#my contribution to tickletober i guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ticklishshenanigansau · 3 years

Text

Day 4; Upper body

Hello!! I wanted to contribute to tickletober this year, so I wrote this disaster 🥰 (this is platonic— frisk is still a minor)

——

The beaming sun reflected off the the rough, scarred bone as the figure wobbled to his feet, cringing at the crunchy sound and feeling of the grains caught between his limbs and vertebrae. Being a skeleton while living in such a harsh place had it’s benefits; he didn’t need much water at all, he couldn’t get burnt by the sun, and the sting of the sand barely registered. No nasty flesh to hassle him. Of course, such advantages always came with a downside.

Frisk didn’t consider it much of a downside. Of course, being a human with their gross human skin to protect all the bones inside, they would never know the agony of—

“Get up,” They interrupted his griping, grabbing his arm to firmly yank him up from the ground. And they used a little too much force. Looks like they were more used to pulling humans and monsters of similar weight around, because Sans let out a grunt of surprise when he was lifted off of his feet. “Look, Mister Sands, I get we walked a long ways last night, but that doesn’t excuse you to sleep past noon.”

“it’s ‘sans’,” The skeleton replied, attempting the orange-ish grit out of his shawl, staring at the much younger human child with an unimpressed look. Who gave this sixteen-year-old to be so sassy with him? When he was sixteen, he spent his nights sweeping the floors of the orphanage he’d grown up in.

Granted, that was because he was always starting a food fight or stealing knickknacks from his roommates…. His point was he didn’t talk back to those so much older than him. “no d. you know, because skeletons don’t have d.” Sans, please. “you kept me up all night with your snoring. there’s no way it’s my fault you snort louder than our neighbor at the tavern.

Frisk flushed with anger; and despite the dark skin of their face being mostly shielded away from the harsh glare of the sun, Sans could see that irked them. Humans were so sensitive, and for what? Was he supposed to just say he stayed up all night for no reason? As heavy a sleeper Sans was, he just couldn’t deal with certain things. “I don’t.”

“-you do,” Sans interrupted, sending an amused look at the taller. Despite the fact this kid was tall, and much taller than he would ever be, he didn’t shrink away whenever they glared. He wasn’t scared of a human- they were soft and squishy and vulnerable. This one was paying him to help them escape the desert; an impossible feat in his eyes. Anyway, the money was money— and the deal would be broken if they were to lay a hand on him. He could take his (unearned) bounty and leave.

“And even if I did, I’m not paying you so I can carry you through the desert. If I wanted someone to sleep all day and occasionally be annoying, I would get a dog.”

“jeez, that really hurts my feelings.” Sans put his hand to his chest, feelings visibly undamaged by the harsh words. He’s been called worse. Being compared to a dog, and more accurately- being told he was being less useful than a dog was just flat-out amusing to him. He could scare off coyotes and rattlesnakes much better than some pooch could. Besides, he was getting paid. A dog wouldn’t make any bank from protecting some kid who didn’t know what they were doing. “if you want a dog that badly, i know a couple tricks. i can fetch, roll over… and guess what? i’m already housebroken. lucky you.”

Frisk scoffed and relented, tugging the skeleton closer to help pat away the sand and dirt that had accumulated on the skeleton’s layers of clothing; and it was admittedly not many compared to how many they were wearing themself. Sans would have made yet another wisecrack at them, but he stopped when Frisk lifted his shirt to brush away the grains of sand there. “…what are you doing?”

“Helping.” Frisk said simply, squinting at the spaces between the bones. Huh. Sans really wasn’t lying when he said he was a skeleton- and how much he resembled a human skeleton was almost uncanny. His bone structure wasn’t quite the same as a human’s, though. While lighter than a human of his size, his bones were sturdier. Frisk assumed this was because there was no muscle or skin to protect him from any blows to the ribcage or a particularly hard fall. There wasn’t much give. And Sans, neither being a human nor a child, had no spongey cartilage that could absorb any impact on any of his ribs. “Why do you wear clothes?”

