or just text the whole evening away with them. I... I've never seen you worry so much about someone so inconsequential." They scoff and cross their arms tight. "I may understand you caring after Frisk as a way to repay them for rescuing us, but (L/N) is completely useless. They've done absolutely nothing remarkable beyond creating a huge scene at that bus you were both on."

"Being harassed by a rando and faintin' after's them causin' a scene?" Sans asks, quirking an eye socket.

"Oh, screw off, bone boy -- You know what I mean. They've brought you nothing but trouble and needless responsibilities!" The bunny grits their teeth and slams their hand over the table, dragging eyes to their side. "I'm betting you can't go a day without texting them or without you doing something for them."

"You need to-"

Beep-beep.

The phone is snatched from his hands just as quick as that noise rings.

"Give that back."

"No." They keep the phone right above him, taking advantage of his shorter height. "Your fault for not putting a lock on it."

Drunk Bun scoots away and holds the phone tight as they fumble with it. Then, they stop to look at what he assumes is another text message from the human. A grimace shows on their face and they grasp the device tight, enough to make the screen complain and warn them over the pressure they're exerting against it. "Now this is beyond pathetic, Sans," they comment, letting out a loud, burst laugh. "Is this seriously the one you're sacrificing your entire personality for?" They give him his phone back, though not before hesitating when it's time to let go. "That human is-"

"Gimme a sec."

His attention falls on the picture displayed on screen, revealing (Y/N) and Frisk posing in it. The adult wears a suit and tie while the child has Toriel's school uniform on. The former's pose appears forced and awkward while the latter seems to be the reason the picture was taken with how excited they seem about their outfit.

Frisk wanted me to show you this.

It's what we'll be wearing for tomorrow!

There's a three-minute interval between that and the next message.

I know classes still haven't started there, but… They wanted to wear it, so I joined them by trying on something special for, well…

That job offer you told me about.

I don't know if I'll accept or not yet, but…

Thank you for the opportunity, and for believing in me.

∆ Sticker | Happy Cartoon Bunny™ giving a thumbs-up ∆

"You're grossing me out, honestly. What kind of look is that?"

It takes him a while to react, focus glued on (Y/N)'s messages.

"What look?"

"That lovesick look on your face." Tears form on their eyes -- almost abruptly, hadn't their voice shaken right before that. "I- I've been flirting with you for years, and yet you've never once looked at me like that before." They stand up straight, stare down at him, and rest their hands on the table, blinking their tears away throughout. "I've known you for so damn long, and yet you fall for the first human you see up here? I-"

"So that's what this's about," he says, chuckling. "You're-"

"Don't you dare brush everything off as me having a crush on you, Sans." They hiss. "You're not the same as before, and that's as clear as day. You worry a lot more now, and… And you actually seem to care more about other stuff beyond your job and sleeping on it. Y- You-"

"Aren't those good things?"

"Maybe, but your entire personality changing isn't. I liked you better when you were less worked up with stuff that's none of your business." They stop to grab his phone again; a grin breaks the sorrow on their face. "But hey, y- you're just doing your job, aren't you? You should set things straight with that human and remind them you're only with them because Asgore told you to in that agreement letter you gave them."

"Won't work if I flirted with 'em first. Pretty sure they'll see right through my lies."

"Y- You flirted with them first?!"

"Yeah."

He dodges a punch aimed right at his face.

"Wait-"

They throw a second punch -- this one turning out to be a spoof -- and laugh at the sight of him falling for it; they then toss the phone high over his head after he's finished dodging that fake attack, and aim yet another punch right after.

He salvages the device, though at the cost of taking the blow right on his left eye socket.

"How can you admit that so easily? You're awful!"

"'Cause you're only a close friend. I don't owe you an explanation about who I'm dating, and even less if you're gonna be actin' this way."

Drunk Bun springs at him, only to be held back by the rest of the regulars sitting near the scene, sufficiently fast enough for them not to wrangle Sans in anything major. They struggle and thrash at everyone around, trying to break free, but failing each time. It takes a fully-armored guard dog and a buff bear for them to be fought back into their rightful place, and yet another strong monster for them to let go of a wine bottle they insist on downing when seated.

Grillby intervenes as well by warning them to calm down, unless they want to be kicked out. Meanwhile, Sans turns on the camera and looks at his reflection through it, revealing a faint soreness already forming around his eye socket -- right where his companion had punched at. Being primarily made out of bones brought advantages, but having magical properties often led to him bruising easily.

Another regular approaches him and offers him a first aid kit, one he brings back to his seat to heal himself there.

While he takes out an antibiotic and some cotton pads with one hand, he uses the other to busy himself with (L/N)'s messages, against leaving them on read for so long.

no probs.

here at your service.

frisk looks great, btw.

and you? hot. 😘🔥

awkwardly hot.

hotwkward.

Frisk is reading the replies, you know?

damn.

i mean…

darn.

don't tell 'em i said that.

∆ Audio | 0:46 ∆

He clicks on it to hear Frisk giggling along with (Y/N) commenting they won't. It later continues with them asking if he's alright, specifying what they mean by highlighting a picture, this one sent by him. Blurriness makes up most of it when he clicks on it and zooms in, yet he can identify what looks like his companion from earlier, who'd apparently snapped and sent the human a photo by accident.

that's a friend o' mine.

they're, uh, kinda tipsy, so they got inna fight with me.

Really?

Are you okay?

yeah, just a lil' sore where they punched at.

What?!

i'm fine, puddin'.

dw about it.

Where's that bar at?

I'm near the mall, so I can drop by if you need anything.

aren't you still shoppin'?

take it easy.

I'm almost done.

Just trying out one more outfit.

can I see?

👀

Sure.

∆ Attachment | 2 images ∆

To his surprise, they're not only posing much more freely now, but they've also made the effort to strike another pose from a different angle. The human's outfit is composed of a dark green, semi-formal (suit/dress), fit for a night out. They've gone as far as to edit a wink emoji and some hearts at the corner of one -- the most flirty of the two.

So...

What do you think?

*jaw drops to floor, irises pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, soul beats out of rib cage, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of teeth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens jacket, combs skull* ahem, you look real lovely.

*bwushes* Thank uwu kindwy, handswome. I'm vewy fwattewed.

...frisk ain't there anymore, right?

If they wewe, duwu uwu twhink I'd be twyping wike thiws?

faiw poiwnt.

Anyway…

I noticed the changes you made in that copy-paste, and…

You didn't edit the tongue part out.

So…

What that tongue do, baby?

😳

…lick…

...ice cream.

🔥🔥🔥

Ah, that's hot.

Or should I say cold?

And speaking of cold…

I'm gonna get you an ice pack or something.

You should take care of where it's sore, if you don't want it to bruise more.

whatta way to change the subject away from our moment, puddin'.

but uh, thanks in advance.

Anytime, teddy bear.

uwu

owo

• • •

"Am I really changin', Grillbs?" Sans asks, emptying his beer in three long gulps. "Be honest with me."

The one questioned takes the empty can from his hands and shakes his head in what looks more like disapproval rather than him answering that question. He first warns the skeleton about getting drunk, and reminds him to stay sober if he wants an answer as well as prevent himself from drunk-texting the source of his lovelorn self. When receiving a promise from him in response, he later answers with a 'no' and that he's still the same whenever he came to visit the bar.

