#scriptwriter papyrus

[synthetictorque]

Driving lessons...?

[synthetictorque]

Script and spellchecker, to the (sort of) rescue!

[synthetictorque]

remember scriptwriter papyrus? i thought maybe he should get a companion. so without further ado, meet spellchecker frisk! script calls them spelling bee, it's really cute. i'm working on a little story about how the two dorks met atm too.

[synthetictorque]

headcanon:

when script’s eye glows, he can see code without the aid of his pen. so when he was learning how to magic, he had to get used to using his ‘normal’ and ‘code vision’. meaning he may have walked into a lot of walls and over coffee tables.

[synthetictorque]

HEEERE HE IS!! meet scriptwriter papyrus! (sorry about the white patches, i used tippex.) he's the guy responsible for keeping bugs in check, and occasionally the cleanup for certain people's battles. he may be able to edit the code, but e cannot change anything major, like get rid of a character, an area, or erase an entire au. he goes by script, or writer when you talk to him. he uses a cartridge pen to write out the fixed lines of code.

[synthetictorque]

My my new icon, starring script!

[synthetictorque]

Small 'what if...' comic with script error and checker.

[synthetictorque]

scriptwriter’s beginnings.

The skeleton opened his eyes. He couldn’t see anything. Wherever he was, he did not know. He did not know anything. Who was he? Did he even exist? The world around him concaved and fell apart. He fell to the floor, grunting. If the aching side proved anything, he was real. He looked at his hands. He opened and closed them. Definitely alive. He looked around. What was his name? His purpose? Did he have a family? As he got to his feet, streams of code wrapped around him from some other place, solidifying into clothing. Brown coat. red and gold boots. Red scarf. He looked down in surprise, making a small breathy sound of amazement. something dropped into his pocket, making him swirl around to check behind him. No one was there. He reached into his pocket, looking at the contents. An orange fountain pen and a letter in thick paper. Naturally, he checked the letter first. It was written in a looping scrawl, lines words flowing off the line.

----

To you.

Hello there. You’re probably confused. And probably wondering what you’re doing, being alive and all. For starters, your name is script.it’s short for Scriptwriter Papyrus. You’re one in a hell of a lot of other Papyruses, but you? You’re special. You have a pen in the pocket you pulled this from. It’s yours. Your purpose, your life job is to fix the breaks in code. To keep things running smoothly. You can even create items. The limits to what they are is up to you.

My name is [REDACTED].

---- He couldn’t help but wonder why the name was missing. ----

I’m pretty much your creator. I made you, to do what you want. I don’t know where your life will go, but i know that wherever it leads you, i will be there. Watching over your shoulder. Making sure you’re alright. I hope you understand now.

Use your pen to travel through the universes. Make friends. Make enemies. Make memories and live your life. Do what you feel you must. But please, try not to be seen for god’s sake!

Be good now.

Your creator, [REDACTED].

P.s: stay away from error.

---

Script looked at the letter. He looked up at the endless white. Was he really being watched? Right now? Honestly, he felt a little spooked. But also comforted somehow. He took his pen in hand and looked around. He smiled. So this was being alive? He felt it. Every hum of magic, every breath he took.

He uncapped the fountain pen, and swiped it down on instinct. A portal opened, buzzing with code. He jumped in without a second thought and landed head-first into a snowdrift. He dislodged from the packed in snow, and shook his skull clear. Looking around, he saw forests and monsters in the trees. He made as if to go and talk; but remembered the words on the letter. Try not to be seen. He retreated back into the treeline and observed them. He felt like he knew all about them, and most likely he did, but whether that was the case was not his main focus.

All he was focused on was finding these ‘bugs’ and fixing them.

He stood and walked through the forest, eyesockets searching for what he supposed he would recognise instantly. Script’s only mistake was not checking behind him. He yelped in surprise as something yanked him by the feet and hung him upside down. Script struggled against whatever was holding him, but ultimately gave up. Footsteps from behind him approached. A face came into his very upside-down view. A rather familiar, skeletal, face.

“Hey buddy. Mind tellin’ me what you’re doing here?”

Script looked at him in slight fear.

“ERR... WOULD YOU BELIEVE ME IF I SAID I HAD NO CLUE?”