“what?” What kind of question was that? They already had him dangling from his arm, they were poking and brushing around his ribcage, and now they were asking why he wore clothes. You know, a think that every sensible person- human or monster would do when the world as they knew it was full of sand and bugs and harsh sun. “i wear clothes because i was taught to wear them when i grew up. like you.” Ugh, humans, he swears… “you’re gonna have to pay a real hefty price if you’re telling me to take this off.”

“Hell no.” That garnered a bark of laughter from Sans. “I was just— I sort of thought since you don’t have skin or… you know, anything that can get bit or fried in the sun, you’d be able to go around without all of these layers. Don’t they weigh you down?” Frisk raises an eyebrow at the curious way Sans flinched when they felt along the inside of the ribcage.

“…i already told you, i don’t like sand in my joints. i don’t gotta wear as many layers as you, but you’ve got no idea how much of a pain it is to pick it all out of there.” Being held like this was getting old fast. He didn’t have a single muscle that could be pulled by the awkward position, but that wasn’t to say it was comfortable at all. If his magic wasn’t holding him together so well, a sharp yank would have pulled the limb out of it’s socket and detached it. Painful? No. Pleasant? Also no. “also, it’s common courtesy. you humans really aren’t fond of us monsters, huh?”

Frisk sighed. “Couldn’t imagine why.” Well, that was good enough of an explanation, they supposed- but if Sans was going to complain about the grains in his bones, the human would pick them all out now to give him one less reason to complain. That had been what they were planning, but when they brushed their hand against the inside of the ribcage, Sans made a stifled noise. “What’s up with you? Do you have a cut— er, fracture, Mister Sans?”

“no fractures, cuts, or breaks. what, worried you’ll have to spend your ‘hard earned’ gold on me?” Sans was also getting sick of being called Mister. He’d only introduced it as a joke when he had first realized how young this runaway was. He wasn’t sure if they were trying to be professional or if they were just being unsavory with the title. In all honesty, did he not deserve it? While he was pretending to sleep, Frisk had carried him about two or three miles in the heat. While Sans would have graciously accepted being scolded and glared at, he did not appreciate being thrown into the sand. If that had gotten in his sockets, it would have put him in a much more sour mood. “cut it with the ‘mister’ thing, alrihight? just because you’re baharely out of stripes dohoesn’t make it okay to imply i’m old.”

“You said you were like, sixty,” Frisk chuckled, eyes crinkling and displaying the smile their mouth could not. Sans didn’t get why they insisted on bundling up their face with cloth when it was well over a hundred degrees. He was sure that had to be uncomfortable, right? When he ‘breathed’ the air just flowed around his skull and spine, and he couldn’t register it’s temperature. But he was sure fleshy people could. Sucks for them. “That’s super old. You’re old enough to be my great uncle. And old people have brittle bones, so I’m going to check these for you.”

Frisk didn’t miss the way Sans winced. It had to be a broken bone, right? While they weren’t the most impressed with how the diminutive skeleton had taken on such a dangerous job with an injury, they had to be the bigger person and try to help him with it. After all, why else would he be squirming and wincing at every touch? Frisk couldn’t feel a place where they were sure something was broken. Even the ribs were rough- not smooth and warm like he’d intended.

So they pinched where one of the deeper grooves were. They’d been expecting a grunt or a yelp to accompany the lurch the skeleton made- not a surprised peal of giggles. Frisk raised a brow. Why was Sans laughing at them?

The skeleton recovered from the sudden fit of laughter. He doesn’t look very pleased. “you’re not helping. if you’re looking for an anatomy lesson, we can find some traveler’s body to dig up. you can put me down. i’ll do the rest later.” Sans said, and rather urgently too. Frisk wasn’t always the brightest. But it didn’t take a genius to understand why the little ‘escort’ was giggling.

“No way. Skeletons are ticklish?” Frisk mumbled under their breath, astonished. They had almost been surprised the first time Sans had expressed pain. Sans didn’t appreciate being gawked at as if he was some rare, mystical creature never documented before. He was a monster, for Asgore’s sake. The kid hadn’t grown up near a lot of his kind, and it showed.

“that’s none of your business. i thought you were paying me to protect you,” Sans claimed. “not so you could put your hands all over me like i’m a poseable doll.”