"So I'm only different when I'm talkin' about 'em?"

Grillby nods.

"Inna bad way?"

He shakes his head.

"Then…"

Sans is stopped with a hand over his and faced with a stern look, despite the owner of it having no eyes or mouth.

"If they make you happy, then it's alright for you to show it," a regular states, intervening in the conversation. "You're not a lifeless machine. And nobody's one-dimensional either, so you shouldn't force yourself to act the same, strict way all the time. If you want to be all mushy with that human, then so be it. Aren't you the one who always says stuff like 'nothing really matters; in the end, we'll all die'? What's stopping you now of all times? Where's that hardcore nihilist I've known since years ago?

Sans rubs the back of his neck and huffs.

Clearly, neither the regular nor Grillby understood what he truly meant to say with his questions. He didn't mind his relationship with the human, but he also didn't want his old self to be replaced by someone he wasn't, as a result. There were things he didn't want to change about his old self -- things he feared would fade away now that he seemed to be getting into something as complex as a romantic relationship. There were parts of him he needed to keep in case the world were to start over again -- in case something went wrong. He couldn't allow himself to grow soft.

A pat on his shoulder lets him know he's lost himself in those thoughts.

"It's alright to fear change, but don't let that hold you back. If you like that human and they do, too -- Then what's there keeping you from going for it?"

It's not that easy.

Still, he keeps that thought quiet and replies with, "Thanks, but I'll probably have to give that more ti-"

The door of the bar opens to reveal someone new to it, but not so much unknown to Sans, who already finds himself distracted by them. (Y/N) stands in front of the entrance, looking this way and that. Frisk holds on to their hand, while a reusable shopping bag's hung over their parent's arm; a pharmacy's logo and name can be seen stamped on it. The eldest human approaches the area with caution, until their child assures them -- once, twice, and then thrice -- they've been to this place before and that it serves other purposes beyond that of providing alcohol and provoking fights. When they look forward, he meets their eyes and tries to glance away quickly, only to be called out by them soon after. They don't take long to smile wide and bright, wave, and -- finally -- approach his side after he waves back at them.

Rather than giving him whatever's in the bag, they instead let go of Frisk's hand, ask them if they want anything to eat, and give them some money when they sign the word 'fries'. Then, they sit on the stool next to his and settle the bag on their lap. "Come closer, and close your eye sockets," they say, still smiling. "It's your left one, right? It looks really sore already."

He nods and tries to ignore the warmth in his soul when they place a hand over his.

In his favour, they let go of him not long after to disinfect their hands and slip some gloves on when these dry out.

"I-"

"Shh."

(Y/N) holds his chin with their hand and grazes their fingers against his injury, their touch slow and careful as they apply some antibiotic over and around it. They then slide an eye patch on him and assumedly check around for any more bruises, based on the feeling of their hands grazing against his torso, arms, and neck. "The ice pack's in the bag -- Remember to throw it in the freezer when you get home." They touch his chest again, even more gentle this time. "So..." He notices some hesitance when they pull their hand back. "You're not hurt anywhere else?"

He shakes his head, words caught in his throat.

"Alright, but don't look yet."

Doing as told, Sans waits for whatever comes next. He stays still and stiff, until he feels their lips brush close to his eye socket, where they lay a soft, ticklish kiss at. They do the same with his other one and finish it off by kissing his nose cavity.

"Now you can."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

...

......

🌋🔥💥 ANNOYING NOTICE TIME 💥🔥🌋

So, here's a summary of all the events happening this month, which will affect Fairytale Complex's update schedule in various ways:

1. I will be rewriting all my other fics that aren't FaiCom, since I'm pretty darn happy and proud of the new writing style I've developed with this fanfic, and so I want to implement it into my older stories (with the exception of the Tom Nook x Reader one -- I'm rewriting that one despite being recent because it started off as a wild, 3 am energy project after finishing with finals, but then I actually had way more fun than I originally anticipated, so I'll be turning it into a long fic just like this one, lol). This means FaiCom will be taking a short, 1 to 2 week break after Arc 2 (Chapter 25) ends, to dedicate some time to all 4 of these stories.

2. I'm taking extracurricular classes/hobby workshops this summer, so I need to tweak my schedule again. This means FaiCom will be changing its schedule back to the old one, composed of weekly updates on Mondays, Wednesdays, and/or Fridays.

3. As mentioned previously, Pride Month is here, so I'll be making some one-shots and drabbles related to it, meaning updates might be slightly less frequent this month. BUT, a good majority of them are FaiCom related ones (and they will be posted on a different book to avoid conflicting with regular updates, too). More on that later on!

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

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@disastrous-l0vebug

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@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

@paperb9gs

@merak0

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

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yougainedlove · 5 years

Note

Oooh! What headcanons do you have for Horrortale Grillby (or Horrortale in general)? :D

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH………….

I made up my own nickname for him since I couldn’t find a common fandom one, so if anyone wants to use it in their works, feel free to! :D

This is kinda long bc just like Mettafell, I have many thoughts and feelings about this melty boy

HorrortaleGrillby/Charby

The lack of magic that’s led to him slowly burning alive also means that it’s very difficult for him to touch others/others to touch him without being burned. He has a little bit of magic left and uses it to try and mitigate those effects; especially for very close friends and lovers, he doesn’t want them to be hurt. So if you touch him and come away with only a small burn, it means you’re very special to him, because otherwise he wouldn’t expend the energy to keep someone from having their flesh literally cooked by his flames. (There are ways to get past this, though given that most of those ways involve magic, they’re few and far between. His S/O is either going to have to be a person who can handle not having a lot of physical affection… or have the patience of a saint.)

He doesn’t speak often for good reason: it’s just too painful. His face is practically frozen in agony by this point, and he’s been holding that expression for so long now that any change in it hurts, on the same level as, say, popping a dislocated shoulder back into place. Instead he opts to just make moaning noises. Those who hang around him for long enough learn to decipher what they mean, though his actions typically speak for themselves.

However, if he has something very important to say, he will brave the pain of speaking. It’s frequently accompanied by ash and soot staining his lips, and his voice sounds absolutely destroyed, but that’s beside the point. This is almost exclusively reserved for tender moments when he manages to whisper, “I love you.” to his S/O.

He is weak, weak, weak. He has enough strength to cook whatever his customers can bring him, and that’s about it. Charby was alive during the war, fought in it, so it goes without saying that he’s closer to the grave than the cradle. Slowly starving to death has only made him more fragile. He could manage to overpower, say, a child, or someone weaker than he is… but if he had to actually fight? Oh, he’d be toast. Any battle other than a brief skirmish type thing would end with him dead.

Absolutely adores music. Before the famine, he used to have a jukebox in his restaurant. Most of the music was old but easy listening. Within the first year or two when the Underground began to run out of food and magic, along with the windows, the jukebox got broken too, and he misses it terribly. To have the air filled with music is something he longs for even though it’s a pipe dream. If his S/O likes to sing, someone who sings often around him… ah, God. That’s be the best thing he could ask for. When he hears music, you can just see his eyes brighten as if he’s remembering an old friend. If he ever regains magic to the point where he can effortlessly touch people without hurting them, the first thing he’s going to do is dance with his S/O ― “It’s Been a Long, Long Time” playing on a loop in the background.

