(Originally published 1/15/18 on AO3 as a gift for Tumblr user "thefloatingstone" during the 2017 Undertale Secret Santa exchange.)

Oh, the Weather Outside is Frightful, but I am Contractually Obligated to Say the MTT-Brand Burning Log Show™ (Now in HD) is So Delightful

When it came to puzzles and games, Papyrus was what most would call an enthusiast but what Papyrus himself would call a connoisseur. The difference, according to an argument he had conjured up in the shower one evening, was based on how each group perceived the "bigger picture." An enthusiast was more concerned with the moment at-hand: in the case of fellow puzzle lovers, when sharing their beloved trade with others they would do things mostly by the books to ensure participants had a grand old time, and then that would be the end of it—the classic, one-off way of spreading cheer through japes and good ol' brain trickery.

For a connoisseur, however, it was less about the present action and more about the layers of consideration and intent behind it. Someone who was a connoisseur would go above and beyond in places where others would lean towards simplicity, towards the usual. Connoisseurs would seek out potential locations for puzzles that did not even exist yet, analyzing these locations in terms of space, or acoustics, or what-else-have-you. They would include music or other ambience if they felt it might jazz their puzzles up a bit. They might even alter a classic puzzle formula if it meant catching their participants in an amusing surprise. It was by thinking about the bigger picture—the before, the during, and the after—and considering how it might affect those around him that Papyrus was able to turn what would have been moments of fun into truly memorable experiences. And if he went to such lengths for total strangers, one could be sure he did so doubly—no, quadruply—if good friends were involved.

So it was that when a sudden blizzard prompted Toriel and Frisk to extend their Gyftmas Eve visit by way of a board game or two, Papyrus' connoisseur spirit kicked into maximum overdrive. A flurry of organized chaos in a tatty holiday sweater, he dimmed every light he could find, made sure everyone was comfy on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa, and tuned the living room TV to the Underground's finest 24-hour video feed of a fireplace. Then, he tripped up to his room to find the absolute perfect game for such a special occasion. It wasn't every day the queen of all monsters dropped in. And accompanied by the Underground's only human, too? No expense could be spared!

"I think you're really going to enjoy this one," Papyrus chirped upon his return. "It's the best game for dreary weather!" Between his arms he juggled an array of folders, papers, scribbly maps, and colorful multi-sided dice, all of which he promptly plopped onto the coffee table. He then dragged a chair over from the kitchen and set up shop opposite his friends on the couch, making a grand show of organizing every bit and bauble into what must have been very particular groups. Frisk and Toriel watched the proceedings with rapt interest.

"I do not think I have ever seen a board game quite like this," Toriel said. "Should it not have a, um, board?"

"Indeed it does. But it's all up here!" Papyrus winked and tapped the side of his skull. The last piece of his meticulous assembly was an oversized trifold, which he propped up in front of him. On its cover was a grainy photo of businesspeople shaking hands and grinning at the camera. A faded "SpaGhetty Images" watermark was barely discernable above the uncanny gathering. With everything finally in its place, Papyrus nodded proudly to himself and cleared his throat more than was absolutely necessary. "Honored guests—and dear brother who needs to get his feet off the table—"

"—Whoops, sorry, bro."

"—I present to you …" He paused for dramatic effect and gestured out over the menagerie between them. "Houses and Humans: the Underground's premier fantasy game! I thought with Frisk in attendance this year we should play something a little human-accessible; the only sort of magic you need for this game is the magic of imagination!"

"Imagination," Sans liltingly followed up, earning a glare from his taller brother. "No, but really, this game's a hoot," he said. "Especially when Paps is the narrator."

Papyrus' glare slid back into a grin as he puffed up at the compliment. "What can I say? 'Tis a natural role for one of my … vocabularic intake." He then side-eyed his brother, who had not so subtly masked a secondary chuckle within his "Sleepy Dude" mug of hot cocoa. "Really, though, anyone who actually tries can make it interesting. At least with me running the show, your characters won't spend the entire quest stuffing their faces until they barf."

"You say that like your guy didn't win some mad cash from it."

"Yes, well, the 'Heinz 50 Challenge' isn't exactly a resume booster, now is it, Sans?"

"So, it sounds like this game involves some sort of acting?" Toriel had leaned over to ask Frisk. They shrugged.