“Please. You made me carry you three miles in this heat. You owe me, Sands.” Frisk didn’t even have the courtesy to remember how to properly pronounce his name. How rude of them.

“hey.” He wasn’t going to entertain any of this bullshit. Sure, Sans didn’t mind giving the occasional talk about how he could feel without the use of *actual* nerves (spoiler: the answer always was and always would be magic) but he didn’t like being poked and prodded like some sort of doll. Surely Frisk has seen a skeleton before?

“enough. i said— -..! hha! stop it— stohop! damn it, kid, i’m not asking you again!” The bite of that sentence was nowhere as strong as it would have been. Not with the calloused fingertips invading his privacy, gliding and poking and pinching in a way that left infuriating tingles.

Vultures tended to strip any carcass left unattended in the sun. While Humans tended to want their remains to be disposed of honorably, the vultures had no respect for the dead. If Frisk wanted to poke some bones, it wouldn’t be too much of a problem. He’d prefer it over this, at least.

This was a funny time to be thinking about vultures. Sans didn’t think this was very funny at all. What was funny about being manhandled and being subject to pokes that made him feel like a pretty colored bug under an eyeglass? With the gentle, exploratory movements of Frisk’s fingers that made him hiss and let out quiet, half-baked threats. Stupid human. Stupid, handsy, idiot flesh bags. Too curious for their own good. Sans hated being tickled. He hates the way they felt at the first unbearable touch, and the aftermath they left behind. Sans hatedthe loss of control. And most of all, Sans did not like the giggles and snorts building up in his chest, growing harder and harder to hold back by the second.

“I’m sorry, I’m the one taking orders here? You’re my escort. I’m your client.” The overgrown child replied snarkingly. Welp… looks like he wasn’t going to be put down. Frisk was clumsy with their hands. If Sans hadn’t been focused on kicking and attempting to push and bat at the arm holding him up by his forearm, he would have noted the way their fingers kept slipping between the individual ribs. They weren’t practiced, so they had obviously been more sued fo people having a layer of muscle over the ribs whenever they tickled at it. The intense digging that got belly laughter out of others would coax nothing from him but pain. A rib wouldn’t ever have the same give or malleability as skin. It was unyielding and hard. Trying to drill your fingers in wasn’t effective at all. “Is this what I’m paying you for? Paying for you to laugh and mooch off of me like a child?” While the taller may be saying the words with a teasing inflection, they were truly upset about it.

Frisk had offered him more than a fair amount of gold for this; especially since the smaller hadn’t believed their story. He had given them an incredulous look, shook his head, and accepted anyways. Instead of being paid once they reached their ‘destination,’ Sans wanted a strict amount per week, He wasn’t very open to negotiation, either. And damn it, Frisk was not giving away all their precious gold to somebody she could replace! No way in hell! Being funny wouldn’t keep bandits from robbing you, or get you water, or help protect you from the merciless sun that only ceased it’s onslaught during the precious hours of the night. Frisk was a busy person! Frisk wasn’t going to carry Sans to the end of this desert… wherever it was. If it even existed.

Berating this jerk wasn’t as effective as they had hoped.

What was effective against the skeleton was the more gentle tickling. Unfortunately for Sans, Frisk was a quick learner. Any and all attempts to push inward on the bone were useless. There was no flesh or muscle to assault with that sort of technique, so Frisk smirked, scrabbled their nails against the uppermost, smaller ribs, and was rewarded with something that was pleasantly close to a shriek. Walking on air wasn’t possible, let alone stomping on it, but that looked like what Sans was trying to accomplish. “ahahaa-! hnehhe-hahah! khhhk…!! kihid—frihihisk!”

“Whaaat?” Frisk wasn’t playing about their desire to be kept safe, but they could have fun while they tickled a lesson into their travel partner. They were content to glide their fingers around the structure, distractedly noting whenever they felt what felt like a old, roughly healed crack, the occasional nick, and actual sand that stubbornly hid in those spaces where the cartilage converged into the flat plane of the sternum. They scratched until the debris was gone and kept going, driving Sans to snort hysterically and slap Frisk’s arm with a significant amount of force. “You like this, don’t you? Being carried around and made to laugh?