If monsters finally make it to the surface, it’s going to be a huge adjustment. And yet… he’s more excited than anything. Look at all these options for things that he can cook! He would be able to feel creative again, and it would make him happy in a way that nothing during the famine ever could have.

He also serves drinks despite most of them having no magic and therefore exactly zero nourishment. As it turns out, alcohol is a surprisingly potent (if not exactly long-term effective) way to numb the pain of slowly starving to death. He’ll indulge in it from time to time too, and it’s become a habit to do it even when monsters get to the surface.

#piixiev #alcohol tw #Undertale #Grillby #Horrortale #Charby #headcanons #general #romantic #angst #horror #hurt/comfort #GOD I LOVE THIS BOY?????#please indulge me more #I've grown very enamored of him as of late

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grillbysbar · 4 years

Text

Grillby has put a panel over the jukebox’s controls, and it is currently just playing some smooth jazz. The money slot is still open, but you cannot change the music. They know what happens when you let people run free on Sundays.

#{Dash Commentary} Through The Windows

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tsunderswapofficial · 5 years

Note

Excuse me, but what's "Rock Around The Clock" supposed to be for? Unless that's still spoilers.

I’m pretty sure we’ve answered this before, but it’s the Grillby’s theme! You’ll hear this music playing from the jukebox whenever you visit one of their locations.

- Beethovenus

#dev asks

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rocksinmuffin · 6 years

Note

can i ask for some grillby fluff? :D

You let out a shaky sigh of relief as you step inside Grillby’s, the warm air of the bar chasing away the chill of autumn.

You head to the back of the bar where the building is warmest, sitting at the counter where waves of heat emanate from the kitchen and the man standing behind the bar.

“Hello Grillby,” you greet as you pull out your stool and take a seat.

He acknowledges you with a short nod of his head, the flames at the top of his head flaring. He places a steaming mug in front of you before you’ve even fully settled.

“Hot chocolate,” you say with a smile, pressing your fingertips against the mug and feeling then tingle with warmth and magic. “You always know what I want without me even having to ask.”

The flames below his glasses flicker into what time has taught you is one of Grillby’s smiles. He nods his head once more before stepping towards the other end of the bar to take another customer’s order.

You smile down into your mug as you wait for it to cool, quietly humming along to the music playing from the jukebox.

#ask #anon #sinning #undertale #grillby #consider this a pre-relationship piece #i don’t know why but injust really like over romanticizing everyday slice of life moments #i love slow burn grillby relationships #my love for this man has been reignited #reader insert

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undertaletrashmachine · 7 years

Note

General hc with h/s with mt-mf bros+grillby ? :3c -B☆

Honorary Sibling Head cannons!!!

MT Sans

you’re so precious

he now has two lovely younger siblings

it doesn’t matter if you’re older than him, you are his younger sibling

if you’re taller than him he’ll be a little upset but he won’t show it

between you and pap, he’s the overprotective brother

literally everyone knows you at Grillby’s whether you’ve gone or not

because he brags about you and Paps so much

he’s such as proud bean

MT Papyrus

he’s such a cool bro

he’s going to take you places and basically spoil you rotten

if you actually pick up after yourself he’ll be so happy like finally someone else in this household can clean

i hope you like pasta because thats the only thing he’ll let you eat when you stay with him

will read you fluffy bunny because he remembers how sans did that for him and wants to give you the same memories, even if you are much too old

gets you the best gifts ever!!

MT Grillby

it is expected that if you a related to any Grillby you’ll get free food

its true for this grillby too

Constantly worries about you.

did you eat enough? what if someone hurts you? what if it starts raining and you don’t have an umbrella? he knows you won’t get hurt because you aren’t fire, but what if you get sick? are you too warm? are you too cold? aaaahhhh?????!?!?

*worried fire noises*

obviously gives the best and warmest hugs 11/10

MF Sans

if you thought MT Sans was protective, this skele is 101% more protective

no one messes with his siblings, honorary or not

somehow always knows where you are? stalker much???

he’ll basically let you do whatever you want without punishing you or getting upset at all unless he thinks you’ll be in danger

you wanna eat a whole tub of ice cream at 3 am? sure go ahead.

you’ll be one of the few people he’ll sing for if you ask him too (I headcannon him with a beautiful baritone voice)

MF Papyrus

as soon as you are declared honorary sibling he’s going to make sure that you can take care of yourself

he’s not going to look after another one yes he will

cooking lessons, fighting lessons, how to clean up after yourself lessons (he makes sans go to those too)

he’ll pretend he doesn’t buy gifts for you when he totally does

“I WAS OUT SHOPPING AND ACCIDENTALLY BOUGHT IT IN THE WRONG SIZE AND I DON’T WANT TO RETURN IT SO HERE”

is actually really good at comforting you if you are upset for any reason

MF Grillby

he’ll begrudgingly give you free food (he’s not really upset but he’s got a business to run, can’t be handing out free stuff too often)

he has a picture of you in his wallet and when he gets drunk/tipsy he’ll show it off to anyone that’s willing to listen to his ramblings

“here iss my little sibling – they’re j-just *hic* so great. i loooooove them. you touch them and i’ll, *hic* i’ll kill you thats-s what”

he’ll deny saying any such thing the next morning, he’s a tsundere after all

at his bar it will always be playing the music you like because he lets you play with the playlist on the jukebox

he rivals MF sans with how overprotective he is, like I pity the dumb ass that picks a fight with you because Grillby will finish it

More Honorary Sibling headcannons!!! For @bulle-black-hole I believe? ~Mod Perseverance

#mt sans #mt papyrus #mt grillby #mafiatale #mf sans #mf papyrus #mf grillby #mafiafell #undertale imagines #sans #papyrus #grillby #mafiatale sans #mafiatale papyrus #mafiatale grillby #mafiafell sans #mafiafell papyrus #mafiafell grillby #honorary sibling

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swapdancepapyrus · 6 years

Text

So, i was thinking about small headcannons for SD, since i owe at least a little thinking to you guys since ive been technically gone for so long.

There is a Napstabot.... Hes not as noisy as you think he is. But he is a jealous one. Mainly cause Even though he’s the famous one, He knows SD is a better Dancer, and possible Disk Jokey than he is. So he refuses Papyrus to even step foot in shows. He has a facade where when he has an audiance, he is pretty outspoken, like how you typically see a Naps. But whenever he hears SD is dancing alone in the forest with small crowds watching, He shuts up pretty fast. He tries to lure the silent groups watching Papyrus to himself. (SD Doesnt notice ever that hes being watched.) Is there a pending danceoff? Probably not. Maybe.

Muffets bar is always silent untill Papyrus steps in. SD is the jukebox. However, there are sometimes peoples chatter will break the silence. and Muffet is ok with either option.

Grillby in this timeline is like most bakery loving fireballs. Though he has a silent desire to watch SD dance, He will try his best to leave his work to follow SD and watch him dance at muffets. But he always gets distracted before watching. So he never does. Sans likes to talk to Grillby about Papyrus’ Dances, and makes Grillby himself jealous. For Grillby has a small impairment on one of his legs, so his dancing is pretty bad standing up wise.