"If it's like the one I'm thinking of," Frisk said, "you make up your own character, and then you play along with the narrator's story."

"Ah, so you are familiar with it!" Papyrus broke free from his heated discussion regarding the less than favorable status of an imaginary economy to excitedly shuffle behind his stock photo wall of storytelling secrecy. "Excellent! That will make things a little easier." He produced three sheets of paper and set one face-down in front of each player. "Because character creation can take a while—and seem intimidating to first-time players, what with all the rules and numbers and stuff—I am granting you use of some of the fine folks I've prepared ahead of time. Everything you need to know about them, from their personalities to what they're carrying, is on the papers I have set before you—no peeksies!" He swatted Sans' straying had away from revealing his character sheet before whichever obscure time Papyrus had deemed most appropriate. "You will all have different strengths and weaknesses, so teamwork will be key! Or, as I am absolutely certain they say on the Surface: synergy!" He looked to the only human in the gathering, a seeking of approval if ever there was one. "Now, shall we get on with the introductions? Let us see who our adventurers three shall be! Frisk, would you like to start?"

They took a quick swig of their cocoa, wiped their mouth on their sleeve much to Toriel's chagrin, and then turned their paper over. "Um … there's no name on here, but it says I'm an 'Average Student'. I wear an average school uniform and carry an average-sized backpack with my student ID, some school supplies, and ... one jawbreaker?"

Papyrus nodded sagely. "You know, it was a tough choice between Average, Troubled, or Gifted. I picked Average because it's the most well-rounded among the three types of Student. It has a very …" he waved his hand about in a vague motion, "main character-y feel. Based on your class, your greatest strength is your ability to not stand out from the crowd. I had trouble thinking up a name that was just average and not totally cool, though, so I left that part blank. Feel free to come up with one of your own!"

Frisk stared at their paper for a few moments, no doubt digesting the wealth of information Papyrus had so blessed them with. "I guess I'll just be Frisk, then," they eventually concluded. "It's easy to remember."

"Going with your true name, eh? An interesting tactic!"

Toriel giggled. "Frisk, the Average Student? Well, I would dare say you are more than Average in my classes." She beamed as she took their cheek in two claws and gave it a loving pinch. "Papyrus, Sans, guess who passed all of their winter exams this year!"

"Hey, good job, kiddo."

Frisk fought valiantly, but fruitlessly, against the onslaught of parental affection and could only mumble an embarrassed "Oh my god, mom," until Papyrus eventually took mercy on them.

"Ms. Toriel," he politely prompted. "Would you be so kind as to introduce your character? Frisk cannot save the world on their own, after all."

"Oh, is it my turn?" Relinquishing Frisk's cheek, she placed her reading glasses atop her snout and considered her character sheet. "Let me see. This is exciting! Hello, everyone. It is wonderful to meet you. My name is," she squinted, "Undyne!"

An unholy squawk came from the other side of the table. Sans practically fell of the couch with laughter. "Wait, you actually made an Undyne, bro?"

"I-it's a placeholder!" Alas, not even the power of cheesy stock photography could hide the humiliation in Papyrus' voice. He rifled frantically through his folder of character sheets. "Alright, fine. Stop laughing! I thought if I made Undyne her own character, and made her totally awesome, she'd stop saying this game is for nerds."

Sans swiped his hand against a laugh-stained eye socket. "Bro, you know she only says that because you're not the right nerd."

"What about me isn't right? And what about me is a nerd?! Anyway, I'm sorry for the mix-up, Ms. Toriel. Let me find the character I was supposed to give you."

But Toriel wouldn't hear of it. "Do not worry yourself, dear. It is no trouble at all. If you will allow me, I would be honored to play Undyne." She planted her paws to her hips, jutted her chin out, and struck the most confident pose she could muster while sitting down. "Just leave it to me, Papyrus! I will—oh, what is something she usually says—kick its butt!" When even that wasn't enough to coax Papyrus out from behind his shield of shame, Frisk then added,

"Think of it like a practice run. If somebody who's not Undyne can play the part, then you know it's perfect!"

"And I am certain she will play," said Toriel. "Especially when learns how much effort you put in to this."

Papyrus paused in his search to peer up over his trifold. "Well, I guess that's true," he mumbled. "Okay … Could you tell us about yourself, then, Ms. …um … Undyne?"