“st-hh-hh-haha!! stohohahap—stop t-tihihihcklihing mehehe!” Sans gasped. He was so done with this, so done with the way it made the insides of his ribcage burn, so done with the way this human—and an underaged one at that— was manhandling him, and he was so done with the tickles on his damned sternum that radiated from the center in waves. The one other person who ever tickled him like this was his younger brother. He wasn’t on good terms with said brother, and if Frisk was going to continue being obnoxious he was really going to have a problem. It was too late to back out of this stupid deal anyway.

“Apologize, Sans.” Frisk demanded. “I know you’re an old bag of bones, but we’re in this together.” And now they were pinching his cartilage. If this infuriating person wasn’t a child, he would’ve showed them a bad time a while ago.

“ghehahh-! okahay! ihihi’m sohohorry! ehehenohough! cuhuhut it ohohout—cahan’t breheathe!” This was nothing short of embarrassing.

Sans could always go get another job, sure. Maybe hunt down some wanted criminal stealing natural sandglass again, or just go and gather shit for those shut in doctors that stayed cooped up in their apocatheries filled with venom and medicines and questionable substances. But Frisk? This was going to be his big break. Sans didn’t know why this kid was so loaded, and he was completely sure no sane person in general would carry as much gold around as he did.

Frisk was lucky Sans wouldn’t steal from a child. It would have been easy. While Frisk was diligent and sharp, they weren’t sharp enough for him. He could have easily taken all of what he wanted while he kept watch in the night and vanished without a trace.

Maybe he should have, because instead he was dealing with this.

Frisk let go of his arm and let him drop right down into the orange-y sand again. “damn it, kid. is this how you treat all your elders? grandma’s not going to send you any more gyftmas money if that’s what you do to all ‘old people.’” He was attempting to recover what dignity he had, out of breath. A couple beads of sweat, not summoned by the burning sun, was apparent on his forehead. Through all of his snarking, he wore a passive aggressive look; but Frisk knew better. A glare? A sneer? Oh well, it doesn’t matter all that much.

Ugh. Frisk did nothing but chuckle quietly at the shameful display he likely was, eventually kneeling down to extend their hand to the skeleton. Just like before. “Need a hand?” They asked, like he wasn’t pissed at him. Humans loved to think they were so much better than monsters; they liked to feel superior and ignore the truth. Sans hated it. He didn’t like the way this kid was looking down at him, but he was stuck with them.

After biting back the reflexive hiss of ‘don’t touch me’ that was poised on his tongue, he reluctantly took Frisk’s hand. And luckily, after he was tugged upward a second time, he was set on his feet. Frisk didn’t invade his personal space in order to experimentally tickle and poke at him again, instead giving him a firm pat on the shoulder. “nah, i’ve already got two. i’m not thinking of starting a collection.”

Frisk laughed quietly, brushing their nappy hair out of their eyes and pointing towards the direction the sun was drifting. The ball of fire lazily descended from its perch in the center of the sky, making it’s slow trek to the horizon where it would sink beneath the sand until tomorrow. It was slow to watch, but time would catch up to them faster than you’d know. “We still have a long way to go, Sans. Stay up this time, or I’ll have to tickle you awake.” They giggled, red irises glinting in the light. And so they continued, Sans needing to quicken his strides in order to make pace with Frisk. He was far from lanky. Short, with bones that Frisk admitted looked delicate, but Sans had already shown them what he was capable of.

“yeah, yeah. can’t see anything better i could be doing with my time than looking for someplace that doesn’t exist.” Sans grumbled, looking very displeased with the younger’s threats but noticeably not complaining. “you owe me another drink.”

—

Sans is totally a softie beneath that grumpy attitude — though he seems to have fair reasons to be a grump XD Vey cute! Seems like a neat setting! Thank you for sharing =3 - Kitty

#submission #guys sans is being racist we’ll going to have to cancel him on Twitter dot com #felt cute might submit more later #Tickletober #Tickletober2021 #Undertale #AU!Sans #AU!Frisk #pencil hoarder1115

15 notes · View notes