Queen Toriel is pretty nice and caring like most Queens, however..... she has a small hatred for the skeleton brothers. She used to dance amazingly, and watching the brothers dance made her feel very upset. The brothers came up to her once after thier first weeks of guard duty, and Toriel yelled at the two of them. And went on a more personal note with Papyrus. For He danced just as smooth as her rejected husband. Bringing in bad memories, instead of good ones. How the brothers danced so well together, how thier music meshed together perfectly, just like Toriel and Asgore, made Toriel all the more mad at them. SD has tried multiple times to calm the Queen, but has since failed.

Asgore is fairly meek, but his bulk and muscle take over his personal self confidence. Papyrus (after pacifist ending) Has gone to asgores place to see if he was ok. Althrough thilled that the humans accepted monsters, Asgore prefered to stay humbly underground. However in most timelines Asgores story is less than desirable. Papyrus and Asgore have been known to dance together for the sake of keeping asgore on his feet and alive.

Sans has tried one time to get papyrus to watch one of Naps’ shows. Papyrus was fine with this till Naps found him and when no one was watching beat up Papyrus so he couldnt dance for a while. Although Sans was confused as to why his brother was beat up SD has not said a word about his encounter.

#swapdanceheadcannon #Mostly about SDNaps but i figured you would want some more stuff

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themanicmagician · 7 years

Text

The Hand that Feeds - Chapter 2

Summary:

“Sans, please. I’ll do anything. Whatever you want me to do, just say it and I’ll do it.” Sans considers him. “Anything, huh?”

Contains stray dog adoption, lasagna, and bad times for Papyrus.

When Grillby returns from the kitchen with a plate of steaming food balanced on a tray, there’s a new customer by the bar counter: Sans’ younger brother. He hasn’t hopped up on a barstool; instead, Papyrus hovers by the edge of the counter, nervous and out of place. He rarely visits without Sans.

Hopkins—a regular—leers at him from her stool. “Hiya, cutie.”

Papyrus’ smile is stiff.

Grillby delivers the order to an eager, salivating customer before returning behind the bar. Papyrus eyes him. His mouth half-opens and closes, but he’s evidently unable to summon the courage to speak.

Hopkins, not quite drunk yet but getting there, waves her glass in the bartender’s direction. He refills her drink, and she mumbles her thanks.

“Can I help you with something?” Grillby asks Papyrus.

Despite his gentle tone, the skeleton flinches at being addressed.

“Um…” He consults a scrap of paper. “C-Can I get a burger and fries, with extra ketchup and n-no onions? To go, please?”

Sans’ usual, then.

“So Sans was too busy to fetch his own meal today?” Grillby jokes.

The lights in Papyrus’ eyes shrink. “Oh—no. It’s just, it’s not like I was doing anything important anyway, so…” He trails off, shrugging.

“Give me five minutes.”

Grillby tightens the strings of his apron as he heads back into the kitchen. He can hear Hopkins heckling Papyrus as he leaves, dragging brief but polite responses from him.

They become inaudible once Grillby is inside the kitchen. He retrieves a patty from the fridge. As it sizzles on the grill, he collects the other ingredients. He manipulates the food with a practiced ease, and as the burger cooks he allows his mind to wander.

The one speck of unrest in their bucolic town is the enmity between the skeleton brothers. Sans is all smiles, jokes, and good company at the bar, right up until Papyrus shows to bring him home. His mood sours instantly, and Papyrus is all too easily cut open by barbed words. It’s uncomfortable for everyone present, but who are they to interfere? The brothers’ constant fight is an open secret in Snowdin, but none of them are close enough to either of them to really intrude on the family matter. They’re all just hoping the brothers will be able to work whatever it is out themselves, eventually.

The burger cooked—medium rare, as Sans likes it—Grillby adds the additions, piling on ingredients before enclosing them all in lightly-toasted buns. He sinks a toothpick into the finished burger to keep its structure secure. It drips with grease, ketchup, and flavor. After wrapping the burger up neatly along with fresh-cut fries, Grillby rejoins his customers.

Hopkins, who has already finished her refreshed drink, is slurring advice to Papyrus. The skeleton is listening intently to her drunken knowledge, like a student before a sage. “…takes it all right off. Like floatin’ on a cloud. Too far to care about whatever. You know?”

Grillby sets the to-go bag on the counter as Papyrus mulls her advice over. Hopkins, looking woozy, rests her chin on her folded arms.

“Right.” Papyrus nods. He turns to Grillby, a spark of excitement about him. “Mr. Grillby. I’d like one alcohol, please.”

Hopkins snorts into her sleeve.

“…Right.” Grillby says. “Have you ever drank before?”

“No. But I…” Papyrus puffs up, just a little. “I’m an adult. I can drink if I want to.”

“Give him a shot of fireball. On me.” Hopkins nudges her empty shot glass over to Grillby. “And while you’re at it…”

Grillby pours out the cinnamon whiskey and slides the glasses back over the bar counter.

Papyrus picks up his glass like he doesn’t know the proper way to hold it. He sniffs it, dubious. A disgusted look flits across his features before he schools his expression into one more neutral.

“Down it in one.” Hopkins instructs, before doing just that herself.

“Don’t—” Before Grillby can finish warning him, Papyrus knocks it back.

As soon as it’s down Papyrus is coughing, sputtering. He not-so-subtly wipes away tears from his eye sockets. “That was…great?” Papyrus’ enthusiasm is as weak as his voice.

Hopkins laughs. Grillby glares until she gets the hint and quiets.

“Wait here.” He tells Papyrus.

“Oh,” Papyrus shifts his weight uneasily. Angling himself for the door. “I think I’ve had enough for today—”

“It’ll just take a minute.”

Grillby heads back into the kitchen. He prepares a different beverage, one he’s fairly sure Papyrus will actually enjoy. He adds more milk than the recipe demands—but Papyrus could use it. As a monster who’s made his livelihood feeding others, he’s always been bothered by the brittle, pale look of the skeleton’s bones. He needs to eat more.

Grillby returns to the bar with a tall glass. The frosty drink is already melting from his ambient heat, so he sets it down in front of Papyrus and backs off.

“What is this?” Papyrus eyes it, curious.

“A chocolate milkshake. I think you’ll enjoy the taste of this better.”

Papyrus reaches for it, but then snatches his hand back, contrite. “I’m sorry, but I just have enough for Sans’ food.”

“It’s on the house,” Grillby dismisses. “Think of it as an apology for the fireball.”

“You’re sure?”

Grillby nods, but Papyrus hesitates still.

“Really, Papyrus. It’s fine.”

Finally assuaged, Papyrus takes a cautious sip from the shake.

It’s like a flip has been switched. Papyrus’ face flushes with healthy color, and his eyelights sparkle.

“Wowie! It’s delicious!”

Papyrus finally takes a seat at the counter, and happily drinks the shake. It’s amazing how his demeanor has perked up in such a short span of time. Grillby feels a curl of satisfaction; that’s what good food will do for you.

Hopkins signals Grillby for another glass. She grumbles when he serves her water, but doesn’t insist on more whiskey.

The Dogi enter the bar, woofing hellos to the room. Papyrus startles at the sudden noise. His gaze finds the clock on the wall, and he’s galvanized into action.