"I teach mathematics in the morning and history after lunch."

"He means your character," whispered Frisk.

"Oops! According to this, I am a … 'Personal Trainer'." Frisk gave Papyrus an impressed nod. Papyrus straightened further. "I might seem scary at first, but I am actually very kind. I use my incredible strength only for the sake of others, helping them become the people they have always wanted to be. My, this is wonderful, Papyrus!"

"Yeah, spot on, bro."

Papyrus chuckled and rubbed the back of his skull. "Well, I don't know about that. Okay, yes I do. I made it, after all. Nyeh heh heh!" His wellspring of confidence bubbling once more, he set his folder of character sheets aside. "Now, we have quite the ragtag band so far—a combination of sneakiness and strengthy-ness! But our party of adventurers is still missing one key element. Sans, dear brother, will you now grace us with your character's presence?"

Sans picked his paper off the table and gave it quick once-over. "Huh, this one's new."

"The latest and greatest! Go on."

"But what about my dashing rogue from last time?"

"He's still trapped in limbo, remember?"

"That carries over to this?"

"Of course it does." Papyrus sighed. "Everyone knows time, space, and the very fabric of reality are warped in the DMV. If you doubt me, check the guidebook. And if you doubt that, ask Frisk."

Both brothers immediately looked to Frisk.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," said Frisk.

"See? Straight from a human. We'll need to make a separate campaign if we want to get your guy out."

"Alright," said Sans. "But we gotta rescue him sometime. He's too soft for that place." He sank back into the couch and considered his character sheet anew—and for the same, all-too brief amount of time. "Okay, no, this guy might actually be even cooler."

"Great," Papyrus hissed. "Now introduce him."

"'Sup. The name's Hotdoggins."

It was then that Frisk realized they had chosen the wrong time to take another sip of hot cocoa. Toriel had a handkerchief ready to intercept.

"That was the worst introduction ever," Papyrus griped once the sound of a laughing, sputtering child had calmed down. "Let me do it." He nabbed the character sheet from his brother, who handed it off with a chuckle and a "Roger". "Ahem! Hotdoggins, as his name might suggest, is part of a special class of human released in the latest H&H expansion—a 'Fast Food Mascot'. Because their culinary-inspired armor doesn't offer much in the way of movement or protection, Fast Food Mascots must rely entirely on their wits and their humor. They say laughter is the best medicine; Well, this class takes that literally. Their jokes can buff their friends or hinder their enemies. Outside the field of battle, Mascots live to entertain and make their living by enticing patrons into visiting their lords' fine eateries." He nodded towards his brother. "It is a noble calling for the comically—and gastronomically—inclined."

"I certainly try," Sans laughed.

"Ah, ah. But there's more, dear brother. I'll give you the condensed version, but make sure you read the fine print." Papyrus' smile slinked into a mischievous smirk. "To put it simply, Hotdoggins' great-great-great-great-great … great-grandfather was involved in a negative customer interaction which placed a terrible curse on his bloodline. Now, every time Hotdoggins makes a joke or pun, his body hurts."

Sans gave a low whistle. "Geez, sounds a like a real pai— ow!" He lurched forward to massage the part of his leg his brother had soundly kicked.

"Alas for Hotdoggins!" Papyrus threw his head back and cried. "For the thing he loves most in life to cause him such pain! What sorrow! What sacrifice! Oh, will his suffering ever end?"

The power of a thousand mothers within Toriel had been about to protest this behavior en masse when Sans just laughed and shook his head. "Don't worry. This is nothing," he whispered. "At least today's 'fine print' doesn't involve his cooking."

"Now, then," said Papyrus. "I do believe we are all good and acquainted. Remember, each of you has something unique to offer, so you will need to work as a team if you hope to survive my special Gyftmas story! Are we ready to begin?" At a sign of approval from all three players, Papyrus scooted forward in his chair. Backlit by the synthetic, and frighteningly pink, televised fireplace, he loomed over his trifold and added an extra bit of vibrato to his special narratorial voice. "Prepare yourselves, brave adventurers, for you are about to enter a world unlike any other. It is a world full of mystery and wonder; a world where you need experience to get a job, but need a job to get experience."

"Oh my," gasped Toriel.

"Onward, my friends: to the Surface!"