“I need to get going.” Papyrus rummages through his pockets and pulls out several gold coins. He counts them out with shaking fingers and hands them over to Grillby.

The milkshake glass is still half full. “Do you want me to get you a cup for this?”

‘”No, no. It’s fine. Thank you. I have to go.”

Papyrus grabs Sans’ food and hurries from the bar.

Grillby circles around the bar counter, making his way over to the dog couple to take their order.

Papyrus is certainly an odd one. Shy, skittish, awkward. But still, there is something about him that’s endearing.

~*~

When the clock nears one in the morning, Grillby shoos his remaining customers out, and, from beneath the bar, pulls out an old beat up radio that doubles as a cassette player. He salvaged it from the Dump years ago, and has slowly but surely amassed a modest cassette collection. The cassette he slots into the radio today has old tracks, from early 19XX. The gentle swing tunes drift through the bar. One day he’ll shell out and get a real jukebox, but for now, he makes due with his scavenged prize.

While the music plays, he gets to work. He pulls on thick waterproof dishwashing gloves, before filling a bucket with water and soap. He dunks a cloth into the water, and wipes down the bar counter, the tables. Checks the undersides of both for trash and stubborn gum. As he straightens up from bending under each table, a stabbing ache develops in the small of his back. He rubs at the spot of pain and wills it to ebb.

Once the bar is spick and span, it’s approaching two and he’s feeling weary, but there’s more still to be done. He heads into the kitchen and thoroughly scrubs every used dish and utensil, before taking out the trash for the day in the alley behind the bar.

Exhaustion weighing heavily upon him, he heads home after locking up. His house is one in a row of quaint, quiet homes.

When at last inside he yanks off his apron, tugs off his tie, and lets them both drop haphazardly on the floor. He checks his phone; there’s a missed call and a message from Fuku.

“Hi, Uncle Grillby!” She sounds like a teenager now. When had that happened? Grillby feels a stab of guilt. “Dad wanted to know if you’d be coming to the Gyftmas party.” Then, hushed: “Mom doesn’t think you’ll show up. She says she’s not even putting out a place setting. Think how funny the look on her face would be if you did come!” Fuku laughs, tinny through the speaker. “But, yeah. Let me or Dad know if you can make it. Later!”

The message ends with a click. Grillby’s finger hovers over the redial—he’s seen her Undernet posts at odd hours of the night, she’d still be awake despite the late hour—but he ends up powering the phone down. He’ll deal with it later.

Not bothering to change, Grillby collapses onto his bed. A soreness pulls at his back. Grimacing, he grasps for the bedside table. He snatches up the half-full bottle of pain pills, and dry swallows down two of them.

He seals the bottle and tosses it off the bed.

He curls on his side. For so long he’s been content in his decision, fueled by his passion. But lately, every day folds into the next, near-seamless copies. The usual, the regulars. He’s tired.

~*~

Grillby imports most of his ingredients wholesale from New Home, but today he’s run out of coffee creamer. So before opening up shop for the day, he has to make a quick stop at the General Store for this dire necessity.

Usagi’s floppy ears point upwards as he enters.

“Well hello there!” She chimes, cheerful as ever. “What can I do for you today, hun? Come for one of my cinnamon bunnies?”

“Not today, I’m afraid.”

She’s always heavy on the cinnamon. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her. He finds the creamer and brings it to the register.

“2G.” Usagi says, punching the item into the register. After a moment of thought, Grillby grabs a bottle of pain pills and places it on the counter as well.

“7G, now.” Usagi frowns. “You’re not taking out your back at that bar of yours?”

“It’s fine.” Grillby hands over the gold.

“I had the same problem before my sister’s kids started coming in to help with closing.” Usagi’s fingers drum on the counter. “You know, that skeleton has been asking for work lately.”

“Sans?” The idea that his slovenly regular is willfully looking for extra work seems unbelievable. Besides, he’s seen his house—it’s not like he’s strapped for cash.

“No, no. His brother! The tall one. He’s been buying kibble lately. Got himself a dog, he says. Been begging all over for work to help care for it.”

Grillby frowns. From what he knows of Sans’ jobs, he could easily afford Papyrus’ pet. Well, he is the older brother. Maybe he wants to teach Papyrus responsibility.

“Why not throw him a bone?” Usagi suggests. “Hire him as a waiter or something.”

Usagi is always nagging him to hire on more staff, but for once he’s actually considering it. His back has been bothering him lately, moreso than usual. And someone who could clean dishes without layers of protection would be useful.

Grillby leaves the General Store with coffee creamer, pills, and an emerging idea.

~*~

He has his chance when Papyrus returns to his bar a few days later, asking for Sans’ usual once again.

“Papyrus.”

The skeleton jumps at the sound of his name.

“Usagi told me you were looking for work. Would you be interested in a position here?”

Papyrus’ eyes brighten with interest, but then the twin lights are abruptly snuffed.

“O-Oh, I shouldn’t. I’m not good at crowds, and people and…”

“You can stay in the back.” Grillby assures him. “Really I just need someone to help with dishes, prep work. Keeping an eye on the fryer. Things like that.”

“I…I don’t know,” Papyrus mumbles. He hunches, trying to look small. “I probably wouldn’t be any good at it.”

“I’m not trying to force you into anything. I just wanted to let you know the offer’s available.”

Papyrus looks at the floor. Grillby feels befuddled, and admittedly put out. He’d thought Papyrus would leap on the opportunity, and was looking forward to another set of hands.

“If….If I said yes.” Papyrus rubs his arm. “Do you think you could keep my job a secret from everyone? Especially Sans.”

“Why?”

“Because. I—I’m trying to save up. For a gift for my brother. I don’t want him to know. And if his friends knew, they’d tell him I work here.”

A flicker of surprise runs through Grillby. If Papyrus wants to go to such lengths, it’s possible he’s trying to patch up his relationship with Sans.

“Very well. If it means that much to you, I won’t say a thing. You can work in the kitchen exclusively, and leave out the back if you want.”

“Then in that case, I accept!” Grillby is bemused as Papyrus clasps his hands in his own, his eyes gathering with tears. Above grateful, he’s acting like Grillby just saved his life. “Thank you, Mr. Grillby. Thank you.”

“…Sure.” He certainly is odd. “Can you start tomorrow?”

Papyrus nods so hard he rattles.

“Excellent. I’ll see you then.”

~*~

Snowdin is dark in the early morning. The festive lights strung up around the town are set on a timer, not meant to go off for hours yet. Smothering a yawn with his hand, Grillby reaches for his keys as he nears his bar. He stops short near the entrance.

Papyrus is already on the front stoop, shivering in his short-sleeved shirt.

“You’re here early.”

His new hire looks at him with wide, guilty eyes. “Oh! Did y-you want me to come later? I’m sorry, I should’ve known to—”

“It’s okay.” Grillby assures him, before he can lather himself into a panic. He’d told Papyrus to come in the morning. Thinking of Sans, he’d assumed Papyrus wouldn’t appear until much later. “I can show you my set up procedures, since you’re already here.”

Grillby lets them both inside. He raises his body temperature a fraction, to heat the room faster for his companion.

“Let me show you around the back.”

He leads his new employee past the door by the bar, into the kitchen. Grillby gestures around the space.

“This is where you’ll be doing most of your work.”

The appliances aren’t top of the line, but Grillby has taken pains to treat them well and clean them frequently. The kitchen is broken down into sections: a space for the grill and fryer, another for the oven, a long counter to prepare cold meals, and a dishwashing station. Various cooking utensils line the walls, and a well-stocked fridge sits in one corner of the room.

Grillby waves a hand in the direction of the sink, several dishes from the previous night piled in it. “That’s mostly where I’ll have you working. I’ll also start training you on daily prep lists, once you get used to the washing.”

Papyrus nods, listening so raptly Grillby’s almost surprised he isn’t writing this all down.

In addition to the door they entered in from the bar, there’s a second near the back of the kitchen. Grillby opens it for them, showing Papyrus inside. “This is the back room. Think of it as a break room.” It’s furnished with an old but cozy couch, and another radio.

“And past that door at the back there, that leads to behind the bar. If I ever need you to take out trash, you’d go through here.”

The tour concluded, Grillby brings Papyrus back to the kitchen, to get started on the dishes. He grabs an apron from his inventory, as well as gloves.

“Put these on.”

Papyrus’ petite frame is swamped in Grillby’s clothes. The apron’s width is more than enough to wrap around Papyrus’ body and then some. The gloves creep up near his shoulders.

Grillby walks his new employee through the basics; which tools are best depending on the food residue and cookware, the level of cleanliness that’s expected of him. Grillby then hands him one of the dishes to start. Papyrus takes to the task eagerly, scrubbing with enthusiasm.

Grillby leaves him to it. He gets to work on his own task, prepping vegetables for the day’s orders. He glances Papyrus’ way occasionally as he crosses out items on his prep list.

He’s dicing green peppers for the daily special when he hears a crash.

He looks up, alarmed. Papyrus’ soapy gloves are outstretched, and there’s a pile of broken porcelain at his feet.

“Are you hurt?” Grillby asks, looking him over for any nicks or scrapes. Papyrus seems fine, merely rattled.

“I’m—I’m so sorry.” Papyrus’ expression is as shattered as the plate.

“It’s alright, Papyrus. Really.” Grillby emphasizes to his flappable employee. “Just try to be more careful, alright?”

Papyrus nods fervently. He bends down and reaches for the shards. “I’ll clean it up right away.”

“Hold on.” This skeleton has no sense of self-preservation. Grillby fetches him a broom and dustpan. “Use these. Don’t cut yourself on anything.”

Papyrus starts cleaning up the mess. Grillby can tell his presence makes Papyrus anxious, so he makes himself busy in the front. He buffs at stubborn stains on the bar counter with an old rag.

The skeleton brothers had shown up in town one day, over a year ago now it has to be. Sans fit right in at once. He has a charming air about him that makes it easy to carry on pleasant conversation. The type you always look forward to seeing again, knowing he’d have more crazy tales to spin the next time.

Papyrus, on the other hand, seemed more ghost than skeleton, with how easily he blended in to the surroundings. Thinking back now, Grillby doesn’t recall seeing him about town often. Maybe a few times, in passing, they’d brush by each other. Grillby, on his way to work, and Papyrus heading for the forest that bordered Snowdin’s western edge. A group of children frequent the woods, but he couldn’t see them mingling with Papyrus. What does he do out there, all alone?

Grillby can’t help a swell of pity. With just a few hours of working with him, it’s clear Papyrus is painfully shy. It’s no doubt kept him from reaching out to other members of the community and making friends.

When he gave Papyrus the milkshake, when Papyrus allowed himself to relax, it was like his true personality peeped out of its shell. Papyrus had been goofy, in an endearing way. A lightness of spirit.

Grillby wants to see that part of Papyrus again.

~*~

As the month progresses, Papyrus proves to be an unexpected blessing. After a few bumps in the beginning, Papyrus’ nerves settle, and he becomes more comfortable in his position. He’s a model worker, always on time, always pouring 110% into everything he does. Grillby has to urge him to take breaks, sometimes going as far as to shepherd him into the back room himself to make sure he stays there.

With Papyrus’ quick and efficient work, Grillby is able to close up the bar and retire to bed much earlier than he used to, with a lot less aches and pains accompanying him.

As Papyrus masters tasks, Grillby introduces additional ones. This morning, they’re working side by side, preparing vegetables for a stew. They’re close enough that their elbows brush as they work. Soft jazz plays from the radio, and Grillby hums along gently.

He glances sidelong over to Papyrus to assess his progress. He’s dicing vegetables with a manic precision.

“You’re good at this. You cut very evenly.” While Papyrus is like a kicked puppy when criticized, he lights up at the simplest praise.

“Thank you,” Papyrus murmurs, a pleased smile on his face.

“Do you cook often in your spare time?”

Papyrus shakes his head.

“You have a very steady hand, then.”

Papyrus doubles down on his work. Grillby thinks it might be the end of their short conversation, when Papyrus pipes up again.

“…Sometimes, I like to make dioramas. Layouts of puzzles and traps on different terrain. I have to cut a lot of small pieces.”

Papyrus is a history buff? Grillby wouldn’t have guessed he enjoyed something so traditional.

“Have you built any traps? The dogs would probably let you set one up in the forest.”

“Oh, they’re not that good, really. I’m sure if I put up a trap a human would walk right past it.”

Grillby frowns. He tries to engage him from another avenue. “Usagi mentioned a while back that you have a pet. A dog, right?”

That perks him up. “Yes! A small white one, just two years old. Although sometimes I wonder if it’s not a dog at all, but a demon!”

“Oh?”

Papyrus reaches for another pepper. It’s more prep then they’ll need, but Grillby says nothing. Papyrus chops away.

“Yes!” He scowls, but his tone is fond. “The pesky canine stole all the socks from my drawer the other day. Every. Single. One! I was looking everywhere! And guess where the dog stashed them all!”

“Behind the couch?” Grillby guesses.

“Beneath the kitchen sink. It built a nest from my socks. Now there’s dog hair on everything.”

“So, what did you do when you found the dog?”

“Well, I meant to scold it. But then it licked my hand in apology. So, being the better monster, I let bybones be bybones.”

Grillby laughs at the mental image of Papyrus chasing a tiny dog around.

“Nyeh heh heh.” Papyrus giggles with him.

Grillby’s soul warms at the sound.

“What?” Papyrus asks, and Grillby realizes he’s been staring.

“Nothing. I’ve just never heard your laugh before. It’s nice.”

“Oh.” Papyrus’ cheekbones flush a pretty orange. He’s suddenly very interested in the prep work, scooping vegetables into plastic bins.

Despite Papyrus’ embarrassment, he leans a bit closer to Grillby. They work with arms nearly touching, Grillby’s flames licking harmlessly against Papyrus’ sleeve.

~*~

Grillby frowns at the clock on the wall. Papyrus is normally idling at the bar before Grillby even gets there, but ten minutes have passed since he got in and there’s no sign yet of his employee. Maybe he’s sick, but Grillby has no way of knowing. Grillby asked before if he had a cellphone, to keep in contact with about his work schedule, but Papyrus said he didn’t. Maybe he could call Sans, instead?

Grillby is halfway through a text to the skeleton brother when he stalls. Papyrus wanted to keep his job a secret. Asking Sans where Papyrus was would arouse suspicion.

Right as he finishes deleting the half-formed message, the front door opens.

“Welcome, Papyrus.” Grillby greets him.

Papyrus’ body language is oddly stiff. He’s keeping his gaze down, angling himself away from Grillby.

“Hi, Mr. Grillby.” He sounds subdued. “Sorry I’m late.”

Papyrus tries to brush past him and into the kitchen, but he’s not quick enough—Grillby sees what he’s trying to hide.

He sucks in a sharp breath and follows him into the kitchen.

“Papyrus, are you alright?”

“It’s nothing.”

Papyrus heads to his work station. Fiddling around and trying to look busy.

“It’s not nothing.” Grillby grabs Papyrus’ chin, angling his face to better see the bruising around his mandible.

“It looks worse than it is.” Papyrus says, but winces when Grillby’s fingers probe closer to the injured area.

“What happened?”

“Oh, it…” Papyrus colors. “I was just being stupid. As usual. I tripped.”

“You tripped?” Grillby reiterates, skeptical. That’s significant bruising for a fall.

“I was carrying laundry downstairs and I fell. I hit my face at a bad angle. It’s fine, really.”

Papyrus tries to back away, but Grillby keeps hold of him. “Hold still for a minute.”

The flames of his hand flicker green. Grillby transfers healing magic over until the pain leaves Papyrus’ face.

“That should speed along the healing process.” The bruises are still present, but will disappear faster.

“Um…” Papyrus croaks, face aflame, and Grillby realizes he’s just been mindlessly stroking Papyrus’ cheek with his thumb.

Grillby snatches his hand back. He clears his throat.

“I should get back to work.”

Once Grillby moves past his embarrassment, he offers to let Papyrus go home early, but he declines.

A slow afternoon becomes a busy evening as regulars pack the bar to spend their paychecks for the week. The bar may not have a jukebox yet, but it’s plenty loud enough with all the chatter from the bar’s patrons. The royal guard pack crowd around one table, playing their weekly poker match. Big Mouth slurps a milkshake. Hopkins sits with Scarlet at the bar, the two chatting about their love lives, or rather, lack thereof. Greymane sits in his usual corner with his leather jacket on despite the bar’s warmth, taking pains to look the part of an enigmatic bad boy.

The front bell jingles as another enters their midst. The patrons all turn to look, and cry out in joy.

“Sans!”

“Hey, Sansy!”

Sans gives the crowd a cheeky grin and a half-wave.

Grillby watches him weave through the bar, going from group to group. He tosses bone attacks to the dogs, tells jokes that make even Greymane crack a grin.

Finally, he hops up on his customary bar stool. He winks over at the girls, sending them into fits of tipsy giggles.

“Where’ve you been lately? We’ve been lonely without you, Sansy.” Hopkins pouts.

“Oh, you know. Just up to one of my usual hare-brained schemes.”

Hopkins guffaws. With the objectivity of sobriety, Grillby thinks that was far from his best pun.

Sans props his head in his hand.

“Heya Grillbz. Lookin’ hot today.” The same joke as always. Grillby finds he has less patience to humor Sans since Papyrus started working for him. Papyrus is sweet, gentle—what cause does Sans have to be so cruel to him?

“Burg and fries, if ya would.” Sans slides a stack of bills over. “And just keep the beers coming.”

Grillby pockets the money before entering the kitchen. Papyrus has heard Sans’ arrival, that much is apparent in the stiffness of his posture. He keeps his head bowed as he scrubs furiously at phantom stains on a bowl.

“If he’s bothering you, you can go home early, if you’d like.”

“I’m fine.” Papyrus flashes him a wan smile. “But thank you.”

Grillby returns to the bar before too long with Sans’ order. The skeleton dives into his burger, smearing ketchup on his face with a greedy bite.

He frowns. “You feelin’ ok, Grillbz?” Sans shows Grillby the burger. It’s past well done, blackened. “Little charred today.”

Grillby reaches for the plate, apologetic.

“Nah, it’s fine. Kinda smokey.” Sans takes another bite, more content now that he’s expecting the taste.

It’s odd of him to mess up an order like that. When he first started cooking as a cinder, he had many a misfire. His fluctuating magic levels produced dishes anywhere from tepid to molten. One night he attempted to cook dinner for his family, and emerged from the kitchen with a heap of ashes. Oh, how his sister had laughed.

Grillby learned to control his flames and to leave any negative thoughts from his mind when he worked. Evidently he’d been too careless tonight.

Sans doesn’t mind too much, and his mood mellows further when he gets a few beers in him.

As the hours go by, slowly the crowd disperses until the only one left is Sans. Fast asleep, his head pillowed in his arms. No doubt there’s a puddle of drool forming on the counter.

Usually when Sans does this, Papyrus comes by to pick him up. Occasionally, Papyrus would poke his head in and Sans wouldn’t be at the bar, meaning he’d left his brother alone without telling him where he’d be and when he’d be back, leaving Papyrus to worry. Grillby had always thought it rude Sans would force his brother to guess his location.

Sans snores gently. Maybe Grillby’s being unfair to him. He doesn’t know Sans’ situation—for a talkative guy he’s surprisingly secretive—but he always had the feeling Sans is grappling with a heavy personal issue. Once he gets one too many beers in him, there’s a weariness to him. Maybe Sans is doing the best he can under his circumstances.

Grillby meets Papyrus as he returns from taking out the trash.

“I think your brother is ready to go home.”

“Oh. I’m sorry he’s always so…” Papyrus trails off, embarrassed on his brother’s behalf.

Grillby shrugs. “It comes with the territory.”

They return to the bar together, after Papyrus stashes his work apron into his inventory.

Papyrus’ frame is too slight to carry Sans home without waking him. He shakes Sans’ shoulder.

“It’s time to go home, brother.” Papyrus says, softly.

“Shut up, Papyrus.” Sans groans. His eyes open to a squint. “Why are you always so fuckin’ loud?”

Papyrus slings Sans’ arm over his shoulders and pulls him from his bar stool. Grillby wants to help, but he doubts Papyrus would let him take over, so he does what he can and gets the door for the two of them.

Some nights Sans goes quietly along, but tonight he’s belligerent. He’s struggling with Papyrus, trying to grope at his hip.

“Sans, knock it off.” Papyrus scolds him with a hushed whisper.

“C’mon, give me a beej.” Sans slurs. “Fuckin’ cocksucker.”

Well, that was a new one.

Papyrus’ flustered gaze snaps up to Grillby.

“I’m so sorry. S-Sans is just—he’s been through a lot lately.” Papyrus says in a rush. “It’s stress from work. He doesn’t know who he’s talking to.”

“Do you need help getting him home?” Maybe he’s more drunk than Grillby thought, if he can’t recognize his own brother.

“No, no, I can do this. Goodnight.”

Papyrus all but drags Sans from the bar. Grillby watches them go from the doorjamb. Sans tries to paw at Papyrus, who knocks his hand away.

Grillby resolves to be firmer with Sans’ alcohol limits. He hadn’t been paying attention tonight, and it wasn’t fair that Papyrus is stuck dealing with the fallout.

Once the brothers are out of sight, he returns inside.

~*~

With a dollop of whipped cream, Grillby finishes off his newest milkshake. He wanted to branch out in flavors, and try something more unique than the standard vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. Slowly he’s been introducing new desserts to his menu. For this shake, he blended scoops of ice cream with frozen bananas, crumbled walnuts, and caramel made from scratch.

Grillby can’t really enjoy frozen treats himself; the food melts before it even reaches his mouth. Papyrus has become his taste-tester in his stead, before the dishes make their way out to the public.

He’d prepared the milkshake in time for Papyrus’ arrival (a sugary breakfast, but he’s sure Papyrus won’t mind) but his employee is running late today. He sets the finished milkshake in the fridge to await his arrival.

Grillby takes a seat on the couch in the back room, waiting for Papyrus to arrive. His leg jiggles as he watches the door. Today’s the day, he’s decided. Well, yesterday was the day, and so was the day before that. But today. Today for sure will be the day that he finally asks if Papyrus would like to go out with him. On a date.

He’s been working with Papyrus nearly every day for the past two months. He has no delusions that if he asks Papyrus out they’ll be swept up in a passionate whirlwind romance. He’s a simple enough monster. Papyrus is shy, quirky—but he’s kind, caring, and adorable, too. Grillby looks forward to spending time with him at work, and when he’s home he finds himself thinking over things Papyrus said, or replaying the sound of his laugh in his mind. Grillby thinks it’s worth a shot, to explore if they could mean something more to each other than employee and employer.

When Papyrus enters, Grillby dismisses his apology and explanation for his tardiness (his dog thought it’d be fun to run away with one of his shoes) and brings him into the bar.

“I wanted you to try this.”

Grillby sets the shake before him, and Papyrus’ eyes light up. He scoops up a mouthful with a spoon and eats it.

“Do you like the taste?”

Papyrus nods.

“Everything you make tastes wonderful.” Papyrus compliments him, shyly.

It’s now or never. Grillby leans across the bar counter, trying to broadcast confidence.

“Papyrus, I have something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Something important.”

“…Yes?” Papyrus asks, when Grillby doesn’t follow that up. He’s trying to think of the best way to articulate this—why didn’t he write it down? Why didn’t he actually prepare something instead of just thinking about it?

“I—”

The front door rattles. Someone’s trying to get in, but Grillby hasn’t unlocked the front door yet. Papyrus just about leaps out of his metaphorical skin, and scurries into the kitchen before he can be spotted.

His chance has closed. Grillby clears away the milkshake before letting the customer inside.

It turns out to be a slow morning. Papyrus shoots him curious looks every time he reenters the kitchen to grab something, but Grillby holds off on providing an explanation. He still wants to ask Papyrus out properly, like he deserves.

At noon, the quiet mood of the bar is shattered as a herd of children rush inside, two beleaguered schoolteachers trailing after them. A New Home school insignia is on their uniforms.

“You serve food here, don’t you?” Asks one weary teacher.

“Of course.” Grillby brings out the menus he’d recently had laminated at the library, updated to include dessert options. He also taps into his rarely used stash of crayons and puzzle sheets, which the children take to with enthusiasm. Some fill out the puzzles, but most just scribble all over the page.

One of the schoolteachers reads out menu items to the children. They raise their hands when they hear something they like, and Grillby jots it all down. The teachers give him their orders as well, bringing the total to fifteen.

Grillby steps into the kitchen. Papyrus is idling by the empty dishwasher.

“There’s a class field trip in town from New Home.” Grillby explains as he shows Papyrus the long order. “Let’s get these orders out fast before the kids get antsy.”

Being children, they’re drawn to sweets. Many ordered shakes and ice creams. Papyrus works on the cold treats while Grillby fires up a bunch of sliders.

They work quickly; Grillby is soon back out the door with a tray of food, with Papyrus following behind him, balancing his own plate of sweets. Normally Papyrus remains in the kitchen, but the children need to be served simultaneously or they’ll liable to have a riot on their hands.

As soon as the food is set down the children set upon it like ravenous animals. The teachers look relieved for some peace from the commotion, and dig into their own meals.

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

The front door bell jingles.

Grillby looks up. “Welcome to Grillby’s—”

The greeting dies halfway out.

“Hey Grillbz, just figured I’d stop by for a quick bite.” Sans winks at him. “But jeez. Don’t think I’ll be getting fast food with this crowd in here.”

Papyrus tries to sneak back out into the kitchen; Sans follows Grillby’s line of sight and spots his brother. Something in Sans’ expression shifts.

“Papyrus?” Any emotion, good or bad, is squeezed from his voice. But his eyelights are snuffed out.

Papyrus, face pale, flees into the kitchen. Grillby feels compelled to explain for him in his wake.

“He’d said that he’d wanted to surprise you with a present.” Grillby says, trying to mask how Sans’ hollow eye sockets unnerve him. “So he’d asked me to keep his employment a secret.”

Sans has no cause to be angry with his brother. Grillby won’t stand for it; Papyrus had been trying to do something nice for him.

The fires reignite in Sans’ sockets. The grin returns to his face. “He really shouldn’t have.”

Grillby wants to ask him more—finally press about their fight, something—but before he can get a word out, one of the teachers is sidling up to him with a rather sticky-looking child.

“Excuse me,” She’s breathless. “Our table could use some napkins.”

“I’ll find lunch somewhere less popular.” Sans heads for the door. “Have a good one, Grillbz.”

And he’s gone.

~*~

Color doesn’t return to Papyrus’ cheeks despite the rigorous cleanup in the aftermath of lunch. Grillby offers twice to let him go home, but Papyrus remains obstinate. Once the dinner rush ends, it’s just the two of them in the bar.

“I can handle the rest of this.” Grillby gestures to the remaining cleanup. He really would appreciate Papyrus’ help, but the skeleton looks dead on his feet. He can’t in good conscience keep him any later.

“Mr. Grillby, what had you wanted to ask me? Earlier.”

“I don’t think now is the best time—”

“Please.” Papyrus is right in front of him. This close, he can see the slight flecks of amber in his eyelights.

Well. Guess it’s now or never, then. Grillby squares his shoulders.

“As we’ve spent time together, I’ve found that I…enjoy your company. I wanted to know if you’d be interested in going a date. With me.”

“I…” Papyrus swallows. “Why?”

“Why what?” Grillby asks, bewildered.

“I don’t understand. Why would you like me? You—You can’t.”

Before Grillby can say anything, though, Papyrus heads for the door.

“Wait—”

Papyrus leaves, shutting the bar door behind him. The cheery jingle of the bells mocks him. Grillby urges himself to move. He can catch up to Papyrus and…do what?

Papyrus isn’t interested. Grillby clearly made him uncomfortable. The signs he thought he saw—the furtive glances, brushes of contact—had been embellished in memory. Wishful thinking on his part spoiled his friendship with the skittish skeleton.

Feeling like dirt on the bottom of a boot, Grillby finishes cleaning up the bar by himself.

The following morning, Papyrus doesn’t show up to work.

#dear god this chapter did not want to get written #shout out to crawly and sesu for giving this an extra lookover #papby #bad bro au #papyrus #grillby #sans #my fic

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